Disclaimer: I don't own Weiss Kreuz. I also don't own the song bits at the beginning of each chapter. They are all from various Something Corporate songs.

A/N: I'm taking a lot of artistic license here. I watched the entire show some three years ago all in one weekend on a total anime binge. So I'm relying half on what I can remember, half on fanon and half on my own imagination. This story is an improper fraction. Let's hope for more frequent updates.

The Rising Tide

Chapter One

I am a butterfly but you wouldn't let me die.

Me And The Moon – Something Corporate

Schuldig had familiarized himself over the years with all of the flavors of the mind. Some were subtle; like fine wine they needed to be savored, considered. Others were so strong, so demanding that it was excruciating to the senses. Grief was one of the latter. In fact, it seemed to Schuldig that this was the most tangible of them all, for grief, by its very nature, screamed to be noticed and relieved.

One did not need to be a mind-reader to know that Yohji was grieving.

The Japanese man's normally tan skin was pale and sallow as he sat on the edge of the hotel room's bed. His eyes did not focus on any one thing, but seemed to be looking at things that were not there at all. His thoughts were loud and Schuldig was making a pointed effort to block them out.

He wondered, as he watched a man, who, for all intents and purpose didn't seem to notice his presence at all, if he had made the wrong decision on that cold morning on the edge of Tokyo Bay. Maybe the kitten was not the only one who had suffered a head injury.

Crawford, when Schuldig had finally gotten his attention, looked just as pristine as a person could after a near death experience. His suit had been drenched, his hair in disarray, his glasses apparently missing but he still greeted Schuldig with that same officious sneer. And Schuldig had long ago learned that it was impossible to pull one over on a precog, so he simply gestured to the unconscious man beside him and matter-of-factly stated, "I want him."

The smirk left Brad Crawford's face, replaced by a thoughtful half-frown and for a moment the only sound was the lapping of the cold water they'd just emerged from.

"Alright Schuldig," Crawford finally spoke, but his tone was grave, making the German shiver deeper than the cold could touch. "Kudoh is yours."

And Schuldig couldn't believe that it was that simple, wondered if there was something that Crawford had Seen that he was not mentioning, but the American turned sharply and walked off, leaving a confused Schuldig alone with his new prize.

But now that very prize looked so damaged that Schuldig wondered if it had been worth the effort to drag him from the sea.

"Kudoh," Schuldig tried to put some weight in his voice, tried to startle the man into being conscious of his surroundings. No such luck, the blonde's expression remained vacant, his eyes twitched as though he was in REM awake. Schuldig didn't like this.

"Look at me!" He commanded, grabbing a fistful of blonde hair, tugging hard. Finally Yohji's eyes met his. "You're mine! If I wanted a pet to just sit there, I would have bought a fucking plant!"

"Schwartz," Yohji said, but it was more of a realization than anything else and lacked the usual malice. Then meekly, "Where is my team?"

"Dead." He might have smiled when he said it.

Schuldig had not planned what happened next. Yohji began to make desperate gasping noises, hyperventilation maybe or half sobs. "No," he said or thought repeatedly and Schuldig pushed him down onto the hotel bed, covered the struggling body with his own in an attempt to shut him up and perhaps a little out of pity.

It was then Schuldig realized that they were both still in their wet clothes and with the proximity of their bodies he noted the clammy feel to Yohji's skin and the heat coming off of him in waves. Fever.

"Shh kitten," Schuldig murmured, sitting up so that he straddled Yohji.

Yohji stopped struggling then though his breathing still came in labored bursts. "You killed them?" He sounded like a lost child.

"Nein," Schuldig answered softly, considering the beautiful man below him, the position they were in, and suddenly felt a yearning to touch him. "They must have drowned."

"Oh," Yohji replied slowly, seeming to take comfort in the hand that was now softly stroking his knotted hair. "Why I am I still alive?"

"I saved you."

"Why?"

The answer was simple. "Because you're mine."

"Oh," and it was with that declaration that the first tears slipped from Yohji's eyes to curve down his face, to further dampen the sheets below and Schuldig had to kiss them away.

From then it was quick, and Yohji was yielding in thought and action, bunching his fingers in the sheets, parting his legs and mewling like the kitten Schuldig referred to him as. And when Schuldig came after a few sharp thrusts, he buried his face in damp blonde hair and growled, "You're all mine now." And Yohji did not think or say a single thing against that fact, but sobbed a little and then passed out.