Weiss Kreuz - slash_me_twice - 020. Country
020. Country
Notes: Begun mid-freewrite about how much I didn’t want to write Schu/Ran because I had no ideas, and likely spawned by the Tori Amos song ‘Crazy’ and spurred on by ‘Siren’ (both of which are excellent songs-Tori is a wonderful, wonderful woman).
*
They are in a car. Ran realizes this with the clarity of one waking in a dream. He is in a car, in the passenger seat, but he is on the right side and not the left. An American car. And perhaps, also in America. Outside, the air looks hot from the ripples off the pavement, the pavement that looks like the black bottom of a frying pan. The air is golden, the land is golden. Golden and dead. A strange smell is in the car, like blood and death. Like slaughter en masse. But it is not human dead-it smells like animal.
“There’s a slaughterhouse half a mile away,” says a nasally voice from next to him. Ran turns his head like he is floating, and sees a scraggly tree pulling itself toward the crushing sky, and flames. No, flame red hair, fluttering in the air conditioner like a trapped bird.
“Mastermind,” Ran says as if this is the most natural thing, as if his heart should not be beating a thousand miles an hour, as fast as this car seems to be going down the highway.
A car passes, and swallows the sound from the other assassin’s mouth. Ran says, “What?” and the other man says, “It’s…I’m Schuldig.”
Ran nods and turns back to the road. His hands lightly skim his face. He is not quite leaning on them, leaning on the door, but almost. It would be picturesque if anyone could see them from outside the speeding car as anything more than a blur. “Where are we going?” he asks.
“You were sleeping,” Schuldig says unnecessarily.
Ran doesn’t nod, but in his mind he is agreeing. A moment passes, and he remembers to ask again, “But where are we going?”
Schuldig is silent.
“Where are we going?”
Schuldig sighs. “Nowhere,” he admits. “You’re still asleep.”
Ran would startle, but he does not remember how, or that he can be surprised by anything in this place. “I feel awake.”
“You’re with me. Driving through Arizona. But this is only in your head.”
Ran frowns at a passing truck. It is bright silver in the sunlight, and its many wheels sizzle, black against black against beams of spice and light. “But why would I be in Arizona?”
Schuldig says, mysteriously, “You don’t ask why I’m here?”
And when Ran says, “I know why you’re here,” he suddenly does, with the clarity of a dreamer. “You’re here to guide me home.”
Schuldig says, “Aah” like a natural-born Japanese. He seems oddly pleased by Ran’s reply.
“But…why?” And Ran knows this answer is important. He can feel it in the twisting of his bones, of the acid in his stomach.
“When you know that,” Schuldig says, “You’ll wake up.”
Ran sits up to look at Schuldig. His jaw is lit by the sun, his hair a fire thwarted from wildness by a green bandanna. Sunglasses perch atop the bandanna. Below it, twisting Schuldig’s mouth, is smile that looks forced.
“What’s wrong?” Ran finds himself asking. He doesn’t know why he cares.
Schuldig glances at him, blue eyes that are usually so sharp almost…glistening. Wet. “When-” he stops. Glances down at Ran’s mouth. Looks back to the road. The car speeds up. “When you wake up,” he says in a voice like a sieve, “I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you everything.”
Ran sees Schuldig’s hand, tense over the gears, and reaches out to clasp it because it is what his body tells him to do. He wonders why he is doing this even as he does it, but Schuldig smiles fleetingly at him and spreads his fingers so that their fingers are intertwined. Ran feels calmer, as though a darkness has lifted from his mind-just a little, but enough. “I’m tired,” he says, leaning his head back against the seat.
“Then go to sleep,” Schuldig says in a voice that is kind.
Ran closes his eyes, then opens them again. “Will you still be here when I wake up?”
Schuldig glances at him, once, twice, and holds his gaze. “I will always be here,” he says firmly.
Ran yawns and closes his eyes then, face toward the window, away from the sun that makes Schuldig shine like an angel on fire. As he falls asleep, he feels Schuldig’s hand move under his. Ran grasps it tighter, an anchor as he slips into a darker place.
Endnotes: I’m not sure I made the backstory clear, but if you’re curious, Ran is in a coma. And Schuldig is there, trying to help him. This is Ran’s mindscape. Hope that clarifies.
Notes: Begun mid-freewrite about how much I didn’t want to write Schu/Ran because I had no ideas, and likely spawned by the Tori Amos song ‘Crazy’ and spurred on by ‘Siren’ (both of which are excellent songs-Tori is a wonderful, wonderful woman).
*
They are in a car. Ran realizes this with the clarity of one waking in a dream. He is in a car, in the passenger seat, but he is on the right side and not the left. An American car. And perhaps, also in America. Outside, the air looks hot from the ripples off the pavement, the pavement that looks like the black bottom of a frying pan. The air is golden, the land is golden. Golden and dead. A strange smell is in the car, like blood and death. Like slaughter en masse. But it is not human dead-it smells like animal.
“There’s a slaughterhouse half a mile away,” says a nasally voice from next to him. Ran turns his head like he is floating, and sees a scraggly tree pulling itself toward the crushing sky, and flames. No, flame red hair, fluttering in the air conditioner like a trapped bird.
“Mastermind,” Ran says as if this is the most natural thing, as if his heart should not be beating a thousand miles an hour, as fast as this car seems to be going down the highway.
A car passes, and swallows the sound from the other assassin’s mouth. Ran says, “What?” and the other man says, “It’s…I’m Schuldig.”
Ran nods and turns back to the road. His hands lightly skim his face. He is not quite leaning on them, leaning on the door, but almost. It would be picturesque if anyone could see them from outside the speeding car as anything more than a blur. “Where are we going?” he asks.
“You were sleeping,” Schuldig says unnecessarily.
Ran doesn’t nod, but in his mind he is agreeing. A moment passes, and he remembers to ask again, “But where are we going?”
Schuldig is silent.
“Where are we going?”
Schuldig sighs. “Nowhere,” he admits. “You’re still asleep.”
Ran would startle, but he does not remember how, or that he can be surprised by anything in this place. “I feel awake.”
“You’re with me. Driving through Arizona. But this is only in your head.”
Ran frowns at a passing truck. It is bright silver in the sunlight, and its many wheels sizzle, black against black against beams of spice and light. “But why would I be in Arizona?”
Schuldig says, mysteriously, “You don’t ask why I’m here?”
And when Ran says, “I know why you’re here,” he suddenly does, with the clarity of a dreamer. “You’re here to guide me home.”
Schuldig says, “Aah” like a natural-born Japanese. He seems oddly pleased by Ran’s reply.
“But…why?” And Ran knows this answer is important. He can feel it in the twisting of his bones, of the acid in his stomach.
“When you know that,” Schuldig says, “You’ll wake up.”
Ran sits up to look at Schuldig. His jaw is lit by the sun, his hair a fire thwarted from wildness by a green bandanna. Sunglasses perch atop the bandanna. Below it, twisting Schuldig’s mouth, is smile that looks forced.
“What’s wrong?” Ran finds himself asking. He doesn’t know why he cares.
Schuldig glances at him, blue eyes that are usually so sharp almost…glistening. Wet. “When-” he stops. Glances down at Ran’s mouth. Looks back to the road. The car speeds up. “When you wake up,” he says in a voice like a sieve, “I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you everything.”
Ran sees Schuldig’s hand, tense over the gears, and reaches out to clasp it because it is what his body tells him to do. He wonders why he is doing this even as he does it, but Schuldig smiles fleetingly at him and spreads his fingers so that their fingers are intertwined. Ran feels calmer, as though a darkness has lifted from his mind-just a little, but enough. “I’m tired,” he says, leaning his head back against the seat.
“Then go to sleep,” Schuldig says in a voice that is kind.
Ran closes his eyes, then opens them again. “Will you still be here when I wake up?”
Schuldig glances at him, once, twice, and holds his gaze. “I will always be here,” he says firmly.
Ran yawns and closes his eyes then, face toward the window, away from the sun that makes Schuldig shine like an angel on fire. As he falls asleep, he feels Schuldig’s hand move under his. Ran grasps it tighter, an anchor as he slips into a darker place.
Endnotes: I’m not sure I made the backstory clear, but if you’re curious, Ran is in a coma. And Schuldig is there, trying to help him. This is Ran’s mindscape. Hope that clarifies.