Won't you close our eyes?


A/N: Third chapter! Woohoo! You thought it was strange before? This is when it becomes strange! Oh, yeah! And... I'm on a Gravitation high this time, so.... Beware! Hey, if Omi-kun (I know you're reading this! *nya!*) would dye his hair pink he would look like Shuuichi-kun! Yeah! Cool! And if Brad started freaking out he could be Sakano-san! *ohohoho!* Although Brad's glasses are more stylish, ne. ...I would love seeing him do the Tigereye thingie with the ice-cream. *ohohoho!*
And man, migraines suck. Poor Schu, ne! And about shooting the painkillers... I've always wondered if Schu is borderline. He has to be in most fics, anyway. *nod nod* And in this part, you get to meet his sister! Yeah! I've already told you I'm bad at German names, but I figured, you take Swedish names and kinda pronounce them a bit differently, and tey sound really German! *hides* Okay, so that was bad.
Oh, yeah, Kleine is "little" in female form (man, I hope I'm right this time, correct me, ppl!), and I thought, since in Sweden, little girls often call their dolls 'lillan', which is 'kleine', which is 'litte'. Or, well, 'lillan' is 'little one'... But anyway. That's why I chose that name for the doll.
And, lastly, why Brad says his name is Brad is becuase... I wanted him to seem more human towards Schu and stuff, instead of the unpersonal Crawford.



Warnings: Like before, I suppose. Oh, yeah, and I can't write Farfie, for all of you who wonder "what the hell is this?".

italics means thoughts
~...~ means flashback
'...' means diary-entry, or part from a diary-entry
"..." means telepathic thought, or thought picked up by telepathy


Acknowledgements: Here goes:
Omi-kun of course, who was just let out of the hospital. Huggles, cute.
Mamo-chan! Call me baby!
Lenn-neechan just because. ^_^;;
And to all who reviewed, in no particular order (I love you forever, have lots of cookies!):
wispykitty for the cookies! Yeah!
ailsinjiin, yes, he came back, but he's going to space out even more now...
Krimson - hee hee, I don't think he'll be able to help Schu in time! Naaah, I won't be so mean.
Bright Shadow for even more cookies! Woo, I'm gaining weight, poor me!
Pyrochan for the milk, and yes, you can get a German/English dictionary in Japan, or at least in Tokyo. I had ppl check. ^_-;;


Disclaimer: No owning, no moneymaking... The poem belongs to the Danish poetess Maria Wine (but I translated it myself), the tune belongs to Sarah Brightman... Does anyone really read this, anyway? Prolly not... So I can just write whatever I want! MUAHAHAHA--*cough cough* I need a cigarette. Um, yeah, don't start smoking, kiddies, it'll take about twenty years of your life, and it's expensive, too! Yeah! And when you bake cookies, make sure you don't burn them, and always accept a challenge, or you'll be fried! Yeah!! And when it comes to that mean old .... meanie in Xenogears, I always thought that he--- What, you're still reading? Waaaah, I'm done for!



Chapter III: Dust in the wind


Brad frowned at his laptop and tried to focus on his work while ignoring the constant thuds coming from the room above his office - Schuldig's room. It sounded as if something big and quite heavy was thrown repeatedly against the walls and the floor. He didn't feel like going up and interrupt the redhead, since he knew that it would only stay quiet for a minute or so before Schuldig would begin again. For some reason, the voices in the German's head made him react somewhat like an empath; when the voices were angry, he got angry too, when they were sad, he would sit and cry. Crawford wondered absently, while typing in the last few sentences, if that was what was happening. That the telepath was losing control. If it was, he decided that he would try to find help to restore the mind reader's state of mind, as far as possible. But Schuldig had yet to say anything, and if the redhead didn't tell him, he couldn't be sure if he was right or not.
Another thump, then it got quiet. Almost a bit too quiet, considering how the telepath had been acting the last few weeks. He had gotten far more temperamental than before, as well as more easily affected by what happened around him. Thus the American and the Japanese teen had made a silent deal to stay calm and quiet around the redhead, just to be sure that nothing too serious would happen. They took turns in watching over Farfarello, who was at the moment in one of his worse moods, snarling insults and threats at every person he saw. It was especially important to keep Schuldig away from the Irishman at those times, they had learned, or Schuldig would curl up on himself, as if taking the insults to heart, and refuse to speak to anyone for hours and sometimes days.
Just as he was closing the document he heard a gunshot from the second floor of their two-story house. He told himself that it was nothing serious, else he would have had a vision of it happening. Brad rose slowly from his desk and with slow steps he moved towards the staircase, up the stairs, round the corner and down the hallway, making his way towards the closed door leading to the redhead's room. Once standing by the door, he listened to the silence. Down the hall, Nagi's door opened and he stuck his head out. Coffee-brown eyes met the ones that were the color of lapis lazuli for no more than a second. In silent agreement, Crawford knocked.
"Schuldig?"
No answer. He made a mental note to search through the German's room to get rid of anything that he could inflict any damage with. He could feel the teenager watch him as he tried the handle and found the door unlocked. Usually, Nagi would have to unlock the door with the help of his telekinesis. Crawford frowned. Pushing the door open, he looked into the darkened room. Schuldig had kept the venetian blinds down, to let them block out as much light as possible. At times, the telepath was acting as if he was suffering from a migraine; he couldn't stand bright light, nor loud sounds and he suffered nausea. But there were other parts that didn't fit in with the migraine theory. The big change in personality, to name one thing. Schuldig was nowhere near the person he had used to be. He hardly ever dropped a remark about anything, nor did he seem to care about his appearance anymore. His hair remained a tasseled mess, he hardly ever changed into anything else than his pajamas and his lips were chapped. Sometimes when Crawford found him curled up in his bed, he had been tearing at and chewing on his lips to a point where they bled and stung, making the redhead tear even more at the. And yet, his natural beauty hadn't been lost, even in all the mess. Even though his eyes didn't shine with as much vigor as before, they still shone a bright emerald with flecks of blue, underneath eyelids heavy from painkilling drugs. It was the fact that his eyes hadn't hazed over entirely that made the American still hope that here was something left of the Schuldig he had come to know somewhere inside, behind the change.
The room looked as if someone had turned it upside down. Even the short desk had been pushed over. The bookshelf had been pushed over as well, books and magazines lying in a chaotic sea about he wooden furniture. The bed had been turned over so that its legs stuck up into the air; the pillows lay scattered about the room and the comforter lay in a pile right next to the door. Even the nightstand had been knocked over, jars of painkillers littering the floor. There was an entrance hole from a bullet in the wall where the nightstand had once stood, and a shattered jar of yellow painkillers lay in the remains of the blue piece of furniture. The morphine, Crawford noted to himself. It was the strongest painkillers he had been able to find without going into illegal drugs.
The American found Schuldig huddled up on the other side of the bed. He had his legs drawn up against his chest and his long arms were thrown about them, hugging them close. The handgun lay some feet away and the redhead sat staring into thin air, not moving more than he needed to breathe.
"Schuldig?" Crawford tried again, moving slowly around the bed. The last thing he needed was for Schuldig to act as if Brad was yet another threat. He had once, slamming into the clairvoyant's mind with so much force that it had left him with a migraine for several days afterwards.
When he still didn't get a reaction, he crouched down in front of the telepath and put his hands on Schuldig's cold, thin shoulders. The German had hardly eaten anything at all for several weeks, the only times being when Brad had more or less forced him to. The weight-loss was obvious, even though he was wearing two tee shirts. After several long moments, emerald eyes turned to look into the pre-cog's.
"What?" came a soft whisper.
"How are you feeling?" For some reason, Brad found himself whispering as well. He just felt that he needed to be quiet around the telepath. He didn't know why, but he was under the impression that silence made things a bit more bearable.
"…Better."
"Did you have another headache?"
At that, the mind reader chuckled. "I always have a headache, Brad," he whispered.
"I know you do." He settled on the floor, his hands dropping to his lap. "Was it worse this time?"
"Every time is worse than the last time," Schuldig answered, his gaze wandering.
"Why did you shoot the painkillers?"
"I don't know. They stopped working." The telepath shrugged slightly. "They're to no use."
"Schuldig, they're morphine. Nothing else will work better," he told the German, trying to catch his gaze. Schuldig averted his eyes to the floor. The whites were slightly yellow from the morphine and the green eyes were bloodshot from too little sleep.
"Then I guess it doesn't matter. If they don't work I don't know what will." He rested his forehead against his knees. "I don't want to, anymore. I can't do any of this, anymore." He shook his head slowly. "Gods, oh gods, I'm going insane."
"You're not a quitter, Schuldig."
The red head was raised, a thin smile being worn on chapped lips. If he would have smiled just a little bit wider, his lips would have begun to bleed again. "Can't I give up, just this once? Aren't I allowed this one defeat?"
"You're stronger than that," Brad said, trying to convince the telepath. When Schuldig reached a hand towards him, he took it between both of his, warming the cold, bony fingers. "You can't give in to just a headache."
"I'm not like you, you know," he whispered, watching their hands. If there had come anything good from this it would have to be the fact that Crawford had proven to have a heart hidden underneath his cold exterior. "I can't just brush everything off."
"Then try to find a solution."
"I… I don't know…"
"Then tell me what's really wrong, and I'll help you."
"You're lying."
"Why would I be?"
Schuldig pulled his hand back and hugged his knees tightly. "Why would you care so much? What would it matter to you if I go insane?"
When Crawford opened his mouth to answer, Schuldig heard his voice as if it belonged to someone else; a blonde little girl sitting on her knees in front of him, clutching a rag-doll to her chest.

~
"Florian?" She reached out to him, brushing away hair from his face with clumsy fingers. "Papi says you can come out now." She pulled her hand back and popped a thumb into her mouth.
"Don't do that," Florian said, putting down the magazine he had been flipping through and reaching to take her hand away from her face. He was sitting on the floor behind his bed, as far away from the door as possible. "Your teeth will turn out all weird if you do." He offered her a slight smile and ruffled her hair a little. "How's kindergarten? Is everybody nice to you?"
"Uh-huh," she nodded, golden hair bouncing about her face.
"And are you nice to everybody else?"
She nodded again, smiling now. She was missing one of her teeth, much like any other kid her age. "We get to draw and play. And there's this room where Ms. Gerg reads stories and we can sleep, too."
Florian nodded, smiling at her. She loved it when he was happy.
"And you know what happened yesterday?" She got a very serious look on her face and leaned forward just a bit.
"What?" the redheaded boy asked, trying to match her seriousness.
"Kleine got lost." She held up her rag-doll. "We couldn't find her anywhere, but then we looked in the hall and she was lying under my jacket. Good, huh!" She smiled and hugged the doll. "She's always up to something. I get so worried. Like last week we had to give her a band-aid, because she fell from the table." The blonde girl pointed out the spot where the band-aid had been. "But she's fine now. She would have been fine earlier if you had kissed it, but papi wouldn't let me in. Not even Kleine could visit you." She looked down into her lap, frowning a little. Then she looked up and smiled. "But now you can go out again, so if she gets hurt you can cure it. Won't you, huh?"
"Of course I will," he promised and leaned forward to kiss the rag-doll's head. "Now you better be careful," he said, shaking his finger at the doll. "And you too." He turned to his sister. "If anybody's ever mean to you, tell the teachers, okay?"
"I will!" she said and giggled, holding up the yarn-haired doll to her older brother. "Kleine says she missed you."
"I missed her, too." He shook the doll's hand carefully. Then he furrowed his brow slightly, putting a hand to his forehead.
"Are you having another headache?" She leaned forward and her big, green eyes locked with his. They sat like that for a second then Florian shook his head and smiled.
"It's nothing bad. I'll be fine."
"Are you sure? I can get you one of those pills mami takes."
"How will you do that?"
"Mami won't know. She's not home now."
"Are we alone?" He sincerely hoped so. Maybe he could get out and get some fresh air. He looked over to his sister and changed his mind at the sight of the blonde girl. Of course he would stay in the house, else Anne would get into trouble.
"Nuh-huh." She shook her head. "Papi's home. But he'll go to work soon."
"What time is it?"
"I don't know. I'll go look." She stood up, hesitated, then gave him the rag-doll. "Kleine will stay with you till I come back. So you won't have to be alone."
"Anne?" She turned around and looked at him. Her red stockings had slipped down a little and her red dress had spots of paint on it. "Can you get me a hammer? Or a pair of pincers? And make sure he doesn't see you," he reminded her.
She frowned for a second, leaf-green eyes studying him closely. Then she nodded, wild golden hair bouncing about her face. "Okay!" Then she was off.
~

"…ig?"
"Huh?" He blinked repeatedly. He hadn't even realized that he had been drifting off into his memories again.
"Ah, there you are." Brad was studying him intently now, as if looking for something. "You just stopped reacting for a while there. Have you taken any pills today?"
Schuldig frowned, then looked away. "I… I don't know. I think I took some this morning… What time is it?"
"About 5.30 PM. Why?"
"…I'm thirsty."
Crawford allowed himself a smile at that. Finally, he wouldn't have to force nutrition down the redhead's throat. "Come on. I'm sure Nagi's getting a bit hungry, too." He hooked an arm about the redhead's thin waist and helped him to his feet. Stumbling slightly, they made it out of the room and into the hallway. When they passed by the teen's door, Crawford stopped to knock. "Nagi? We're going to have something to eat."
"Okay," came the muffled reply through the door. As they continued down the hall, the teenager exited his room and followed them silently. Crawford figured that the normally silent Japanese boy got the big picture of what was happening, even if he never said much about it. It seemed he would rather change the subject or just leave. However he felt about Schuldig's changed persona he didn't mention it. Brad made another mental note to keep an eye on the youth as well as the telepath. It was bad enough that one of them was acting more or less usual; he definitely didn't feel like taking care of more persons, although he knew he would if he would have to. Like it or not, Schwarz had become his family, and it was one he intended to take care of.

Sitting by the round table in the kitchen, Schuldig could have looked like his old self if he had brushed his hair and put on a little of the lost weight. In contrast to how he had been but an hour ago, he seemed to be bursting with life, joking around with Nagi and humming a little on a song that had been popular some months ago, before his headaches had begun. Brad had had to turn around and eye him once when the redhead dropped a cocky remark, sounding almost frighteningly much like his old self.
"How's the headache?" Brad asked over his shoulder, checking on the rice. When he didn't get an answer he turned slightly to see what had caught the telepath's attention. Schuldig was sitting staring into space, his head tilted slightly to one side. He looked strangely calm, while at the same time he reminded Crawford of a patient at an asylum. Cold hands grabbed a firm hold on his lungs and made it hard to breathe as he walked up to the table, bending over to look into the mind reader's face. If he didn't know any better, he would say that something was being processed in the redhead's thoughts, resembling the incident some months ago when Schuldig had jumped him. And he didn't like it. "Schuldig?"
The German blinked once before looking up at the clairvoyant. "Hm?" When their eyes met, Crawford didn't recognize the soul behind those emerald orbs. Somehow, Schuldig looked more childish than before, more lost.
"Are you okay?" the American asked, searching the redhead's face with a furrowed brow.
"Um, I think so." He blinked again, tilting his head and watching Crawford with no certain intent. "What's your name again?"
Crawford felt how Nagi turned behind him and he could swear he felt the frown on the teenager's face. "Brad," he said slowly. "Why do you ask?"
"Well… I wasn't so sure, so I just wanted to double check." Schuldig quickly averted his gaze to whatever else as long as it wasn't the clairvoyant. Brad didn't buy the excuse, and it was obvious that the telepath knew it. Nagi walked up behind Crawford and looked at the redhead with slightly narrowed eyes, as if trying to see what was wrong. Schuldig refused to look up, not wanting to meet the wondering gazes of his teammates.
After several long moments, the telepath let out a slightly nervous laugh.
"The, um, rice?" he suggested without raising his gaze from his lap. His hands looked strangely thin even to himself, the pale skin stretching painfully over nothing but bones. Uneasy, he redirected his gaze to the floor.
The Japanese teen went back to the stove while the clairvoyant looked intently at the redhead. Schuldig chewed nervously on his lower lip, his teeth tearing at it until it started bleeding again, the metallic taste spreading in his mouth, making him feel nauseous again.
"Don't do that," Brad said softly then, taking a gentle hold on the German's chin and frowned down at him. "Chapped lips aren't very pretty." When Schuldig finally met his gaze, he added, "I'll get you some lip-balm later, okay?"
"Oh… Okay."
At that, the pre-cog offered a rare smile and straightened his back before walking back to the stove and throwing the chopped vegetables into the wok. The redhead began chewing on his lip again. It had become an unconscious habit of his. But when his gaze wandered to Crawford's broad back he promptly remembered what the other had said and stopped. Even though he didn't care what he looked like, it did matter what Crawford thought, for reasons he couldn't name. Somehow, it just felt important to him that the older man liked looking at him.
The last few weeks had been hell on all of them, and it hadn't helped that the mind reader had noticed something changing in himself. The Estet warning came back to him. Headaches, nausea, memory-loss… He rested his head in his hands. What was next? Loss of personality and self? He had some trouble remembering. But he didn't want to worry Brad, so he kept quiet about it for the moment being. Schuldig promised himself that he would tell once it got worse. If he remembered to mention it, that was.
Just as his head started aching again he felt familiar warm, comforting hands on his shoulders and knew instantly who it was.
"Schuldig? Are you sure you're okay?" The redhead looked up into mocha-colored eyes.
"Yeah, I'm fine," he assured the older man. "I'm just a bit thirsty." Brad wasn't convinced, but he stayed quiet as he fetched the telepath a glass of water.
"The food'll be ready soon," Crawford informed him as he handed the glass over. When the redhead nodded, he went back to cooking again.

Schuldig could very well feel both Nagi and Brad watching him while he fished around for vegetables with his chopsticks, without holding the food long enough to put it into his mouth. He really didn't feel like eating, but he knew that he had to, else Crawford would start feeding him again. Although he did think that Brad looked cute when he sat with the chopsticks and more or less talked and forced the redhead into eating, Schuldig knew that if he did try to eat something he would most probably throw it up again in a matter of minutes. He could never keep his food long enough to be able to use the nutrition it was supposed to give. That was mostly why he had lost so much weight. But the oracle seemed to ignore that fact and still tried to convince the telepath to eat despite his protests. And yet, Schuldig wondered (at the times he remembered to, anyway) why Brad cared so much. He would ask, but he never got the time to do so before he forgot again.
"Do you want me to help you with that?" Crawford asked, nodding towards the mind reader's bowl. Schuldig shook his head, careful not to increase the constant ache. But as he dropped yet another piece of cabbage, Brad got up from his seat and sat down next to Schuldig, taking the bowl from Schuldig's weakened hands.
"Hey, I'm not done with that!" the redhead protested, but Crawford seemed not to listen. He took the chopsticks from the German as well, and fished up enough food for a mouthful.
"Now eat. Don't make me have to become a mother hen, Schuldig, for it is not a role I am fond of." The clairvoyant held up the chopsticks towards the telepath, meaning for him to eat it. Schuldig didn't.
"Listen," he said, "I'm not a child. And besides, I'm not hungry." The last sentence was said with a slight wrinkling of his nose towards the offered food, and he turned his face away from the American.
"At this point, I don't care if you're hungry or not, you're going to eat, anyway." He still held the chopsticks towards the redhead, but Schuldig didn't move to accept. The clairvoyant shot a glance at the teenager, who barely nodded, and the next second Schuldig felt his mouth being forced open. He hated this but decided to play along and eat instead of having food literally forced down his throat.
"Okay!"
The mental scream caused Nagi to almost fall off his chair while Crawford dropped the chopsticks to instinctively press his hand to his right temple. When they looked at the redhead, Schuldig was rubbing his jaw slightly. "Okay," he repeated softly, not looking at either of them. "Just… Don't do that."
"If you would just do as you're told-"
"Really, can't you resist a lecture, Brad?" Schuldig cut in before the American could get started. He reached to take his bowl back. "Now, you need to eat, too, so I'll just feed myself."
"Don't run off and throw up the second you're done," Crawford said, watching the redhead with slightly narrowed eyes.
"Really, Brad, do you think I enjoy throwing up?" He looked down into the bowl and poked at some noodles with one of his index fingers. "It'd be nice to actually keep some of it once in a while, you know."
They ate in silence. Schuldig forced himself to eat at least half of his bowl's contents, and once he was done, he rose without a word and went back to his room to light another of his endless cigarettes. His eyes swept across the trashed room. There. The yellow pills lay on the floor in the remains of the jar that had once held them. The throbbing in his head made him sit down in the ruin of his room, reaching with a shaky hand to grab one of the pills and he swallowed it dry. Even if they didn't work any more, they were addictive. He leaned back against his toppled bed and took another long drag of his cigarette, ignoring the raven-haired man that watched him from the door.
"If I asked you, would you help me?" he asked, blowing out a gray cloud of smoke.
"If I could, yes," Brad answered, moving into the room and taking a seat next to the redhead.
"Do you think Russian Roulette has something to do with fate?"
"I think it has everything to do with stupidity."
Schuldig laughed softly, something that caused him to cough. Ignoring the stinging in his throat, he put the stick of nicotine to his lips again. "You're taking my gun away." It wasn't a question.
"That I am."
"Why?"
"So that you won't try to hurt yourself."
"If one wants to badly enough, one can always find a way to hurt oneself," the redhead replied, crushing the rest of the cigarette against an ashtray that was over-flown with butts just like the one he had just added. When he lighted another, Crawford refrained from commenting.
"Will you? Find a way, I mean?"
When he turned his face to look at the clairvoyant, he found that the other was frowning at him. Screwing his face up into something that was meant to resemble a smile, he blew smoke out of his nose before leaning forward and planting a soft kiss on the other's lips.
"You," he said, leaning back again, "hold my life in your hands."
"What?" He looked at the German, trying to catch his gaze, but found that the other was watching the floor, slipping one of his hands into Brad's.
Schuldig drew a deep breath, pressing Crawford's hand gently.
"I need your help."




Det måste finnas ett
lurande mörker inom dig -
ett mörker som du fruktar
Jag tror att du rätt så snart
föredrar att återgå till den
trygga golvsängen
Du tänder genast en cigarett
blåser ut ett litet svävande moln -
och tystnaden omkring dig
är full av hemliga tankar
- Maria Wine, "Att gå på mossa", 2000

There has to be a
lurking darkness inside of you -
a darkness which you fear
I think that you will pretty soon
prefer to return to the
safe floor-bed
You instantly light a cigarette
blow out a tiny floating cloud -
and the silence around you
is full of secret thoughts
- Maria Wine, "To walk on moss", 2000



Dust in the wind
"
I close my eyes
Only for a moment
And the moment's gone

All my dreams
Pass before my eyes
In curiosity

Dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind

Same old song
Just a drop of water
In an endless sea

All we do
Crumbles to the ground
Though we refuse to see

Dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind

Don't hang on
Nothing lasts forever
But the earth and sky

It slips away
And all your money won't
Another minute buy

Dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind
Dust in the wind
Everything is dust in the wind
"


~tbc~



So there! Third part up.... I've got one more part on the hard-drive and then I have to start writing again... *boohoo*
Ah, well. Keep on feeding me reviews! Yeah! You already know I'll love you forever, but anyway! I need help to keep writing, so encourage me, minnasama! *huggles*