AN: This is an AU fic. Based on a dream I had, the night before it was written. Don't worry about figuring things out, I don't know if I really mean it to make sense. Its more of a imagery fic, sort of dreamlike...up for anyone's interpretation. And again, it's AU so the characters are all a bit OOC.
The water was beautiful and lazy in the afternoon sun. Lines of green seaweed marked the stages of the tide, scattered with an occasional discarded cup or wrapper. The beach was small, and not alltogether stunning, but he loved it here, in the warm sand.
Ken was sitting on the edge of a shadow, cast by a low wall on his right, and gazing out at the water. People were scattered here on this beach, laughing, talking, running into the water. He had always come here when he had something on his mind. Today it was nothing special, but perhaps that was part of the problem. Bills waited for him on the table of his small apartment. It was empty when he wasn't there, empty and silent.
He sighed, and tried to forget how lonely he had felt recently. Behind him, someone laughed. He glanced over. Thats when he first saw him. Dressed in a casual suit despite the warmth, a pair of sunglasses on, and wild orange hair. His hands were in his pockets and he seemed to be laughing at Ken.
"What?"
He stopped laughing, and took off his sunglasses, his green eyes sparkling. Ken was captivated by his movements, so smooth and in control. Then he offered him a hand up, without offering an explination. He hesitated, and then stood up himself. The other man shrugged, and placed his hands back in his pockets.
"So..."
Ken frowned slightly.
"You're the one, eh?"
"What do you mean?"
Ken was suddenly slightly unnerved by him. The man was giving him a sense of danger.
"Ah, I don't know what Brad was thinking. You seem too naieve to me. Come on, I'll explain when we get there."
He started walking, and Ken found himself following the confident stranger, through the winding back streets of the city. He was humming something Ken thought he remembered from somewhere, a tune that just caught on the edges of his memory, but never truly rang true. It was annoying.
Eventually the two men reached a car, parked in a deserted cross street. Ken thought it was a bit strange that it was parked in the middle of the street. The setting remained ominous despite the bright sunlight that washed everything in yellow. Perhaps the llight only served to make things worse. A crack in a brick facade of a building caught his attention. He was trying to decide whether or not it had been painted on when the sound of car doors opening caught his attention.
It was a black van. The windows were tinted, and for a good reason. Dark blue curtains were pulled back to display a assortment of weapons. Guns, knives, grenades, and bullet-proof vests. The man sat on the edge of the back of the car, and looked at Ken.
"What?! Who are you?"
Ken started to back away.
"My proffesional name is Schuldig. Thats all you need to know me by."
Ken stopped.
"So why the guns? And how do you know me? Why did you bring me here?"
"Hidaka Ken. You've been chosen by my partner. Ah, but there are secrets you can't know."
"Does this have to do with..."
"That? Oh no. Your past isn't even an issue, Ken-chan."
"Don't call me that."
"Tsk..."
He pulled out a handgun, Ken didn't catch from where, and pointed it at him, rather lazily.
"You going to cooperate?"
Ken didn't say anything.
"You know, if you don't, I'll do worse then shoot you. I don't mean that as a threat, but..."
The brown haired man frowned again.
"Let's just say things work as planned either way."
"Fine, it doesn't seem I have a choice, does it."
"Good kitten."
"What?"
"Never mind. Just an inside joke."
He pulled out a vest, and tossed it to Ken. After he stood there for a minute with a blank look to Schuldig, the man retorted with a slightly impatient command to put it on. He did that, and then accepted a few guns, a 8 inch hunting blade, and a grenade. Quentions pushed at his mind, but something distrcted him whenever one struggled to the surface. Somehow this all seemed very dream-like. He was dressed inconspiciously enough, in plain brown slacks and a white shirt. Schuldig was resisting having him dress in the classic black suit he had brought for him. But he was pushing his will already. He didn't want to go over the edge and have to use mind control.
The two got into the van, Schuldig was driving. Ken looked out the window as they drove, out of the bad section of town and into a busier section. Luck wasn't on their side, it seemed, and they got stopped at perhaps seven red lights. Ken didn't mind, he liked just watching people. He often wondered where they were going. Some walked in a hurry, some were stolling, and some were just waiting. He liked to think he was one of those last kind, waiting. Just standing still as the world ran by, everyone going somewhere. What was he waiting for? Maybe things had been different before the war.
Maybe a half an hour later, they stopped. It was a store, one of a pretty large chain. Ken shopped there himself often..groceries or socks. They drove into the parking lot, and ken noticed offhand that there were a lot of black cars parked next to each other, near the back of the parking lot. They parked the van on the other side. As they got out of the van, Schuldig started talking. He was only half listening, though, as they walked towards the enterance. The orange-haired man pulled out a handgun.
"Did you get all that now? Make sure you stay out of the way, and listen closely. Don't shoot anyone unless I tell you to, or they're shooting at you. Civilians don't matter, so don't hesitate, if you have to, ja?"
"Sure, sure.."
The guns were heavy in their holsters, and Ken felt slightly light-headed. What exactly was he doing again? Walking into a store with a cool orange-haired stranger, carrying guns, and with no real idea of what he was getting himself into. Oh well. Somehow the panic was just being held back in his mind, as if there was a second presence directing his thoughts.
A gunshot. Schuldig was standing on a checkout counter, having just shot a cashier. He smirked down at Ken.
"And so it starts."
Men, dressed in black and sunnglasses, suddenly came running and them. He jumped down, and lunged at Ken, rolling with him behind another checkout isle. His eyes locked onto that of the girl Schuldig had just killed. She was pretty, blonde. Maybe 20. He was standing up now. He held up a hand, and suddenly the gunfire ceased. He fired his won handgun in rapid succession. Once, twice, three times, eight times. Then he stopped, and holstered it. Ken stood, and looked over the counter. It seemed like blood was everywhere. Splattered across the white floors, dripping off the magazines lined up neatly in the impulse-item section.
Then someone clapped. Slowly, almost tauntingly. And a dark-haired man stepped from behind an isle. He stopped clapping, and smiled at Schuldig.
"Nice work."
"Like always, Brad."
He looked over at Ken.
"So you found him."
Ken could only stare at him. Brad. Brad... So familiar. He definetly knew him from somewhere. Something, again, held down the question, but this time he had to ask.
"Wait!"
Brad turned back around. He had been walking away when Ken won the battle with his invisible oppressor.
"Do I...Do I know you?"
Brad smiled.
"Perhaps."
He turned, again, and walked away.
* * *
It was evening. The sun had just sank below the horizon, and Ken and Schuldig had been driving for a while. They had talked about all kinds of things, including Ken's life. Schuldig seemed to know things about him. Before he even spoke them they were inferenced. Schuldig also knew a lot of things Ken didn't. He was smugly secretive, and didn't speak a word about himself. When the conversation turned that way, he would just talk himself out of it so smoothly Ken never noticed until he remembered that he never got an ansswer to the proposed question.
Eventually they stopped, in front of a very nice house. It was two stories, and huge. The driveway was a large semi-circle and planted with beautiful shrubs. The house itself was lit well, and for no apparent reason white lights were stung up across the balconies, and up the front pillars. It was nesled into forest, whcih was typical for this section of the the country...they had driven far away from the cities.
Inisde was insanely lavish, and Ken was led into a long hallway, whose ceiling broke into the second floor. Huge red draperies in velvet hung from the ceiling to the floor, against black walls. They were the color of blood. They might have stood there for about a minute when the door opened. A crack of light in the dimly lit room, and the man from the store walked in, carrying a smallish black velvet box. He walked up to Ken, and gave Schuldig a look. He smirked and retreated the way they had come, leaving the two alone. It was quiet.
Brad walked closer to Ken, reached out and cupped a hand under his chin, tilting his chin up.
"You're just as beautiful as I remember you, Ken."
"W-what? I can't seem to remember you..Brad."
He smiled. The brown haired man was years older then when he had first seen him, but he still seemed so young. It was just something about him.
"You're wondering what all of this is about. Ah, I guess I'll tell you. I knew you from the war, but you won't remember that, you don't remember much of anything, do you?"
He shook his head.
"Ah, you wouldn't. But maybe you remember the graveyard...?"
Ken shook his head again, but paused as an imaged fleeted his thoughts. Sitting crosslegged on the dewy grass, amid thousands of thousands of candles. Melting wax all over white stone grave markers, stretching out. Conversation in hushed tones. Promises?
"I told you we would pay back the government for what they did to us. To all of us. To our friends who died, lying in the empty graves that those gravestones mark."
Slowly, Ken nodded.
"Yes..."
"Are you remembering? This is the key."
He opened the box. Inside was a beautiful, pure strand of round, white pearls. They were almost glowing with milky translucence. He picked them up out of this box and placed the box on the ground. Then he fastened them around Ken's neck.
"Take care of them for me. You don't mind the danger, do you"
"No. It's fine, no one needs to know."
Ken put his hands in the pockets of the loose green sweater he had changed into. He looked down a little and blushed.
"Our secret. But...speaking of secrets..."
Ken looked back at him.
"Hm?"
"How are things between us, Ken?"
"I guess that depends, Brad. Who is Schuldig?"
"Tsk. That's an accusation, Kitten."
Kitten...
"Maybe. So who is he to you?"
"Just my partner in crime. There's nothing between us."
"So you're..."
"Single? No. There's a woman. You should meet her."
Ken blinked. He hadn't expected that.
"It's not too serious Ken. I think she would like you.."
"Oh.."
Brad led him out the door he himself had come in. It opened out to a lush lawn, the grass gleaming silver in the moonlight, like glass. Behind this there was a lake. A floating dock of sorts was chained to posts on the shore. She was sitting on this, on a plastic white lawn chair. She turned to look at Ken as they approached. They did not walk onto the platform.
She was beautiful. In a way that defied every standard of the word. Describing her wouldn't do her justice. It wasn't flawless beauty, it was the presence of her flaws, almost, that made her beautiful, that made you unable to turn away, only stare. She was pale, with scars running all across her skin, where it showed. Her arms were bound with white bandages that almost glowed in the moonlight, and she wore a long black sleeveless dress. One of her eyes was covered with a startling black eyepatch, and the other was a golden amber, and trained on Ken with something that vaugely resembled lust. It made him shiver. It also made him want to walk towards her.
Schuldig was sitting on the edge of the platform, cross legged, staring into the water, seemingly in thought.
"I've told her about you. She has a lot to say, though she seldom talks."
"Ah.."
Ken found himself walking towards her. He didn't know what he was doing, but some force pulled him towards her.
"Hi.."
She just looked at him.
"Um.."
"You have pretty eyes."
He blinked.
"Really?"
She just nodded, then stood, in a fluid motion. Then, too quick for him to see, she stepped forward, whipped out a knife an cut a shallow cut across his cheekbone. Then the knife was gone again. She smiled.
"May I have them?"
Ken was suddenly nervous.
"N-no...I kind of need them.."
"What, are you too attached to the light?"
He nodded a little.
"Oh well. Tell me when you change your mind."
When you change your mind. Not if you change your mind. It gave him a chill, the confidence with which she spoke those words. All of a sudden the lights went out in the house. Moonlight was the only thing illuminating the landscape. And then the moon, too, passed under a cloud. Suddenly two gunshots rang out.
Ken started running. He tripped over something, but got back up again. He just ran. He didn't want to know who had just died. Maybe he didn't care. But he did know that he was somewhere he should have never let himself be. Whatever had been blurring his mind suddenly cleared, and he saw the events of the past day clearly. What the hell had he been doing? He ran until he got to the highway, and flagged down a car.
He got back to his apartment, still shaky, and turned on all the lights, from room to room. It was past midnight, and the rest of the city was dark. But Ken's little apartment was glowing with light as he wrapped a blanket around himself, perched on the couch in front of a blue TV screen. Over, it's over. In fact, it was all a dream, he had fallen asleep here on the couch. Thats what he had finally convinced himself of, when the TV suddenly died. The screen went black, and then the lights flickered off.
"Wake up. It's only beginning, Ken."
His eyes widened slightly. That voice... His hands when to his throat, where the string of pearls still lay, cool against his skin.
"Brad?"
"Shh, don't tell the secret."
"Oh, all right."
* * *
The water was beautiful and lazy in the afternoon sun. Lines of green seaweed marked the stages of the tide, scattered with an occasional discarded cup or wrapper. The beach was small, and not alltogether stunning, but he loved it here, in the warm sand.
Ken was sitting on the edge of a shadow, cast by a low wall on his right, and gazing out at the water. People were scattered here on this beach, laughing, talking, running into the water. He had always come here when he had something on his mind. Today it was nothing special, but perhaps that was part of the problem. Bills waited for him on the table of his small apartment. It was empty when he wasn't there, empty and silent.
He sighed, and tried to forget how lonely he had felt recently. Behind him, someone laughed. He glanced over. Thats when he first saw him. Dressed in a casual suit despite the warmth, a pair of sunglasses on, and wild orange hair. His hands were in his pockets and he seemed to be laughing at Ken.
"What?"
He stopped laughing, and took off his sunglasses, his green eyes sparkling. Ken was captivated by his movements, so smooth and in control. Then he offered him a hand up, without offering an explination. He hesitated, and then stood up himself. The other man shrugged, and placed his hands back in his pockets.
"So..."
Ken frowned slightly.
"You're the one, eh?"
"What do you mean?"
Ken was suddenly slightly unnerved by him. The man was giving him a sense of danger.
"Ah, I don't know what Brad was thinking. You seem too naieve to me. Come on, I'll explain when we get there."
He started walking, and Ken found himself following the confident stranger, through the winding back streets of the city. He was humming something Ken thought he remembered from somewhere, a tune that just caught on the edges of his memory, but never truly rang true. It was annoying.
Eventually the two men reached a car, parked in a deserted cross street. Ken thought it was a bit strange that it was parked in the middle of the street. The setting remained ominous despite the bright sunlight that washed everything in yellow. Perhaps the llight only served to make things worse. A crack in a brick facade of a building caught his attention. He was trying to decide whether or not it had been painted on when the sound of car doors opening caught his attention.
It was a black van. The windows were tinted, and for a good reason. Dark blue curtains were pulled back to display a assortment of weapons. Guns, knives, grenades, and bullet-proof vests. The man sat on the edge of the back of the car, and looked at Ken.
"What?! Who are you?"
Ken started to back away.
"My proffesional name is Schuldig. Thats all you need to know me by."
Ken stopped.
"So why the guns? And how do you know me? Why did you bring me here?"
"Hidaka Ken. You've been chosen by my partner. Ah, but there are secrets you can't know."
"Does this have to do with..."
"That? Oh no. Your past isn't even an issue, Ken-chan."
"Don't call me that."
"Tsk..."
He pulled out a handgun, Ken didn't catch from where, and pointed it at him, rather lazily.
"You going to cooperate?"
Ken didn't say anything.
"You know, if you don't, I'll do worse then shoot you. I don't mean that as a threat, but..."
The brown haired man frowned again.
"Let's just say things work as planned either way."
"Fine, it doesn't seem I have a choice, does it."
"Good kitten."
"What?"
"Never mind. Just an inside joke."
He pulled out a vest, and tossed it to Ken. After he stood there for a minute with a blank look to Schuldig, the man retorted with a slightly impatient command to put it on. He did that, and then accepted a few guns, a 8 inch hunting blade, and a grenade. Quentions pushed at his mind, but something distrcted him whenever one struggled to the surface. Somehow this all seemed very dream-like. He was dressed inconspiciously enough, in plain brown slacks and a white shirt. Schuldig was resisting having him dress in the classic black suit he had brought for him. But he was pushing his will already. He didn't want to go over the edge and have to use mind control.
The two got into the van, Schuldig was driving. Ken looked out the window as they drove, out of the bad section of town and into a busier section. Luck wasn't on their side, it seemed, and they got stopped at perhaps seven red lights. Ken didn't mind, he liked just watching people. He often wondered where they were going. Some walked in a hurry, some were stolling, and some were just waiting. He liked to think he was one of those last kind, waiting. Just standing still as the world ran by, everyone going somewhere. What was he waiting for? Maybe things had been different before the war.
Maybe a half an hour later, they stopped. It was a store, one of a pretty large chain. Ken shopped there himself often..groceries or socks. They drove into the parking lot, and ken noticed offhand that there were a lot of black cars parked next to each other, near the back of the parking lot. They parked the van on the other side. As they got out of the van, Schuldig started talking. He was only half listening, though, as they walked towards the enterance. The orange-haired man pulled out a handgun.
"Did you get all that now? Make sure you stay out of the way, and listen closely. Don't shoot anyone unless I tell you to, or they're shooting at you. Civilians don't matter, so don't hesitate, if you have to, ja?"
"Sure, sure.."
The guns were heavy in their holsters, and Ken felt slightly light-headed. What exactly was he doing again? Walking into a store with a cool orange-haired stranger, carrying guns, and with no real idea of what he was getting himself into. Oh well. Somehow the panic was just being held back in his mind, as if there was a second presence directing his thoughts.
A gunshot. Schuldig was standing on a checkout counter, having just shot a cashier. He smirked down at Ken.
"And so it starts."
Men, dressed in black and sunnglasses, suddenly came running and them. He jumped down, and lunged at Ken, rolling with him behind another checkout isle. His eyes locked onto that of the girl Schuldig had just killed. She was pretty, blonde. Maybe 20. He was standing up now. He held up a hand, and suddenly the gunfire ceased. He fired his won handgun in rapid succession. Once, twice, three times, eight times. Then he stopped, and holstered it. Ken stood, and looked over the counter. It seemed like blood was everywhere. Splattered across the white floors, dripping off the magazines lined up neatly in the impulse-item section.
Then someone clapped. Slowly, almost tauntingly. And a dark-haired man stepped from behind an isle. He stopped clapping, and smiled at Schuldig.
"Nice work."
"Like always, Brad."
He looked over at Ken.
"So you found him."
Ken could only stare at him. Brad. Brad... So familiar. He definetly knew him from somewhere. Something, again, held down the question, but this time he had to ask.
"Wait!"
Brad turned back around. He had been walking away when Ken won the battle with his invisible oppressor.
"Do I...Do I know you?"
Brad smiled.
"Perhaps."
He turned, again, and walked away.
* * *
It was evening. The sun had just sank below the horizon, and Ken and Schuldig had been driving for a while. They had talked about all kinds of things, including Ken's life. Schuldig seemed to know things about him. Before he even spoke them they were inferenced. Schuldig also knew a lot of things Ken didn't. He was smugly secretive, and didn't speak a word about himself. When the conversation turned that way, he would just talk himself out of it so smoothly Ken never noticed until he remembered that he never got an ansswer to the proposed question.
Eventually they stopped, in front of a very nice house. It was two stories, and huge. The driveway was a large semi-circle and planted with beautiful shrubs. The house itself was lit well, and for no apparent reason white lights were stung up across the balconies, and up the front pillars. It was nesled into forest, whcih was typical for this section of the the country...they had driven far away from the cities.
Inisde was insanely lavish, and Ken was led into a long hallway, whose ceiling broke into the second floor. Huge red draperies in velvet hung from the ceiling to the floor, against black walls. They were the color of blood. They might have stood there for about a minute when the door opened. A crack of light in the dimly lit room, and the man from the store walked in, carrying a smallish black velvet box. He walked up to Ken, and gave Schuldig a look. He smirked and retreated the way they had come, leaving the two alone. It was quiet.
Brad walked closer to Ken, reached out and cupped a hand under his chin, tilting his chin up.
"You're just as beautiful as I remember you, Ken."
"W-what? I can't seem to remember you..Brad."
He smiled. The brown haired man was years older then when he had first seen him, but he still seemed so young. It was just something about him.
"You're wondering what all of this is about. Ah, I guess I'll tell you. I knew you from the war, but you won't remember that, you don't remember much of anything, do you?"
He shook his head.
"Ah, you wouldn't. But maybe you remember the graveyard...?"
Ken shook his head again, but paused as an imaged fleeted his thoughts. Sitting crosslegged on the dewy grass, amid thousands of thousands of candles. Melting wax all over white stone grave markers, stretching out. Conversation in hushed tones. Promises?
"I told you we would pay back the government for what they did to us. To all of us. To our friends who died, lying in the empty graves that those gravestones mark."
Slowly, Ken nodded.
"Yes..."
"Are you remembering? This is the key."
He opened the box. Inside was a beautiful, pure strand of round, white pearls. They were almost glowing with milky translucence. He picked them up out of this box and placed the box on the ground. Then he fastened them around Ken's neck.
"Take care of them for me. You don't mind the danger, do you"
"No. It's fine, no one needs to know."
Ken put his hands in the pockets of the loose green sweater he had changed into. He looked down a little and blushed.
"Our secret. But...speaking of secrets..."
Ken looked back at him.
"Hm?"
"How are things between us, Ken?"
"I guess that depends, Brad. Who is Schuldig?"
"Tsk. That's an accusation, Kitten."
Kitten...
"Maybe. So who is he to you?"
"Just my partner in crime. There's nothing between us."
"So you're..."
"Single? No. There's a woman. You should meet her."
Ken blinked. He hadn't expected that.
"It's not too serious Ken. I think she would like you.."
"Oh.."
Brad led him out the door he himself had come in. It opened out to a lush lawn, the grass gleaming silver in the moonlight, like glass. Behind this there was a lake. A floating dock of sorts was chained to posts on the shore. She was sitting on this, on a plastic white lawn chair. She turned to look at Ken as they approached. They did not walk onto the platform.
She was beautiful. In a way that defied every standard of the word. Describing her wouldn't do her justice. It wasn't flawless beauty, it was the presence of her flaws, almost, that made her beautiful, that made you unable to turn away, only stare. She was pale, with scars running all across her skin, where it showed. Her arms were bound with white bandages that almost glowed in the moonlight, and she wore a long black sleeveless dress. One of her eyes was covered with a startling black eyepatch, and the other was a golden amber, and trained on Ken with something that vaugely resembled lust. It made him shiver. It also made him want to walk towards her.
Schuldig was sitting on the edge of the platform, cross legged, staring into the water, seemingly in thought.
"I've told her about you. She has a lot to say, though she seldom talks."
"Ah.."
Ken found himself walking towards her. He didn't know what he was doing, but some force pulled him towards her.
"Hi.."
She just looked at him.
"Um.."
"You have pretty eyes."
He blinked.
"Really?"
She just nodded, then stood, in a fluid motion. Then, too quick for him to see, she stepped forward, whipped out a knife an cut a shallow cut across his cheekbone. Then the knife was gone again. She smiled.
"May I have them?"
Ken was suddenly nervous.
"N-no...I kind of need them.."
"What, are you too attached to the light?"
He nodded a little.
"Oh well. Tell me when you change your mind."
When you change your mind. Not if you change your mind. It gave him a chill, the confidence with which she spoke those words. All of a sudden the lights went out in the house. Moonlight was the only thing illuminating the landscape. And then the moon, too, passed under a cloud. Suddenly two gunshots rang out.
Ken started running. He tripped over something, but got back up again. He just ran. He didn't want to know who had just died. Maybe he didn't care. But he did know that he was somewhere he should have never let himself be. Whatever had been blurring his mind suddenly cleared, and he saw the events of the past day clearly. What the hell had he been doing? He ran until he got to the highway, and flagged down a car.
He got back to his apartment, still shaky, and turned on all the lights, from room to room. It was past midnight, and the rest of the city was dark. But Ken's little apartment was glowing with light as he wrapped a blanket around himself, perched on the couch in front of a blue TV screen. Over, it's over. In fact, it was all a dream, he had fallen asleep here on the couch. Thats what he had finally convinced himself of, when the TV suddenly died. The screen went black, and then the lights flickered off.
"Wake up. It's only beginning, Ken."
His eyes widened slightly. That voice... His hands when to his throat, where the string of pearls still lay, cool against his skin.
"Brad?"
"Shh, don't tell the secret."
"Oh, all right."
* * *