Well, this story was completely inspired by the song "Deepest Blue" by a
band of the same name. The lyrics had caught my interest, and I thought
they would work well for Schu and Farf, decided completely by the line "And
I don't how to reach you", because Farfarello wouldn't understand how to
reach Schu, without Schu opening a link for him. Anyways, so yeah. This is
probably just another one-shot, most of my Schu X Farf stuff ends up being
one shots. Regardless, enjoy it! It's been a while since my SXF muse came
out. ^_^
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~The sun will always shine on you You turn my ocean deepest blue I never hide my thoughts from you You're my deepest blue
If mother nature ever chose a name I'm sure that she would choose the same I never hide my thoughts from you You're my deepest blue
Am I dreaming now Walking on the moon And I don't know how to reach you Baby Every time I try to move closer
We've only got this time to prove That together we can make it through I'll never hide my dreams from you You're my deepest blue
If temptation ever came my way I know the words I'll always say I'll never hide my love from you You're my deepest blue
Am I dreaming now Walking on the moon And I don't know how to reach you Baby Every time I try to move closer~
Farfarello stopped, noticing that he was now walking alone. He turned around, wondering what had caused his companion to stop in his tracks a few metres back.
"Schuldich?" He waited for the German to reply, but all that happened was that Schuldich raised his hands to the side of his head. Farfarello walked back towards him, grabbed a hold of his chin, and forced Schuldich to look him in the eyes. "Why aren't you talking to me?" He felt the breath being issued slowly from Schuldich's mouth blow softly on his face, and narrowed his eyes.
"I need to sit down." Not being one for subtleties, Farfarello regarded his team mate with an odd look, grabbing the German's shoulders and pushing him to the ground.
"There, now you are sitting." Schuldich smiled, realizing he should have included that he wanted to sit on a bench. He closed his eyes, straining to get a hold of himself. He had allowed himself to wander into one too many minds this afternoon, and was feeling the warning signs of an oncoming migraine. He felt the Irishman's cold hand on his arm, and opened his eyes again. "Are you unwell?" He regarded Farfarello's gaze, noting the look of curiosity contained in his eyes.
"I'm getting a migraine." Farfarello nodded, continuing to stare at Schuldich.
"Migraines are not good, are they?" Schuldich realized that this was the first time he was getting a migraine with only Farfarello around. Usually Crawford; or on the off chance that the American wasn't around, Nagi; would tend to his pain. Farfarello didn't exactly comprehend the seriousness of a migraine on the telepath.
"Migraines are very bad. Once it really hits me, I'll hardly be able to move." Farfarello nodded again, leaving the German to wonder if the Irishman actually understood what he was saying. "There's the chance I might start babbling various things as well, I won't make any sense. I really shouldn't be out in public like this, but I don't have much of a choice, do I?" The German was forced to shut his eyes again, as pain seared through his head. As a last resort he tried to pick up Crawford or Nagi, but could link to neither of the two. His only hope now was sitting in front of him.
"Is there anything I can do?" Schuldich shook his head. Unless Farfarello could magic up his pills, there wasn't much he could do. He could always send Farfarello back to their condo, to find either his pills or one of their other team mates, but he knew time was running short, and that leaving himself alone and exposed during a weak point was a very bad idea. So for this time, he was stuck with relying on Farfarello to figure something out on his own.
As he watched Schuldich cradle his head in his hands, squinting his eyes shut, Farfarello wondered what was happening. The German looked like he was in pain, and pain was something the Irishman couldn't understand. There was nothing he could do to help Schuldich, so he simply sat and watched the German.
"How long will this last for?" He waited patiently for a reply, and after a few moments of silence, he grabbed the German's hands, pulling them away from his face. "How long will this last?"
"I don't know, I lose all concept of time when it happens. I usually black out. I'm not sure." Schuldich squinted again, the sunlight wasn't doing him any good, glaring down on him. "Move me to the shade." He felt himself being hauled to his feet, and he stumbled alongside the Irishman, surprised that Farfarello followed his order with no question. He was allowed to sink down to the ground again, and was surprised when he felt someone behind him. "Farf? What are you doing?" Farfarello had sat down behind him, and was currently holding the telepath to him, his arms encircling Schuldich's waist.
"The only time I remember you having a migraine, I remember Crawford holding you this way, and the pain seemed to slip from your face." Schuldich smiled, amazed at the man's memory of such a thing, and amazed at his willingness to try and help. He wasn't able to explain to Farfarello that Crawford had held him while shielding his mind with the American's own, but he did have to admit that the embrace did soften the harshness of the pain. He laid his head back against Farfarello's shoulder, and felt the cool touch of the Irishman's hand on his forehead. It was calming.
Farfarello wondered if he was helping the German at all. He did seem to stop the shaking that he had started, and was a little more relaxed lying against him. He hoped he was helping the German. He wanted to help Schuldich. He wasn't exactly certain why, but he knew the telepath was in a lot of pain, and he wanted to take that pain away. He also missed the presence of the German in his mind, that presence was now gone. He hoped it would come back.
They stayed that way for the next two hours, as Schuldich had submitted to the pain in his head long before. Farfarello still held him, glaring at anyone who dared to look at them as they walked by. He was beginning to feel a little anxious at the silence, not liking it one bit. He felt for a pulse, noting that a fairly strong one was still present. Schuldich simply seemed to be sleeping. Not wanting to wake him, Farfarello continued to sit with him, holding him in hopes that his pain was lessening. The sun was beginning to set, it was now to their backs. He felt Schuldich begin to stir, his anxiety leaving him as he heard the muffled sound of a confused Schuldich enter his mind.
"Schuldich? Are you awake?" He moved his hand from the German's forehead, holding his arms. Schuldich blinked, opening his eyes slowly.
"What happened?" Farfarello noted how tired his team mate sounded, and was a little worried as to why Schuldich seemingly remembered nothing.
"Migraine. I helped you." The last comment sounded like a statement, but had been intended as a question. Schuldich picked up on that sense, and nodded his head.
"Yes, you did. Did anything happen? Anything unusual?" Farfarello shook his head, as Schuldich nursed that particular thought. Farfarello had made him silent, Farfarello had absorbed the noise in his head. He wasn't sure what that meant, but was glad. He pushed himself away from the Irishman, leaning over onto his knees. He still felt very weak and tired, but was determined to make it back to the condo this time. As he was trying to stand, Farfarello was right there to help him up, to let him lean on his shoulder for support. Schuldich was surprised at Farfarello's support, but welcomed it. He was curious as to what must be running through the Irishman's mind right now, but knew he was too weak to try to link in to him. So he simply allowed himself to be led along the bustling streets of Tokyo, aware of the odd glances the pair received from near-everyone. Soon enough they made it back to the condo, and took the elevator to their floor. The door was unlocked, so their other team mates must be home. Schuldich could feel his strength waning, the walk had taken it's toll on him.
"Christ, what happened to you? Schuldich, look at me." He felt a calmness wash over his mind, as Crawford placed a hand to his head. He pulled the German to him, embracing him and cursing him at the same time. "I told you to keep to yourself, but you never listen. You know I warn you for a good reason." Crawford led Schuldich back to his room, getting him settled into his bed. He produced a pill for the German, who swallowed it quickly with a glass of water. Crawford turned off the light in Schuldich's room, closing the door and retreating back to the living room. To his surprise, Farfarello was standing where he had left him. He regarded the Irishman with a bit of confusion.
"Did you help him?" Taken a bit aback by the question, all Crawford could do was nod. "I helped him too. I didn't think I would be able to, but I did." Recovered a bit from the shock of Farfarello's rare moment of clarity, Crawford decided to pursue.
"How did you help him?"
"I held him, like you do. Then he slept." Crawford nodded.
"Did he talk to you in his sleep?"
"No. He was silent." Farfarello took that as an end to the conversation, leaving the living room in preference of Schuldich's room. Crawford sat on the couch, pondering what Farfarello's actions could mean. Usually Schuldich chattered continuously to him during his migraines, until he was able to get the German to swallow his pill. But the fact that he had been silent with Farfarello, did it mean something? Crawford was aware the two had always shared a closeness since he had brought the Irishman into their household. Perhaps during their years spent together, they had created some mental bond he was unaware of. Regardless of the reason, Crawford was thankful for Schuldich's relative ease with Farfarello. He decided to look in on his sleeping telepath, wondering what had caused Farfarello to pay him a visit.
When he entered the room, Farfarello stood by Schuldich's bed, staring down at his team mate. He lay silent on his bed, unmoving. Feeling for a pulse a second time today, he was relieved to find one. He was only sleeping again.
Farfarello sat on the edge of Schuldich's bed, grasping one of the German's hands in his own. The redhead was no longer in his mind, after having re- appeared for only a short while earlier. Farfarello decided he would stay with him again until his voice came back a second time.
Crawford reached Schuldich's room, peering through the doorway into the darkness. He could make out the form of Farfarello sitting on Schuldich's bed, holding one of the telepath's hands. Crawford watched for a moment, captivated by the odd display.
"Farfarello?" The Irishman didn't turn to face him, but answered him.
"I will watch him tonight. I will help him." Crawford nodded to himself, for once wishing for Schuldich's gift. Farfarello's display of worry for his team mate was highly intriguing to Crawford, who remained a few moments more to watch them, before heading to his own room. Not foreseeing any trouble coming from Farfarello being out of his room for the night, Crawford retired to bed himself, hoping to solve the mystery of Farfarello's actions the following day, once Schuldich awakes to better feelings.
Farfarello sat at the German's bedside for the night, unwilling to leave. The hours ticked by, but the only thought on the Irishman's mind was helping Schuldich. The morning sun's rays began to filter through the curtains, and soon thereafter Farfarello could hear faint whispers on his mind. He watched as Schuldich awoke, stretching his limbs. He blinked his eyes open, suddenly becoming aware of the figure sitting by him. He looked up at Farfarello, and swore he saw a look of relief wash over the Irishman's face. He slowly sat up in his bed, studying Farfarello's face. After a few moments, the Irishman's voice broke the silence.
"Are you better today?" Schuldich nodded. "Did I help you?" Once again he nodded, broaching Farfarello's mind to scout for any indication as to why he would be so interested in the matter of helping him. Finding nothing, he continued to study the Irishman's face. He found nothing there, either. Only a look of satisfaction, in knowing that he had been able to help his partner. He rose from Schuldich's bed, leaving his room. A moment later Crawford entered, seating himself where Farfarello had spent the night. He regarded the telepath with a quizzical look.
"What was that all about? I've never seen Farfarello act in such a way before. Did you find anything?" Schuldich shook his head.
"No, there was nothing. Only relief at having helped me. I don't quite understand his interest in me. But yesterday, he just seemed so intent on helping me. He told you that I was silent, apparently? I wonder what that means." Crawford regarded Schuldich, agreeing.
"Yes, what does that mean? We will have to look into it. For the time being, however, I am simply glad he was able to help you. In whatever way he did all of that. Perhaps you two have some connection, that is stronger than all else. I suppose that remains to be seen. In the mean time, are you feeling better this morning? The coffee has already brewed, if you want a cup." Schuldich nodded, stating that he would be out in a moment. Crawford rose from his spot, leaving the German alone once more.
Schuldich swung his legs over the edge of his bed, planting his feet on the floor. He felt as though nothing had happened to him yesterday. Usually, he could feel the lingering effects of the migraine for the following day, but today he felt nothing. Perplexed, he stood, dressing himself in clean clothes. He left his room, combing his fingers through his hair. Entering the kitchen, he took the offered cup of coffee from his leader, noting that Farfarello was also at the table, his eyes now trained on himself. Sipping his coffee, Schuldich sat beside the Irishman, studying him with his eyes. He quickly scanned the other's thoughts, and was surprised at what he heard.
"What makes you say that, Farf?" Still eyeing his team mate over his cup of coffee, Schuldich waited for the younger man to answer his question. Not wanting to leave Crawford in the dark, Schuldich linked him in to hear Farfarello's thoughts as well.
"Is that not what a team is? Is that not what they do?" The Irishman had met his gaze, almost challenging the German to disagree. Schuldich took another sip from his cup, the warmth of the ceramic a comfort to his cold fingers.
"In a sense, yes. But you've never felt this strongly about it before. I also don't sense that you feel this strongly about Crawford or Nagi. Why me, and why now?" Farfarello blinked, his thoughts racing about through the German's mind. What he saw were countless memories stored away, all of the two of them. Schuldich, coming to wake Farfarello in the morning for breakfast; undoing his straight jacket; cleaning and dressing his wounds; just countless images of them together.
"You were in pain yesterday, and there was no one else. I have never seen you in pain before." Schuldich nodded, wondering if there was anything else floating around unseen in the Irishman's head. "I think I felt a bit of your pain." For that comment, neither of the two Schwarz members were prepared.
"What do you mean, you felt it? In what sense?" Crawford had joined them at the table, his curiosity getting the better of him.
"I felt incomplete. It was too quiet. It made me nervous. Is that pain? I have never felt that way before. I did not like it." The German and the American continued to stare at him, baffled.
"I suppose, in a sense, for you, that may be pain." Schuldich returned to his mug of coffee, a little weirded out by his team mate's answer. Farfarello now had a concept of pain, and it was directly linked to him. After taking a sip, he looked back at Farfarello, whose eyes had never left him.
"I don't want to see you in pain again, Schuldich. I will help you from now on." The redhead nodded, still completely perplexed as to this change in Farfarello. He watched as the young man rose from the table, retreating to his room. As he and Crawford still sat at the table, both of them took a moment to process what they had just heard, before speaking to each other.
"So that's it, then. Farfarello is now linked to you, Schuldich. Be it a positive or negative thing, I'm not certain. But you'll have to be careful around him, now." The German nodded, fingers still holding the warm mug. "How are you feeling this morning?" He looked up to meet the gaze of the American, a smile tugging on his lips.
"Perfectly fine. I don't feel any remnants of yesterday's migraine, oddly enough. The only thing I really feel now is confusion." Crawford nodded, seemingly pleased. He rose from the table, placing his own coffee mug in the sink and retreating to his study. The German sat alone at the table for a while, his thoughts on Farfarello. Had he really heard correctly, those thoughts in Farfarello's mind? Did the Irishman even mean them? Or had he just heard them elsewhere, and related them to himself? Either way, he'd had some positive effect on him yesterday, and Schuldich was pleased about that. He and Farfarello were now linked together, through his pain. He had taught the Irishman what it was to feel pain. Now he wondered what Farfarello would teach him to feel. Smirking, he rose up, depositing his own mug in the sink, making his way to Farfarello's room. He entered, standing at the doorway. Farfarello looked up at him from his position on the floor, and thoughts of ease filtered through his mind. As Schuldich moved closer to the Irishman, sitting beside him, more thoughts passed, jumbled, through the young man's head. Thoughts of trust? Thoughts of respect? Thoughts of love? Yes, he had heard right. Farfarello was repeating the word in his thoughts, while studying the German. Schuldich smiled, placing his hand over Farfarello's.
"Me too, Farf. Me too." He watched as a smile cracked on the Irishman's face, his other hand dropping a knife, and moving to cover Schuldich's hand. Yes, they were definitely connected now. They would remain connected as long as they lived, if they ever lived at all.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
~The sun will always shine on you You turn my ocean deepest blue I never hide my thoughts from you You're my deepest blue
If mother nature ever chose a name I'm sure that she would choose the same I never hide my thoughts from you You're my deepest blue
Am I dreaming now Walking on the moon And I don't know how to reach you Baby Every time I try to move closer
We've only got this time to prove That together we can make it through I'll never hide my dreams from you You're my deepest blue
If temptation ever came my way I know the words I'll always say I'll never hide my love from you You're my deepest blue
Am I dreaming now Walking on the moon And I don't know how to reach you Baby Every time I try to move closer~
Farfarello stopped, noticing that he was now walking alone. He turned around, wondering what had caused his companion to stop in his tracks a few metres back.
"Schuldich?" He waited for the German to reply, but all that happened was that Schuldich raised his hands to the side of his head. Farfarello walked back towards him, grabbed a hold of his chin, and forced Schuldich to look him in the eyes. "Why aren't you talking to me?" He felt the breath being issued slowly from Schuldich's mouth blow softly on his face, and narrowed his eyes.
"I need to sit down." Not being one for subtleties, Farfarello regarded his team mate with an odd look, grabbing the German's shoulders and pushing him to the ground.
"There, now you are sitting." Schuldich smiled, realizing he should have included that he wanted to sit on a bench. He closed his eyes, straining to get a hold of himself. He had allowed himself to wander into one too many minds this afternoon, and was feeling the warning signs of an oncoming migraine. He felt the Irishman's cold hand on his arm, and opened his eyes again. "Are you unwell?" He regarded Farfarello's gaze, noting the look of curiosity contained in his eyes.
"I'm getting a migraine." Farfarello nodded, continuing to stare at Schuldich.
"Migraines are not good, are they?" Schuldich realized that this was the first time he was getting a migraine with only Farfarello around. Usually Crawford; or on the off chance that the American wasn't around, Nagi; would tend to his pain. Farfarello didn't exactly comprehend the seriousness of a migraine on the telepath.
"Migraines are very bad. Once it really hits me, I'll hardly be able to move." Farfarello nodded again, leaving the German to wonder if the Irishman actually understood what he was saying. "There's the chance I might start babbling various things as well, I won't make any sense. I really shouldn't be out in public like this, but I don't have much of a choice, do I?" The German was forced to shut his eyes again, as pain seared through his head. As a last resort he tried to pick up Crawford or Nagi, but could link to neither of the two. His only hope now was sitting in front of him.
"Is there anything I can do?" Schuldich shook his head. Unless Farfarello could magic up his pills, there wasn't much he could do. He could always send Farfarello back to their condo, to find either his pills or one of their other team mates, but he knew time was running short, and that leaving himself alone and exposed during a weak point was a very bad idea. So for this time, he was stuck with relying on Farfarello to figure something out on his own.
As he watched Schuldich cradle his head in his hands, squinting his eyes shut, Farfarello wondered what was happening. The German looked like he was in pain, and pain was something the Irishman couldn't understand. There was nothing he could do to help Schuldich, so he simply sat and watched the German.
"How long will this last for?" He waited patiently for a reply, and after a few moments of silence, he grabbed the German's hands, pulling them away from his face. "How long will this last?"
"I don't know, I lose all concept of time when it happens. I usually black out. I'm not sure." Schuldich squinted again, the sunlight wasn't doing him any good, glaring down on him. "Move me to the shade." He felt himself being hauled to his feet, and he stumbled alongside the Irishman, surprised that Farfarello followed his order with no question. He was allowed to sink down to the ground again, and was surprised when he felt someone behind him. "Farf? What are you doing?" Farfarello had sat down behind him, and was currently holding the telepath to him, his arms encircling Schuldich's waist.
"The only time I remember you having a migraine, I remember Crawford holding you this way, and the pain seemed to slip from your face." Schuldich smiled, amazed at the man's memory of such a thing, and amazed at his willingness to try and help. He wasn't able to explain to Farfarello that Crawford had held him while shielding his mind with the American's own, but he did have to admit that the embrace did soften the harshness of the pain. He laid his head back against Farfarello's shoulder, and felt the cool touch of the Irishman's hand on his forehead. It was calming.
Farfarello wondered if he was helping the German at all. He did seem to stop the shaking that he had started, and was a little more relaxed lying against him. He hoped he was helping the German. He wanted to help Schuldich. He wasn't exactly certain why, but he knew the telepath was in a lot of pain, and he wanted to take that pain away. He also missed the presence of the German in his mind, that presence was now gone. He hoped it would come back.
They stayed that way for the next two hours, as Schuldich had submitted to the pain in his head long before. Farfarello still held him, glaring at anyone who dared to look at them as they walked by. He was beginning to feel a little anxious at the silence, not liking it one bit. He felt for a pulse, noting that a fairly strong one was still present. Schuldich simply seemed to be sleeping. Not wanting to wake him, Farfarello continued to sit with him, holding him in hopes that his pain was lessening. The sun was beginning to set, it was now to their backs. He felt Schuldich begin to stir, his anxiety leaving him as he heard the muffled sound of a confused Schuldich enter his mind.
"Schuldich? Are you awake?" He moved his hand from the German's forehead, holding his arms. Schuldich blinked, opening his eyes slowly.
"What happened?" Farfarello noted how tired his team mate sounded, and was a little worried as to why Schuldich seemingly remembered nothing.
"Migraine. I helped you." The last comment sounded like a statement, but had been intended as a question. Schuldich picked up on that sense, and nodded his head.
"Yes, you did. Did anything happen? Anything unusual?" Farfarello shook his head, as Schuldich nursed that particular thought. Farfarello had made him silent, Farfarello had absorbed the noise in his head. He wasn't sure what that meant, but was glad. He pushed himself away from the Irishman, leaning over onto his knees. He still felt very weak and tired, but was determined to make it back to the condo this time. As he was trying to stand, Farfarello was right there to help him up, to let him lean on his shoulder for support. Schuldich was surprised at Farfarello's support, but welcomed it. He was curious as to what must be running through the Irishman's mind right now, but knew he was too weak to try to link in to him. So he simply allowed himself to be led along the bustling streets of Tokyo, aware of the odd glances the pair received from near-everyone. Soon enough they made it back to the condo, and took the elevator to their floor. The door was unlocked, so their other team mates must be home. Schuldich could feel his strength waning, the walk had taken it's toll on him.
"Christ, what happened to you? Schuldich, look at me." He felt a calmness wash over his mind, as Crawford placed a hand to his head. He pulled the German to him, embracing him and cursing him at the same time. "I told you to keep to yourself, but you never listen. You know I warn you for a good reason." Crawford led Schuldich back to his room, getting him settled into his bed. He produced a pill for the German, who swallowed it quickly with a glass of water. Crawford turned off the light in Schuldich's room, closing the door and retreating back to the living room. To his surprise, Farfarello was standing where he had left him. He regarded the Irishman with a bit of confusion.
"Did you help him?" Taken a bit aback by the question, all Crawford could do was nod. "I helped him too. I didn't think I would be able to, but I did." Recovered a bit from the shock of Farfarello's rare moment of clarity, Crawford decided to pursue.
"How did you help him?"
"I held him, like you do. Then he slept." Crawford nodded.
"Did he talk to you in his sleep?"
"No. He was silent." Farfarello took that as an end to the conversation, leaving the living room in preference of Schuldich's room. Crawford sat on the couch, pondering what Farfarello's actions could mean. Usually Schuldich chattered continuously to him during his migraines, until he was able to get the German to swallow his pill. But the fact that he had been silent with Farfarello, did it mean something? Crawford was aware the two had always shared a closeness since he had brought the Irishman into their household. Perhaps during their years spent together, they had created some mental bond he was unaware of. Regardless of the reason, Crawford was thankful for Schuldich's relative ease with Farfarello. He decided to look in on his sleeping telepath, wondering what had caused Farfarello to pay him a visit.
When he entered the room, Farfarello stood by Schuldich's bed, staring down at his team mate. He lay silent on his bed, unmoving. Feeling for a pulse a second time today, he was relieved to find one. He was only sleeping again.
Farfarello sat on the edge of Schuldich's bed, grasping one of the German's hands in his own. The redhead was no longer in his mind, after having re- appeared for only a short while earlier. Farfarello decided he would stay with him again until his voice came back a second time.
Crawford reached Schuldich's room, peering through the doorway into the darkness. He could make out the form of Farfarello sitting on Schuldich's bed, holding one of the telepath's hands. Crawford watched for a moment, captivated by the odd display.
"Farfarello?" The Irishman didn't turn to face him, but answered him.
"I will watch him tonight. I will help him." Crawford nodded to himself, for once wishing for Schuldich's gift. Farfarello's display of worry for his team mate was highly intriguing to Crawford, who remained a few moments more to watch them, before heading to his own room. Not foreseeing any trouble coming from Farfarello being out of his room for the night, Crawford retired to bed himself, hoping to solve the mystery of Farfarello's actions the following day, once Schuldich awakes to better feelings.
Farfarello sat at the German's bedside for the night, unwilling to leave. The hours ticked by, but the only thought on the Irishman's mind was helping Schuldich. The morning sun's rays began to filter through the curtains, and soon thereafter Farfarello could hear faint whispers on his mind. He watched as Schuldich awoke, stretching his limbs. He blinked his eyes open, suddenly becoming aware of the figure sitting by him. He looked up at Farfarello, and swore he saw a look of relief wash over the Irishman's face. He slowly sat up in his bed, studying Farfarello's face. After a few moments, the Irishman's voice broke the silence.
"Are you better today?" Schuldich nodded. "Did I help you?" Once again he nodded, broaching Farfarello's mind to scout for any indication as to why he would be so interested in the matter of helping him. Finding nothing, he continued to study the Irishman's face. He found nothing there, either. Only a look of satisfaction, in knowing that he had been able to help his partner. He rose from Schuldich's bed, leaving his room. A moment later Crawford entered, seating himself where Farfarello had spent the night. He regarded the telepath with a quizzical look.
"What was that all about? I've never seen Farfarello act in such a way before. Did you find anything?" Schuldich shook his head.
"No, there was nothing. Only relief at having helped me. I don't quite understand his interest in me. But yesterday, he just seemed so intent on helping me. He told you that I was silent, apparently? I wonder what that means." Crawford regarded Schuldich, agreeing.
"Yes, what does that mean? We will have to look into it. For the time being, however, I am simply glad he was able to help you. In whatever way he did all of that. Perhaps you two have some connection, that is stronger than all else. I suppose that remains to be seen. In the mean time, are you feeling better this morning? The coffee has already brewed, if you want a cup." Schuldich nodded, stating that he would be out in a moment. Crawford rose from his spot, leaving the German alone once more.
Schuldich swung his legs over the edge of his bed, planting his feet on the floor. He felt as though nothing had happened to him yesterday. Usually, he could feel the lingering effects of the migraine for the following day, but today he felt nothing. Perplexed, he stood, dressing himself in clean clothes. He left his room, combing his fingers through his hair. Entering the kitchen, he took the offered cup of coffee from his leader, noting that Farfarello was also at the table, his eyes now trained on himself. Sipping his coffee, Schuldich sat beside the Irishman, studying him with his eyes. He quickly scanned the other's thoughts, and was surprised at what he heard.
"What makes you say that, Farf?" Still eyeing his team mate over his cup of coffee, Schuldich waited for the younger man to answer his question. Not wanting to leave Crawford in the dark, Schuldich linked him in to hear Farfarello's thoughts as well.
"Is that not what a team is? Is that not what they do?" The Irishman had met his gaze, almost challenging the German to disagree. Schuldich took another sip from his cup, the warmth of the ceramic a comfort to his cold fingers.
"In a sense, yes. But you've never felt this strongly about it before. I also don't sense that you feel this strongly about Crawford or Nagi. Why me, and why now?" Farfarello blinked, his thoughts racing about through the German's mind. What he saw were countless memories stored away, all of the two of them. Schuldich, coming to wake Farfarello in the morning for breakfast; undoing his straight jacket; cleaning and dressing his wounds; just countless images of them together.
"You were in pain yesterday, and there was no one else. I have never seen you in pain before." Schuldich nodded, wondering if there was anything else floating around unseen in the Irishman's head. "I think I felt a bit of your pain." For that comment, neither of the two Schwarz members were prepared.
"What do you mean, you felt it? In what sense?" Crawford had joined them at the table, his curiosity getting the better of him.
"I felt incomplete. It was too quiet. It made me nervous. Is that pain? I have never felt that way before. I did not like it." The German and the American continued to stare at him, baffled.
"I suppose, in a sense, for you, that may be pain." Schuldich returned to his mug of coffee, a little weirded out by his team mate's answer. Farfarello now had a concept of pain, and it was directly linked to him. After taking a sip, he looked back at Farfarello, whose eyes had never left him.
"I don't want to see you in pain again, Schuldich. I will help you from now on." The redhead nodded, still completely perplexed as to this change in Farfarello. He watched as the young man rose from the table, retreating to his room. As he and Crawford still sat at the table, both of them took a moment to process what they had just heard, before speaking to each other.
"So that's it, then. Farfarello is now linked to you, Schuldich. Be it a positive or negative thing, I'm not certain. But you'll have to be careful around him, now." The German nodded, fingers still holding the warm mug. "How are you feeling this morning?" He looked up to meet the gaze of the American, a smile tugging on his lips.
"Perfectly fine. I don't feel any remnants of yesterday's migraine, oddly enough. The only thing I really feel now is confusion." Crawford nodded, seemingly pleased. He rose from the table, placing his own coffee mug in the sink and retreating to his study. The German sat alone at the table for a while, his thoughts on Farfarello. Had he really heard correctly, those thoughts in Farfarello's mind? Did the Irishman even mean them? Or had he just heard them elsewhere, and related them to himself? Either way, he'd had some positive effect on him yesterday, and Schuldich was pleased about that. He and Farfarello were now linked together, through his pain. He had taught the Irishman what it was to feel pain. Now he wondered what Farfarello would teach him to feel. Smirking, he rose up, depositing his own mug in the sink, making his way to Farfarello's room. He entered, standing at the doorway. Farfarello looked up at him from his position on the floor, and thoughts of ease filtered through his mind. As Schuldich moved closer to the Irishman, sitting beside him, more thoughts passed, jumbled, through the young man's head. Thoughts of trust? Thoughts of respect? Thoughts of love? Yes, he had heard right. Farfarello was repeating the word in his thoughts, while studying the German. Schuldich smiled, placing his hand over Farfarello's.
"Me too, Farf. Me too." He watched as a smile cracked on the Irishman's face, his other hand dropping a knife, and moving to cover Schuldich's hand. Yes, they were definitely connected now. They would remain connected as long as they lived, if they ever lived at all.