Hello, all. Long long long long long time no see. It has been about, oh, five years since I wrote a piece of fanfiction, so I decided, once I finished this little brute, that I would post it. Just to make sure my profile here wasn't TOO abysmal. In contrast to my previous (horrific) fanfics, this will be as cannon based as possible, with no OCs (unless minor characters are required) and rather copius slash. You have been warned.
Blame the amazing Rakuengaki for getting me addicted both to Weiss Kreuz and slash fanfiction. It's totally all her fault.
Also, one last warning. I am not sure if this will ever be continued. Drop me a line in the comments letting me know if you'd like to see more.
Disclaimer: I do not own Weiss Kruez or Weizz Kruez: Gluhen. If I did... well... Yohji NEVER would have cut his hair.
This is a post-Gluhen fic. If you have not seen Gluhen, it will probably not make sense. And why haven't you seen Gluhen yet? SCHWARTZ is in it!
Chapter 1-- If There Were Water
Schuldig was bored out of his skull. Farfarello had left nearly a year ago, and Nagi had been gone a year three months, and seven days. So there went his two favorite playmates. Brad was locked in his room asleep, and the restless stirrings of the sleeping precognative's brainwaves grated on Schuldig's nerves. It had been interesting watching his boss fall apart for the first month or so. He'd somewhat enjoyed tending the man's wounds in a twisted role-reversal way, but Crawford still hadn't recovered himself, despite his absent physical wounds, and Schuldig was getting very tired of looking after the moping man. However, his overdeveloped since of loyalty towards the man wouldn't allow him to just leave like the others had.
Nagi, he knew, left out of spite and resentment. Schuldig didn't mind that. Their team, to Nagi, was a reminder of Esset. Farfarello left not long after that out of restlessness. Brad had promised him an outlet when he joined, and Farf was never meant for peace. No, Schuldig had no resentment for either of them. Things had been awkward and strained ever since the Elders were beaten and the tower fell. Their freedom had come at the price of their health. Schuldig later discovered that Brad had expected them all to die. It was not a particularly surprising revelation, but after that, things had started to crumble.
It had certainly been interesting, watching Nagi turn from deadpan to bitter, but it hadn't been pleasant. They all knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Nagi was the one that saved them from the tower's collapse, and that he had saved Weiss as well, but no one mentioned it; Schuldig soon started to wonder why Nagi had bothered with Schwartz at all as his anger fell into the open.
Yes, it had all been amusing until the day that Nagi, now scant inches shorter than Schuldig, had informed the telepath that he was 'done' and walked out. Brad, working on his darling computer, hadn't even looked up. After that, when Farfarello left without a word, Schuldig had looked over at Brad and commented 'Just the two of us again, I guess.'
"For now," Brad had replied. Schuldig wondered if that meant that they were splitting up or recruiting, but Brad didn't mention it again.
Months had passed in near silence. With the quiet, moody Crawford, Schuldig dared not play around too much, and Crawford had never been hailed as a great conversationalist. Then one day, out of the blue, Bradly Crawford looked out of the corner of his eye at Schuldig with a wicked smile and said "ready to go back to work, Mastermind?"
Schuldig had been ready months ago, but he contented himself with saying only "hell yes."
So they'd made plans against Esset's new brain-child Epitaph. It had been exciting being around the enchantingly clever and wicked Crawford again. Schuldig enjoyed himself throughly during the process. He'd laughed wildly at the files discussing their clones ("a pyro? Hey! Are they saying I'm flaming!?") and volunteered information as helpful as ever ("I'd totally bang that guy.") but through it all, Brad had been as relaxed and in control as he was under Taketori. Even when they arrived to find Weiss at the scene. But Schuldig felt Crawford's unease when Nagi showed up. Schuldig didn't blame him. The boy had changed. He ripped twenty highly trained agents to shreds without batting an eye, no more than a soft regret sliding over his young face. That, and he addressed the young Taketori with affection.
Schuldig was not pleased with that. He and Crawford split to their positions without another word, suddenly thrown back into brooding silence. When Schuldig caught up to the one Esset claimed was superior to him, Weiss was already there, and Schuldig had to make a choice: Weiss or Esset. He chose Esset, and snipped at the goodie-two-shoes to go ahead. Nagi's presence in the building was a constant buzz in the back of Schuldig's mind.
Then the pyro had attacked and Schuldig realized exactly why he was in trouble. The bastard was immune to his telepathy. He felt it when Nagi realized he could not catch his opponent in a telekinetic field; when Brad realized he could not 'see' his opponent's next move and was pulled into his mind game, and Schuldig could do nothing for them. He was having to work hard enough to stay alive amid the flames the pyro threw at him.
Then Nagi won (Schuldig had no idea how) and the telepath nearly jumped out of his skin when Nagi opened his long-closed link with him. He appeared shining gold in Schuldig's mind, so brightly the telepath could almost see him, and in a newly deepened voice, the boy offered his help. Refusing never even crossed Schuldig's mind. With Nagi whispering strategy in his mental ear, Schuldig gained the upper hand in seconds flat. He didn't waste his chance. The pyro's neck snapped satisfyingly, but Schuldig scorched his fingers on the man's skin.
The moment Schuldig's opponent was dead, Nagi vanished from his mind's eye, using Schuldig's telepathic connection to hop into Brad's consciousness. Schuldig brushed the soot off his pants with smarting hands and started walking. No one of the countless lackeys dashing through the halls gave him a second look (mainly because he made sure they didn't), and he reached the rooftop rendezvous point ahead of schedule. Staring out over the building, he reveled in the feeling of Esset's panic.
So Schuldig was outside when the explosion hit, waiting for Brad on the roof where they'd started. He was singed, grumpy, and smelled a little like burned hair, but was none the worse for wear. He had assumed the same about Crawford, and had settled in on the building's edge to wait, bemoan the loss of his new jacket, and stroke his ego. (Getting saved by Nagi had NOT been part of his plan.) And then the Epitaph building had crumbled to the ground, throwing a thick, gritty dust into the air, and filling Schuldig with a sick dread. It only took a quick mental scan for Schuldig's fears to be confirmed. Brad had not gotten out.
Schuldig was off the roof in an instant, screaming down the stairs, his long legs carrying him faster and faster towards the destruction. He came to a halt only after he reached what had once been the front door. Already, just to get that far, he had navigated a massive amount of shattered concrete. Now he stood on the edge of the destruction, the rusty dust thick in his lungs, and hoped that Brad had not been in the basement. He stepped into the rubble, and started looking. It ought to have been easy, as Schuldig saw it, to locate Brad's mind and rescue him, but the dust made him dizzy, and every living person left in proximity was thinking the same thing; they were in pain. So, one by one, Schuldig wet through every mind in the building, found the one that came through clearest and closest, and went to work.
The first was not Brad. Schuldig crushed the stranger's throat with his heel, took the man's gun, and found the next mind to uncover. Schuldig unburied seven more people, and shot each one of them, taking any bullets they had with them, and eventually switching guns with one corpse. He couldn't risk wasting the energy it would take to avoid discovering them again. His body was trembling with exertion, but he didn't dare stop to rest, and there was no way he would leave this place alone. He nearly stepped on the hand of the next body, lost in his thoughts, and stumbled avoiding it, wrenching his ankle on the uneven ground.
"Scheisse," Schuldig snarled, shaking his leg out for a moment. He didn't linger long over the pain, moving over to start uncovering the man whose mind was humming with life. There was something familiar about the feeling of thought washing over Schuldig's shields, but he did not linger over the sensation. His arms felt weak from over-use. He was strong, impressively so, but he was worn out from his fight with the pyro-maniac, and exhausted from his search, and his well-defined muscles were shuddering from the effort of shifting rubble. When he finally saw the other man's face, he let out a horse choke of a laugh.
Even through the filth and blood, it was easy to recognize Weiss's blonde, though he had bleached his hair an atrocious sunny color that clashed horribly with his honey skin. He lay sprawled in the broken ruins, one cheek sprayed with shrapnel. He had obviously been close to a center of the explosion. Schuldig pulled his gun out of his belt and put it to Kudoh Yohji's head. After years, he had finally gotten his chance to pay the bastard back for the scars that crisscrossed Schuldig's throat from those damned wire attacks. Schuldig knelt, frozen, on the ground for a long time, the barrel of his gun pressing into the pale skin of Yohji's temple. Then, with a heavy sigh, he clicked the safety back on and shoved the gun through the back of his belt before grabbing Kudoh under the shoulders and dragging him free of the debris trapping his legs. Before he gave himself time to think, Schuldig hoisted the blond over once shoulder and, covered in sweat and grit, carried his enemy free of the disaster zone.
Schuldig fully intended to drop Kudoh on his ass and leave him once he was clear (just as he had fully intended to put a bullet in his brain), but instead found himself leaning the blonde gently against the stump of a toppled tree, carefully laying his broken arm across his lap. Then those soulful, jade eyes opened and fixed their gaze on the orange-haired man.
"Don't get the wrong idea, Kudoh." Schuldig growled with a hint of a wheeze in his throat. Those green eyes didn't falter; did not narrow in hatred, or widen in surprise; Yohji just gazed blankly at him, so Schuldig felt compelled to continue. "I just want someone to survive…." Schuldig winced as he spoke at the pathetic sentiment and turned, walking away without a backwards glance. With luck, Kudoh would never remember their encounter, and Brad would never ever find out.
Brad. Fuck. He had to find Brad.
Schuldig stumbled through the remains of Epitaph, looking for any signs of life, still reaching out with his mind, searching desperately now for anyone who felt like Crawford, because he was damn sure he was running out of time if he wanted to escape Kritiker. Not that there would be much point in running without Brad, but there would be no point in finding Brad if they had nowhere to run.
And then there it was; that faint pull of familiarity in Schuldig's mind. He froze in his tracks and reached out with a thought. Brad was close by, but was not doing well. The telepath couldn't really feel Brad's pain (that was an empathy thing), but anyone hearing the elder man's thoughts would have recognized the moaning screams of agony that filled and nearly overwhelmed them. Finally, Schuldig distanced himself from Crawford's thoughts once more and started walking briskly towards him, all exhaustion forgotten. His time was almost up. He could feel people beginning to arrive on the scene, and not one of them would be a friend to the remnants of Schwartz. He sped up as much as he could without loosing his footing on the rough terrain.
He almost missed Crawford. The man was crumpled on the ground, a grimy puddle of blood around his head, dying his white hair an awful pink-ish color. His skin was so pale it nearly blended in with the grey concrete. Were it not for the glint of blood in the fading light, Schuldig never would have found him. The telepath walked over to the other man slowly, his mind a whirl of movement. Brad was unconscious and hurt, Kritiker was arriving en mass now, Schuldig himself was next to useless in his current state, and Nagi had disappeared with most of Weiss. Schuldig let out another sharp curse and lowered himself to the ground, checking Brad's vital signs, feeling trapped from every side. There was no where he could go that was not a veritable pool of Kritiker forces by now, and, though Schuldig was a near invincible telepath at his best, he was well aware that he was far from his best at the moment. Schuldig tried to calm down as he checked Brad over, silently hoping that the other man would be able to help him. That turned out not to be an option. Even if Brad had been awake, one look at the gash on his head and a glance at his eyes was all Schuldig needed to be pretty certain that Brad had a concussion.
"Shit" Schuldig snipped, "Shit shit shit." Kritiker was closing in. He could hear the chainsaw buzz of their minds getting louder by the moment, and panic was beginning to rise in his chest. He knew he couldn't take on a whole field team of Kritiker agents right now. The metal of the gun was cold against his back, like a sick reminder that he could always finish himself and Brad off if they ran out of options. Schuldig did not like that plan in the least, but if it came down to a choice…
Then, as suddenly as they had approached, the Kritiker agents were falling back. Schuldig didn't stick around to find out why. He had Brad on his shoulder and was running as fast as he could before the Kritiker bastards changed their minds again.