Title: Encoded
Content: shonen ai
Disclaimer: I do not own Weiss Kreuz. I only own the two DVDs I have of it…damn! Only seen the first ten episodes…*sigh* Please put up with my sad, sad expanse of knowledge.
~Chapter Six~
Something was crying. Was someone…in pain? Farfello felt himself smile at that. The crying probably bothered everyone else in the house, but he found it oddly soothing. The crying persisted, and Farfello began to wonder if anyone would stop it. It didn't sound familiar, the voice that was crying. It sounded like…a baby. That was what it was.
Why was there a baby in the house?
Farfello carefully let his feet drop to the floor, sliding his body out of the worn old mattress he had to use. Well, he kind of liked that mattress…it was nice and broken in, even if it did sag around the middle, and was torn around the edges. He hadn't meant to stab his knives there…
The pale Irishman stalked down the hallway, as the sound became progressively louder the closer he came to it. Silently, he poked his head inside the door that was slightly ajar, and sure enough, found an old-looking crib that looked almost hastily set up in the middle of the room. Farfello carefully pushed the door open wider, stepping into the room. When he looked down into the crib, the baby's crying calmed, and stopped. He looked up at Farfello with wide, confused violet eyes, his face flushed from the sobbing. Little creases of thought appeared between the baby's brows, and it made a questioning noise.
Farfello found himself reaching a hand to the baby, letting is dangle just above the child's head. The baby looked at it, eyes crossed. A voice, slightly annoyed, caused Farfello to snatch his hand back quickly, making the baby flinch and start to tear up again.
"Farfello! What are you doing?" It was Schuldig. He looked annoyed from being woken from his much beloved sleep, his shirt draping open and hanging off of his shoulder leisurely. The German crossed his arms over his chest.
"Just looking." The pale Irishman answered softly. Schuldig cocked his head and sighed.
"He's been crying all night…" the German stated, almost as if to himself. Schuldig crossed the room, taking up the wailing child in his arms. Farfello's golden eye watched him, confused. The man in the room with him was certainly not the man he'd fought along the side of more times than he could count.
"How do you do that?" he asked blatantly. Schuldig gave him a small smile, a wistful, nostalgic smile.
"I guess it's because I had a little experience with babies…a long time ago…" Schuldig's eyes betrayed him, Farfello noticed. There was one thing about being mentally disconnected from reality; one's observational skills were intensified. Farfello could easily detect that sad reminiscence that shone through Schuldig's normally feisty, malicious jade eyes. Was Schuldig actually beginning to regret his path? At any rate, the baby had ceased his crying, and Schuldig carefully laid him back down in the crib.
"Something's wrong." Farfello stated. Schuldig's eyes snapped up to meet his, their pupils almost narrowing.
"What?" He snapped, as a sort of instinctive action. Farfello had hit a chord in the German. He was enjoying this.
"You're hurting," the Irishman responded. "What is it?" Farfello's newfound open nature threw Schuldig off greatly. The German stared at Farf, and then his face hardened.
"What do you care? It's not your problem; what makes you even think there's a problem? There's no problem—"
"You're babbling." The pale man observed flatly, though his eye glinted with a sparked amusement and interest in the way this conversation was going.
"I am not!" Schuldig blurted indignantly. Farfello smirked. "And what's gotten into you lately? I haven't seen you trying to hurt God at all, not since you stuck those forks in the toaster…" Schuldig was trying to change the subject. Farfello shrugged.
"You're doing a good enough job hurting him yourself." The scarred man replied absently. "You're beating yourself up for something." Farfello paused, seeming as if he had finished. Schuldig began to leave the room, when the Irishman's voice caught up with him. "It's Crawford, isn't it?" Schuldig stopped short, not turning to look at Farfello. There was a long pause.
"Yeah," The German kept his back turned. "He said some things, I said some things, it wasn't pretty," he continued in a low voice. "And he acts like it doesn't bother him."
"Is that…bad?" From where Farfello stood, Schuldig seemed to be withdrawing himself inward, his arms almost wrapping themselves around his body. He was uncomfortable…and upset.
"Yes. Because that means that he doesn't care. And that's even worse," The red head paused. "That's even worse than him being angry at me," Schuldig cast a look at Farfello over his shoulder, his eyes hidden by loose strands of orange hair, and he left the room quickly. Farfello stood slowly, shutting the light off as he exited the room.
Surprisingly, that night wasn't as cold as the rest. The throbbing crowds kept the heat lingering in the air. But no matter what the weather was on the outside, he always was frozen on the inside.
What day was it? He couldn't remember. The last time he had known, it had been a Tuesday. Staring straight ahead with lifeless navy eyes, Nagi merged himself with the crowd. No one could pick him out easily from the crowd. After a few more minutes he cast a wary glance over his shoulder.
Those same men were still behind him. At first, he'd shrugged it off as coincidence, but they hadn't let up for awhile now…Nagi ducked further into the crowd, trying the best he could to run, to lose them. He got pretty far, and somehow ended up alone in a dead-end alley. No…
They had followed him. Nagi always had nightmares about alleyways like this one…about people hunting him down…no way for him to escape. He looked back at the men. There were two of them, and one was already approaching him.
No…don't…!
The man reached out his hands in an attempt to pin Nagi's wrists to the wall. That was how it always happened in his dreams. And then…With a crunch, the man hand pulled his hand back, howling in pain. The bones had snapped. Scared, Nagi's eyes widened, staring.
"I warned you, didn't I?" The other man stated smugly. The former clenched his wounded hand in the other protectively. Nagi tossed his head.
"Just stay back and it won't happen!" he cried out frantically. He knew it was his fault. It always happened when he was cornered…something bad happened…
"Don't worry, kid," the second man informed him calmly. Suddenly, Nagi felt…suffocated…in his brain. And blackness burst in front of his eyes. He was almost sure he was falling as he left consciousness. Why…?
Nagi was afraid. Afraid for the second time in his life. He didn't want to do this, but he had to. He couldn't look Omi in the eye again, not after what they'd just done. He couldn't…
But Nagi kept on walking. He had to meet Omi…he had to do this, if not for himself, than for his team. His team? Not really. Not anymore. But whatever they were, he owed it to them to stay loyal. He owed it…
His heart stopped, and then began pounding far too quickly as he caught a glimpse of Omi, waiting, sitting on a bench by himself, his head hanging. And that was Nagi's fault. But it couldn't be helped.
I'm so sorry…
Nagi straightened. There was no room for sorry. There was only room for what he had to do, what he had come to accomplish. That was all he could do. As much as he hated it. He walked purposely towards Omi, who didn't even acknowledge his presence until he stood directly over the older boy.
"Nagi…" Omi's voice was soft…sad…almost empty. So he'd taken something that was precious to them all? Nagi's eyes narrowed. He wasn't going to back down now. He grabbed Omi by the chin, almost roughly, forcing him to look into his eyes. Omi's light blue, usually bouncy eyes, that were now empty and sad, met with Nagi's dark blue stormy eyes. They were cold, like when they had first met. "N-Nagi…?" Yes, Omi was scared. Scared Nagi had snapped, scared for himself…It didn't matter anyway.
"Omi, I'm sorry…" Nagi closed his jaw tightly, trying to will himself into the role. The one he'd played so well not so long ago. He couldn't lose it now. "Please don't look for me anymore; I can't keep doing this, all right?" There. He'd done it. "Just forget about me. I don't want this," None of it was a lie, but Omi didn't know…Nagi let Omi go, and turned to walk away, slowly and deliberately. He made sure Omi couldn't see his face, the tears that hung in his eyes. But still, his voice reached Nagi.
"Nagi!? Nagi, wait!" A choked sob. But Nagi didn't stop. If he did, it was over. And this was for the best. Crawford would be happy. There was nothing that connected them now. They were free.
But then…why did it hurt so much?
Schuldig sighed in defeat, holding the baby in one arm, and searching around for something to feed him with the other. He raised an eyebrow.
"You'd think he would've thought ahead for this kind of thing…" the German muttered. Hajime blinked round violet eyes at him. "What did we give you before...?" Hajime squealed, and tugged at Schuldig's hair. The red-head flinched at first, but smiled reluctantly. He snorted softly. "And Ran actually put up with you?" The baby clapped at the mention of his father's name, and Schuldig felt a little bad. He ran a hand over the baby's hair. "Don't worry. I promise you'll see them again." The baby cooed, and if Schuldig didn't know any better, he might've understood those words.
Hajime began squirming in the German's grasp, forcing Schuldig to put him down. He'd already made sure the floor was safe, no thanks to Farf, so the baby could crawl around. He'd already seen, with some surprise, that Hajime could walk. He hoped his parents had been the first to see that.
The door flung open, in anger and frustration, Schuldig guessed, and revealed their youngest member. Of course, Schuldig put his best known for his prying ability to work.
"Something wrong?" he asked, a bit of amusement in his tone. Nagi shot him a glare so fierce, Schuldig was sure something large and heavy was going to come crashing down on him. And…were there tears in his eyes…? "Hey! What's the matter?" the German began to follow Nagi, when the younger boy stopped dead.
"Just," he began, so quietly, Schuldig barely heard it. "Just shut up and leave me alone." He disappeared into his own room, the door slamming after him. The red-head stared for while, and then averted his gaze.
"I knew it was trouble to fall for that kid," he stated softly. He looked around. Jime was nowhere to be seen. Suddenly, Schuldig felt worried. Normally, he wouldn't care…but when it came to this kid… "Hajime!" he called out. He began looking around, crouching down to look under the table, peering around corners. Nothing. "Shit." He grumbled, stalking into the living room to search. "Hey, you little brat! Show you face!" he growled dangerously. Everyone else he'd said the same to had cowered in fear, but at this, he heard a baby-like giggle. And then…a deeper chuckle? And it was coming from the office. Schuldig practically rushed there, and paused at the doorway. Or, more accurately, froze.
To his disbelief, Brad stood there, holding the baby. Almost like he enjoyed it. Schuldig was beyond speechless.
"Oh no. He's found us." Brad stated, his voice flat, but a smirk on his lips. Schuldig's jaw dropped. "I believe you lost this?" Brad gestured to the baby in his arms, who squirmed and squealed. The red-haired German blinked a few times.
"Uh…yeah…" he murmured. Carefully, Brad kneeled down to release the wriggling baby from his grasp, and straightened, looking Schuldig straight in the eye. Schuldig smirked, his usually demeanor returning to him. "Hope he wasn't too much trouble. Someone like you might have problems dealing with children." He planted a hand on his hip, his posture relaxing into that of his normal smug confidence. Brad frowned at him.
"You wouldn't know." The American told him firmly. Schuldig raised an eyebrow.
"Oh, I wouldn't?" The German took a few steps forward, momentarily forgetting about the baby on the floor. Of course, he remembered, just as he was about to step on the baby. Evasively, he tried to twist his leg out of harm's way, throwing his whole body off balance.
Aw, fuck!
Schuldig felt himself falling, and he prepared himself for the impact. He'd never had balance problems before, so why was this happening now? It was that kid! But before he could become angry, he felt himself being caught. He sighed in relief, before it registered; the only other person there was Brad.
God damn it!
Sure enough, Brad had caught the German in his arms, and was staring down at him indifferently. Schuldig looked up warily, suddenly feeling slightly warm. Wait a minute…Why was he embarrassed? He'd hit on Brad before, to anger the man, and he'd never been self-conscious about it. Of course, he'd meant to do it then. This caught them both completely off-guard. Not to mention the tension that still lingered from a few nights ago…
"Brad…" And as if things weren't bad enough, Schuldig's instinctive urges were beginning to take a strong hold on him. Damn that kid! In the corner of his mind, he picked up on the giggling and clapping in the background. But Schuldig didn't care anymore. He purposefully drew himself up, planting his lips squarely on Brad's.
And it felt good.
To hell with whatever had happened before! He couldn't fool himself. He'd wanted this for awhile. Maybe it was his personality, or maybe, deep down, there was something more, but he was trapped in the moment, and that was what he wanted.
Brad…I hope you want this as much as I do…
Schuldig's thought was answered as a pair of arms tightened around his waist, pulling him closer, more deeply into the kiss, which had intensified as Brad added himself into it. Schuldig was only halfway aware of the world around him, his mind focused on the kiss. And suddenly, Brad pulled away, yet still held onto him. Schuldig's eyes were curious, waiting for Brad to speak.
"I…have to go," Brad declared, letting go of the red-head and making his way out of the office. That was it. Schuldig watched his retreating back, with an almost subdued expression. And then his jade eyes narrowed. Angrily, he bent down and scooped up the baby in his arms, still glaring.
"Well," he grated out, after a moment of silence. "Can't say you didn't try." The baby was quiet, and then, he cried. Schuldig rubbed Hajime's back in attempt to soothe him, when he really wanted someone to do the same to him.
What was that all about?
Ran was at an end. He didn't want to admit it, but he was out of ideas. Yes, they'd gone to the police, but in reality, they all knew not much would come out of that. They'd dealt with things far beyond the capacity of the police, and knew there was little hope. He'd also looked. They all had. But now…
He looked down at Ken, who had finally fallen asleep in his arms. None of them had slept for days on end, and he was glad Ken was getting some rest. But Ran couldn't sleep. He had too much to protect. If only…
The red-head straightened, having the sudden urge to go out and walk. He didn't have or need a destination; he just needed to clear his head. Gently, he trailed a hand down Ken's cheek. The brunette seemed to be in a deep sleep, mumbling restlessly now and then. Ran didn't blame him. He wished he could clear away all of Ken's hurt for him. But that was one thing he couldn't do. Slowly and carefully, Ran dislodged himself from his lover, who curled up around a pillow as a substitute. Ran left the house, not even stopping to grab a coat, and walked down the sidewalk.
It was early evening, and the sky was just beginning to darken. He found himself headed to the shop, which wasn't far away at all. It was closed, and had been, since that night. Ran pulled out his key and unlocked it, stepping inside. It was dark, lonely, and empty. A lot like the way he felt. He made his way down the stairs to the mission room, scanning it. His breath caught in his throat. A figure stood in the shadows, awaiting his arrival.
"…Manx…?" The woman stepped forward, her face serious.
"I have something important to tell you," she began. Her eyes locked with his. "About Hajime."
Author's Note: Dun dun dun! *tries horribly to imitate suspenseful music* Oh my! What's gonna happen no~ow?
Pinku: *snorts* You're writing it, you should know…
Lorelei: *bops him on the head* Silence you. Whoo…I began this awhile ago, and since then, I have seen more of the series. Whee for me. I also re-read it, and have this to say; dear GOD what was I thinking? Oh well. Now it's gonna get more serious *cackles* and I'm sorry if they act OOC, but, my excuse, is this; they've changed over time!
Pinku: *scoffs* That's a pathetic excuse!
Lorelei: *sniffles* But I love you! My readers! I love you all! *huggles* And, uh, let me see…I'm sorry I don't write long chapters…and…uh…yeah. I know this story is a little farfetched…
Pinku: *snorts*
Lorelei: But it's all that I have! I just hope you're not confused, like me, because that would be upsetting!
Pinku: You're rambling…
Lorelei: *glares* Quiet! *coughs* And by the by, I have now completed my website. What website, you ask? Well, my Aya site! You can go to this address and see it!
http://www.diet-dr-fruit-milk.net/bigred/
Yeah…I know…shameless self-promotion. But don't we love it? Ok, I'll go now…*slinks off*
Pinku: Anybody have any pocky? I'll be your muse! She's a meanie! I quit!
Lorelei: *calls out* You can't quit!
Pinku: *sweatdrop* *whispers* Let me know, ok?