Crawling
by Yanagi-sen
Weiss Kreuz songfic
Usual disclaimers apply. You know the drill but we'll go over it again. They're not mine, owned by other people, song's by Linkin Park… etc, etc, etc…
Warnings: angst, drug use, AU, OOCness
/character thoughts/
*other thoughts * (can we say hearing voices boys and girls?)
~telepathy~
/Ah, gay Paris…/ The man known as Schuldich stepped off the train and shouldered his small bag. He hadn't been able to bring much with him, any more and it would have attracted notice. But most importantly… his agile fingers sought out the pouch of money hidden beneath his clothes, some of it saved from that pittance Rosenkreuz called a paycheck, some of it pilfered from said organization. Enough for several months' worth of bliss. Feeling the crush of minds around him, he hurried out of the train station. He had to find someplace to stay, and soon, he needed a fix.
~Crawling in my skin…~
Bren paid the man what he asked, knowing he was getting ripped off, and not caring in the least. Taking the tiny sack back to the run-down shithole apartment he was using, he sat at the rusty kitchen table and lit the stub of a candle that was left on the cracked plate. Despite the shaking in his hands, he quickly readied the drug and himself. /Practice makes perfect after all.../ He hurriedly injected the heroin and waited for the drug to take effect. He sighed with pleasure. Silence. Wonderful, expensive, drug-induced silence. Stumbling to the window, he smoked a cigarette and looked out over the run down streets of this section of Paris. He could see the people moving, cars, whores, lost tourists; but nothing inside his head… but him. It wouldn't last long; he would enjoy what peace he had.
~These wounds they will not heal…~
He clenched his fists and groaned at the pain, wracking his whole body. One by one, the voices returned, slithering in, to echo within his skull. /Get out… get out… GET OUT DAMMIT! Why won't you leave me alone? Just leave me alone…/ He tried to rise from the bed and collapsed as his legs refused to work. Whimpering, Bren dragged himself over to the sorry excuse for a dresser that sat next to the door. Hauling himself up, one drawer at a time, he finally stood and pawed through the topmost drawer. Pushing aside underwear, ammo, and weapons, his normally nimble fingers finally located what he sought. Yanking out the vial of pills, he let himself fall to the floor. Shaking fingers refused to grasp the lid, it took three tries before he could get the 'child-proof' top off. /Only a child COULD get it off…/ Spilling five or six of the brightly colored capsules into his hand, he downed them dry.
He waited, collapsed against the dresser, till they started to work. He sighed in relief as the shaking in his hands stopped, his body stopped aching, and the voices quieted. They didn't go away though. They never went away anymore, not with these pills. He didn't dare take anymore, they weren't candy after all. For some reason he found that line of thought immensely funny and giggled hysterically. The voices were quiet, but not silent. He wanted silence. He would have to go out again. He supposed he should eat too, he forgot about that a lot lately.
~Fear is how I fall…~
He stumbled out into the darkening Parisian streets. A taxi nearly ran him down; he cursed them out in German, while they screamed at him in French. He had no clue what they were saying. His French wasn't that good, and he hated Paris. He should have just stayed in Berlin. But Berlin was too close. To 'Them'. And to 'Him'. So he'd come to this cesspool, with its annoying citizens, annoying tourists, crappy food… and loud voices. The voices never stopped. Even when he couldn't hear them, he knew they were there. Waiting. Lurking. Ready to jump to the front of his mind and drive him insane. He had to laugh a little, scaring the tired whore on the corner. /Not tonight, you bastards. I'll have silence tonight…/
~Confusing what is real…~
/Shit… shit… shit… that stuff must have been tainted with something… oh my God…/ He moaned and thrashed on the bed. He'd had enough bad trips before to recognize one coming when he saw it. /Fuck! You stupid ass… this is why you don't TAKE that shit… oh God… why didn't I stick to the heroin… at least that doesn't do THIS to me…/
*Cause you wanted 'silence'. Heroin won't give that to you… not anymore. *
/Shut the fuck up./
*Oh, are we feeling a bit… out of sorts? *
/Go to Hell… and take all your little friends with you!/
*But that's no fun. I'd rather stay here with you. *
/Shut up! Damn you! Just leave me alone! Who the Hell are you anyway?/
*Does that really matter? 'sigh' I guess it does… I'm your conscience speaking. *
/Fuck off! You are not!/
*No, I'm not. But it sure did sound good, didn't it? *
/Go to Hell!/ He curled up in a ball, shaking and shivering.
*You already said that… you're getting boring pretty early tonight. *
/So if you're bored, go away./
*I have a better idea. I'll entertain you! *
Bren whimpered as the nightmares began…
~There's something inside me that pulls beneath the surface
Consuming, confusing
This lack of self-control I fear is never ending
Controlling…~
He shakily handed over more money to the dealer and pocketed the drugs. He was almost out of cash, he would either have to start 'lifting' what he needed, or blanking their minds so they didn't remember him. The second would be easier, but he was reluctant to let the genie out of the bottle. For now, the twice-daily hits were keeping the voices quiet, not silent, nothing could do that, but at least muted. If he started to consciously use his 'powers', who knew what the effect would be. The German dropped the keys twice before managing to get the door unlocked. He forced himself to eat something, without really tasting it, knowing that if he didn't, he would forget. He'd already lost enough weight, if he lost much more he'd get sick.
He watched the clock. He had set times for his fixes; the next was over an hour away. He lit a cigarette and tried to concentrate on blocking out the other minds. 'Gift' they had called it. It was no gift. It was a curse! Some god somewhere was having a great time, watching him struggle for control. "Fuck you gods. Fuck all of you. Fuck everyone…" He clenched his hands together until the knuckles were white. /Hold on… hold on… they won't win… I won't let them win… I can make it… I will NEVER go back there…/ Forty-five minutes to go…
~I can't seem
to find myself again…~
/Am I dreaming?/ He looked around… the sun was shining… people thronged the street around him.
*I don't know… are you? *
/Who are you?/
*You know me. *
/Where are you?/
*Where are you? *
/I asked first./
*So you did… turn around. *
He turned to see…
/What the Hell?!/
*Surprise! *
/You're dead!/
*Really? Someone forgot to tell me. *
/I killed you./
*You did? *
/I shot you point-blank. I watched you die./
*Hmm, wonder how I got here? * She smiled, a wicked, evil smile.
He started to back away. /You're dead. You can't do anything to me…/
She laughed. *I don't have to… *
~My walls are closing in…~
He ran away from the sadistically grinning apparition. But no matter which way he turned, she was there. Waiting. With that evil grin on her face.
*What's the matter, Schuldich? Feeling… guilty? *
/Go to Hell!/
*My, my. How unoriginal. Surely you can do better than that… as I remember you were quite vocal during our training.*
/Get out of my head!/
*Oh, I'm sorry… but it's a little too late for that. You see, you were in my mind as I died. When you pulled out… a piece of me went with you, like it or not, I'm here to stay. Consider it your… penance. *
He ran again. There had to be a way out of this. There had to be. He couldn't lose to her. He wouldn't lose to her. Bitch… she'd deserved to die. He ducked into an alley and collapsed against the wall. His legs gave out and he slid down to sit in the trash on the ground. Rocking against the pain of all the voices, Bren could feel scalding tears on his cheeks. /She deserved to die… she deserved to die… she deserved…/
~Without a sense of confidence I'm convinced that
there's just too much pressure to take…~
*What's the matter, Schuldich… cracking so soon? *
~I've felt this way before so insecure…~
He jerked awake with a cry. The redhead pulled his knees to his chest and rocked till his body stopped shaking and he could loosen his limbs. He was wringing wet, the sheets damp, his hair tangled and dirty. Frantically, he pawed through his drawer, there had to be a few left. He fairly ripped the top off the pill bottle and dumped a bunch into his trembling hand. He downed them with a grimace, too many at once. Stumbling to the kitchen, he let the water run while he looked for a glass. By the time he located one the water ran clear and he could get a much-needed drink. /It was so real… is 'she' really there, inside my head… or did I imagine it…/ It had happened years ago. The bitch at the center. His first training sessions. 'Her' in his head… ripping everything apart. He could 'feel' her in there as she tore through his shields. She was supposed to train him, but seemed more intent on breaking him. But they hadn't figured on him being as strong as he was. Hadn't thought that the then fifteen-year old scrawny German kid would fight back. He sighed. The pills were acting quickly, perhaps too quickly, he really shouldn't take that many on an empty stomach, when was the last time he ate anything anyways? Too late now, sleep was close to claiming him. He staggered into the bedroom and collapsed across the mattress.
~Discomfort, endlessly has pulled itself upon me
Distracting, reacting…~
/Oh my God… / Without warning, Bren was violently sick again. /I didn't think there was anything left to come up…/ He sat back and leaned against the stained bathtub. The porcelain was cool against his aching head. Still the voices whispered. They never stopped, even with the heroin. And he was smart enough not to attempt to take acid again. Since it wasn't working… he decided he might as well quit, the heroin anyways. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Now… Vomiting one last time, he crawled back to his bed. He hadn't been able to walk at all today. He knew he should eat, but why bother; it was all coming back up again anyway. He hauled himself up onto the bed and huddled under the blankets. How could his body be freezing when his head felt like it was in a furnace? Clenching his teeth against the pain, his whole body tensed. A single tear trickled down to dampen the pillow.
~Against my will I stand beside my own reflection…~
/I look like shit…/
*Yes, you do. * She was a constant companion now. Whether a ghost, or simply a manifestation of his own design, Bren didn't know. And right now… he was far beyond caring. He tried to brush the rat's nest that was his hair and nearly had to throw up again. The pain from even that small amount of tugging sent his head reeling. He looked at his reflection, even he had to admit he was a mess, and he'd never really cared about his appearance before. Not like Brad.
/No… don't think about him. You can't think about him. You're not going back. You'll die first. You're not going back./
Deep, bruise-like shadows lined his eyes. Those eyes, usually snapping with jade fire, were dull and listless. His face was thin, and he didn't have to look to know that his ribs stood out. His legs started wavering again and he had to brace himself on the sink to remain standing. Withdrawal really sucked. He hoped he could make it back to the bed before he passed out…
~It's haunting how I can't seem to find myself again
My walls are closing in…~
He wasn't going to be able to get up today… the pain was so much worse. Agony within and without. Voices beating against his skull. He didn't have enough energy for even minor shields anymore. Hunger gnawed at him, but he didn't have enough strength to find food. His body was feeding upon itself. /Am I dying?/
*I think so little boy. *
/Go away!/
*You say that every time. I would think you don't like me. *
/I don't, go away./
*tsk tsk You'll never get anywhere with that attitude. Would you like me to tell you a story? It's one you know. *
/Oh God, please no…/
*God? You lost any connection with him a long time ago, 'guilty'. Anyways… back to the story… There once was a telepath who called himself, Schuldich… *
~Without a sense of confidence I'm convinced that
there's just too much pressure to take
I've felt this way before so insecure…~
His hand was shaking so bad he could barely catch the pills as they tumbled out of the bottle. He dumped what was left into his hand and then into his mouth. /It's not enough… I know it's not enough…/ His eyes fell on the half full bottle of whiskey on the counter. Normally he wouldn't imagine mixing drugs… but he couldn't go on, not like this. He doubted it would kill him; nothing seemed able to accomplish that. But maybe… maybe this time he could get lucky. He downed the rest of the alcohol and watched everything get fuzzy. Except the voices… they clamored, each seeking his attention, fighting for supremacy in the vaults of his mind.
Bren fell to the hard floor. /I should have called Brad. I'm sorry… I should have called you…/
~There's something inside me that pulls beneath the surface
Consuming, confusing…~
It took a long time for the silence to register. Silence. Total, uninterrupted silence. In his head. He forced his exhausted, blood-shot eyes to open. Everything was a blur, but hovering over him was a vaguely human shape. He struggled to sit.
"Don't try to move, Schuldich."
Instantly, his body obeyed. His mind grimaced a bit at the automatic response, but part of him was overjoyed. "B..brad?"
"Shhh. Just relax. I'm going to lift you now." His stomach lurched as Crawford picked him up, with supreme effort he managed not to lose it on the older man. "Okay?"
He just nodded, not trusting himself if he opened his mouth. After a few tense moments, he felt cool sheets beneath him and the warmth of blankets being tucked around him. He opened his eyes to see Brad sitting on the edge of the bed, close enough so that his power cancelled out Bren's own. The American just sat and watched him, a concerned frown on his face. ~Brad?~ He was just too tired to talk aloud anymore.
~This lack of self-control I fear is never ending
Controlling~
"You've really made a mess of yourself this time. Why do you do this?" He could hear the irritation in the man's voice.
~I couldn't take it anymore…~
"What? The training?"
~Among other things…~
"YOU IDIOT! WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME?!"
Ah… he must have found the journal. He groaned. ~Can you knock off the shouting? Besides, what can you do? You're a slave to THEM too.~
"This is MY team dammit! I'm the one in control here."
~I sure hope so… cause I know, I'm not…~ It took a lot for him to admit that… but he knew, he was a mess. He certainly was in no shape to take care of himself. He had tried… and look where it had gotten him.
The man closed his eyes with a sigh, removing his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose. It was a habit, Bren had noticed, whenever the man was stressed. Brad hated habits. Said they made someone predictable. He, of course, neglected to tell the American about HIS habit. It was more fun to watch the man. "We'll get you through this, Bren. You know that, don't you? But I have to tell you, Nagi's upset you left, didn't eat for days. Farfarello has been more difficult than ever. You are needed by Schwarz. Forget Esset. Another year at the most and we'll be out of there. I can help you get clean. Find a trainer who is at least halfway human to work with you. Or I'll leave you here, and you will most likely die. It's your choice. "
A choice? He'd never been offered a choice before. Maybe that's what he needed.
Control.
Or to be controlled. But Rosenkreuz tried that. Schultz tried that. He'd chaffed against the restrictions, the rules, the restraints. But Brad. Brad understood. Brad, he could trust. He wasn't in control right now. Couldn't possibly be. But maybe… maybe he could let Brad be in control. Just for a little while. Just till he could get his bearings again. Just until he could permanently get rid of that 'bitch' in his head and was strong enough to survive on his own.
"I'll go with you." The American nodded.
/For now… /
-Owari-
That has got to be one of the weirdest things I've written. What a way to spend an hour and a half… Sequel? I have no clue, since I don't even know where this one came from. But, I know Aoe will appreciate the attempt at some Schu angst, she always likes that. ^_~
Okay… This has now been edited to reflect what has happened in Rosenkreuz… sweet Rosenkreuz. When I started Rosenhell ^_~ I knew I wanted to work this one in… providing a background for what happened in Crawling, and then continuing to give resolution as well… I hope people are happy with this. ^__^ -Yan