TITLE: Jigsaw

AUTHOR: Simply Kim

PART: One of Six

WORD COUNT: 2,779

CHARACTER/S: Brad Crawford x Fujimiya Ran

DISCLAIMERS: By no means does the series Weiss Kreuz belong to me. All I own is the story you're about to read. If you see places and people that resemble those that and whom you know, such is mere coincidence and nothing more.

NOTE#1: I have decided not to let ailments and papers bog me down in creating pieces from the stuff that keep on popping in my brain. I need mental release, and this is the best way to do it or I'll go crazy. Anyway, just a few reminders:

1. Blah and Blah Reiterations or stresses

2. /Blah/ Flashbacks or phone/messenger conversations

3. /Blah/ Conscience or whatever inner voice there is talking

4. Blah Thoughts or random Japanese words (Most are footnoted)

NOTE#2: Thank you to Noire Sensus for all the quotes they have in their spiffy website. Much love!

NOTE#3: Please assume that the usual Glühen is not represented here. I just created my own Glühen world, thus the weirdness.

NOTE#4: This is an elaboration of the one-shot I created a long while back for the 30kisses community, so don't be surprised upon finding all thirty themes in here. This is in lieu of my finally stumbling upon the Crawford x Ran community after all those times I squirmed just to get a glimpse of something that featured my Weiss Kreuz OTP! XD


FIRST PIECE: MILIEU

"You must understand the darkness

before you truly understand the power of the light"

- Emily Jardine


"Someone needs to let up on the ice cream."

Brad Crawford gritted his teeth as he hauled his burden up on one of the more stable pieces of rock that survived the explosion. He knew it would come to this... from the last vision he had whilst engaged in the inconvenience of plummeting down a rocky cliff, he knew that three out of four members of Schwarz would escape unscathed... he knew that Weiß would somehow find the will to survive this manmade calamity...

But he never saw himself surfacing the deep with an additional baggage to take care of. A heavy additional baggage to be exact. Taking deep cleansing breaths, he levered himself up, drenched, dripping, onto the slab, grateful for reaching dry land – or something poorly resembling it – at last.

Then, impulsively, he looked down, staring at the one he had spent so much energy saving. He frowned. There was still an internal debate as to whether it was a wise move or not, and since the Elders jumbled up his abilities and left him with something close to nil, he couldn't quite grasp the necessity of his actions – or their consequences.

Damn them. He thought, gritting his teeth in annoyance. Good thing they're dead... and I'll be able to gain complete control in a matter of days. For the first time in his life, he thanked the instructors – or torturers when time arose – of Rosenkreuz for twisting his insides up. He became more independent that way – and stronger too.

He sighed – a dangerous feat for him who almost close to never, sighed in his entire life – at least when the babies who were his teammates were not the ones in question.

What to do, what to do... His fingers, in their own accord, toyed with damp strands of crimson hair. The sound of the crashing waves were disturbing his quiet, running through his mind ceaselessly that he was compelled to close his eyes and let his senses shut down for a moment.

It was then that he felt exhaustion... only then that he felt the need to rest. However, given the excessive chain that was tied to him, the unconscious guy whom he couldn't dare leave alone despite his misgivings, he was not exactly in the position to do so. Opening his eyes slowly, he stared at the darkened skies. Nagi was, for sure, feeling miserable again. It was either that or the apocalypse they were hoping for somehow pushed through. He knew it was not the latter though, he was sure of it since the sacrifice was not present anymore... and the elders were now dead. He was not sure of the former as well, since the temporary barrier the elders put to control the boy upon emergence from Rosenkreuz inhibited his gift.

Feeling useless, he shook his head and turned his thoughtful gaze down at the lone person accompanying him. The itch in his hands demanded blood to be spilt, red, red blood spilling from his hands; hot, sticky and vibrant with ebbing life... this man was, after all, a former enemy – the one who had made all their dreams vanish in a rapid, uncontrolled explosion. Surprisingly, his mind was not cooperating. Something was nudging in the recesses of his own consciousness; something in it ached at the prospect of losing this man... even if it was his own hands that deprived him of living a second life.

Not knowing exactly what to do, he let his body relax, an internal sense guarding him for the meantime.

It wouldn't do him well to think too much as of present.

If he continued like this, he would definitely turn into another Farfarello.

Not that it's a bad thing...

OxxxOxxxO

Schuldig glared at the boy beside him.

"Stop pouting, will you?" He snarled, signalling the cab driver with his mind when they needed to make a turn. After much concentration, he actually had enough energy to flag down an unwilling taxi and control the driver's actions. Farfarello was, after all, losing much blood from where the jutting rock stabbed him on the shoulder. Schuldig hoped it didn't hit an artery or he would mourn forever for the loss of his source of comic, albeit morbid, amusement. Besides, he was sort of like the alternate leader. His authoritative leader was still AWOL – he wasn't even answering his frantic telepathic calls. It was either he was indeed lost, or he was still off from everything that transpired.

And Naoe Nagi, Wonder Boy Extraordinaire, was irritable now that they somehow lost contact with their leader whom he worshipped since he was in the Orphanage of Doom.

"Make me." The boy responded stubbornly.

The redhead was a hair's breadth from screaming. "Look, stupid, you can control the weather, right? At least, that's what our precious American said, so please, for the sake of him getting out of the waters alive, don't cause the wind to blow too much or a storm will cast him way off shore! He'll fuckin' die, you moron!" he growled, earning a gurgle of protest from Farfarello for being too loud. But he didn't care.

"What do you want me to do then, feel happy that we don't have him here yet?" Nagi glared right back, unafraid as usual.

"That's right, you nerd! For the sake of the weather and Crawford, do it!" With one of the cab's smelly backseat cushions, he muffed the boy's face and screamed almost incoherently in utter fury. "Now start unhinging your jaws and smile!"

OxxxOxxxO

The brewing storm dissipated after a few hours, quickly as if by magic, and he could only wonder why it was so. And, he couldn't discount the scenery before him, somehow, he felt lost in the vastness of it all.

The ruins were all too beautiful to behold as it stood darkly against the backdrop of perfectly blue sky. The calming hue was enough to add mysticism in the overall aura of the place. Crawford silently wished he learned how to paint instead of acquiring the skill of boxing... maybe he would be able to capture this moment not only in memory but also in still-life – made by his own hands.

Creating instead of destroying, that was his wish.

He wanted to create something unbreakable... something close to being pure... something beautiful beyond words.

He stared at his hands.

I can only see red.

The red of blood...

The red of uncovered, festering wounds...

The red of the night when they were out plundering and murdering for their clients... for Takatori.

The red of death. He mused, eyes travelling down to where his companion still slumbered... obviously exhausted since he was still unconscious after last night's ordeal. He vaguely remembered helping set the trap in order to follow the old man's commands. He vaguely remembered seeing a young man years ago, dark of hair, eyes as purple as the sky transcended from a perfect blue to darker, more royal tones.

In its own volition, his hand reached out to touch alabaster skin. He could feel the gentle puff of minute scars marring invisibly, the smoothness of the surface jagged as a result.

Unseen... but very much felt.

Just like they were living their lives.

Living only in our own worlds. It seemed odd to compare such, but it was only the truth. They were virtually dead to the world but alive only to themselves as they faced their adversaries day after day, night after night.

Stopping abruptly, he let his hand drop once again to his knee and turned back to the brightening sky. He needed to rest some more, and he obviously couldn't do that on a slab of dusty rock. Besides, Schwarz needed to regroup... and he was one of those Schuldig thought to be lost, after all the desperate calls he was sending over to him mentally a while ago – stronger and louder than the accursed radio station at 90 kilohertz that Nagi listened to every single bloody morning.

Why the boy listened to such in an outmoded radio-cassette player was beyond him. They had state of the art gadgets after all.

Shakily, he stood up, righting himself and maintaining his balance. It took him a few moments to stabilise himself, his bones aching as he did. Maybe Schuldig, even while joking, was right when he suggested that he ingest a couple of, 'Wada Calcium CD3' as he called it, before each mission so his bones wouldn't disintegrate with old age. He smirked inwardly.

The idiot.

He was about to hop down and walk through shallow waters to the sandy shore when he scuffed against still damp leather boots. This guy... It was a surprise for him that the other still hadn't woken up. For an assassin, that was something truly unusual. For a couple of moments, he debated on whether to just step over him and leave him there or...

He sighed for the nth time and shook his head, rolling his eyes in supplication.

I almost died saving you, Fujimiya Ran – damn if I would leave you here alone and let my hard work go to waste.

With all the energy he could muster, he lugged him up and slung him on his shoulder.

"As I said before..." Crawford muttered as he struggled with the additional weight.

"Someone needs to let up on the ice cream... and I don't mean me, dammit."

OxxxOxxxO

For some strange reason, Fujimiya Ran was dreaming of vanilla-flavoured ice cream. Involuntarily, he swallowed, moving a bit to ease his discomfort. He frowned. Wasn't the point of eating ice cream to cool oneself?

But –

It was warm.

OxxxOxxxO

He could see the medical facility.

In between his trip from the shore to the hospital, he changed his carrying style. Crawford couldn't seem to straighten out his back without the redheaded Weiß's nose bumping to his ass. It was an uncomfortable ordeal.

So, for the sake of his sanity, he decided on carrying him around like a kid instead of lugging him around like some Neanderthal. Besides, he looked cooler that way.

He felt the other man snuggle deep in his arms and unconsciously, a smile wormed its way to his lips. There was something really cute in the way the other slept. It was like he was eating something and then feeling satisfied afterwards, enough to crawl into somewhere warm and crash... clinging to him even.

He looked exactly like his namesake – a cat.

Although Crawford would never admit it, he had always been a fan of the feline species. He remembered taking care of stray cats – at least until the people of Rosenkreuz leaned about it and killed them all in front of him. After the pain of losing one of his major anchors to sanity, he experienced enough trauma to let the elders toy with his mind whichever way they wanted to.

He remembered then that he swore, the minute he got out of the institution's backyard, he would take care of cats. And he did – much to Schuldig's dismay.

His first kitten was an Abyssinian.

OxxxOxxxO

It was warm.

He could feel the warmth seeping through his damp clothes... as if he was being cradled in the tender, loving arms of his own mother.

But my mother is gone now. Involuntarily, his body shivered. What is happening? Where... Cautiously, he opened his eyes, blinking repeatedly to get rid of the bleary feel, clearing the image presented before him.

He blinked.

... And he blinked again.

He could see dirty white... a suit? A tie? He did not know. His brain was still fuzzy. He blinked again, trying to clear his senses – all to no avail. He felt heavy.

Fujimiya Ran took a deep breath as he felt himself being lowered to a cold, hard surface. It was the smell that intoxicated him. Formaldehyde... Medicine... Seawater... and a faint touch of men's perfume.

The perfumed seemed familiar, and he tried to place it as his mind went through foggy haze. He couldn't quite pinpoint it... maybe he could when he was feeling much better. The voice that came through his ears was familiar too. It made him think of eyeglasses, white suits and dark, intense gazes.

In a final effort to recover his bodily equilibrium, he blinked, eyes widening, pupils enlarging to accommodate much light so he could clearly see...

All he saw was a shock of black hair and he fell back into sudden unconsciousness.

OxxxOxxxO

He was surprised, but Crawford couldn't say he wasn't grateful for the assistance given to him by the aides in the hospital he brought his charge in. He was in fact, relieved that his wounds didn't have to fester before he got to base. Nagi was impossible to appease when panicky.

He groaned inwardly as he was ushered to an empty suite. Maybe the fact that he was a foreigner did the job of getting him the best facilities available (disregarding the fact that he was probably just going to get shot on the head – after all, this was the Magic Bus)... or maybe he just looked homicidal.

"Stop." He said in fluent Japanese, surprising his aide who was doing his best to speak in English. For a moment, the man blinked stupidly at him before finally getting it, and talking to him in sheepish tones.

"Sorry, sir. I thought you don't speak our language."

"It's fine." Crawford answered brusquely. "I don't need my own room. I'll be out of here once my companion a while ago wakes up fully."

"Oh, but the headmaster said that you need to rest since blood was –"

"Never mind what he said." The Schwarz leader growled gruffly, earning a look of utter helplessness from the other. Oh what I would do to have Schuldig's abilities... "I'm the patient, I say where I want to stay. When I said I'm not going to stay in this room, then I'm not. I'm staying somewhere else."

"But sir, no one is allowed to –"

"I said, I'm going to stay somewhere else." He growled menacingly. It seemed to work, for as soon as the last word came out of his mouth, he was ushered to the other end of the hospital wing.

Now that's better.

OxxxOxxxO

Ran woke up to total darkness. His pupils dilated, trying to absorb more light so he could see even the tiniest bit... and he failed. His whole body ached, and his torso felt very heavy. Gently, his fingers explored his own body and he felt the ridges that were the edges of what seemed to be bandages wrapped around him. The leaden feeling was present in his muscles, and he felt like a superhuman force tossed him repeatedly. He knew it was probably the huge waves that battered down on him in torrents.

Slowly, painfully, he tried to sit up, only to be restrained by forceful hands.

"Rest." Came the gruff words. "You need it."

Ran peered through the darkness. He could make a blurred figure standing close... who was it? He didn't know, though he wished he did. He wanted some sort of recognition in his part... he wanted to know who it was that was in the room with him.

He had a sinking feeling it was someone with the same bloodstained hands as his own, hands that would never be able to hold someone as pure and untouched as his sister. "Where am I?" He demanded. "And what am I doing here?"

"Magic Bus hospital, room number ten, third floor." The man informed him. "You're supposed to recuperate."

That much, he knew, for all the aching that was rapidly spreading throughout his bodily systems. "Hn." He sniffed. "Who are you and why are you here then?"

"Your temporary keeper."

"Temporary?"

"Until you wake up."

"I'm awake now."

"So I leave."

Silence. A hand rested gently on his head, sliver of skin touching his forehead, and as soon as it was felt, it was gone. The sharp zing of the windows made itself known to his ears, and he gasped in surprise. "You're not going to jump from there. There's a door you know."

"I know."

"We're on the third floor." You will die.

"I know."

Ran frowned. The man was not afraid of death.

They were the same.

"Ch'. Do what you want." He growled, closing his eyes, both tired from overuse. "Die if you want, bastard."

"As you wish."

He felt the strong breeze waft in and caress his supine form on the hospital bed. There was no strangled scream he could relate to death. There was no heavy thunk of someone landing to his death... so he supposed the man survived jumping from the third floor hospital window.

And Ran had to wonder...

Who is he?


TSUZUKU


A/N: Feedbacks are greatly appreciated!