Come Again

by Mirrordance

Ken is kidnapped by Farfello. The reason is as easy to comprehend as it is to get a straight answer out of a psychotic madman.

Author: Mirrordance

E-mail: mirror_dance@hotmail.com

Title: Come Again

Type: one-shot

Spoilers: with references to entire series

Warnings: angst, language, violence, yaoi

Teaser: Ken is kidnapped by Farfello.  The reason is as easy to comprehend as it is to get a straight answer out of a psychotic madman.

Keywords: Weiß, Farfello, angst, yaoi

"Come Again"

a WKff by Mirrordance

don't own anybody…

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

"Nothing's so cold as closing the heart

When all we need is to free the soul

But we wouldn't be that brave I know

And the air outside so soft,

Is confessing everything, everything…"

- from "All I Want"

by Toad the Wet Sprocket

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

      There are certain aspects of this life that I couldn't seem to reconcile or put together.  Sometimes I get so confused that I no longer bother to even try anymore.  It's pointless.

      It was exactly what I was thinking about when a madman was sitting beside me, his look bloodshot, as he navigated carelessly through the city in this pathetic little put-put he called a car.  It amazed me it could actually run this fast.  I prayed the brakes were just as functional.

      "Watch it!" I hollered as he swerved, narrowly missing a very populated sidewalk.

      "Shut up!" he retorted, "Just shut the fuck up!"
      I closed my eyes and prayed for a miracle.  This was terrible.  I struggled against the bonds that had my hands useless on my back, and those that held my feet together. 

      "Ow, shit! At least belt me or something!" I snapped, when my head banged against the window, then fell sideways against his lap.  With eyes on the road, he pulled me upright by the hair, and fumbled for the seatbelt to buckle me in.

      "I don't know what the hell you're trying to do!" I told him.

      He didn't reply.  Pretty soon, the city traffic thinned out as we reached the express ways that led to the countryside, having efficiently dodged those who had set out to catch us.  Meaning, we've just dodged who would have been my rescuers.  Great.  Terrific.  Outstanding. 

      He slowed the car down to a saner pace, and I leaned back against my chair, relaxing as much as I could under the circumstances.

      "You're fucking crazy," I tell him.

      "Hell yeah"

      And that pretty much comprised our entire conversation for the rest of the trip.  I wanted to talk, I wanted to ask what the hell he wanted with me but I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of being a whiner, so I frowned and said nothing, waiting for him to offer an explanation, an apology or whatever.

      Needless to say, this kidnapping situation came out of the blue for me.  I spent my Saturday morning the way I always have, with kids in the park, moderating a soccer scrimmage for my boys.  Someone grabs me out of nowhere and I find out he's one of my Favorite People in the World.  I barely let out a yelp before he takes off with me in his car and drives off, tailed by cops who didn't really give much of a shit about me, but wanted to stop him from Speeding.  And here we are.  God knows where that is.

      "Where are we going?" I asked irritably, curiosity getting the better of me.  Not that you can blame me or anything like that.  There is a thing with cats and curiosity, you know.

      "It doesn't concern you now," he replied coolly, keeping his eyes on the road.  Of course, why wouldn't he? He is supposed to be a Cautious Driver.

      "I can't understand what you could possibly want with me," I tell him in all honesty.  It's been years since we last encountered each other, for crying out loud, what the fuck could he want?
      He just snorted at me and leaned over the car stereo.  He surfed around a bit until he found the station he was looking for.  Some oldies station.  I could hear the Turtles crooning "Happy Together."

     He was singing along, and I reckoned it made him sound even more insane than usual.

      "Shut up!" I tell him, genuinely feeling very, very disturbed.  This couldn't possibly be happening to me.

      He glances at me and swings his head from side to side as he entered into the refrain.

"I can't see me loving nobody but you

For all my life

When you're with me

Baby the skies'll be blue

For all my life…"

      He wasn't going to stop.

      I couldn't believe it.  It was like some kind of a perverse fantasy.  A member of Schwarz is singing along like a regular dopey person to an old song from the car radio.  Swinging his head, his mouth forming the words gracelessly, his voice just a little bit out of tune.

"Me and you, and you and me

No matter how they tossed the dice, it had to be

The only one for me is you, and you for me

So happy together…"

      "God, help us"

      And He sure did.

      Not that He raised up His Hand and Silenced the singing madman, but He did let me fall asleep, and that was a wonderful anesthetic.

      When I opened my eyes, the car was parked.  In afterthought, I suppose it had been a bad idea that I had fallen asleep--I no longer knew where we were.  The driver's seat was empty, but I was still tied up.  I looked around and tried to orient myself with my surroundings, hoping maybe it was a place I could recognize.

      We seemed to have entered a forest, and was parked in a clearing loosely surrounded by trees.  The sun was high up in the sky, and would be shining for about five hours more.  I could hear birds singing and the wind stirring the leaves, and water not so far away.

      The pallid face of my one-eyed captor popped into my line of vision, making me jump.  He was leaning over my car window.

      "You got a bump," he said, "I didn't think you'd ever wake up"

      "It's nice to see how worried you were," I snapped, struggling futilely against my bonds again.  Damn.  This was getting old.

      "If I set you free," asked Farfello, "Would you try something stupid?"
      "What the fuck do you think?"

      The Irishman snorted, then opened the door for me.  A welcome rush of air greeted me, calmed me down.  I already flat-out told him that I won't be a very docile captive and yet here he was, being a fool, releasing me from my bonds.

      He was holding something back.  I was taken here for a reason.  I had to find it out (re: cats, curiosity.  It's becoming a new lease on life).  So here we were.  A kidnapper setting the kidnapped free.  The newly liberated victim staying.  Fools together.  Go figure.

      I stretched my aching muscles, and grinned at the sun and the wind, before turning to him.  He was looking at me strangely.  "What?" I asked, genuinely conscious.  That's a real weird way of looking at people, as if he was devouring me, searching for whatever laid in the deepest, darkest, most forbidden corners…

      "Nothing," he said, turning his back on me and walking off.  I stood up and decided to follow him.

      "Nothing," I seethed, "Every question I have comes to either that or 'shut the fuck up.'  You brought me here and I want to know why"

      We walked in silence, him leading the way and me dogging his heels.  We eventually made our way to a steady stream.  It was long, narrow, shallow and lined by trees that made it look like some kind of a well-lit tunnel, with streams of sunlight peering from beneath a lose canopy of leaves.

      He sat by the bank, but I held my ground, looming over him.  It gave me a greater sense of control.

      "You brought me here and I want to know why," I said again.

      --

      "They'll come for you," he said finally, "they'll come for you and they'll kill me.  That's all I want for now"

      "I don't understand," I tell him flatly, "You want someone to kill you? Gimme a weapon.  I'll make this quick for both of us"

      He looked up at me, a challenging expression on his face.  He tossed me a handy ice pick, which I caught cleanly and instinctively.

      "Go ahead," he invited, closing his eyes and turning his head up at me, making his pale, scarred neck temptingly open to any attack.

      I looked at the weapon in my hand.  He knew when he handed it to me that I hadn't meant what I said.  I knew he knew.  He knew I knew he knew.  It went on. 

      "What kind of a fucking game are you playing?" I ask him irritably, tossing the ice pick into the stream.  I watched it sink to the bottom, wondering if I should regret the chance I had passed.

      "No games," he said, getting up and leaning toward the water to repossess his weapon, "I want to be killed.  That's it"

      It was painfully obvious that further explanations weren't forthcoming.

      He tied me up again, and I didn't bother to struggle.

      As the sun set, he built a fire and we sat on opposite ends of it, looking at each other over the flame every once in awhile.  I had this distinct feeling he kept looking to see if I were still around (as if I could go anywhere, tied up as I was).  God knows why I kept looking right back.

      It was cold tonight, despite the fact that Japan was just entering into its summer months.  It told me that surely, we weren't anywhere near the tight city.

      Omi would be wringing his wrists right now and pacing the basement, wondering where the hell I am.  Yoji would be out, riding around thinking he'd get a sight of me or something.  Ran… Ran would do what always does.  Pretend he doesn't care, then go on and do devices of his own, most of which were unknown to us.

      Weird.  It's always been that way for me.  Us and Ran.  Ran and Us.  He's like, a class of his own.  Set apart, but keeps us together.

      "What are you thinking?" asked Farfello.

      "I'm thinking about my home," I replied honestly, believing the answer to be harmless.

      "Good for you," he said sarcastically.

      I fell asleep without dinner.  Or lunch.  Or anything.  My mind crawled into wakefulness the next morning feeling as if I was pulling myself from a dark hole, with the heavy world on my back.

      I think I must have dreamed of something but I couldn't remember it anymore.  It doesn't matter because I think it wasn't a very nice dream.  Well, no more nicer than reality anyway.

      I opened my eyes to find him looking at me blankly, blinking at me before looking away.

      "You're supposed to feed me," I mutter at him, making him look at me again and snort.

      "I'm not obligated to you in any way"

      Which might have sounded ridiculously funny, considering he just hog-tied me up and left me on the ground stiff and hungry.  Except, obviously, my mood wasn't very good.

      He walked towards me and loosened my bonds, and I squirmed out of them gracelessly and shamelessly to stretch my muscles.

      "Hey," I ask him, "They got a Seven Eleven around here somewhere?"
      "We're in the middle of a forest," he replied flatly, "What do you think?"

      "I was kidding, I was kidding!"

      He shook his head in dismay, and sat on a rock.  He brought out his knife and started playing with it, looking at it as it reflected the light of the sun on certain angles that made his face shine eerily.

      "Why are you in a hurry to die?" I ask him, remembering our conversation from yesterday. 

      "No one is," he said after a moment, finally looking up at me, "It's just the fucking contingency plan"

      "I don't understand," I admit.

      "You're not supposed to"

      --

      "Listen," I tell him, fidgeting a bit, "I have to go"

      He arched an eyebrow at me.  "Yeah? Well what the hell are you telling me for? You need help?"
      "No," I seethed, as the familiar feeling of heat on my cheeks came over me, "Permission, you idiot"

      "Feel free," he said coolly, turning his attention back to the knife.

      Feel Free.

      Hell Yeah.

      I did what I had to do.

      The moment I was sure I was out of his very wide-ear-shot, I made a mad run the hell away from there.

      I ran and ran and ran, stumbling occasionally, but going and going and going, never looking back. 

      As an athlete, I was more than used to the exertion.  But my heart pounded and my breathing was harsh with the thoughts that he was right behind me…

      I grunted as a weight from my side just pushed me to the ground, hard.  I was seeing stars, but the fall didn't make me confused enough to not know what had caused my failure in escaping.

      He turned me on my back to face him.  Farfello straddled me, and I found it hard to breathe.

      "That hadn't been ver smart, Weiß," he told me, the bastard wasn't even sweating.

      "Figured I had to try--" I tell him breathlessly, feeling his knees tightening against my ribs, "Ow"

      He stood up and dusted himself off before pulling me by the collar to stand beside him.  I was gearing myself up for a walk back toward our camp, but I looked at him and he just stood there, blank golden eye roving, as if he was trying to figure something out and trying to figure it out FAST.

      It suddenly dawned onto me.  He had no idea where to go!

      "Ha!" I laughed triumphantly, hoping to get a rise out of him, "You're fucking lost!"
      He turned his head to face me, making me stop for a moment because of the expression I found on his face.  There was fear.  Genuine fear that I couldn't understand, nor dwell on for long because the next thing I know he masked it again, making me wonder if it had actually been real in the first place.

      "Let's go," he said, grabbing me tightly by the arm and pushing me forward, inviting no jeers or arguments.

      He let me go first to find our way back.

      Returning to the clearing, he sat me down on the ground and tied me up again, which was, because of my excursion this morning, completely understandable.

      "I'm going to get us food," he told me, sauntering out in the forest and leaving me.

      "You know," I call on to his retreating back, "If a bear or a wolf or whatever should come by and find me tied up like this, I'd say they're the ones who got themselves a meal!"
      I was ignored, as expected.

      There are certain aspects of his character that make me feel as if I were still a child.  He doesn't take my verbal baits, for one thing, reminding me of some other guy in this universe.

      Omi was agreeable most times, so I didn't find it very amusing to tease him too much.  And besides, he's more clever than I am so that's bound to be a short story, ending with me, the loser, blushing.  Yoji rises to the occasion beautifully.  There are a lot of things I could tease him about.

      As for Ran, he looks at me this funny way.  Just this funny way that I can't really explain.  Have I ever made him laugh, I wonder? When he smiles he smothers it.  His caution and his distance drew me nearer, instead of driving me away.  I wanted to unfold him, I wanted to be the one who could change him.

      I remember one time.

      The weather was bad and it has been raining all day, so we didn't really have much customers.  Because of that, I didn't mind so much that I was manning the shop alone. 

      Yoji had went and gone off because of a woman.  Heard it before, heard it before.  The only difference now was that he was hiding from her.  And so the hunter becomes the hunted.  Life plays interesting tricks.

      Omi had a term paper to cram on.  Being a full-fledged, straight-A student and a secret agent for an organized group of vigilantes is no mean feat, after all.

      Ran--Aya then, was… wherever it was he chooses to be.  As always, leaving without a word.  As always, inviting no questions when he returns. 

      He came back in the evening, just as I was closing down.  I just flipped the sign 'Closed', when I saw the drawn face looking back at me from beyond the glass.

      "Aya…" I remember saying, suddenly flipping the sign 'Open' again before I realized what I was doing.  I paused, frowned, flipped it back the other way and unlocked the door for my royally soaking friend.

      He stepped inside, with his head down as I helped him removed his coat.  He was shivering underneath, making me worry.

      "Are you sick?" I ask, but wasn't really expecting a reply (because I've lived him for awhile now, I learned not to be hopeful), "I'll get you some tea.  You go straight to--"

      "I'm fine," he interrupted gruffly, taking his coat from my slackened hands and heading for the apartments upstairs.

      "Are you sure?" I ask.

      He looked up at me momentarily, before turning away without a word.  He was wet from head to toe because of the rain.  But there was something in his eyes that told me the streaks on his face wasn't all rainwater.

      And this was before I knew about his imuoto.

     "What are you thinking?"
      I pried myself away from my thoughts to find Farfello standing just at the brink of the clearing, his hands on a weakly squirming bunny.  I tried not to look at the feebly struggling animal.

      "I'm thinking about my home," I reply before recognizing the thread of conversation that was just like last night's. 

      A distinct pause followed my answer, before I finally decided I couldn't take it anymore and nodded to the animal he was carrying around.

      "What do you intend to do with that?" I ask, thinking about this bunny rabbit a friend of mine used to have when we were kids.  She called it Peanuts because… I forgot.  Kids just name things for no reason, sometimes.  I had a pillow named Tubby, I think.  It's one of those things you just forgot that you remembered.

      "Stew," he said laconically.

      I flinched.  Rabbit Stew.  That was probably one of the few things that made the illustrious Bugs Bunny feel threatened…

      "Maybe we should," I said, "you know, just pick fruits or something"

      He broke the animal's neck right then and there.

      I looked up at his face in disbelief.  He was watching every nuance of my expression with a calculating eye.  I hated him for it.

      "You wanted to kill it in front of me," I said flatly.

      "Maybe I did," he said, throwing the animal down on my feet, "I'm going to get water"

      I took a calming breath before looking down at the animal on my feet.  Its cute dead eyes stared right back.

      The last time I had a deadlocked gaze on eyes like that, was on a mission.

      It wasn't supposed to be hard and truth be told it wasn't, not really. 

      Ran, Omi, Yoji and I stormed into that big house, just tearing through guards like clearing a path through a dense forest.  There were many of them, but not so skilled as, say, Ran.

      We reached the man's study, to find him cowering behind his desk, holding up a little girl in front of him, to shield himself.

      "Consider the presence of the child," he warned.

      And it made us pause.  Of course it would.  The child's presence during this mission would give us a witness we had to take care of, of course.  But more than anything it angered us that the man would sink so low as to risk the life of a child to protect himself.

      The child was a little girl of about four.  She resembled the man somewhat, and it sent fire coursing through my veins that the man would use his own daughter. 

      It had been Omi who was most struck by this realization.  Omi, who had been hurt by his own family.  Omi, who no longer had any.  It had been his darts that whizzed through the air, piercing through it towards the man's neck.

      As the man fell, the child, with listless eyes, soundlessly headed towards the hard floor with him.  Ran shot forward, catching the child even as he let the man fall as hard and low as the Earth would take him.

      The child uttered no sound, shed no tears.  It gave me more fear than if she had been hysterical.

      Ran stood her up and kneeled before her on the floor, searching for injuries.

      "Little girl," he murmured, "Are you hurt?"
      But she didn't reply.

      Ran turned to me with an intent expression on his face that I've never seen before.  It was the first time he had ever yielded a job to what he would assume as the higher authority.  In this case, to me. 

      I gave a subtle nod of understanding, then squatted in front of the child, who held my gaze for a long moment.

      It took me that long to realize that this wasn't shock or trauma.  She was autistic.

      Pure and innocent in the very sense of the terms, their very hearts.  She didn't know what was happening.  And yet here she was, paying for it.

      Farfello put the thermos of water down in front of me, across from him.

      "I guess this means you could cook," I tell him.

      He pulled the rabbit by the leg away from me and toward himself.  He put it beside the thermos, before getting up and taking some supplies from the car, and putting them in the same pile.

      "I have to clean the bunny," he muttered, taking the rabbit and going towards the stream.

      It must have looked like some sort of a ridiculous picnic, me tied up in front of all these supplies.

      It suddenly struck me that not only had this kidnapping been one hundred percent premeditated, but also that he was planning to keep us both here for quite awhile.

      Farfello returned after a few minutes with the rabbit skinned, looking just like a raw chicken, if you used your imagination hard enough.

      He placed it atop a plastic bag, then started to look for something.

      "I'm going to get water," he said, making me confused.

      "Wouldn't what you just got be enough?" I ask.

      "What?" he asked, just as confused.

      "You got water already," I said, rolling back my eyes.  He finally spotted the filled-up thermos and grabbed it, shaking it a little to see if there was actually anything inside.

      He said nothing else as he started to cook for the two of us.  For some kind of a diabolical madman, he sure has a poor memory.

      Rabbit stew wasn't so bad, if you would ignore the fact that you had just been looking at the cute bunny a few minutes before.

      I could pretend it was chicken…

      I chuckled at the memory.  It had been Omi, I recalled, who once said that if I don't like something just because of what I think it is, all I had to do was pretend it was chicken.

      "What the hell for?" I whispered, because Yoji was cooking just a few feet away and I didn't want him to hear my complaints over his cooking.  He mothers without knowing, and might even be accused of enjoying it.

      "Everything tastes like chicken," Omi said, frowning miserably over his second serving (just to be polite), "It's a proven fact"

      Ran was looking at his meal pensively, keeping quiet as he usually did.

      "THIS," I mutter, "doesn't taste like anything I've ever had before.  Probably because it isn't truly edible"

      "Be nice, Ken!" scolded Omi, "You couldn't do better, could you?"
      "Well at least I don't claim to!" I snap.

      Yoji had volunteered to cook for us that night.  He seemed particularly, overly-chipper, and since we've been pretty hard-up back then, Omi, Ran and I agreed.  Yoji seemed to be mock-celebrating an occasion only he was aware of, and wouldn't really tell us about.  He was laughing and joking, but his eyes held a certain bitterness that told me; maybe we were just being used as a distraction tonight.

      This was before I knew of Asuka, who she was, how she had died, and precisely when.

      "I have to go," I tell him, rubbing my sore muscles.  He had set me free during the brunch meal, and was yet to tie me up again even as it's already dusk.

      "Pick a tree," he said, preoccupied with that ever-present ice pick.  It's as if he wasn't even concerned that I would try to escape him again.

      "Okay," I tell him, getting up and dusting myself off.

      "Weiß," he calls, making me pause on my way to the forest, "You know I'll catch you.  You know you can't go anywhere unless I let you.  If you run, and WHEN I catch you, I'll fucking kill you"

      "Understood, understood," I tell him, waving the issue away with my hands.

      Which, of course, meant that I understood but I didn't exactly have to follow, did I?

      Same drill.  Walk a few paces, then run the hell away from there.

      The sun had already set, though some rebellious stray rays of golden orange still pierced the purpling sky.  I stumbled more than ever now, in the dark, and I wondered where the hell the moon was, or if there would be any wild animals to come and get me.

      Only one, apparently.

      This time, Farfello tacked me from behind, sending me to the ground face front.

      Again, he turned me on my back and straddled me.

      "You have a faulty memory," he said calmly.

      "That makes two of us--" I breathed, before he cut off my air as his knees tightened, again, against my ribs, "Ow."

      He got up and dusted himself off, his golden eye shining eerily in the dark.

      "You should know, Schwarz," I tell him, "That warnings of death don't really work on assassins"

      He snorted at me, then pushed me forward, making me lead the way back into camp all over again.

      I had a strange feeling that this wouldn't be the last time.

      Speaking of recurring events…

      I was babysitting for a lady friend one evening, sitting through the Disney Channel's feature presentation of Alice in Wonderland.  The Mad Hatter was singing about three hundred and sixty-four unbirthdays to celebrate in a year.

      It's a pretty interesting way of looking at things, really.  No matter how exciting your life may be, most of it would still be spent doing something that isn't really very extraordinary.

      I live peacefully more hours than I kill, thank God.  Apart from our birthdays, there are a few dates that stand out for me everytime I look at a calendar.  Christmas, New Year, various holidays… among other things.

      Like the date when I had killed Kase.  The date when Omi had killed his brother.  The date when Yoji had killed Neu.  The date when Ran had killed Takatori…

      I hope I don't stay so long in this business that everyday I wake and look at the date I would link it to someone I or anyone whom my friends had killed.

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

"Walk blindly to the light and reach out for his hands,

Don't ask any questions and don't try to understand,

Open up your mind and then open up your heart,

You will see that you and me aren't very far apart"

- from "I Believe"

by Blessid Union of Souls

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

      "What are you thinking?" he had asked me again over the bonfire, in front of which I was tied up again after we had returned to camp.

      "You know the answer to that," I answer him, tired of having to say things again or do them over and over.

      He stood up from his distant spot and sat beside me.

      I've always had this distinct idea that his white flesh would be cold.  My forearms brushed his and I was surprised that it hadn't been.  It was the first time I realized how much flesh and blood he really was.

      He slugged down a smaller thermos, and I could smell it from where I was.  Scotch.

      "Want?" he asked gruffly, as if it was being pried out of him, "Keep you warm, help you sleep"

      "Thanks," I said, letting him put it to my lips, for he was apparently quite unwilling to release me.

      The fiery liquid burned a path straight to my stomach, the warmth of the small amount wonderfully welcome, just as much as the dulling effect that it had on my senses.

      It had been Yoji's birthday that we decided to indulge him yet again.  After the death of Neu, and the plague of memories that surrounded all the feelings that she had reawakened within him, it was difficult not to.

      We stepped into his apartment and there it was.  Sitting on his coffee table were bottles of liquor so plentiful I think it could fill up a jacuzzi and drown a grateful minor king.

      "I haven't had a binge in years," I admit, hesitating over the heavy drinks.

      He snorted and led us all inside. 

      And, the rest, I think, should be predictable.

      Four Romeos get together for a drink and all the ridiculous tragedies come out in a slur.

      "Women," Yoji brooded over his nth drink.

      Rightfully enough for a man of his age and stand on morality, Omi had stopped drinking after the first bottle had been drained.  Unfortunately, since he wasn't really used to drinking, what little he had had been enough for him to be tipsy.

      "I second that," Omi drawled, slowly letting himself fall on his back on the floor.

      Getting drunk is one heck of a sensation.  It just creeps up at you.  You know what's happening, you know what's going on.  Everything is sharp but dreamlike too.  You know what you're supposed to do but you never do it.

      "I think Manx is hot," I find myself saying, and the guys murmur their approval of my assessment.  I could hear myself say it in such an authoritative tone of voice, as if the world should care what I thought.

      "All Kritiker agents are hot," Omi laughed, his cheeks reddening not only with drink but over what he just said.

      "It's not funny," Yoji said, "I think I'm hot"

      Omi was still blushing and still laughing.  I looked at Ran.  It would be unfair for him to be the quiet type of drunk.  Grossly unfair. 

      "Did you have a repressed upbringing?" I ask him.

      "I don't think so," he said, gulping down a shot of scotch.

      "Let the good times roll!" Yoji declared, opening another bottle.

      We finished that one too, before opening another bottle after Yoji said the same declaration again.

      "Let the good times roll!"
      And again, and again.

      Halfway through the whole batch of drinks, we started to sing "For He's A Jolly Good Fellow," and couldn't seem to stop.

      What was it about this night that reminded me of that evening of youthful abandon, apart from the liquor?

      Maybe it's that we've not had one of those nights together for a long time.  Maybe it was that I was missing my friends.  Maybe it was as unexpected as me, sitting in front of Farfello, sharing a drink.

      After Yoji and Omi had gratefully passed out, I was the only one left singing and I faded to a stop.

      Ran was still awake, and he was looking at me thoughtfully.

      "Having a nice time?" he asked.  The question, of course, caught me off-guard.  Small talk? From him? Well, well.  Maybe the Drink is taking effect on his laconic attitude after all.

      "Yeah," I said, wincing at the first hints of a hangover, "but I think not by tomorrow"

      He nodded, then looked at Omi and Yoji.

      "Fools," he muttered.

      "Fools together," I say with a chuckle, raising up my glass to clink against his in a cheer.  My face started to burn when it looked as if he wasn't going to recognize my offering.

      Finally, he raised up his glass and toasted mine before bringing it to his lips.

      He followed up the drink with a chaser, some Seven Up and an olive, which I watched his fingers play with before he placed it indulgently into his mouth.  The chasers had long been forgotten along that night, until just now.

      "You still didn't say much," I tease him, the alcohol in my body making me so much more bold than I usually was around Ran.

      "Are you surprised?" he asked with a smirk.

      I shrugged.  "Disappointed"

      My answer amused him.  He picked up another olive and popped it into his mouth, a smile playing against his stern lips.  It looked like a crack on his face, unused as I was to seeing it.  But it certainly belonged there, an eloquently beautiful flaw, like a Greek statue missing her arms.

      "What did you want to know?" he asked me.

      I felt the alcohol levels start to vanish, as his openness started to make me anxious.  I took another gulp of wine.

      "Things," I reply, "Did you have a repressed childhood?"
      "You asked me that already"

      --

      "I knew that"

      He chuckled.  "Ken"

      He said it as if I were a child, as if he had no idea what to do with me. 

      "Why do you have to be so quiet all the time?" I ask him exasperatedly, "Why do you have to act like you don't care? I don't get the act.  I don't get any of it.  I don't get you"
      "Why do we all have to wear our own masks?" he asked back coolly, and I let the silence reign after that, let him win the round.

      "What are you so afraid of that I would know about you?" I ask him raggedly, in a voice that I couldn't recognize.

      He leaned forward.

      And plunged his lips right into mine.

      It's like being pulled under the sea.

      I passed up his offer of another gulp of the sinfully delicious drink, thinking of what had happened the last time I had too much of that.

      But I was hoping he would drink himself toward a lose tongue, and tell me finally, exactly why the hell I was brought here.

      I had been more tired over these games than I originally thought, for one minute I was watching him drink, thinking about the things that I would ask him.  The next minute I open my eyes and the sun is shining, with me knowing no more about the situation than I had when I closed my eyes the night before.

      "Hi," I mumbled my good morning, as Farfello put down the re-loaded thermos on the ground.

      "Breakfast," he told me, flatly, picking up a basket of fruits and offering them to me.

      "Let me go first, will 'ya?" I ask, and he unties me carefully.  He is still squatting before me when he looked at my face intently.

      "Don't go anywhere," he said, "I have to get us some water"

      "You already have," I tell him, nodding to the thermos.

      He looks that way, then picks it up to make sure something was indeed inside.  He frowned, looking irritated that he had forgotten.

      I frowned too, in thought.  I could use this to my advantage.

      We ate for a few minutes of silence.  I bided my time.  If my guess is right, I could make this just right.

      "Pass the water, please," I tell him as I much on my fruit.  It was a weird fruit I've never tried before, but definitely good.  He gave me the thermos, and after I drank, I discreetly put it behind me and away from his line of sight.

      After a few more minutes, I asked him to pass me some water again.  He looked around once, looked around twice, but couldn't find it anywhere.

      "Maybe you left it by the stream," I suggested casually, even as my heart raced with anticipation.

      "You're right," he said, getting up, "Don't go anywhere"

      "Does it matter?" I asked, "Either I stay here, or you catch me anyway, right?"
      "Hell yeah"

      He stood up and headed for the stream to look for the missing thermos.

      Then I ran the hell away from there, hoping my chances would be better this time around.

      After awhile I climbed a thick tree and hid amongst its thick leafy branches, then held my breath when I saw Farfello running, apparently looking for me.

      He paused under my tree, looking around.  I dared not move and I sure as hell dared not breathe.

      He just stood there, looking around.

      Time ticked by, agonizingly slow.

      I watched his body grow tenser; is he resigning to having been duped, and giving way to emotions of rage over his defeat?

      But the tension, I noticed as I watched his anxious face, hadn't come from defeat at all.  It came from… fear.  It was the same fear I had seen just flickers off, when he forgets something.  Just like the first time I tried to escape and he has realized he didn't know the way back to our camp.

      He started to breathe heavily, and ran his hands across his face, across his neck, through his hair.  I've never seen such a fear in my life, especially of something so trivial.

      "No…" he moaned, "Not now, not yet.  Not now, not yet…"

      I watched in morbid fascination as he tried to hit himself into remembering where to go, or what it was he was supposed to do in the first place.

      God, what was happening to him?

      I couldn't stand his moans.  I pitied him to a point where I started to wonder, what was happening to ME?

      He went in circles and looked as if the confusion was killing him, and the way his face looked, in turn, was killing me.

      "Farfello," I call out, not being able to help myself.

      I hopped from the tree and stood a few paces across from him.

      My heart stopped at the way he looked at me.

      He was stunned.  Surprised as hell, as if he was wondering what I was doing there.

      I wasn't unfamiliar with that same blank, questioning stare.

      That single, forbidding kiss led to another thing, and that other thing to another thing…

      The next thing I know, I wake up slowly in bed, feeling tired and glorious, until I turned my head to find him looking at me as if he had no idea why I was there. 

      I looked back at him, dumbfounded. 

      His look was questioning, almost accusing.  As if all this had been my fault, as if he knew nothing. 

      No words were said as I got up and dressed.  I did, however, stop by the door and asked him who the hell did he think he was, before slamming it in his face.

      The undertow had kicked in, pulling me deeper and deeper into the sea, where he showed me beauty that defied the darkness, down to where the sun could no longer reach.  But I should have known it wouldn't last.  Breath could only last so long.  He released me and I headed up to the surface, unwillingly.  My head broke out of the water taking desperate, inadequate breaths.  But I went too deep, and the rise back up had been too sudden.  I was going to die.

      "You!" Farfello exclaimed, launching himself toward me and making us both fall to the floor.

      What was I thinking? Here we were, back to yesterday.

      His head was a few inches from mine.  His scarred skin was so white it seemed to go on forever, as his golden eye was so deep you couldn't see the bottom…

      He was shaking and heaving, but already gaining a measure of control.

      "You tried to escape," he growled, "Again"

      "I thought," I told him breathlessly, "maybe third time's a charm--"

      He lowered his head and sealed my lips with his own.

      It was like defying a tornado.  They have a funny word for the strongest kind: Finger of God.  I knew what they meant, now.  This giant column of air descending from a portal of heaven down to the world of the living, wanting to go everywhere, taking everything, ripping them from their moorings, claiming them and taking them right into its core.

      Right into its heart. 

      He pulled away from me and dusted himself off, again, just like yesterday.  This was kind of like a dream, things happening over and over and over, without complete sense.

      I stood up too, and paused before him.

      "You know I don't know the way back," he said.

      "Yes"

      I had attributed his forgetfulness to mere stupidity, earlier.  I took advantage of it, naturally.  But not now, not anymore.  Something was happening here.  Something was wrong.  If I'm going to stay, I want to know what it was.

      Farfello nodded, then stepped forward to wherever, not looking back at me, in effect setting me free.

      "So that's it?" I asked, making him pause and turn around to face me again.

      "That's it for me," he said.

      "You'll get lost," I pointed out.

      "That's my problem," he retorted.

      "You don't want me back," I deduced.

      "No," he answered, "But if you want to come, I'll let you"

      God, this was getting so complicated that my eyes crossed.  Now he was asking me if I wanted to remain his prisoner.

      "I could come," I shrugged.  What did I just say?

      He nodded, but didn't make a step forward.

      "Well?" I prodded.

      "This is how it works, Weiß," he said, "You want to come you walk toward me.  That makes it clear.  That means you come because it's what you want.  You can't blame me for forcing you.  You want to come, move towards me"

      I blinked at him.  At most, we were separated by a few feet.  Three, four steps depending on how you take them.  But it could very well have been the gap that bridges an eternity.

      Hesitantly, he opened his hand to me.

      I looked at his… eye.

      Suddenly, it didn't seem so far.  I knew where to go, I knew what awaited me.  Strangely, I wanted to be there.

      I moved forward and, instead of taking his offered hand, I grabbed him by the shoulders and turned him around to the direction of camp.

      Speaking of the right direction…

      The strain of that night with Ran could not be ignored.  Neither Omi or Yoji knew exactly what had happened, but it seemed hardly to matter because the tension was there and it was heavy and noticeable in the air.

      Omi tried to downplay it a little, move around as if he knew nothing, hoping the issues, whatever they were, would just die out.  Yoji, on the other hand, went straight to Ran, hoping to set things straight.  Grab us by the shoulders and turn us to the right direction, so to speak.

      They were talking in the back room in hushed, angry tones. 

      "I don't know what the hell is going on--" Yoji began.

      "That's right," Ran cut off, "you don't.  So you'd better just shut up about it"

      I knew that these were things I probably didn't want to hear.  I was just getting some supplies when I heard them.  Then I couldn't help myself.

      "What did you do?" seethed Yoji, "What have you done this time?"

      "It's my fault," said Ran, "It's all my fault, right? So we both know it.  I moved in.  I realized my mistake and backed off"

      "You backed off"

      "I took advantage of him," Ran continued, "So I backed off"

      "Idiot," muttered Yoji, "You know what that would have meant to him? For you to think that it had all been about you?"

      --

      "He thinks it's his fault, now" Yoji continued, "You backed off thinking it's for the best, but it's not.  He cares about you"

      "That's not the point," snapped Ran, "He's innocent.  I can't be good for him.  I don't know what the hell I was thinking.  It was a mistake"

      "Even after now," Yoji said dispassionately, "Even after everything we've seen.  It's still your pride"

      "I don't deserve him," insisted Ran, "It was all one big goddamn mistake"

      I decided to step in, right then and there.

      "Anyone seen the fertilizers?" I asked, looking around the room.  I hoped they were shaking inside, wondering if I had heard everything.    

      We sat side by side along the stream, my feet just kicking in the clear water, waiting for fish to bite my makeshift pole, as we decided to go for seafood for lunch.

      "Why did you decide to come back?" he asked, "you could have left, easily"

      I shrugged.  I didn't know, really.  Right now, I was a bit convinced that I pitied him.  But then he kissed me and changed the line of logic.

      "Why do you forget so easily?" I asked, instead of answering his question.

      "I'm sick," he replied, "It's a degenerative disorder.  It only gets worse from here"
      I looked at his stern face.  "You mean you're…"

      "Yeah," he said with a wince, "Yeah"

      He was dying.  No two ways about that.

      "Brain tissues just start to die," he said, morbidly amused, "And they don't regenerate, you know.  So I'll die soon.  But I'll lose my mind first"

      Literally.  He'll lose everything he knew, and not be able to know anything more.

      "Where do I fit into all this?" I asked.

      It gave him a pause so long I was beginning to think he wasn't going to answer me.

      "I hated you," he said flatly.

      For some reason, the only reaction this statement provoked from me were raised eyebrows.  "Oh?"

      "I was leaving life," he said, "And I wanted to hate it, because it hated me back.  I took you because I hated you.  I went here because I hate this place.  And I hate that goddamn car"

      "Not that I'm not flattered," I tell him wryly, "to be such a big part of your life, but why do you hate me?"
      "You were everything I wasn't," he said quickly, and from the expression on his face, clearly he couldn't stop himself from speaking now, "You were good.  You fought in the night and then you lived in the day, just blending in.  Your friends loved you and even strangers, even kids.  I hated you so much.

      "Bringing you along," he said, "is part of a multi-level plan.  If I took you, I'd hate my life.  If I took you, your friends would come for you and kill me too.  Death that way would be so much sweeter than wasting like this"

      "Maybe you should just kill yourself"

      "No," he said sarcastically, "People go to hell for that"

      I snorted at him.   We've both done things that guaranteed a V.I.P. pass into that place, with or without suicide.

      "Then," he added, "I made a bet with God.  I told him, you're good.  I told Him I thought that if anyone was good in this Earth, it was you.  And He said, 'Okay, what about Ken Hidaka?' And I said, 'I'm bad.'  And He said, 'So what about you?' And I said, 'If I could make Ken love bad.  If Ken knew what was good and still chose bad… then that would mean no one on Earth is good after all, and we all deserved entry into Your Heavenly Kingdom.'  And he said, okay.  We can do that"

      I looked at him intently.  He's never sounded crazier to me that he had at this very moment.  Farfello, who killed and murdered, still feared eternal damnation after all.

      "But I should have known," he continued, "Anyone who lays bets against God loses"

      "You lost?" I asked him, amused.  I kissed him back, in that forest.  Of this I was sure.  So what makes him think he lost to God in failing to 'Make Ken Love Bad?'

      "God keeps changing the goddamn rules," he said, looking at me.  "I wasn't supposed to…"

      He wasn't supposed to love me back.

      We said nothing for a few minutes.  He had kissed me once, sealed our fates.  I wondered if he would again.  And I wondered what he would do if I were the one who started.

      I reached out for his face, and my eyes sought out his solid, golden gaze.

      We decided not to have lunch.

      "Wouldn't it be funny," he asked, when that evening found the two of us lying side by side on the ground, sharing a blanket, "If we woke up tomorrow and I forgot who you were?"
      I must have looked alarmed.

      "Or maybe not," he amended.

      God, no.  Never should it come to that.  I remember his blank, questioning gaze. 

      He closed his eyes for the night, and it was the first time I've ever seen him sleep. 

      "Don't forget me," I begged softly, Don't ever forget me.

      The next time Ran and I truly came into contact, was when I had been injured after a mission.

      They told me I nearly died.  Things like that set a certain perspective. 

      The bullet just zipped through the air and found me.  Maybe what they say, about bullets with people's names on it, really has some foundation.  It just came out of nowhere.

      It got me near the gut.  Pierced right through me.  There had been so much blood.  I can't remember the pain after the first bite, but the blood… I swam in it.

      I opened my eyes to a Kritiker infirmary, with Ran by my bed holding on to my hand.

      I looked searchingly into his eyes.  My senses were a bit sketchy, but in his eyes… there was truth in them.

      He let go of my hand and called for Yoji and Omi.  He left that room and I never saw him in it again.  We were never alone together after that.

      For the first time in days I woke up before the sun had risen.

      Farfello was, as usual, gone by now.  I got up and decided I would go to the stream to take a bath.

      It was pleasantly cold today, and the fog from the night still hasn't cleared.

      I walked towards the banks of the water, and paused where I stood.  Downstream, where it was deeper, Farfello stood, waist-deep in the calm, glassy surface.  Fog, like mystical smoke swirled around him, as the first rays of the sun emerged triumphantly over the dark horizon.

      He looked like, of all things, an angel.

      I took a step toward him, and he heard the slight crunch of the dried leaves and the twigs that I stepped upon.

      His head whipped as he faced me.

      The golden eye turned steely.

      He waded to the shallow part of the water, menacingly.  His wet pants clung to his legs, his arms soaking as he raised up his ice pick.  He moved so quickly that the water droplets from his body looked like glitters in the air, momentarily catching the light of the sun before falling back to the stream.

      It was artlessly beautiful to me, even as I realized that he had forgotten, not really me, but what I was doing here.

      My eyes watered at the thought.

      His wet hand found my neck, as his other hand started to plunge his weapon toward my body…

      THUNK!

      The sound of the dart finding it's neat way toward Farfello's neck was distinct, clean and precise.

      Farfello paused mid-thrust, as he looked at the direction where the dart had come.

      "Omi, stop!" I yelled, as another dart headed towards Farfello.  I pushed the Irishman back and caught it in the arm.

      "Ken!" I heard him exclaim.

      One by one, Weiß-- my friends, stepped from behind the trees, their feet sinking on the shallow stream.

      I placed a hand to my throbbing arm.

      "What are you doing?!" Farfello exclaimed at me, "You idiot, we're enemies!"

      I looked at him sadly, and there must have been something about that, which made him pause, and sit down on the ground, clutching his head.

      I was right.  He had forgotten he had taken me, just as he had forgotten why.  His mind darted back to the times when he had thought of me as his enemy.  To the time when Schwarz and Weiß were at each other's throats.

      "What are you doing?!" he exclaimed again, clutching his head in a fight with his own mind.

      Finally, the accurate dart which had found its way to a pressure point, proved its effects.  Farfello slumped forward, unconscious, straight into my waiting arms.

      My friends stepped forward.  I could see the questions in their eyes, but didn't bother to try and answer things that I myself could not understand.

      I sat by the bed of my fallen enemy, in a Kritiker infirmary.

      I hoped he would remember me when he would wake up, though a part of me seriously doubted it would come true.

      I looked up to find Ran waiting by the door.

      My friends didn't prod me into answering their questions.  We understood each other, I think, to remain distant for awhile.

      But Ran… there were things that we had to address.

      I stepped out of the room, into the empty corridor.  We leaned against opposite walls, just looking at each other for a moment, weighing the things that we wanted to say.

      "That night," I said, "Right here.  When I was hurt.  That had been goodbye, hadn't it?"

      "Yes," he said, understanding that what I had meant was good bye to any relationship that we could have had apart from Weiß and friendship.

      I nodded, understanding him too.

      "I've always regretted it," he said.

      "So have I," I said softly.

      "But it doesn't matter now," he said, glancing back into the room, "I stood here and peered in there.  I know I've already lost you"

      "So you have," I said, not bothering to deny.  Farfello would die, it wouldn't be long.  And Ran would still be around.  But we couldn't ever regain what we could have had.  It wouldn't be the same.

      His hand brushed my cheek for a infinite, lingering moment.

      Then he walked away.

      There comes a point in my life where one time things make sense then it turns and turns and you just don't know where you stand anymore.  What had Farfello said?

      God keeps changing the goddamn rules. 

      I looked at the room and its occupant.

      Farfello was awake, and looking at me as if he was wondering who I was and where he was and what it all had to do with him.

      I suddenly didn't want to go in there.

      I looked down the corridor at Ran's retreating back.

      I suddenly didn't want to go anywhere.

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

"You never really know

What it is

Not until it goes

And if it comes again

It's a miracle"

-from "Miracle"

by Vertical Horizon

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

THE END
April 10, 2001