Space Between part 17
Nagi generally thought that of all the psychic abilities he could have been burdened with, telekinesis was about the best option. It was useful for protection, but didn’t make him more sensitive to other people. Well, maybe a little - there was more than one reason he didn’t like to be casually touched -but overall, being telekinetic was pretty good. He didn’t have to know things he didn’t want to, and he could live in his own little bubble of personal space.
Sometimes, though, he thought it might be nice, or at least useful, to have a completely different power. Right at this moment, for example, he was desperately wishing he had possessed just a touch of Crawford’s gift. Just enough that even when he was exhausted and stressed and frightened, he would still retain the ability to think ahead.
He’d only left her for a couple of minutes, just to go hit the vending machines. But he should have known, he shouldn’t have left her at all...
A couple of cans of coffee dropped to the concrete floor and rolled away as Nagi stared at the pillar he’d left Tot leaning against, and Crawford smirked back at him. “How...how did you...” Nagi murmured, which was foolish, he knew perfectly well how. “Why?” he asked instead, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. “I thought you’d...”
“Go after Schuldig first? That the time it took me to retrieve him would give you enough to slip away?” Crawford asked smoothly, snapping shut the cell phone he’d been holding to his ear and sliding it into his pocket. He shook his head, his gaze never leaving Nagi. “Now that’s just cold, Nagi. You used him as bait to lure me away from you and your...girlfriend,” he accused, lacing the last word with scorn.
Nagi scowled, hands tightening into fists. His power flared briefly in his agitation, lifting his hair as if a breeze had passed through the train station.
“That’s not...I didn’t use him. I couldn’t help him, so I left him with someone who could,” he snapped. “Someone who won’t hurt him,” he added pointedly.
Crawford just smiled coldly, unaffected by Nagi’s words. “Regardless. You thought I’d go after him first. You thought you’d have time to get out of the country, and that then you’d be...what, free? You’d still be what you are, Nagi. You will always be a freak, an outcast. You’ll never fit into that normal world out there. Where did you think you were going to go, anyway?”
Nagi clenched his fists tighter, trying to ignore the tremors that shook him at Crawford’s words. Freak. Outcast. These were words he was long familiar with. Words that had shattered his childhood. Words he could never escape from, because... because Crawford was right. He was what he was. No matter how far he ran, he couldn’t get away from himself. Nagi took a deep breath and forced himself to calm. Crawford knew too well how to play on his anxieties. But escaping had not been Nagi’s immediate goal.
“Anywhere away from you would have been fine,” Nagi snapped. His power flared again, this time enough to ruffle Crawford’s hair as well.
“But you can’t get away from me either, Nagi,” Crawford informed him darkly, eyes narrowed. “You belong to me.”
“I do not!” Nagi yelled, his power flaring out, and Crawford grunted as he was slammed back against the pillar. A few people standing too close stumbled as they edged away from the confrontation.
“Stop it,” Crawford snapped, not struggling against Nagi’s strength, knowing all too well that it was fleeting.
“Fuck you,” Nagi growled, hating the certainty in Crawford’s eyes that this challenge was a momentary aberration, that Nagi wasn’t strong enough to really defy the older man. He was strong, or at least he could be. He had to be. Nobody was here to be strong for him. Nobody ever had been, except for Schu, sometimes, when he was in the mood for it. But even Schu had never been dependable. Crawford thought Nagi was weak because he’d never stood up to his ‘leader.’ Nagi thought Crawford was not as smart, or as farseeing, as he thought he was. Someday, Nagi was going to grow up, and then it wouldn’t be so easy to stop him. As his head began to throb with the effort of keeping Crawford pinned to the pillar, Nagi bitterly acknowledged to himself that today was not that day.
“Where is she?” he asked quietly, as Crawford straightened his tie and ran a hand through his hair.
“That’s none of your concern,” the older man snapped, eyes narrowed dangerously. Nagi bit his lip and ducked his head. He didn’t really want to get into a fight with Crawford, now that his moment of angry defiance had passed. As much as he might hate it sometimes, Schwarz really was all he had. The team was both sanctuary and prison, and Nagi wondered if maybe, just maybe, some small, pathetic part of him had been hoping Crawford would come for him. After all, where was there for him to go?
He shook off the disconcerting thought. No, he’d meant to leave, to get away. To take Tot and find someplace no one would ever think to come after them, and build whatever kind of life they could. He’d meant to.
But now Crawford was here, and it was pointless to try and fight because Crawford was inevitable. He could see the future; he was always a step ahead of you. And Tot...
“Is she alright?” he pressed, almost whispering now, chin tucked to his chest and arms limp at his sides. He hoped the show of submission might win him a little information.
Crawford’s immaculately polished shoes stepped into Nagi’s line of vision. Strong fingers caught Nagi’s chin in a firm, but not harsh grip, and tilted his head up until he met Crawford’s eyes. The precognitive stared into Nagi’s eyes for a long, silent moment, handsome face expressionless and cold as always. Nagi wondered what Crawford was looking for. He wasn’t a telepath, so he couldn’t know what Nagi was thinking or feeling right now. Only what he planned to do in the future. Which, right now, all things considered...was nothing. Tot was gone, and with her, his reason to leave. Schu was gone, and with him, any protection Nagi had from Crawford.
There was nothing he could do, nowhere he could go - not until that someday, when he was strong enough to stand on his own. But today was not that day; today, he knew, he was going nowhere but...home.
Crawford’s lips quirked in a slight smile, and he released Nagi’s chin, ruffling the boy’s hair in a clumsy imitation of affection. Then he turned and headed for the exit to the street. Nagi sighed, and followed.
____________________________________
Ken took a deep, steadying breath, and turned the doorknob. The room beyond was dark, and he could smell...
Wrinkling his nose and flushing, Ken decided not to think about what he could smell in there. There were some things a guy just did not need to think about where his friends were concerned. At least, not while he was trying to talk to them.
“Did you need something?”
Ken jumped a little at the unexpected question from the darkness. He pushed the door open a little farther, until a beam of light from the hallway cut across the room and revealed a slice of red hair, one green eye, and more bare skin than Ken wanted to think about right now. Schuldig narrowed his visible eye and settled lower in the bed, which made it suddenly apparent that the paler skin lower down was not, actually, Schuldig’s at all, but Yohji’s, and Ken really wasn’t going there, not with a telepath in the room.
“Wha’s goin’ on?” Yohji mumbled from the darkness.
“We’ve got an audience if you’re up for round two,” Schuldig informed him, the visible side of his mouth twisting in a smirk as Ken flushed even darker.
“Huh?” Yohji grunted, as hard to wake as ever. “Who’s ‘ere?”
“Ken,” Schuldig replied, reaching up to push hair out of his face, still half in shadow. “He’s lingering in the doorway like a little boy who just walked in on mommy and daddy for the first time. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he’d never seen a naked man who’d just had sex before.”
Yohji snorted his opinion of that, and Ken really wished he hadn’t opened the door.
“Whadda you want, Kenken?” Yohji yawned, rolling over and dumping Schuldig off his back in the process. The German disappeared with the movement, then let out an irritated grunt.
“Hey! Wounded,” Schuldig reminded Yohji, who looked guilty in the light from the hallway and immediately turned his back to Ken, bending over the other man. Ken sighed. “Get off,” Schuldig grumbled. “Go see what your pet wants.”
“He’s not my pet,” Yohji protested, sounding amused.
“I’m not his pet,” Ken snapped at the same time.
“Right, right, your heart belongs to Fujimiya,” Schuldig drawled. “You’re his pet.” Ken frowned, not liking that idea either.
“He’s nobody’s pet,” Yohji protested on Ken’s behalf.
“Whatever, I really don’t fucking care,” Schuldig muttered. “Hidaka, would you just ask him so I can get some sleep?”
“Ask me what?” Yohji asked curiously, turning over to squint at Ken in the single beam of light. Ken pushed the door open wider, letting in a flood of light that revealed Yohji’s bare torso and a pile of sheets with red hair sticking out of them.
“Uh, well...maybe now’s not a good time,” Ken muttered, suddenly feeling even stupider than he had when he first opened the door. He was being ridiculous, and he had no right to be bothering Yohji right now, and -
“He wants you to go shopping with him,” the pile of sheets muttered irritably.
“Shopping?” Yohji repeated dubiously. “For what?”
Ken opened his mouth to explain, but Schuldig cut him off. “He needs just the right pair of pumps to go with his new party dress. What the hell do you think, idiot, supplies. Food, toiletries, medical supplies...because some of us are wounded and need our rest,” he added pointedly.
Yohji frowned at the redheaded sheets. “I thought you said you were healing up quickly,” he protested.
“I may have exaggerated,” Schuldig replied. “Ow. I hurt. Oh, the agony. If only I had some ointment.”
Yohji grinned at Ken, who was really wishing he could just leave at this point.
“You just want the bed all to yourself,” Yohji accused good-humoredly.
“And if you really loved me, you’d give me what I want,” Schuldig agreed. He pulled the sheets down far enough that his eyes were just visible above the covers. “Besides which, we really could use some...ointment,” he added.
“Ointment?” Yohji repeated, obviously puzzled. Ken, who for once had actually caught on to the meaning quicker than Yohji, really, really wished he’d just been a man and gone out with Aya alone. He really didn’t need the Yohji and Schuldig Morning After Show.
“Don’t make me get specific in front of Hidaka, Kudo,” Schuldig admonished the blond. “If he gets any redder, he might...rupture something.”
Surprised, Yohji glanced over at Ken, and apparently was clued in by his friend’s embarrassment. “Oh, ointment!” Yohji stated knowingly, shooting Ken a wink. Ken smiled weakly in reply. “But, hey,” Yohji protested, turning back to Schuldig, “you’re not the one that needs ‘ointment’ - ”
“I’ll get the damn lube, just...just forget I was here!” Ken yelled, slamming the door and walking quickly down the hall. Five minutes later, after wiping his face off with cold water so Aya and Omi wouldn’t ask what he was blushing for, Ken tromped downstairs to where Aya was waiting beside the door. He grabbed his jacket and nodded at the redhead, who was already wearing his coat. “I’ll be right out,” he said, and Aya nodded in acknowledgement, flashed him a tiny smile, and went out to start his car.
“Hey, wait up!” Yohji called from the stairs, and Ken gave the blond a surprised look as he clomped down to the main level, pulling on a short leather jacket over jeans and a turtleneck.
“Yohji, seriously, you don’t have to come,” Ken told him reluctantly, trying to ignore the soothing sense of relief Yohji’s presence brought. “I can get the, uh...stuff you need,” he added, feeling himself blush slightly again and shooting a glance at Omi.
To Ken’s amazement, Yohji actually turned just slightly pink himself, scratching the back of his head sheepishly as he replied, “Um, I’d rather not, uh, send somebody else out for...that.”
“Oh,” Ken said, and blushed a little darker thinking about it. Omi was looking back and forth between the two of them curiously.
“Yohji-kun? What do you need that you don’t want Ken to get?” the youngest of the group asked. Ken cringed. Yohji laughed nervously. Omi continued to look confused for a moment, then his eyes widened in an almost comical moment of realization, and he blushed even darker than Ken.
“On second thought, don’t tell me,” Omi muttered. “I’m going to go start the laundry,” he added quickly, getting up and walking quickly towards the back of the small cabin, shutting the kitchen door behind him.
“Guess our little Omittchi is growing up,” Yohji mused, crossing the room to stand next to Ken as he pulled on gloves. “So...first you’re playing chauffeur, now you want me to come shopping with you... Are we forming a study group next?” Yohji asked brightly. “Should I walk with you to classes so the two of you don’t have to be alone together?”
“Shut up,” Ken muttered. “I know it’s lame, but...well, it’s lame. You don’t have to come.”
Yohji shook his head, grinning. “Nuh-uh, I got my marching orders. He’s in a weird mood, I think he needs to rest up a little. I wore him out with Yohji-lovin’.”
Ken snorted his opinion of that idea. “Yeah, I’m sure the almost dying and the being tortured didn’t phase him at all,” he replied.
“Nope,” Yohji agreed, crossing his arms behind his head and grinning triumphantly. “Just the Yohji-lovin’.”
Ken chuckled and shook his head, following Yohji out the door and down the snowy front steps to Aya’s car, which was already running.
“Do I have to ride shotgun?” Yohji asked. “Because you know I can’t stand the crap music he listens to. And you know how pissed off he gets when you touch his radio settings - ”
“You can ride in back,” Ken declared loudly, giving the older man a shove in that direction as he reached for the door handle.
_____________________________________
Omi sighed as he laid the last folded towel on top of the meager laundry pile. There really hadn’t been enough laundry to justify washing it yet, but he needed something to do. Something to distract himself from the knowledge that Yohji had been having sex with that…that…Schuldig.
Frowning, Omi grabbed the folded towel and shook it loose, giving it a thorough shaking before carefully, slowly refolding it.
It would have been so easy. The dumpster was right there.
Sighing again, Omi tossed the towel back on the pile and slumped down in the soft cushions of the couch, glowering at the cheerfully crackling fire he’d built, again as much for something to do as for the practical benefits.
He wished he could have gone shopping with the others, but someone had to stay with Aya-chan. It was mildly surprising that Aya hadn’t insisted on that person being himself, but then there was…whatever was going on between him and Ken, which Omi really didn’t want to know about, and so here he was. Babysitting Aya’s sister and Yohji’s…Schuldig.
“Oh, come on, Tsukiyono, I’m sure you can come up with a nicely colorful description if you try. You’re not as innocent as you look, after all.”
Omi tensed at the sound of that familiar voice, a shot of adrenaline making his fingers twitch for a weapon. He didn’t bother to wonder or worry about how the telepath could have snuck up on him, that was pretty much self-explanatory. He turned his head slightly to scowl at the redhead, who was standing just behind the couch, shirtless and picking at one of his many bandages.
Omi thought Yohji must have gone a little crazy with the gauze. Schuldig didn’t carry himself like a man with as many wounds as the bandages would suggest.
Green eyes slid over to regard Omi from beneath the wispy red fringe that half-concealed them, a hint of a smirk twisting the thin lips.
“I heal fast,” Schuldig informed him, ripping off a thick pad of gauze that had been taped over his collarbone. It was one of the few bandages that showed traces of dried blood, but the wound underneath was the raw pink color of new skin, clearly well past the scabbing stage.
“That’s good. So you can leave soon, then?” Omi asked flatly.
Schuldig chuckled. “Oh, I think Yohji wants me to stay.”
Omi scowled and turned deliberately back to the fire. Now that he was aware of Schuldig’s presence, he trusted his own well-honed senses to keep track of the other man’s movements.
“You think?” Schuldig murmured from much too close, and Omi flinched as warm breath stirred his hair. Alright, so that had been a foolish idea. But as long as Schuldig was actually breathing on him -
There was a chuckle from the chair beside the sofa, and Omi glanced over, seeing Schuldig reclining in the dancing shadows cast by the flickering fire. The breathing above his ear continued steadily, and he resisted the pointless urge to turn his head.
“Is there a reason you’re bothering me or are you just bored?” Omi asked quietly.
The Schuldig in the chair smirked at him. “Why can’t it be both?” he asked. “Come on, Tsukiyono, you can’t tell me the laundry is all that fascinating. And we have so much to talk about…killing people, how hot Yohji’s ass is… Okay, so that’s about it. But we can stretch those out for at least an hour, don’t you think?”
“I’m not interested in talking to you,” Omi informed the German coldly.
Schuldig smirked. “Oh, come on, you’re not still pissed about that Ouka chick? Her ass wasn’t a patch on Yohji’s.”
“She was my sister,” Omi snapped. “I don’t care how hot her ass was - ”
Schuldig snorted.
“I don’t,” Omi insisted angrily. “All I care about is that she’s the only family I ever had that liked me, that wanted me, and you - ”
“Your brothers liked you, at least until you went all Agent of Vengeance on them,” Schuldig interjected blandly, studying his fingernails. “And unless you want to talk about how fun it was to put an arrow through Hirofumi’s head - though actually, that could make for good conversation, I have some sibling issues of my own - ”
“Would you just shut up?” Omi yelled, shifting to the edge of the couch to escape that disturbing phantom breathing sensation. “I don’t want to talk to you! We have nothing to say to each other! I hate you, don’t you understand that?”
“Sure,” Schuldig replied with a shrug. “It’s just that I don’t give a fuck.”
____________________________________
“Okay, that’s it. This has to stop.”
Ken blinked at Yohji curiously. The older man had stopped in the middle of the aisle in the small drug store, a package of toilet paper tucked under each arm, and was glowering determinedly at Ken, the barest hint of a flush coloring his cheeks.
“What has to stop?” Ken asked curiously.
“The lost puppy act. I get the awkwardness, okay? I understand the avoiding conflict thing. But there are some things a man has to do on his own, Ken. Some places he has to go by himself. And I am not buying lube with you watching me,” Yohji informed him firmly.
Ken felt his own cheeks heating much more than Yohji’s. “Th-that’s - I - wh-what - ”
Yohji nodded, apparently deciding he’d made his point, and stalked off towards the aisle they’d passed up five times already on their circuits of the small store, throwing Ken one last baleful look over his shoulder when he lifted one foot to follow.
Ken flipped off the end of the aisle as Yohji disappeared down it, shifting his grip on the laden basket he was carrying with a sigh and a furtive look around for Aya. It seemed like the redhead should be easy to spot under the fluorescent lights, but somehow he -
“Ken? Can I talk to you for a moment?”
Ken sighed again, tensing at the sound of that familiar, undeniably sexy deep voice, right behind him. He turned slowly and braced himself internally at the sight of Aya’s determined face.
Okay, here we go, it’s been great, and you’re a good person, but my sister, my sister, she is the center of the universe, I am as the Moon to her Sun…or would he be the Earth? The Moon doesn’t revolve around the Sun, does it? Or maybe he’s the Moon to her Earth, or -
“Ken? Are you all right?” Aya asked worriedly, peering at Ken with curious violet eyes.
Ken blinked, and shrugged, offering an uncertain smile. “I’m…fine,” he replied. “Did you need something?”
“To talk to you?” Aya reminded him hesitantly, frowning. “Unless…is this…a bad time?” he asked, looking around the nearly deserted store as though there might be eavesdroppers crouched behind the endcap display of shaving cream.
Ken shrugged again, sighed again, and bit the proverbial bullet. “No, it’s fine,” he said resignedly. “What did you want to tell me?”
Aya opened and closed his mouth a few times, finally glancing away at a rack of toothbrushes. “Nothing’s changed,” he declared abruptly.
Ken frowned. “Okaaaay,” he said slowly. “And by that you mean…?” That your sister is still your sole reason for being and now that you have her back I’m superfluous? Is that what hasn’t changed, Aya?
Aya bit his lip and glanced at Ken, widening his eyes slightly. He suddenly looked even younger than he still actually was and absolutely adorable. And extremely nervous. “I mean…for me. Nothing’s changed for me,” he said slowly. “Having Aya-chan back…I thought you might think that I…and well, I mean, of course she’s important to me and I’m going to have to figure out how to protect her better after…everything, but…I just didn’t want you to think that I…”
“Aya. Please. The point?” Ken interrupted quietly, confused by the uncharacteristic babbling.
Aya sighed and shifted the armful of first aid supplies he was carrying so he could lift one hand and brush it though Ken’s hair gently. “I’m not breaking up with you. Or blowing you off, or whatever you think I’m going to do.” He smiled slightly. “I love my sister. But you’re…very important to me, too. I’m not leaving, not this time. As long as…you don’t want me to.”
“I…but…what?” Ken asked, baffled. Aya wasn’t leaving? Wasn’t dumping him, blowing him off, claiming there was nothing to break off in the first place? “Who are you and what have you done with Aya?” Ken demanded.
Aya smiled softly, such an entirely alien expression that Ken could only stare at him. “Well, that’s the question, isn’t it?” he asked quietly. “Who am I? Really, I’m probably still Aya, and I probably will be for a while, but…maybe someday I can be Ran again. Being with you makes me feel like I can do that.”
“Oh,” Ken finally managed softly, watching Aya’s strangely softened face bemusedly. “So…then…this is not the ‘sorry but my sister comes first and you are no longer relevant or required’ talk?”
Aya winced, his face regaining some of its usual reserve. “I guess I deserve that,” he muttered. “But no, it’s not that talk. It’s…the ‘my sister is very important to me and I need to take care of her, but you are important to me too and I hope you’ll be patient with me’…talk,” Aya finished uncertainly.
“Oh,” Ken repeated weakly. He licked his lips and tried again. “Oh, well.” He grinned. “That’s a good talk to have.”
Aya managed a small smile of his own, although he was already resuming his usual blank mask. Ken felt a pang for the loss of that brief glimpse of Ran, but…maybe he’d get to see Ran again someday.
“Good,” Aya said decisively. “So, then…we’ve had it, yes? The talk?”
Ken grinned wider and nodded. “Yeah. Not dumping me. Very important person. Gotcha,” he summed up.
“Right,” Aya said. “Good.”
Yohji stepped out of the aisle behind Aya, smiling bemusedly down at a small plastic package he held in one hand. “Does it seem weird to anybody else that you can buy lubricant and a yo-yo in the same store? I mean, there’s convenience and then there’s just…oh, sorry, am I interrupting your big scene?”
Ken stuck his tongue out at Yohji, who just tilted his head towards the packages of toilet paper now sharing space under one arm and said brightly, “Thanks for the offer, but I’m covered.”
Aya lifted his lip in disgust and stalked silently away toward the register.
“Now who’s in grade school?” Ken muttered, punching Yohji in the shoulder with his free hand.
“Hey, don’t squeeze the Charmin, man,” Yohji replied, grinning. He nodded at Aya’s stiffly erect back disappearing down another aisle. “How’d it go?”
“It…went fine,” Ken replied, shrugging. “He’s not blowing me off.”
Yohji’s eyebrows popped up in surprise. “Yeah? Well, good for you. Think you’re almost ready to go, then? My arms are getting tired.”
“Bet that’s what Schuldig said last night,” Ken replied, grinning. He dodged the yo-yo package Yohji threw at him and ducked down an aisle, heading for Aya’s distinctive hair, a bright splash of color near the register.
“I’m so kicking your ass for that later,” Yohji yelled after him.
“Promises, promises,” Ken called back, laughing.
_______________________________________
“If you hurt Yohji, I swear I will kill you,” Omi flatly informed the telepath, breaking the silence that had fallen between them.
Schuldig laughed brightly. “Oh, so fierce. Careful, you’ll give me nightmares,” he drawled.
“You don’t think I’ll do it?” Omi asked quietly.
Schuldig snorted. “I don’t think you can.” / Poor little lost boy, you don’t even know where to aim, do you? /
Omi scowled, rolling the poisoned dart in his pocket between his fingers. Stupid to only carry the one. But he still had at least a fifty percent chance of success.
“Yeah, if you’re actually going to kill me,” Schuldig agreed, leaning forward in the chair with a smirk. “Have fun explaining my corpse to Kudo. I don’t think ‘he was annoying me’ will impress him. And another dead lover is just what he needs right now. Won’t you just be his personal hero? Bet he’d give you a great big kiss, maybe even sweep you off to bed and…but no, he doesn’t see you as a man,” Schuldig sneered. “Hell, he doesn’t even see you as a friend.”
“Shut up!” Omi yelled. “Yohji is my friend, he - ”
“He doesn’t trust you,” Schuldig interrupted calmly, with a patronizing smile. “Come on, Omi, you’ve at least figured that much out, haven’t you? All those significant looks and private conversations with Ken? Stuff he’s just not telling you…and why would that be? Why wouldn’t he confide in dear little Omittchi?” Schuldig cocked his head and widened his eyes, blatantly failing to look innocently curious.
“He trusts me,” Omi stated firmly. “Yohji is cautious, but he wouldn’t keep anything really important from me. We’re friends, and teammates. He cares about me.”
“Oh, sure, he cares,” Schuldig agreed easily, shrugging. “He just doesn’t respect you.”
“Stop it,” Omi said quietly, narrowing his eyes. “I’m not stupid, I know what you’re trying to do. It won’t work. You can’t turn me against my own team. But I’m sure Yohji will be interested to know that you tried.”
“Yeah?” Schuldig grinned. “You going to tell him?” The redhead lifted a hand and examined his fingernails thoughtfully. “Think he’ll believe you?”
“Of course he’ll believe me! Why would I lie about something like this?” Omi snapped, fingers clenching around the dart. He was almost sure - but he still needed a good reason, damn it -
“I don’t know, Tsukiyono…even though he’s completely uninterested in you as a lover, you’ve made it just a little too clear you’re interested in him. Don’t you think killing me and claiming I was trying to subvert you might come off as a crime of passion?” Schuldig smirked, slumping back in the shadows of the chair, the fire picking out occasional highlights like stray sparks in his hair. His green eyes were too bright in the darkness, his voice low and insinuating when he spoke again.
“Wouldn’t it be at least partially the truth, anyway? I mean, really, I’m just talking here. You don’t want to kill me for talking, do you, Omi? It’s something else, isn’t it?”
“I want to kill you because you killed my sister,” Omi snapped. “Because you’re an enemy, because you’ve killed who knows how many innocent - “
“You know, I get so fucking tired of that word,” Schuldig interrupted flatly. “People toss it around like it means something, or nothing. Like love. What does it mean anymore to say you love someone when the word is so overused? Do you love anyone, Tsukiyono? The innocents, maybe?”
“I love…I loved my sister,” Omi said quietly.
Schuldig rolled his eyes. “Fuck, you are a like a broken record, aren’t you. My sister, my sister, my sister. Just like talking to Fujimiya, if I was masochistic enough to bother. So…” Schuldig sat forward again, the light from the fire glinting in his eyes as he grinned wickedly. “If it’s such a big deal, the dead sister…why don’t you think you could use that for your excuse? Don’t think Yohji would buy it?” The telepath cocked his head curiously.
Omi finally looked away from Schuldig, staring into the cheerful flames instead. “My sister’s dead,” he said quietly. “Killing you wouldn’t bring her back. I wouldn’t mind killing you for her, but…” He looked back over at the smirking German and shrugged. “I don’t need to. I’m pretty sure you’ll give me a new excuse soon enough.”
Schuldig laughed softly. “Yeah? You think I’ve got Kudo snowed? That I’m a bad man, bound to show my true colors sooner or later?”
“Yes,” Omi replied. “That’s exactly what I think.”
“Hm,” Schuldig murmured, flashing a small, nasty grin, and suddenly producing a gun from behind his back, aiming it casually at Omi’s chest. “You might be right about - ”
Before Schuldig had even finished speaking, Omi had pulled the dart from his pocket and hurled it with deadly accuracy at the man in the chair.
The dart disappeared when it impacted the bare, bandaged chest, and Schuldig winked at him and also disappeared.
Omi tensed, but wasn’t entirely surprised. It had been a gamble, but he’d picked the wrong option. Still, there were other ways. If he could avoid being grabbed, he could get to the kitchen, and the knives. He spun up and off the couch, eyes darting, searching the dimness for the man who’d been breathing behind him the whole time -
The room was empty.
Omi blinked, looking around incredulously. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t. He knew Schuldig was here somewhere, Omi just wasn’t seeing him -
/ Oh, now that was just sad. Honestly, Tsukiyono, where would I get a gun from? I was naked when you found me, and it’s not like any of you have the sense to carry something so useful. /
Omi snarled silently, eyes still searching the room for the source of the disembodied voice.
/ You’re never going to find me if I don’t want you to. What’s wrong, Mamoru, didn’t anybody play hide and seek with you when you were a kid? Or no, wait, how silly of me - why would anyone have gone looking for you if you disappeared? /
“Shut up!” Omi yelled at the empty room. “What do you want? Are you really this bored? If you can’t even act like a decent human being for this long, Yohji’s going to get sick of you pretty quick, you know.”
Laughter floated around Omi’s head. He focused on the staircase. Had that been the faint squeak of a board upstairs?
/ Careful, you’ll hurt my feelings, / Schuldig chided him sarcastically. / Besides, I don’t think it’s my human decency Yohji’s interested in. He just likes riding my cock. /
Omi felt a flush darken his cheeks at the immediate mental image that statement produced, but shoved the picture aside, focusing his senses. Upstairs. Someone was moving around upstairs. He stepped slowly over to the chair and retrieved the dart imbedded in the padding. Practiced fingers flicked the small weapon open, checking the poison chamber within to make sure the impact with the chair hadn’t broken it.
Still intact. Still deadly. Omi considered for a moment, then deliberately closed up the outer compartment, leaving the poison loaded.
/ My, my, Mamoru. Wouldn’t Daddy be proud of his little killer? / Schuldig’s voice murmured in his mind.
“Shut up,” Omi muttered, not particularly caring if Schuldig heard him, but guessing volume wouldn’t make a difference in that anyway. He began to move slowly, carefully towards the foot of the stairs. “Reiji Takatori was never proud of me a day of my life. He never wanted me,” he muttered bitterly, fingers clenching on the dart.
/ No, he wasn’t proud of you, / Schuldig agreed easily, a hint of amusement coloring the mental speech. / But then, he wasn’t your daddy, either. /
Omi blinked in surprise, pausing a second, then shook his head and continued moving soundlessly across the room. “I’m past the identity issues,” he grumbled. “Find another wound to poke at.”
/ Okay. You know that sister whose ass you certainly didn’t check out? You don’t have to worry about it, she wasn’t actually your sister. /
“What the fuck - “ Omi cut off the angry shout, annoyed with himself. Not only had he let the stupid lie get to him, he’d given away his position by yelling. Stupid. A rookie mistake, and he was -
/ A hardened professional? Dream on, little boy, / Schuldig mocked. / Poor little Mamoru. Who can you possibly protect if you can’t protect yourself? /
“I’m fully capable of protecting myself,” Omi said flatly, planting himself firmly at the base of the stairs, glaring up at the shadowy form he could barely make in the darkness above.
/ Wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong, little boy, / Schuldig replied, amused. / Poor thing, so confused. Don’t know who to trust, what to believe. At least there’s one thing you’re right about. /
“And what’s that?” Omi muttered absently, rolling the dart slowly between his fingers.
“Me.”
The moment it took Omi to realize the word had been spoken, aloud, from directly behind him was all the time he had before pain exploded against the back of his head, and he was falling into darkness.
________________________________________
__
Aya barely bothered to put the car in park before leaping out, running towards the cabin. Climbing out more slowly even as Yohji went flying past him, Ken stared at the enormous bonfire that had been their cabin hideaway and wondered what they thought they were going to accomplish by running. They wouldn’t even be able to get close to what remained of the building, it was completely engulfed in flames, the thick column of smoke they’d seen from the road nearly blotting out the sun.
Ken had seen more than enough of fire lately. He was in no rush to approach the blaze, the heat of which he could feel even from his current distance. But he supposed he might feel differently if his sister or his lover had last been seen inside the building.
Not that he wasn’t worried, terrified even for what would happen to Aya or Yohji if…but someone had to stay calm.
He looked around the open space hopefully. Maybe they were out here somewhere. Because if they were inside…
He looked back at the cabin as a heavy, crackling whumpf heralded the collapse of the roof, sending up a shower of sparks and leaping tongues of flame. Ken winced at the sight of Aya and Yohji, standing frozen at the boundary of where the heat must become unbearable.
“Nobody’s inside.”
For a moment, Ken didn’t even recognize that the speaker wasn’t himself, spouting optimistic reassurances. Then he blinked, and turned with a wide smile of relief towards the direction Omi’s voice had come from. The small blond was slumped against a fallen tree, holding a hand to the back of his head and glaring at the burning cabin. He was sooty and his clothes and visible skin showed a few patchy burns, as if he’d been hit by stray sparks.
“Omi?” Ken asked, walking up to the younger man with a frown. “You okay?”
Omi glowered at him, bright blue eyes fairly glowing with anger in his ash-smudged face. “I’m fine,” he muttered, pulling his hand away from the back of his head and shaking a few clumps of melting, bloody snow onto the ground. He bent, hanging onto the tree, and scooped up another handful, straightening and
slapping his hand back in place with a wince.
“Omi!” Yohji shouted frantically, pelting over with Aya on his heels. “You’re okay! Thank Christ! But where are - ”
“They’re not in there. Nobody’s inside,” Omi interjected flatly.
Yohji blinked and stepped back slightly at Omi’s grim expression.
“Are you sure?” Aya pressed, eyes too wide and skin even paler than normal. He stepped forward and looked like he was going to grab Omi and attempt to shake answers out of him. Ken moved into his path and put a firm hand on his shoulder, stopping him. Aya glared, and Ken pursed his lips irritably.
“He’s got a head wound,” Ken informed Aya, releasing his shoulder and stepping back. He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and crouched down to scoop some snow into it.
“Omi, are you sure they got out? Where are they?” Yohji asked, more calmly than Aya, if only marginally. “What happened?”
As Ken straightened up with his improvised ice pack, he could see that Yohji’s worried question had snapped whatever fragile control Omi had been holding onto.
“What happened?” the shorter blond repeated incredulously. “What happened? Schuldig happened, that’s fucking what!”
“Omi - “ Yohji began sharply.
“No!” Omi yelled, holding up his free hand in a blocking gesture. “I don’t want to hear it! You weren’t here, and he - he was - messing with me, and then - the next thing I know he whacks me over the head with the damn cutting board and I wake up with my fucking shoe burning!”
“But - he wouldn’t - he’s okay, though, right?” Yohji asked confusedly.
Omi gave the older man a look that should have frozen him to the ground. “I’m sure he’s fine,” the younger blond said coldly. "Considering he set the fire before taking off with Aya-chan, I’m sure he’s absolutely - “
“He took my sister?” Aya demanded angrily, shouldering past Ken only to be stopped by Omi’s icy glare. The redhead was visibly shaking at this revelation, and looked ready to kill.
“He wouldn’t take her anywhere, he must have just gotten her out of the fire,” Yohji told Aya soothingly. He turned back to Omi with a gentle, patient, false smile. “Now, where - “
“He knocked me out. He set the fire. He took Aya-chan. My shoe was burning,” Omi yelled directly in Yohji’s face. Yohji’s smile never wavered.
“Okay. But where is he now?” Yohji asked patiently.
Omi stared at him incredulously, then looked over at Ken, as if to make sure someone had actually heard what he’d just said.
“I’d guess he’s halfway back to Tokyo by now,” Ken said slowly.
Yohji’s head snapped around, and he glared at Ken just as fiercely as Omi had glared at the fire. “He wouldn’t - “ Yohji began heatedly.
“Yohji,” Aya interrupted darkly. “Where’s your car?”
Yohji frowned at Aya curiously. “It’s right…” he trailed off, still frowning, pointing at the spot where packed snow showed where Yohji’s car had been parked.
“My shoe was burning,” Omi muttered grimly.
Behind them, the cabin caved in completely, smoke billowing thickly into the darkening sky.
Sometimes, though, he thought it might be nice, or at least useful, to have a completely different power. Right at this moment, for example, he was desperately wishing he had possessed just a touch of Crawford’s gift. Just enough that even when he was exhausted and stressed and frightened, he would still retain the ability to think ahead.
He’d only left her for a couple of minutes, just to go hit the vending machines. But he should have known, he shouldn’t have left her at all...
A couple of cans of coffee dropped to the concrete floor and rolled away as Nagi stared at the pillar he’d left Tot leaning against, and Crawford smirked back at him. “How...how did you...” Nagi murmured, which was foolish, he knew perfectly well how. “Why?” he asked instead, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. “I thought you’d...”
“Go after Schuldig first? That the time it took me to retrieve him would give you enough to slip away?” Crawford asked smoothly, snapping shut the cell phone he’d been holding to his ear and sliding it into his pocket. He shook his head, his gaze never leaving Nagi. “Now that’s just cold, Nagi. You used him as bait to lure me away from you and your...girlfriend,” he accused, lacing the last word with scorn.
Nagi scowled, hands tightening into fists. His power flared briefly in his agitation, lifting his hair as if a breeze had passed through the train station.
“That’s not...I didn’t use him. I couldn’t help him, so I left him with someone who could,” he snapped. “Someone who won’t hurt him,” he added pointedly.
Crawford just smiled coldly, unaffected by Nagi’s words. “Regardless. You thought I’d go after him first. You thought you’d have time to get out of the country, and that then you’d be...what, free? You’d still be what you are, Nagi. You will always be a freak, an outcast. You’ll never fit into that normal world out there. Where did you think you were going to go, anyway?”
Nagi clenched his fists tighter, trying to ignore the tremors that shook him at Crawford’s words. Freak. Outcast. These were words he was long familiar with. Words that had shattered his childhood. Words he could never escape from, because... because Crawford was right. He was what he was. No matter how far he ran, he couldn’t get away from himself. Nagi took a deep breath and forced himself to calm. Crawford knew too well how to play on his anxieties. But escaping had not been Nagi’s immediate goal.
“Anywhere away from you would have been fine,” Nagi snapped. His power flared again, this time enough to ruffle Crawford’s hair as well.
“But you can’t get away from me either, Nagi,” Crawford informed him darkly, eyes narrowed. “You belong to me.”
“I do not!” Nagi yelled, his power flaring out, and Crawford grunted as he was slammed back against the pillar. A few people standing too close stumbled as they edged away from the confrontation.
“Stop it,” Crawford snapped, not struggling against Nagi’s strength, knowing all too well that it was fleeting.
“Fuck you,” Nagi growled, hating the certainty in Crawford’s eyes that this challenge was a momentary aberration, that Nagi wasn’t strong enough to really defy the older man. He was strong, or at least he could be. He had to be. Nobody was here to be strong for him. Nobody ever had been, except for Schu, sometimes, when he was in the mood for it. But even Schu had never been dependable. Crawford thought Nagi was weak because he’d never stood up to his ‘leader.’ Nagi thought Crawford was not as smart, or as farseeing, as he thought he was. Someday, Nagi was going to grow up, and then it wouldn’t be so easy to stop him. As his head began to throb with the effort of keeping Crawford pinned to the pillar, Nagi bitterly acknowledged to himself that today was not that day.
“Where is she?” he asked quietly, as Crawford straightened his tie and ran a hand through his hair.
“That’s none of your concern,” the older man snapped, eyes narrowed dangerously. Nagi bit his lip and ducked his head. He didn’t really want to get into a fight with Crawford, now that his moment of angry defiance had passed. As much as he might hate it sometimes, Schwarz really was all he had. The team was both sanctuary and prison, and Nagi wondered if maybe, just maybe, some small, pathetic part of him had been hoping Crawford would come for him. After all, where was there for him to go?
He shook off the disconcerting thought. No, he’d meant to leave, to get away. To take Tot and find someplace no one would ever think to come after them, and build whatever kind of life they could. He’d meant to.
But now Crawford was here, and it was pointless to try and fight because Crawford was inevitable. He could see the future; he was always a step ahead of you. And Tot...
“Is she alright?” he pressed, almost whispering now, chin tucked to his chest and arms limp at his sides. He hoped the show of submission might win him a little information.
Crawford’s immaculately polished shoes stepped into Nagi’s line of vision. Strong fingers caught Nagi’s chin in a firm, but not harsh grip, and tilted his head up until he met Crawford’s eyes. The precognitive stared into Nagi’s eyes for a long, silent moment, handsome face expressionless and cold as always. Nagi wondered what Crawford was looking for. He wasn’t a telepath, so he couldn’t know what Nagi was thinking or feeling right now. Only what he planned to do in the future. Which, right now, all things considered...was nothing. Tot was gone, and with her, his reason to leave. Schu was gone, and with him, any protection Nagi had from Crawford.
There was nothing he could do, nowhere he could go - not until that someday, when he was strong enough to stand on his own. But today was not that day; today, he knew, he was going nowhere but...home.
Crawford’s lips quirked in a slight smile, and he released Nagi’s chin, ruffling the boy’s hair in a clumsy imitation of affection. Then he turned and headed for the exit to the street. Nagi sighed, and followed.
____________________________________
Ken took a deep, steadying breath, and turned the doorknob. The room beyond was dark, and he could smell...
Wrinkling his nose and flushing, Ken decided not to think about what he could smell in there. There were some things a guy just did not need to think about where his friends were concerned. At least, not while he was trying to talk to them.
“Did you need something?”
Ken jumped a little at the unexpected question from the darkness. He pushed the door open a little farther, until a beam of light from the hallway cut across the room and revealed a slice of red hair, one green eye, and more bare skin than Ken wanted to think about right now. Schuldig narrowed his visible eye and settled lower in the bed, which made it suddenly apparent that the paler skin lower down was not, actually, Schuldig’s at all, but Yohji’s, and Ken really wasn’t going there, not with a telepath in the room.
“Wha’s goin’ on?” Yohji mumbled from the darkness.
“We’ve got an audience if you’re up for round two,” Schuldig informed him, the visible side of his mouth twisting in a smirk as Ken flushed even darker.
“Huh?” Yohji grunted, as hard to wake as ever. “Who’s ‘ere?”
“Ken,” Schuldig replied, reaching up to push hair out of his face, still half in shadow. “He’s lingering in the doorway like a little boy who just walked in on mommy and daddy for the first time. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he’d never seen a naked man who’d just had sex before.”
Yohji snorted his opinion of that, and Ken really wished he hadn’t opened the door.
“Whadda you want, Kenken?” Yohji yawned, rolling over and dumping Schuldig off his back in the process. The German disappeared with the movement, then let out an irritated grunt.
“Hey! Wounded,” Schuldig reminded Yohji, who looked guilty in the light from the hallway and immediately turned his back to Ken, bending over the other man. Ken sighed. “Get off,” Schuldig grumbled. “Go see what your pet wants.”
“He’s not my pet,” Yohji protested, sounding amused.
“I’m not his pet,” Ken snapped at the same time.
“Right, right, your heart belongs to Fujimiya,” Schuldig drawled. “You’re his pet.” Ken frowned, not liking that idea either.
“He’s nobody’s pet,” Yohji protested on Ken’s behalf.
“Whatever, I really don’t fucking care,” Schuldig muttered. “Hidaka, would you just ask him so I can get some sleep?”
“Ask me what?” Yohji asked curiously, turning over to squint at Ken in the single beam of light. Ken pushed the door open wider, letting in a flood of light that revealed Yohji’s bare torso and a pile of sheets with red hair sticking out of them.
“Uh, well...maybe now’s not a good time,” Ken muttered, suddenly feeling even stupider than he had when he first opened the door. He was being ridiculous, and he had no right to be bothering Yohji right now, and -
“He wants you to go shopping with him,” the pile of sheets muttered irritably.
“Shopping?” Yohji repeated dubiously. “For what?”
Ken opened his mouth to explain, but Schuldig cut him off. “He needs just the right pair of pumps to go with his new party dress. What the hell do you think, idiot, supplies. Food, toiletries, medical supplies...because some of us are wounded and need our rest,” he added pointedly.
Yohji frowned at the redheaded sheets. “I thought you said you were healing up quickly,” he protested.
“I may have exaggerated,” Schuldig replied. “Ow. I hurt. Oh, the agony. If only I had some ointment.”
Yohji grinned at Ken, who was really wishing he could just leave at this point.
“You just want the bed all to yourself,” Yohji accused good-humoredly.
“And if you really loved me, you’d give me what I want,” Schuldig agreed. He pulled the sheets down far enough that his eyes were just visible above the covers. “Besides which, we really could use some...ointment,” he added.
“Ointment?” Yohji repeated, obviously puzzled. Ken, who for once had actually caught on to the meaning quicker than Yohji, really, really wished he’d just been a man and gone out with Aya alone. He really didn’t need the Yohji and Schuldig Morning After Show.
“Don’t make me get specific in front of Hidaka, Kudo,” Schuldig admonished the blond. “If he gets any redder, he might...rupture something.”
Surprised, Yohji glanced over at Ken, and apparently was clued in by his friend’s embarrassment. “Oh, ointment!” Yohji stated knowingly, shooting Ken a wink. Ken smiled weakly in reply. “But, hey,” Yohji protested, turning back to Schuldig, “you’re not the one that needs ‘ointment’ - ”
“I’ll get the damn lube, just...just forget I was here!” Ken yelled, slamming the door and walking quickly down the hall. Five minutes later, after wiping his face off with cold water so Aya and Omi wouldn’t ask what he was blushing for, Ken tromped downstairs to where Aya was waiting beside the door. He grabbed his jacket and nodded at the redhead, who was already wearing his coat. “I’ll be right out,” he said, and Aya nodded in acknowledgement, flashed him a tiny smile, and went out to start his car.
“Hey, wait up!” Yohji called from the stairs, and Ken gave the blond a surprised look as he clomped down to the main level, pulling on a short leather jacket over jeans and a turtleneck.
“Yohji, seriously, you don’t have to come,” Ken told him reluctantly, trying to ignore the soothing sense of relief Yohji’s presence brought. “I can get the, uh...stuff you need,” he added, feeling himself blush slightly again and shooting a glance at Omi.
To Ken’s amazement, Yohji actually turned just slightly pink himself, scratching the back of his head sheepishly as he replied, “Um, I’d rather not, uh, send somebody else out for...that.”
“Oh,” Ken said, and blushed a little darker thinking about it. Omi was looking back and forth between the two of them curiously.
“Yohji-kun? What do you need that you don’t want Ken to get?” the youngest of the group asked. Ken cringed. Yohji laughed nervously. Omi continued to look confused for a moment, then his eyes widened in an almost comical moment of realization, and he blushed even darker than Ken.
“On second thought, don’t tell me,” Omi muttered. “I’m going to go start the laundry,” he added quickly, getting up and walking quickly towards the back of the small cabin, shutting the kitchen door behind him.
“Guess our little Omittchi is growing up,” Yohji mused, crossing the room to stand next to Ken as he pulled on gloves. “So...first you’re playing chauffeur, now you want me to come shopping with you... Are we forming a study group next?” Yohji asked brightly. “Should I walk with you to classes so the two of you don’t have to be alone together?”
“Shut up,” Ken muttered. “I know it’s lame, but...well, it’s lame. You don’t have to come.”
Yohji shook his head, grinning. “Nuh-uh, I got my marching orders. He’s in a weird mood, I think he needs to rest up a little. I wore him out with Yohji-lovin’.”
Ken snorted his opinion of that idea. “Yeah, I’m sure the almost dying and the being tortured didn’t phase him at all,” he replied.
“Nope,” Yohji agreed, crossing his arms behind his head and grinning triumphantly. “Just the Yohji-lovin’.”
Ken chuckled and shook his head, following Yohji out the door and down the snowy front steps to Aya’s car, which was already running.
“Do I have to ride shotgun?” Yohji asked. “Because you know I can’t stand the crap music he listens to. And you know how pissed off he gets when you touch his radio settings - ”
“You can ride in back,” Ken declared loudly, giving the older man a shove in that direction as he reached for the door handle.
_____________________________________
Omi sighed as he laid the last folded towel on top of the meager laundry pile. There really hadn’t been enough laundry to justify washing it yet, but he needed something to do. Something to distract himself from the knowledge that Yohji had been having sex with that…that…Schuldig.
Frowning, Omi grabbed the folded towel and shook it loose, giving it a thorough shaking before carefully, slowly refolding it.
It would have been so easy. The dumpster was right there.
Sighing again, Omi tossed the towel back on the pile and slumped down in the soft cushions of the couch, glowering at the cheerfully crackling fire he’d built, again as much for something to do as for the practical benefits.
He wished he could have gone shopping with the others, but someone had to stay with Aya-chan. It was mildly surprising that Aya hadn’t insisted on that person being himself, but then there was…whatever was going on between him and Ken, which Omi really didn’t want to know about, and so here he was. Babysitting Aya’s sister and Yohji’s…Schuldig.
“Oh, come on, Tsukiyono, I’m sure you can come up with a nicely colorful description if you try. You’re not as innocent as you look, after all.”
Omi tensed at the sound of that familiar voice, a shot of adrenaline making his fingers twitch for a weapon. He didn’t bother to wonder or worry about how the telepath could have snuck up on him, that was pretty much self-explanatory. He turned his head slightly to scowl at the redhead, who was standing just behind the couch, shirtless and picking at one of his many bandages.
Omi thought Yohji must have gone a little crazy with the gauze. Schuldig didn’t carry himself like a man with as many wounds as the bandages would suggest.
Green eyes slid over to regard Omi from beneath the wispy red fringe that half-concealed them, a hint of a smirk twisting the thin lips.
“I heal fast,” Schuldig informed him, ripping off a thick pad of gauze that had been taped over his collarbone. It was one of the few bandages that showed traces of dried blood, but the wound underneath was the raw pink color of new skin, clearly well past the scabbing stage.
“That’s good. So you can leave soon, then?” Omi asked flatly.
Schuldig chuckled. “Oh, I think Yohji wants me to stay.”
Omi scowled and turned deliberately back to the fire. Now that he was aware of Schuldig’s presence, he trusted his own well-honed senses to keep track of the other man’s movements.
“You think?” Schuldig murmured from much too close, and Omi flinched as warm breath stirred his hair. Alright, so that had been a foolish idea. But as long as Schuldig was actually breathing on him -
There was a chuckle from the chair beside the sofa, and Omi glanced over, seeing Schuldig reclining in the dancing shadows cast by the flickering fire. The breathing above his ear continued steadily, and he resisted the pointless urge to turn his head.
“Is there a reason you’re bothering me or are you just bored?” Omi asked quietly.
The Schuldig in the chair smirked at him. “Why can’t it be both?” he asked. “Come on, Tsukiyono, you can’t tell me the laundry is all that fascinating. And we have so much to talk about…killing people, how hot Yohji’s ass is… Okay, so that’s about it. But we can stretch those out for at least an hour, don’t you think?”
“I’m not interested in talking to you,” Omi informed the German coldly.
Schuldig smirked. “Oh, come on, you’re not still pissed about that Ouka chick? Her ass wasn’t a patch on Yohji’s.”
“She was my sister,” Omi snapped. “I don’t care how hot her ass was - ”
Schuldig snorted.
“I don’t,” Omi insisted angrily. “All I care about is that she’s the only family I ever had that liked me, that wanted me, and you - ”
“Your brothers liked you, at least until you went all Agent of Vengeance on them,” Schuldig interjected blandly, studying his fingernails. “And unless you want to talk about how fun it was to put an arrow through Hirofumi’s head - though actually, that could make for good conversation, I have some sibling issues of my own - ”
“Would you just shut up?” Omi yelled, shifting to the edge of the couch to escape that disturbing phantom breathing sensation. “I don’t want to talk to you! We have nothing to say to each other! I hate you, don’t you understand that?”
“Sure,” Schuldig replied with a shrug. “It’s just that I don’t give a fuck.”
____________________________________
“Okay, that’s it. This has to stop.”
Ken blinked at Yohji curiously. The older man had stopped in the middle of the aisle in the small drug store, a package of toilet paper tucked under each arm, and was glowering determinedly at Ken, the barest hint of a flush coloring his cheeks.
“What has to stop?” Ken asked curiously.
“The lost puppy act. I get the awkwardness, okay? I understand the avoiding conflict thing. But there are some things a man has to do on his own, Ken. Some places he has to go by himself. And I am not buying lube with you watching me,” Yohji informed him firmly.
Ken felt his own cheeks heating much more than Yohji’s. “Th-that’s - I - wh-what - ”
Yohji nodded, apparently deciding he’d made his point, and stalked off towards the aisle they’d passed up five times already on their circuits of the small store, throwing Ken one last baleful look over his shoulder when he lifted one foot to follow.
Ken flipped off the end of the aisle as Yohji disappeared down it, shifting his grip on the laden basket he was carrying with a sigh and a furtive look around for Aya. It seemed like the redhead should be easy to spot under the fluorescent lights, but somehow he -
“Ken? Can I talk to you for a moment?”
Ken sighed again, tensing at the sound of that familiar, undeniably sexy deep voice, right behind him. He turned slowly and braced himself internally at the sight of Aya’s determined face.
Okay, here we go, it’s been great, and you’re a good person, but my sister, my sister, she is the center of the universe, I am as the Moon to her Sun…or would he be the Earth? The Moon doesn’t revolve around the Sun, does it? Or maybe he’s the Moon to her Earth, or -
“Ken? Are you all right?” Aya asked worriedly, peering at Ken with curious violet eyes.
Ken blinked, and shrugged, offering an uncertain smile. “I’m…fine,” he replied. “Did you need something?”
“To talk to you?” Aya reminded him hesitantly, frowning. “Unless…is this…a bad time?” he asked, looking around the nearly deserted store as though there might be eavesdroppers crouched behind the endcap display of shaving cream.
Ken shrugged again, sighed again, and bit the proverbial bullet. “No, it’s fine,” he said resignedly. “What did you want to tell me?”
Aya opened and closed his mouth a few times, finally glancing away at a rack of toothbrushes. “Nothing’s changed,” he declared abruptly.
Ken frowned. “Okaaaay,” he said slowly. “And by that you mean…?” That your sister is still your sole reason for being and now that you have her back I’m superfluous? Is that what hasn’t changed, Aya?
Aya bit his lip and glanced at Ken, widening his eyes slightly. He suddenly looked even younger than he still actually was and absolutely adorable. And extremely nervous. “I mean…for me. Nothing’s changed for me,” he said slowly. “Having Aya-chan back…I thought you might think that I…and well, I mean, of course she’s important to me and I’m going to have to figure out how to protect her better after…everything, but…I just didn’t want you to think that I…”
“Aya. Please. The point?” Ken interrupted quietly, confused by the uncharacteristic babbling.
Aya sighed and shifted the armful of first aid supplies he was carrying so he could lift one hand and brush it though Ken’s hair gently. “I’m not breaking up with you. Or blowing you off, or whatever you think I’m going to do.” He smiled slightly. “I love my sister. But you’re…very important to me, too. I’m not leaving, not this time. As long as…you don’t want me to.”
“I…but…what?” Ken asked, baffled. Aya wasn’t leaving? Wasn’t dumping him, blowing him off, claiming there was nothing to break off in the first place? “Who are you and what have you done with Aya?” Ken demanded.
Aya smiled softly, such an entirely alien expression that Ken could only stare at him. “Well, that’s the question, isn’t it?” he asked quietly. “Who am I? Really, I’m probably still Aya, and I probably will be for a while, but…maybe someday I can be Ran again. Being with you makes me feel like I can do that.”
“Oh,” Ken finally managed softly, watching Aya’s strangely softened face bemusedly. “So…then…this is not the ‘sorry but my sister comes first and you are no longer relevant or required’ talk?”
Aya winced, his face regaining some of its usual reserve. “I guess I deserve that,” he muttered. “But no, it’s not that talk. It’s…the ‘my sister is very important to me and I need to take care of her, but you are important to me too and I hope you’ll be patient with me’…talk,” Aya finished uncertainly.
“Oh,” Ken repeated weakly. He licked his lips and tried again. “Oh, well.” He grinned. “That’s a good talk to have.”
Aya managed a small smile of his own, although he was already resuming his usual blank mask. Ken felt a pang for the loss of that brief glimpse of Ran, but…maybe he’d get to see Ran again someday.
“Good,” Aya said decisively. “So, then…we’ve had it, yes? The talk?”
Ken grinned wider and nodded. “Yeah. Not dumping me. Very important person. Gotcha,” he summed up.
“Right,” Aya said. “Good.”
Yohji stepped out of the aisle behind Aya, smiling bemusedly down at a small plastic package he held in one hand. “Does it seem weird to anybody else that you can buy lubricant and a yo-yo in the same store? I mean, there’s convenience and then there’s just…oh, sorry, am I interrupting your big scene?”
Ken stuck his tongue out at Yohji, who just tilted his head towards the packages of toilet paper now sharing space under one arm and said brightly, “Thanks for the offer, but I’m covered.”
Aya lifted his lip in disgust and stalked silently away toward the register.
“Now who’s in grade school?” Ken muttered, punching Yohji in the shoulder with his free hand.
“Hey, don’t squeeze the Charmin, man,” Yohji replied, grinning. He nodded at Aya’s stiffly erect back disappearing down another aisle. “How’d it go?”
“It…went fine,” Ken replied, shrugging. “He’s not blowing me off.”
Yohji’s eyebrows popped up in surprise. “Yeah? Well, good for you. Think you’re almost ready to go, then? My arms are getting tired.”
“Bet that’s what Schuldig said last night,” Ken replied, grinning. He dodged the yo-yo package Yohji threw at him and ducked down an aisle, heading for Aya’s distinctive hair, a bright splash of color near the register.
“I’m so kicking your ass for that later,” Yohji yelled after him.
“Promises, promises,” Ken called back, laughing.
_______________________________________
“If you hurt Yohji, I swear I will kill you,” Omi flatly informed the telepath, breaking the silence that had fallen between them.
Schuldig laughed brightly. “Oh, so fierce. Careful, you’ll give me nightmares,” he drawled.
“You don’t think I’ll do it?” Omi asked quietly.
Schuldig snorted. “I don’t think you can.” / Poor little lost boy, you don’t even know where to aim, do you? /
Omi scowled, rolling the poisoned dart in his pocket between his fingers. Stupid to only carry the one. But he still had at least a fifty percent chance of success.
“Yeah, if you’re actually going to kill me,” Schuldig agreed, leaning forward in the chair with a smirk. “Have fun explaining my corpse to Kudo. I don’t think ‘he was annoying me’ will impress him. And another dead lover is just what he needs right now. Won’t you just be his personal hero? Bet he’d give you a great big kiss, maybe even sweep you off to bed and…but no, he doesn’t see you as a man,” Schuldig sneered. “Hell, he doesn’t even see you as a friend.”
“Shut up!” Omi yelled. “Yohji is my friend, he - ”
“He doesn’t trust you,” Schuldig interrupted calmly, with a patronizing smile. “Come on, Omi, you’ve at least figured that much out, haven’t you? All those significant looks and private conversations with Ken? Stuff he’s just not telling you…and why would that be? Why wouldn’t he confide in dear little Omittchi?” Schuldig cocked his head and widened his eyes, blatantly failing to look innocently curious.
“He trusts me,” Omi stated firmly. “Yohji is cautious, but he wouldn’t keep anything really important from me. We’re friends, and teammates. He cares about me.”
“Oh, sure, he cares,” Schuldig agreed easily, shrugging. “He just doesn’t respect you.”
“Stop it,” Omi said quietly, narrowing his eyes. “I’m not stupid, I know what you’re trying to do. It won’t work. You can’t turn me against my own team. But I’m sure Yohji will be interested to know that you tried.”
“Yeah?” Schuldig grinned. “You going to tell him?” The redhead lifted a hand and examined his fingernails thoughtfully. “Think he’ll believe you?”
“Of course he’ll believe me! Why would I lie about something like this?” Omi snapped, fingers clenching around the dart. He was almost sure - but he still needed a good reason, damn it -
“I don’t know, Tsukiyono…even though he’s completely uninterested in you as a lover, you’ve made it just a little too clear you’re interested in him. Don’t you think killing me and claiming I was trying to subvert you might come off as a crime of passion?” Schuldig smirked, slumping back in the shadows of the chair, the fire picking out occasional highlights like stray sparks in his hair. His green eyes were too bright in the darkness, his voice low and insinuating when he spoke again.
“Wouldn’t it be at least partially the truth, anyway? I mean, really, I’m just talking here. You don’t want to kill me for talking, do you, Omi? It’s something else, isn’t it?”
“I want to kill you because you killed my sister,” Omi snapped. “Because you’re an enemy, because you’ve killed who knows how many innocent - “
“You know, I get so fucking tired of that word,” Schuldig interrupted flatly. “People toss it around like it means something, or nothing. Like love. What does it mean anymore to say you love someone when the word is so overused? Do you love anyone, Tsukiyono? The innocents, maybe?”
“I love…I loved my sister,” Omi said quietly.
Schuldig rolled his eyes. “Fuck, you are a like a broken record, aren’t you. My sister, my sister, my sister. Just like talking to Fujimiya, if I was masochistic enough to bother. So…” Schuldig sat forward again, the light from the fire glinting in his eyes as he grinned wickedly. “If it’s such a big deal, the dead sister…why don’t you think you could use that for your excuse? Don’t think Yohji would buy it?” The telepath cocked his head curiously.
Omi finally looked away from Schuldig, staring into the cheerful flames instead. “My sister’s dead,” he said quietly. “Killing you wouldn’t bring her back. I wouldn’t mind killing you for her, but…” He looked back over at the smirking German and shrugged. “I don’t need to. I’m pretty sure you’ll give me a new excuse soon enough.”
Schuldig laughed softly. “Yeah? You think I’ve got Kudo snowed? That I’m a bad man, bound to show my true colors sooner or later?”
“Yes,” Omi replied. “That’s exactly what I think.”
“Hm,” Schuldig murmured, flashing a small, nasty grin, and suddenly producing a gun from behind his back, aiming it casually at Omi’s chest. “You might be right about - ”
Before Schuldig had even finished speaking, Omi had pulled the dart from his pocket and hurled it with deadly accuracy at the man in the chair.
The dart disappeared when it impacted the bare, bandaged chest, and Schuldig winked at him and also disappeared.
Omi tensed, but wasn’t entirely surprised. It had been a gamble, but he’d picked the wrong option. Still, there were other ways. If he could avoid being grabbed, he could get to the kitchen, and the knives. He spun up and off the couch, eyes darting, searching the dimness for the man who’d been breathing behind him the whole time -
The room was empty.
Omi blinked, looking around incredulously. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t. He knew Schuldig was here somewhere, Omi just wasn’t seeing him -
/ Oh, now that was just sad. Honestly, Tsukiyono, where would I get a gun from? I was naked when you found me, and it’s not like any of you have the sense to carry something so useful. /
Omi snarled silently, eyes still searching the room for the source of the disembodied voice.
/ You’re never going to find me if I don’t want you to. What’s wrong, Mamoru, didn’t anybody play hide and seek with you when you were a kid? Or no, wait, how silly of me - why would anyone have gone looking for you if you disappeared? /
“Shut up!” Omi yelled at the empty room. “What do you want? Are you really this bored? If you can’t even act like a decent human being for this long, Yohji’s going to get sick of you pretty quick, you know.”
Laughter floated around Omi’s head. He focused on the staircase. Had that been the faint squeak of a board upstairs?
/ Careful, you’ll hurt my feelings, / Schuldig chided him sarcastically. / Besides, I don’t think it’s my human decency Yohji’s interested in. He just likes riding my cock. /
Omi felt a flush darken his cheeks at the immediate mental image that statement produced, but shoved the picture aside, focusing his senses. Upstairs. Someone was moving around upstairs. He stepped slowly over to the chair and retrieved the dart imbedded in the padding. Practiced fingers flicked the small weapon open, checking the poison chamber within to make sure the impact with the chair hadn’t broken it.
Still intact. Still deadly. Omi considered for a moment, then deliberately closed up the outer compartment, leaving the poison loaded.
/ My, my, Mamoru. Wouldn’t Daddy be proud of his little killer? / Schuldig’s voice murmured in his mind.
“Shut up,” Omi muttered, not particularly caring if Schuldig heard him, but guessing volume wouldn’t make a difference in that anyway. He began to move slowly, carefully towards the foot of the stairs. “Reiji Takatori was never proud of me a day of my life. He never wanted me,” he muttered bitterly, fingers clenching on the dart.
/ No, he wasn’t proud of you, / Schuldig agreed easily, a hint of amusement coloring the mental speech. / But then, he wasn’t your daddy, either. /
Omi blinked in surprise, pausing a second, then shook his head and continued moving soundlessly across the room. “I’m past the identity issues,” he grumbled. “Find another wound to poke at.”
/ Okay. You know that sister whose ass you certainly didn’t check out? You don’t have to worry about it, she wasn’t actually your sister. /
“What the fuck - “ Omi cut off the angry shout, annoyed with himself. Not only had he let the stupid lie get to him, he’d given away his position by yelling. Stupid. A rookie mistake, and he was -
/ A hardened professional? Dream on, little boy, / Schuldig mocked. / Poor little Mamoru. Who can you possibly protect if you can’t protect yourself? /
“I’m fully capable of protecting myself,” Omi said flatly, planting himself firmly at the base of the stairs, glaring up at the shadowy form he could barely make in the darkness above.
/ Wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong, little boy, / Schuldig replied, amused. / Poor thing, so confused. Don’t know who to trust, what to believe. At least there’s one thing you’re right about. /
“And what’s that?” Omi muttered absently, rolling the dart slowly between his fingers.
“Me.”
The moment it took Omi to realize the word had been spoken, aloud, from directly behind him was all the time he had before pain exploded against the back of his head, and he was falling into darkness.
________________________________________
__
Aya barely bothered to put the car in park before leaping out, running towards the cabin. Climbing out more slowly even as Yohji went flying past him, Ken stared at the enormous bonfire that had been their cabin hideaway and wondered what they thought they were going to accomplish by running. They wouldn’t even be able to get close to what remained of the building, it was completely engulfed in flames, the thick column of smoke they’d seen from the road nearly blotting out the sun.
Ken had seen more than enough of fire lately. He was in no rush to approach the blaze, the heat of which he could feel even from his current distance. But he supposed he might feel differently if his sister or his lover had last been seen inside the building.
Not that he wasn’t worried, terrified even for what would happen to Aya or Yohji if…but someone had to stay calm.
He looked around the open space hopefully. Maybe they were out here somewhere. Because if they were inside…
He looked back at the cabin as a heavy, crackling whumpf heralded the collapse of the roof, sending up a shower of sparks and leaping tongues of flame. Ken winced at the sight of Aya and Yohji, standing frozen at the boundary of where the heat must become unbearable.
“Nobody’s inside.”
For a moment, Ken didn’t even recognize that the speaker wasn’t himself, spouting optimistic reassurances. Then he blinked, and turned with a wide smile of relief towards the direction Omi’s voice had come from. The small blond was slumped against a fallen tree, holding a hand to the back of his head and glaring at the burning cabin. He was sooty and his clothes and visible skin showed a few patchy burns, as if he’d been hit by stray sparks.
“Omi?” Ken asked, walking up to the younger man with a frown. “You okay?”
Omi glowered at him, bright blue eyes fairly glowing with anger in his ash-smudged face. “I’m fine,” he muttered, pulling his hand away from the back of his head and shaking a few clumps of melting, bloody snow onto the ground. He bent, hanging onto the tree, and scooped up another handful, straightening and
slapping his hand back in place with a wince.
“Omi!” Yohji shouted frantically, pelting over with Aya on his heels. “You’re okay! Thank Christ! But where are - ”
“They’re not in there. Nobody’s inside,” Omi interjected flatly.
Yohji blinked and stepped back slightly at Omi’s grim expression.
“Are you sure?” Aya pressed, eyes too wide and skin even paler than normal. He stepped forward and looked like he was going to grab Omi and attempt to shake answers out of him. Ken moved into his path and put a firm hand on his shoulder, stopping him. Aya glared, and Ken pursed his lips irritably.
“He’s got a head wound,” Ken informed Aya, releasing his shoulder and stepping back. He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and crouched down to scoop some snow into it.
“Omi, are you sure they got out? Where are they?” Yohji asked, more calmly than Aya, if only marginally. “What happened?”
As Ken straightened up with his improvised ice pack, he could see that Yohji’s worried question had snapped whatever fragile control Omi had been holding onto.
“What happened?” the shorter blond repeated incredulously. “What happened? Schuldig happened, that’s fucking what!”
“Omi - “ Yohji began sharply.
“No!” Omi yelled, holding up his free hand in a blocking gesture. “I don’t want to hear it! You weren’t here, and he - he was - messing with me, and then - the next thing I know he whacks me over the head with the damn cutting board and I wake up with my fucking shoe burning!”
“But - he wouldn’t - he’s okay, though, right?” Yohji asked confusedly.
Omi gave the older man a look that should have frozen him to the ground. “I’m sure he’s fine,” the younger blond said coldly. "Considering he set the fire before taking off with Aya-chan, I’m sure he’s absolutely - “
“He took my sister?” Aya demanded angrily, shouldering past Ken only to be stopped by Omi’s icy glare. The redhead was visibly shaking at this revelation, and looked ready to kill.
“He wouldn’t take her anywhere, he must have just gotten her out of the fire,” Yohji told Aya soothingly. He turned back to Omi with a gentle, patient, false smile. “Now, where - “
“He knocked me out. He set the fire. He took Aya-chan. My shoe was burning,” Omi yelled directly in Yohji’s face. Yohji’s smile never wavered.
“Okay. But where is he now?” Yohji asked patiently.
Omi stared at him incredulously, then looked over at Ken, as if to make sure someone had actually heard what he’d just said.
“I’d guess he’s halfway back to Tokyo by now,” Ken said slowly.
Yohji’s head snapped around, and he glared at Ken just as fiercely as Omi had glared at the fire. “He wouldn’t - “ Yohji began heatedly.
“Yohji,” Aya interrupted darkly. “Where’s your car?”
Yohji frowned at Aya curiously. “It’s right…” he trailed off, still frowning, pointing at the spot where packed snow showed where Yohji’s car had been parked.
“My shoe was burning,” Omi muttered grimly.
Behind them, the cabin caved in completely, smoke billowing thickly into the darkening sky.