This chapter is dedicated to everyone who was actually excited about the time machine.

I don't know. Yes. This chapter is more than weird. You have no idea. Yes, it continues to be weird for a while. Yes, the "possible crossover" I mentioned at the very beginning will begin to be put into play very soon, and I've no doubt the already small number of you reading this will drop even further. (Pause while authoress sobs and questions self for actually being fond of these chapters.)

If it's any consolation for the undoubtable weirdness – there's some super fun character development coming up eventually. And fluff. Eventually.

Once again - no time to edit. Forgive me!

Chapter Ten:

Voices

"Damn it, how much longer? I gotta pee…"

"Yotan, you do not!" Omi sighed. "In fact, we were almost late because you decided you had to go at the last minute."

"Maybe I have a medical condition!"

"Except Manx gave me the results of everyone's latest physicals yesterday, and so I know you're fine."

"I'm bored, all right?" the blonde snapped.

"How the hell is peeing supposed to be any more entertaining than waiting with the rest of us?" Len demanded, clearly also bored. He had been sulking ever since he'd realized that there was absolutely no way his soccer ball would fit into the Krittiker-supplied luggage. He tugged in irritation at the outfit that had been left for him. "Omi, I think there's something wrong with this stupid thing. It keeps riding up my…"

"Why does everyone complain to me?" the youngest Weiss interrupted with another sigh. "I am not helping you with whatever problems you're having, Ken. I'm sorry, but I draw the line at assisting undergarment removal."

"Is it so hard to just check to make sure it's not backwards or something?"

As his two youngest teammates bickered, Yohji heaved his own sigh. He only caught himself fidgeting with his watch when Aya's hand clamped down over his wrist to stop the action. The small redhead didn't glare, but his warning was clear.

"Those baggy pants thingies look really hot on you, baby," Yohji said.

That earned the man's glare. Aya snatched his hand back and turned away from him.

Yohji had never paid any intention in history class, and his family hadn't exactly been very culturally centered while he had been growing up. He knew that they were wearing old fashioned clothing, and that the other three Weiss boys looked very proper and traditional, but other than that he was lost. He barely knew the names of some of the things they were wearing, much less what time period those styles belonged to. When he'd asked, he'd only received flat stares and annoyed answers from his team.

He was dressed differently than the rest. Recognizable pants – a little high waisted, but honest to goodness pants, nonetheless. For that alone he was thankful enough to ignore the uncomfortable waistcoat, jacket, or tie. At least, he thought it was supposed to be a tie.

"I guess they gave you that outfit because you look the most like a foreigner." Omi had said. He was just jealous he didn't have real pants. Or sturdy shoes or a nifty hat.

Yohji didn't care. He felt kind of spiffy in his new clothes, no matter what they were, and he thought he had gotten the better part of the deal. He was also enjoying the sight of Aya in costume. If only the other two weren't there…

"I don't think this thing is gonna work," Ken said, drifting over to the contraption in the center of the room. "I mean, it's held together with duct tape! Could they have gone any more under budget?"

"Well…" Omi hesitated. "They were in a hurry."

"Oh gods…" Yohji rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. "We're gonna get fried, aren't we? I don't want to die a virgin!"

"You aren't a virgin."

He grinned wildly at Aya. "We better made absolutely sure. I mean, what if you're wrong?"

"Would you stop being an idiot?"

"Aw, Ken, do you think you might be a virgin, too? Well, Aya's not going to have time to help the both of us, but maybe Omi would…OW! Shit, Aya!"

Aya had swung the carrying case he had his sword in, and hit him in the shoulder. It hurt enough that he was almost unable to make a dirty comment about it.

"I know you like it rough, babe," he managed, wincing, "But not in front of the kids!"

The sword case hit him again, right in the back.

Neither of the other assassins tried to stop him, or even offer their sympathy.

It was no wonder they were annoying each other. There was always a little nervousness before a new mission, and it was only amplified in this case by the element of the unknown of being told they were about to do the impossible. They were going to go back in time – when, they weren't sure – and might not even be able to come back, much less get there safely in the first place.

And they'd been standing in this tiny room that was empty except for them, their luggage, and the Krittiker version of Kontrolleur, for almost two hours, and they were all dressed in unfamiliar clothes that, at least in Yohji's opinion, weren't entirely comfortable.

He wanted to get into a fight with someone. He wanted to fight or he wanted to fuck and why, oh why, hadn't he cornered Aya before leaving the house?

"Great," Ken mumbled, "Now I need to pee."

"What, you want me to help you with that, too?" Omi grumbled. The youngest Weiss heaved a heavy sigh and pulled some of his luggage into his lap, hugging it to his chest and closing his eyes. "Look – we don't know when Esset's going to activate this thing. None of us can leave the room or he might get left behind."

"And what happens to us if Krittiker got the wrong date, or Esset changed their minds, or… Ow! Damn it, Aya! Stop hitting me!" somehow he managed to get hold of the sword case, and unbalanced the smaller man by pulling it toward him. Aya fought him, but he managed to pull him to him, pinning his arms in an embrace that was more for hisown safety than anything else. "I'm just trying to be realistic, okay?" he asked his other teammates. "I mean, how long should we wait here? You think they'd send someone to get us? How would they even know if it failed?"

"No, you have a good point, Yotan," Omi sighed. "Should we vote on it?"

"We wait as long as it takes!" Aya very nearly snarled. Yohji held on to him so that the smaller man's back was against his chest, and so he couldn't see the expression on his face…

But he had no doubt he was glaring.

"Sweetheart," Yohji kept his voice gentle, thankful that they had decided to let Ken and Omi think they were in love. "If the thing doesn't work, it's not gonna be any help to your sister."

Aya tried to bite him.

"We'll give it two more hours, and then we'll have to risk leaving the room so we can call Manx," Omi said reluctantly. "I'm sorry, Ayan, but you know he's right."

"Is it just me," Ken asked suddenly, "Or has Krittiker gotten really sucky lately?"

Yohji barked out a laugh.

"I'm serious!" the athlete insisted. "They went to a lot of trouble to get us to re-form the Weiss after Taketori, so I don't think they're trying to set us up, but it seems like they've gotten really stingy with the information they give us. Or am I just crazy?"

"Well…" Yohji drawled lazily.

"I've actually been thinking the same thing," Omi admitted. "Uncle…I mean Persia…he did all he could to make sure we had all the tools we needed to succeed. Now it's like…"

"We're expendable." Aya stated coldly. He earned Omi and Ken's attention, and caused Yohji to tighten his arms around him – turning the hold into a true embrace. "You're seeing the true face of Krittiker now," he continued, uncaring that he was, in effect, forcing his youngest teammate to face the death of another childhood myth. "To them, any sacrifice is worth it if it's made in their quest to quell the Dark Beast. Your greatest weaknesses become their greatest weapons, because they see and feel nothing but their Greater Good."

"Ayan…"

"If you really think they're like that, then why are you still - ?" Ken's question cut off abruptly under the other man's fierce glare.

Even he should know why Aya had come back to the Weiss.

An awkward silence fell among the group, and it seemed that no one wanted to be caught looking at anyone else. Yohji found himself resting his chin against Aya's shoulder, his how now such that the smaller man could have broken it any time he'd wanted to.

Aya didn't move, though. He was, ever so slightly, actually leaning in to Yohji, and the blonde was no longer quite sure who was comforting who.

Omi and Ken's assumption of romantic involvement between the two eldest assassins was something Yohji was finding himself increasingly grateful for – particularly now, when it allowed him to hold his lover. Unexplainably, something about their conversation made him feel young, and sad, and scared. There was no sex behind his embrace; for the moment, Yohji felt more like a child clutching at a comfort object, believing it somehow held the power to protect him from the monsters lurking in the darkness, than like a grown man hugging his lover.

He watched Omi and Ken, and knew that they were struggling, trying to reconcile their loyalties to their employers with their loyalties to the team that was like their family. The ages between the four assassins weren't drastic, but watching them, Yohji felt as if Omi and Ken were eons younger than Aya or himself.

Maybe they just healed better than Yohji or Aya did.

"What if we can't get home?" Omi asked, and his voice sounded very small. "What will happen?"

"To us, or to Krittiker?" Yohji asked cynically. Weiss would adapt or die – those were their only options, and that was true no matter what time period they found themselves in. Aya, he realized, would probably rather die than find himself stuck in the past with no tie to his sister.

The man had made himself into a weapon whose only purpose was his sibling. He cared for his own health only to the extent necessary to keep him efficient and ready for his task. Cut off completely from his sister, and from his last, stubborn hope of finding her one day as happy and free as she had once been, he would slowly waste away into nothing.

The thought bothered Yohji more than he knew it should.

"Are we gonna end up in the same place Esset's ops get dropped – I mean, you know, assuming we survive?" Ken asked, shifting the subject away from the disturbing possibility of getting trapped in the past. He had crossed his arms and was staring with a dark scowl at the Krittiker Kontrolleur.

"Krittiker doesn't think the fact the two machines are connected will effect our drop point," Aya answered, voice cold and completely unreadable. "According to the mission file, we should find ourselves in the exact location we're in now, except years in the past."

"Same where, different when?" Yohji asked softly.

Aya's head turned slightly toward him and he nodded once, sharply.

"We're pretty far from the center of the city as it is out here," he stated, all business. Sometimes, when Aya spoke, he sounded more like he was giving a report than an opinion. Sometimes it was more like speaking to a machine than a man. "Unless they're only going back a few years, we should be dropped out in the middle of nowhere. This area wasn't developed until recently."

"I didn't bring a compass!" Omi gasped. "How will we know how to find the city?"

"Don't worry. I can find it."

Yohji peered quizzically at Ken. "You can?" he asked doubtfully.

"Yeah – it's south of here. I'll remember."

"How will you know which way is south?"

"I just…I just will, okay?"

"But how?"

Everyone was staring at Ken. For the athlete, the best way to get him to spill was always staring at him. Despite the fact he routinely played for a crowd, staring at him made him terribly uncomfortable.

And when he flushed pink to the tips of his ears, Yohji knew he had won.

"I…" Ken looked away, mumbling something.

"We can't hear you!" Yohji sing-songed. "Come on, Kenken, don't be so stingy!"

"I was a boy scout, okay?"

"Oh. Okay…"

"Don't laugh! It was a good experience, and…"

Laughter interrupted and kept him from continuing. Laughter, not from Yohji, or even from Omi. Aya was laughing.

The redhead had to pull away from Yohji and retreat to a corner before he could even begin to compose himself. As is the case when one finds himself unexplainably amused by something small and silly, it was quite some time before he managed to gasp out, for the benefit of his astonished team:

"I pictured him in the uniform."

Yohji blinked, but it was Omi who next began to giggle, setting Aya off all over again. Ken, resigned, cracked a small smile.

"I guess…maybe it is kind of funny…" he acknowledged.

"You in short shorts and a pretty sash?" Yohji asked. "That's not funny. It's fucking disgusting. Omi, Aya, you two should be ashamed!"

He barely managed to get through the sentence. The men of Weiss, thankful for the distraction from their worries, indulged in their humor, more than willing to be a little silly if it kept them from thinking about their mission.

Laughing felt good.

Almost as good as it felt to hear Aya laugh.

The thought caused Yohji to look at his lover, and he actually found the small redhead's eyes on him, so bright, so lovely. It was such a rare expression for him that Yohji couldn't help but to feel stunned.

A high-pitched, screeching sound began to issue from the device in the center of the room, cutting off the laughter as if it had never existed. Aya's expression closed off again, locking him away from Yohji and whatever it was he had seen before.

The noise was annoying, verging on painful. Yohji looked to Omi and Ken, checking to see if they were all right, and then looked back to Aya. He blinked slowly as his vision began to lose its focus.

Aya moved out of his corner, and stumbled a step, momentarily unsteady. He closed his eyes, looking slightly ill, then began to come forward again. His hand, it seemed, reached for Yohji, but never made contact.

For one, terrifying moment, it seemed to pass through him.

Then there was no room for worry, because there was no world anymore.

"Shit."

Crawford opened one eye, glancing at Schuldig. Kontrolleur's scream – the sounds of the earth's entire population from all the years they were passing – was not helping his headache.

"Kontrolleur tried to keep Abyssinian from coming along!" Schuldig hissed, gripping Carwford's arm as he glared at the machine.

"I told you to stay out of that thing's subconscious!"

Schuldig winched at his outcry, eyes darting across the room. Kontrolleur, Esset's Kontrolleur, the Original, had been made with as much love and care as a Grecian statue – and greatly resembled one in appearance, for all that it was made of metals and plastics, rather than marble. If Crawford hadn't known what it was, he doubted he would have assumed it had a functional purpose.

Kontrolleur's originator was one mystery no one knew the answer to – it was something that had been lost when the machine's first and only use had caused a slight Shift in time. It was disturbingly beautiful, overwhelming in its androgyny, and Hollister had been completely obsessed with it ever since they had studied it in school.

The blonde man was currently sitting on what passed for the thing's lap, his head tilted back and his eyes closed as if in pure bliss. The agents he had chosen to take into his foray into the past were behind him. None seemed to have observed Crawford's outburst.

"Did Abyssinian manage to break through?" he asked coldly.

"Yes."

Crawford nodded, eyes scanning the rest of Schwarz. Nagi looked uncomfortable and miserable. Farfarello appeared to be trying to converse with the myriad of voices issuing from the machine.

"Then get the hell out of that thing's mind," he ordered.

Schuldig grinned brazenly, eyes drifting back to the contraption. "I've never met a non-living thing with a mind," he stated quietly. It was too risky, even for him, to try to speak telepathically while Kontrolleur was active. "Can you really blame me if I feel a little…pulled?"

"It will enslave you!" he hissed. The screeching of the voices of time made it necessary for his mouth to nearly be touching Schuldig's ear in order for him to be heard. "I will blame you for getting caught up in its thrall like Hollister."

Schuldig jerked away from him, shooting him a sullen, insulted look.

"I'm better than that!" he snapped.

"Schuldig, don't be childish!" he tried to grab him again, but the telepath pulled away violently.

"I don't like you when you think you're getting close to your plans, Brad," he stated lowly. "You should be warned – when you act like this, you aren't any different than the ones you hate."

Crawford could only stare at him, unused to the brash man stating anything so clearly.

"You take a time-out and think about that," Schuldig advised. "I'm going to go see is Farfie can introduce me to any cool voices."

tbc

Next Chapter: I overthink way too many things. Yayness.

Response to Unsigned Reviews:

CaT70 - he can't get a break when I love to torture him. You know that. (grins)

Caitlebug - ahh! Huggles for you. I really appreciated hearing that. You made my day.