21. Reassessment – Yohji, Omi, Manx

xxx

In the 'mission room', a glorified cupboard next to the bathroom, with only just enough space for a workbench that served for a makeshift seat and occasional bed after a hurried make-out session, Omi leaned into the corner of the wall, the laptop on his knees, his gaze shifting coolly between Yohji and Manx who stood by the door. Arms folded, head thrust forward, she did not look friendly despite having chosen a rather feminine outfit – a smart red trouser suit complemented by matching pumps, and glossy lipstick that made her lips look very inviting… like a ripe, candied cherry.

Yohji squirmed. He was sure she would bite, in a not so nice way, if she got the slightest inkling of what had crossed his mind.

"Keep your mind out of the gutter, Bali," she snapped promptly, and he heaved a sigh – was he this transparent? He would have to work on it.

Omi's mouth twitched in an unkind smirk. Yohji thought this unsettling. The boy should have blushed at least, but he took all of this way too calm. The mess they were in. That Omi had tried to execute Aya only a few days ago, and the thing with Schuldig... Perhaps it was time to think of Omi as a young man, rather than 'the boy'. For some reason, this caused Yohji to rub a hand over his chest in slow, firm circles, as if this could help the nagging ache that had been sitting there for some time now.

"Are you done pondering and ready to focus?" she sniped. "We did know that there could be problems, hell, we knew there would. Just looking at your dossiers spelled trouble with capitals."

"Then why did you bother in the first place?" Yohji bit out, his patience wearing thin. He would not need to fluff around with her either, she knew how to take as well as to shoot. Somehow annoying, refreshing, and utterly sad for it reminded him of Asuka. Of Neu. He was sure that this had been her intention all along, but sometimes he did not care and let her see his hurt. Sometimes, when it did not matter what would happen next because it was of no concern to him… this was not him. Balinese was not Yohji. Sometimes… he lost Yohji somewhere in this warped tangle of a life, and had trouble finding him again.

And on very rare occasions, Balinese wondered whether Yohji was still worth the bother.

"Hey," she spat. "You with me?"

"You deaf?" he groused. "So why?"

"Because you had the skills, the brains, and you were all susceptible to a little bribery," she all but sneered. "We only needed to enable you to act out all of your vengeful little plans, and the rest fell into place. Did it not?"

Yohji fumbled for his cigarettes and lit one. On second thought, he offered one to Manx. None of this was personal, after all. Corporate disagreements… Crawford would like the term.

Yohji felt his mouth twitch in a half-smile. It still surprised him that Manx accepted the smoke, although without thanks, and began to smoke in long, deep draughts. Did she need to calm herself? Yohji watched, with renewed interest – perhaps she would give away some detail, some scrap of information without knowing, something to catch her and allow him to break away from the stranglehold Kritiker seemed to have over Weiss.

Yohji was with him, after all. Good. Reassuring, Balinese, keep your ass covered…

She had mentioned Neu some time ago, and every time he met her, Manx seemed so full of gall that she almost let her professional manners slip.

So… was it personal after all? He had put it down to her disdain for his lifestyle, but then Omi was hardly an angel and growing out of chibi cuteness rather quickly, and Ken with his choice of weapon and his flaring tempers... not to mention Aya.

"Well, it did, kinda," Yohji replied cautiously, twiddling the cigarette in his fingers as he held her frosty gaze. "Except that you've hit zero now. We're falling to pieces."

"You are worse than I thought," she ground out, the gleam of disdain deepening into something darker in her eyes, "so petty, Balinese."

"I don't like being manipulated," he retorted, getting angry in spite of himself. "The stunt you pulled on Bombay-" He swallowed the rest when he caught Omi's glance.

"It was no stunt," the young man said quietly. "I had an order. I failed to accomplish it only because it was countermanded after your, uh, meeting with Schwarz became known."

Yohji leaned back, resting his shoulders against the cool wall behind him, and tried to calm his flitting thoughts. Omi had meant to murder Aya on Kritiker orders, Schwarz had known and stopped the whole thing from happening – probably not just because Schuldig had suddenly found it in his heart to be responsive to Yohji's plea – and Manx was telling him they now had thought it over...

"So what's gonna happen to us?" he asked, trying hard to sound calm.

She blew a stream of smoke from her nose and nailed him with another glare. "It won't be a surprise to you that Persia is not amused. However, your team leader still believes he can fix Weiss. He consulted with us after you dragged Schwarz in against your own team, and we opted for giving him a chance to prove himself."

Yohji grasped it immediately. Omi had put his neck on the line, or Kritiker had bullied him into doing so. He flicked a glance at the young man who gave him a cynical little smirk. No, he decided, Omi had in all likelihood volunteered. He knew that, as soon as this arrangement became known, Ken would stand by Omi with even more conviction than before. They were playing on Aya's soft spot for the lad to pull him back in. That would leave Yohji who was tired of it all and preoccupied in strange ways, involving errant thoughts of a certain flame haired man with a sibilant accent.

Yohji could almost bodily feel the wedge Kritiker had driven between him and Aya on one side, and Omi and Ken on the other. "How convenient," he murmured, feeling defeated and not bothering to hide it. There was no hiding from Manx' sharp eyes and tongue-lashings anyway, particularly not when he felt that somehow he deserved them.

"Yes. It is. So tell me," Manx said around another mouthful of smoke, "how do you propose to clear up this... situation?"

"Which one?" he asked unthinkingly and gave himself a mental slap when her eyes, those eager, expressive eyes, lit up.

"Assessment skills, Bali," she lectured, "How would you prioritise?"

"Stop grilling me," he said flatly, "just say it. I'm listening, and I'll be good."

She exchanged a quick glance with Omi. They definitely had some understanding here, Yohji thought with a good measure of bitterness. He had always wanted to believe the lad confided in him, but the last few days had shown a side of Omi he did not know, and did not like. Not really. It scared him because it had so completely slipped his attention – Omi had become a skilful actor indeed.

And he had proven that, when it mattered, he could be as hard as nails.

But then, Bombay had been in the game for much longer than the rest of them. He had been raised to play it, he knew the rules, the shortcuts and the price to pay if it went wrong. Being ruthless was not just the preserve of Aya or Yohji.

Had he merely used their big-brother affection?

Yohji shifted uncomfortably to bring some distance between him and Omi, if only an inch or so.

"I'd like to hear it from you, Bali," Manx said, her eyes intently on him again. "And I'd like you to tell us what you believe can save your ass and that of your team mates after you fucked with Schwarz. Tell me what you think of Abyssinian."

Yohji knew he was sweating. He felt cold and hot at the same time, stuck in the claustrophobic box with Omi and Manx who radiated so much hostile energy it almost seared him. "He's had problems."

She said nothing, just waited, smoking calmly.

"He'll settle," Yohji went on unwillingly, "given a chance. I'd vouch for him if you need it."

"Bombay has already done that, or why do you think we didn't disband Weiss as yet? You were supposed to be the solution, not the problem. Who are you screwing with?"

Something flashed through Yohji's mind almost too quickly to catch, a cool touch, a thought that was not his, and when he blinked and rubbed his temple, this fleeting touch bubbled up into his conscious. A new team, he thought, if Kritiker were so intent on keeping Weiss going in spite of all their quirks, they must be building a parallel team. Weiss had been given a breathing space to prove themselves useful, no more.

No less. Viewing it with Manx's eyes, Yohji understood. She scrutinised him, and he wondered whether she had planted this thought into his brain, or-

He gasped. The memory of this touch, the same, cool rummaging sensation in his mind... "If I told you that, I'd be toast," he quipped, playing his risk – if they got away this time, it meant that the other team was not ready yet. Omi might have told her what he suspected of Yohji and Schuldig. Or he might not. Kritiker still needed Weiss. "But maybe I just know things, because of our, well, skills?" He pulled off a saucy grin.

Predictably, she took ill to it. She looked pretty with angry red stains on her cheeks and flashing eyes. "Don't try that with me. I won't go where millions have been before me."

"Ouch," Yohji murmured, wisely refraining from upping her on that one. Persia was a good-looking man who had them all in the palm of his hand. It was simply unwise to tangle with him by upsetting her too much with innuendos.

Omi's smirk twitched a little. "Perhaps I should help my colleague here out," he said, his voice as gentle as always.

Just the little angel, Yohji thought with a renewed wave of bitter resentment. Butter couldn't melt in his mouth if you didn't know what he does for a fucking living... and even if you did know... oh, hell, what a mess…

"Go on," she said, without taking her eyes off Yohji.

"Abyssinian had a breakdown," Omi said dryly, as if summing up a mission brief, "brought on by stress, most likely triggered by his, uh, abduction by Schwarz. We still can't figure out exactly what happened. He's clamped down; I'd say it's a case of dissociative amnesia. Combined with a longstanding case of what I'd see as a schizoaffective disorder, he's a bit of a handful at the moment, but he's not had episodes as bad as this before. So I hope it might have been no more than that, a psychotic episode that we can rein in and manage accordingly. Or ride out."

Yohji gaped. The chibi was talking shrink jargon as though this was everyday stuff for him.

Omi shook a cigarette out of his packet. Manx had finished hers, but she tossed him a lighter. "Go on, Bombay," she ordered.

Lighting the cigarette, he nodded. "Siberian is stable, I'd say, given the circumstances, though he's got depressive episodes sometimes. Nothing to blow off the scale."

The understatement of the century, Yohji groused silently, swathing himself in smoke. He felt safer that way while Omi carried on in this cool, dispassionate tone.

"Myself – uhm, that's awkward, but I can't feel much at all. Repressed." He shrugged, his gaze dropping to the glowing tip of his cigarette for a moment, before he drew a harsh breath and looked up at her again. "And Balinese here," he nodded at Yohji without looking at him, "he's only too soft for his own good. The most normal guy Weiss have. I'd like to keep him."

Good grief. 'Normal' sounded like some kind of illness when Omi said it, and Manx sucked her lips in and finally deigned to give Yohji another all-over, her eyes cool again and flat.

Yohji swallowed. "I don't know... I mean, whether I wanna keep you, Omi," he choked out, his gaze fixed on his fingers that were playing with the almost-finished cigarette.

"Why?" the lad challenged quietly. "I'm trying to save your ass, Balinese. And Abyssinian's, whether he likes it or not. I have no choice really, though I could imagine easier folk to get along with. And I'll be damned if I can't make you lot work."

Omi was nineteen, Yohji reminded himself. Sweet, dewy nineteen, yet during the last few days, he had tried to bully Yohji into sleeping with him on a whim, gone back to sleeping with Ken without batting an eyelid, or so it seemed, accepted an order to shoot Aya at which he damn near succeeded, and concocted whatever plan it was with Kritiker to keep Weiss from bursting into tiny splinters of nothingness... This was no chibi.

And he had to think of the night Omi had come to him, seeking help in his despair, and he had sent him away. To Ken. It seemed like a distant dream now.

Yohji rubbed the back of his hand over his eyes, then pinched the bridge of his nose. "Okay, let me get this straight. I am normal, thank you very much, the rest of us are not, you wanna keep us going even though we're shit, and you wanna know from me whether I'm gonna pull through or run off with Schwarz."

The silence between them was expectant. He swallowed, gathering himself. "Uh..." His skin prickled unpleasantly, he felt bothered and short of air.

Omi answered in his stead again, talking over Yohji's head to Manx, "He'll run nowhere, he'll keep working. He loves Abyssinian enough not to risk him."

Omi's tone was the slightest bit strained, and his words a little clipped, and when he was done, he pressed his lips together in a tight line for a brief moment as though he tried to swallow whatever else was about to slip. That he did not understand this. That he hated it. That his dislike for Aya, latent from the day he realised Yohji had grown fond of the redhead, had matured into something deeper and much more intense even though he hid it rather well... or so he had thought until the evening Yohji sent him to Ken.

It might have surprised Yohji himself that he found himself looking for more than a fling with Aya. But to Omi, having to compete with Aya for Yohji's affection meant the loss of someone who had replaced his family. The loss of his friend, confidant, brother, father and mother. So Omi had set out to prove, once and for all, that he had grown from a child, lost for all his cool and cunning, into a man. Aya was blind enough to provide the perfect opportunity for him.

Yohji wasn't buying it.

Damn him. Damn Yohji and his easy ways.

In the thickening silence, he glanced at the blond.

Yohji avoided Omi's gaze. He felt his eyes burn, betrayal cutting deeply, way too deep, making him bleed. Yet Omi had stated no more than the truth, and suddenly Yohji realised that Manx's face had softened – just enough to show – and her mouth relaxed somewhat. "We did take into account that more personal relationships might develop," she said, her gaze wandering between the two young men, "though I must admit, the problems... well, it was our mistake."

Yohji felt his heart lurch and thought he would surely die of a heart attack now. "What?" he gasped, groping for his cigarettes again.

She frowned. "Quit smoking, Bali, it ruins your skin. Wrinkles, you know?"

She had a weird sense of humour. Yohji wanted to recover from the series of shocks he had suffered in the last half hour, but did not quite dare to come up for air yet. "Yeah," he murmured, "it does…" …no more than the rest of the Weiss lifestyle. He drew a deep breath and straightened. "Bombay's right. I won't go anywhere. He's right about the reason, too."

She raised her eyebrows. "But?"

He rose to his feet. "I'd like to know why you picked us if you could foresee all this."

She gave him a hard look and a cold smile. "We needed smart people with spirit, principles and weaknesses."

"So you could break us?"

"And rebuild you in our own image? Man, Bali," she sighed, "we only brought out what was already in you. Only folk who want to believe they are on the right side are good to handle. Do you understand this? That's what we all want to believe. What we're clinging to. That all this is justified because we are doing it to the right people, for the right reasons. Not just for money. Now if you were working just for money, you'd be very unreliable for us."

"Who's telling you I'm not?"

She flashed him a bare-teethed grin, feral in its intensity. "Your heart?"

Which right now choose to cramp at her cynicism. "So you made sure you had a little something with which you'd leash each of us, huh?" he managed. "Aya's sister, Omi for Ken, some sort of no way out thing for the chibi..."

Omi's face hardened at this, but he remained silent.

"And Neu for you?" Her eyes narrowed. "Well, we all do what we can, ne? You have few options. Go with Schwarz, perhaps?" She watched him squirm. "I thought not. Go to prison? Not much better; your pretty butt wouldn't last through the first day at ass rape city. You might as well do some good in your fucked-up life."

"Who judges what's good?" he replied softly, and for a heartbeat, her eyes hooked into his gaze, and he saw another of those strange flashes of pain flicker over her face before she shook her head.

"Who knows. Aren't the guys you target vile enough? They deserve what they get; let it rest with this."

"What if some day this changes?" he prodded stubbornly.

She had no answer. Not this time. Had he worn her down, had he hit upon some secret she was skilfully hiding and of which she had, in that unguarded moment, let him catch a glimpse? He reached out for her. "Manx?"

She jerked back against the door and grabbed the handle. Yohji felt Omi rise behind him, whether to back him up or to stop him, Yohji could not tell and did not want to know. It took Manx a few deep breaths to recover her cold, professional face. "Don't do this ever again," she hissed softly, "don't touch me, or I'll make you pay." She whirled around and yanked the door open.

"We all have our ghosts then, have we?" he said to her back, watching her as she walked out into the hall, a couple of halting steps.

And then she stood still, her hands clenching by her sides, her head lowered and thrust forward in a gesture of defiance. "I have buried mine a long time ago, Balinese," she answered finally, half turning to regard him with a long sideways glance. "I have no intention to dig them up again, and I won't allow you to do so either."

"Was Neu one of them?" he prodded daringly. She would not murder him now, not if Kritiker wanted to keep Weiss. He had not expected a reply, and he got none. "Buried, huh? So," he stepped close and stretched his hand out again, though rather gingerly, wary of her reaction, "why not let ours rest too?"

His fingertips alighted on her shoulder, and to his breathless surprise, she did nothing. "Because," she held his eyes with a gaze that was still firm, but had lost its chill, "we all have work to do, and this is how I get you to do it."

"What keeps YOU going then?" he asked at the spur of the moment.

She regarded him quietly, before she said, "I believe in what I'm doing. I know how it feels to be helpless, never to be able to grab the right guys, having to look on as they get away with whatever they like. But I was not prepared to break. That's why I left the police and choose Kritiker. Asuka... she thought highly of you. You used to be good at your job." A small pause, then she lightly brushed off his fingers. "Go home, Balinese. To your team. Don't try to run from this, because you can't. None of us can."

Yohji stared after her as she walked out without looking back. There was more to her than met the eye. There was more to all of them, he mused when he felt Omi's presence and the reluctant touch on his arm. "C'mon," the young man said, "I'll make you coffee. You can ask me questions if you like."

xxx

Next chapter: Job Descriptions – Crawford and Schuldig