Okay...first of all, contrary to appearances, this is most definitely not a death fic. (as if I could ever kill off one of the boys) but there is a great deal of yummy angst going on in this fic. I admit to (obviously) stealing the title of this fic from Sarah McLachlan's song Do What You Have To Do, mainly because I felt the title, if not the song itself, fit the fic perfectly. (It might not be obvious at first, but hopefully will be as the fic goes on...and besides, it's such a beautiful song as well. ^_^;;)

Which, as it seems at the moment, will be only a part of a larger story I'm in currently working on (hence the lack of new parts on my other stories >_) the middle of writing. I realize that I have other fics in the works as well, but they'll be placed on the back burner while I focus on finishing this one. I do promise to finish my other fics, and may in fact work on them if/when I get blocked on this fic. Because I know I will, eventually. >_

Anyhow, I hope my OC is at least a teensy bit likable, and not a sniveling, wimpy little guy you'd all love seen get blown to bits as soon as humanly possible. But enough babbling, on to the fic, ne? ^_^


~silvershadeus~



feedback, onegai! ^_^ (or at least let me know how badly I've mangled the boys, ne? ^^;;)

Disclaimer: I do not own anything Weiß Kreuz, or the title for this fic, which was 'borrowed' from the song of the same name by Sarah McLachlan...I'm just borrowing them for a little while.


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Author: silvershadeus
Email: silvershadeus@yahoo.com
Title: Do What You Have to Do
Type: Series [1/?]
Teaser: Weiß has lost one of their own, but appearances
are not always what they seem...
Rating: PG for language (in later parts)
Spoilers: mild spoilers for the whole series
Warning: Shounen ai (getting there)
Keywords: Weiß, OC, angst

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Do What You Have To Do - Part 1

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He never thought it would come to this. He had, in fact, rather selfishly hoped that someone else be in his position instead. Hoped that someone else would be instructing the new replacement for one of his closest friends in the art of flower arranging. He'd hoped, with all his heart, that none of them would ever have to do anything like it at all. But as he knew, life was not fair. And Fate never listened to the pleas of mere mortals, doing as she wished without ever once consulting them on the matter.

"Like that, Ken?"

Jolted out of his reverie by the sound of his name, Ken shook his head and forced a smile to his face as he studied the arrangement in front of him. He felt a pang of sorrow at the sight of the flowers, one side of his mouth twitching slightly. The baby's breath was crowding out the roses, some of which had lost petals and leaves along the way. It looked eerily like one of his first attempts had...a long time ago.

"No...but you're getting better at this, Saburo. Trust me, it took a while for me to get the hang of this too. Flower arranging is a tricky art, but once you get the basics down you can pretty much bluff your way through." Ken confided, reaching for the arrangement as he spoke.

The younger man smiled self-deprecatingly, pale green eyes staring mournfully at the mangled flowers before them.

"If you say so," He muttered, watching as Ken's fingers flew over the flowers, breaking down the arrangement with the ease of long practice. "I still think it was a mistake to put me here."

Ken faltered at his words, eyes darting to meet those of the younger man. As though realizing what he'd just said, Saburo's eyes widened, a horrified expression on his face as he turned to face Ken.

"Sorry! I didn't mean to...I'm sorry... I know this is hard for you and the others, and I'm sorry that I'm such a klutz when it comes to this," He said, indicating the dismantled flower arrangement, "It's just I don't think I'm cut out to be a florist, on top of everything else. I didn't mean to sound ungrateful, because I appreciate you taking the time to - "

"Saburo."

Swallowing nervously, the younger man bit back the rest of his words, wincing as he realized he'd been babbling again. An all too common occurrence in his opinion, but...

"It's all right, Saburo. I remember what it was like in the beginning too. And...as bad as this is going to sound, you get used to it. Everything."

As with Saburo's earlier words, there was the implied mention of Weiß, though both men knew better than to say more in an unsecured area such as the flower shop. One never knew who might be listening, even though they were the only ones in the closed shop at the moment, sitting at the table in the back room.

'Professional paranoia,' as Yohji had dubbed it one day after hearing Ken and Omi glossing over their nightly activities to a curious shop patron. Of course, the girl in question had been unusually persistent in worming out the details of their personal lives, most likely trying to get an edge on the competition. And eyeing Omi as though he were an exceptionally delicious looking morsel.

"You do?"

Watching the younger man from the corner of his eye, Ken didn't miss the near-panicked expression that flashed over his face. He was well familiar with that particular feeling; he dealt with it on a regular basis. Usually when he found himself sliding into that dark place in his mind where the killing just got to be easy. When he found himself not wondering if what he was doing was right or wrong.

When he stopped questioning.

Sighing, Ken leaned back in his seat, playing idly with a drooping spray of baby's breath. Frowning at his hands, he absently blew a lock of hair out of his eyes.

"That was a poor choice of words, I didn't mean to worry you. What I mean is...after a while...it doesn't bother you as much. We all have different reasons for what we do, but it never gets to the point where what we do is easy. They make sure of that. They want us to remember what we're doing and why. It's easy to hate them for making things too...personal...I guess. But it's easier to be grateful for it too, because despite what they do...what we do, they want us to remain human."

Saburo nodded thoughtfully, picking up a discarded rose. Turning it over in his hands, he ran his fingers over the spots where the thorns had been removed. The implicit 'They' was Kritiker, as they both knew. He found it strange to think that they should even care that their personal assassins worried over that thin line of duty and something darker. Maybe it spoke well of them, or maybe they simply wanted a way to control their trained killers.

Sliding a glance at Ken, Saburo offered a small smile. It would take some getting used to, working with Ken and the others as a team. And he doubted he'd ever make a decent flower arrangement, but he would try. It was the least he could do, after all. He might not be able to replace their fallen teammate, but he could try to find his own place with them.

"Thanks, Ken. I really do appreciate you taking the time to show me how to do this stuff. I don't want to be a burden to you guys or anything, I want to help out where I can, you know?"

Smiling a little sadly, Ken nodded, picturing a younger blonde in Saburo's place, and himself saying much the same words. But that was a lifetime ago, or so it seemed. And Ken had found his little niche among his friends and teammates. Now it was just a matter of moving on and hopefully making room for Saburo.

"Just returning a favor."

Blinking at the cryptic remark, Saburo smiled tentatively. At least one of them was making an effort not to be hostile. That had to count for something, right?

"So...um...can I try that again?"

Handing over a pair of clippers, Ken's smile widened slightly. Saburo reminded him far too much of a younger version of himself. Young, and raw inside, still bleeding from unseen wounds. Hurting and uncertain, and not willing to trust easily.

"Be my guest. I'd hate to see the shop lose money because our flower arrangements aren't up to par."

Snorting gently, Saburo accepted the clippers. "Yeah, that would be a shame, wouldn't it?"

"A real shame." Ken agreed, settling back in his chair to watch the younger man work.

*****************************

A flash of light.

Voices screaming.

Flames scorching his skin, burning his hair.

Smoke clogging his throat, stinging his eyes.

Someone yelling his name.

An explosion...then oblivion.

Stop.

Rewind.

Play.

A flash of light.

Voices screaming.

Flames scorching his skin, burning his hair.

Smoke clogging his throat, stinging his eyes.

Someone yelling his name.

An explosion...then oblivion.

Stop.

Rewind.

Play.

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TBC...^_^;;

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