The Bright Side – Yohji and Schuldig, Omi and Ken

Schuldig found him.

Schuldig always found what he was seeking.

He sat down next to Yohji on the bench overlooking the small lake in the centre of the park, and for a long time, they were watching the rippling water that mirrored the lazy grey of the rainy day, the swans that sailed serenely over the dark surface, and the dimples the rain showered onto the water.

"What's crossed you, Yohji?" Schuldig finally broke the stillness between them.

Yohji dug for his cigarettes, found the pack empty, and accepted a smoke from Schuldig who offered it even before Yohji had begun his search.

"What did you really do to him?" Yohji asked, without taking his gaze off the lake.

Schuldig leaned against him, an easy gesture, almost friendly. "Show him we understand?"

"Rubbish." Yohji did not shrug him off.

"You're in trouble, hm?" Schuldig rested his chin on Yohji's shoulder. Two friends together by the lakeside, having a good chat.

Things that could have been, something whispered in his mind. Yohji felt borderline hysteria waver at the edges of his reason and clamped down on it with self-loathing.

"You are in shit so deep it's pouring outta your ears, Yotan."

Yohji drew up his shoulders, only to feel an arm wrap round his waist and hold him in place. It felt strangely comforting. Schuldig's touch was light, non-possessive yet assured. Long copper strands blew softly against Yohji's cheek, and he caught Schuldig's scent, a mixture of spice and sandal, and something that made Yohji's skin crawl. Blood?

"You think we put him into this state?" The copper head turned a little, a blue eye glinted up at Yohji, traces of laughter deep within. Laughter without mirth. "Your precious redhead who blew last night's assignment in such a grandiously cheap way?"

Yohji tensed, and Schuldig let go of him to lean back, folding his hands in his lap. Yohji felt bereft. Schuldig studied him. "He asked for it, Yotan. He sliced himself, he was howling for more, and we only gave him what he wanted because you wouldn't."

"Cut him? Tear him?" Yohji tore himself away from the tranquil vista and got up to glare down at Schuldig who blinked once and then gave him a vague smile.

"Whatever. He's closer to our minds than the rest of you."

"You mean you fucked with his brain? Got him stark raving mad? Why d'you not just finish him off?"

A ripple ran through Schuldig like a breeze across still water. "'Cos there was no need. 'Cos I miscalculated, didn't think he'd crack so thoroughly, so quickly. Hell, man, we've been living with it for years, so you'll have to excuse a little slip. His mind was messed up before I laid mine over it, and it's all to do with you, Yotan."

"I don't understand," Yohji murmured, suddenly deflated. He felt cold, and he recognised the shivers that made his skin crawl as the first unwelcome signs of shock.

Schuldig – damn him for nothing escaped his hyper-susceptible senses – rose and offered him his jacket. "C'mon, take the damn thing, they're not going to nab you for this, huh?"

"What do you want?" Yohji said, stiffening as he felt the jacket being draped around his shoulders. Schuldig stood behind him, radiating warmth and danger and something else Yohji could not quite pinpoint in his exhausted state.

"Nothing. You wanted to meet me," Schuldig shrugged, and Yohji felt fingers play with strands of his hair, coil up a few locks and let them spring free again, tickling against the side of his neck. "I sensed it. Even so, logic should dictate... we're in the same line of work, ne? Same old thing, different colour, big deal, same rules. He's unstable, they wanna get rid of him; you fuck him, you wanna keep him."

Before Yohji could tell him to get the hell outta here, Schuldig leaned fully against him. "You're way too soft for our trade," he murmured. "In your old age."

"So you wanna gloat?"

"Far be it from me."

A spark of sarcasm, a breath of smoke past Yohji's face. Damn, but Schuldig did feel warm. And close. And... well, stable. The madman glowed with calm; the normal had fallen into madness. What a shitty world. "Why would you..."

"Let's say, I'm hedging my bets. Perhaps, at heart, our masters are not that different, hm? And we're only glorified street rabble. They pick us up, scrub us clean, strip us bare, and when they're done with us, they chuck us out like so many cheap whores." He laughed, without bitterness. "Well, fine by me while it works. But one day, it might not, and I don't like the chucking out bit, so I thought if we help you out a little, we might be able to call in a favour later. Watcha think, huh?"

Yohji said nothing. Schuldig dug his sharp chin into Yohji's shoulder. "C'mon, Yotan, spit it out, I haven't all day, and I wanna hear you say it."

Fine. Why not. They worked for money, after all, they had no obligations, no alliances. He might as well call it a truce for now, albeit a very stealthy, private, selfish one. To save Aya. Yohji closed his eyes and said, "Can you do anything? Anything at all to... to help?"

"Ahhh," Schuldig breathed, moulding firmer against Yohji's back, though he kept his arms to himself now. "I think I can... at a cost."

"Wanna screw me?"

Schuldig laughed again, an almost sweet, comfortable sound. "Why not, now that you offer? Look at the bright side, Yotan: I might give you some comfort, and you'll give some to me. One night, hm? Don't wanna be greedy... or get Farfarello jealous."

Or Crawford, or make life even harder for poor Nagi, Yohji picked up and was stunned. Those shreds of Schuldig's mind unsettled him, but for now they did not matter.

Nothing mattered except Aya.

Who was offered a chance by their enemy.

"How will you know..."

Schuldig gently brushed dark golden hair from Yohji's ear and put his warm lips to Yohji's clammy skin. "I will."

"How can you guarantee-"

"No guarantees in life, Yotan. You'll just have to believe me. C'mon, my car's nearby. Let's go for a nice drive and find a place for the night."

xxx

"What?" Manx shook her head while she listened intently to the voice from her mobile phone. "No, Bali dear, there's no way to postpone the re-evaluation. No. I can't, I don't want to, and I won't. He's nuts, and you know it. We've pumped too much time and money into you bloody lot... what? Why should I even think about re-considering? You're obviously trying to deal with me behind the back of your team leader, and you're damn lucky that I don't want the whole stupid lot of you to go down."

She listened for a while, before she said, sharper than before, "So full of compassion, are we, Balinese? Perhaps Neu could have done with a fraction of it instead of this redhaired asshole. Hm? You've learned a lesson? Good grief, you're a hard learner. Doesn't help her a big deal now, does it? Better late than never?" She paused, wiped her face, and bit her lip. "No," she then said, her voice calmed and smooth. "Here's your next lesson, Bali: sometimes, there's no 'late', only 'never'. I take it you will talk to your team leader. Convince him, and he might convince me to delay the whole exercise. Have a good day."

xxx

Omi stared at the bundle of oily rags in his lap. The television flickered without sound; newsflashes interspersed with sublime messaging that he had been trained to pick up. He did not need to watch anymore. He now had to clean the gun he hardly ever used, check it over, and load it. He had received the re-evaluation report during the night. It had confirmed Ken and himself and recommended an extended refresher course, read brainwash, for Yohji.

Aya had failed.

Without a single redeeming point on any of his scores.

Yohji had disappeared.

And Omi felt only black emptiness as he began to prepare the gun.

xxx

Next chapter: Decisions, Decisions - Crawford and Schuldig, Yohji and Schuldig, Omi and Ken