Title: Cold November Rain [part 3/?]

Book 1 of "Redirecting Destiny" and prequel to "Romantic Resolutions"

Author: Enigma

Series: Weiss Kreuz

Written: January, 2002

Rating: R

Pairings: (Yohji + Ken + Aya) (Omi + Nagi) (Brad + Schu)

Category: Dark! Yaoi Angst Action/Adventure Violence Blood Squick Language Romance. AU-OOC.

Archive: fanfiction.net [author: "E-sama the Llama"], Scripta Manent: http://digilander.iol.it/sakaba/Home.html

Spoilers: None, safe for new viewers as well as old.

Warnings: dark! yaoi, heavy angst, action/adventure, graphic violence, large quantities of blood, squick: medical and other, coarse language, agonized and overwrought romance, rare touches of sap, cigarettes, destiny, cruel cliffhangers, original characters. AU-OOC.

Disclaimer: "Weiss Kreuz" is the property of Koyasu Takehito and Project Weiss. This unauthorized work of fanfiction is intended for entertainment only; kindly do not sue me.

Notes: When Ken falls in battle, how can the other members of Weiss cope with the guilt and blame that they all seem to share and will he survive in spite of the odds against him?

++ date and time reference within the storyline beginning with the day of the battle ++

{{telepathic speech}}

*****

++ day: 1. time: 0600-0620 hours ++

*****

Meanwhile, located somewhere in one of the more expensive neighborhoods of Tokyo, another group of assassins was greeting the day in its usual emotionally distant manner.

Crawford was brewing a pot of coffee and he noticed Nagi was quietly assembling a traditional Japanese breakfast for himself somewhat distractedly, the diminutive telekinetic actually using his powers far more than normal and wasting his strength unnecessarily. The American man frowned, annoyed that it would be an unthinkable breach for him to simply ask the fifteen year old boy what was wrong, yet being too worried by what he was seeing to ignore it entirely.

But before the precog could say anything or even silently summon his telepathic lover to the scene in the hopes of answering the mystery, a vision hit him and he leaned against a counter, holding his head in one hand hating the headache that such things often brought with them.

Nagi carefully set aside the steaming bowl of miso soup he'd just ladled into his favorite bowl, a gift from his lover that Omi had made for him in art class at school, so he could attend to the leader of Schwarz. Taking the brown-eyed man by the elbow, he guided him to the table, silently urged him to sit, then went in search of the aspirin he knew the precog would need, handing it to him and asking in an apathetic voice, "Are you all right, Crawford? A particularly intense vision, I take it?"

The pale youth didn't actually dislike the raven-haired man who gave him his orders as an Estet operative, but Nagi felt he couldn't allow him to see past the cool mask he wore as "Prodigy", the Schwarz tactician and resident computer expert. Despite the fact that it had been Crawford who had rescued him from the dark life of a Tokyo street-child, the midnight blue-eyed boy knew he couldn't trust the man to put his best interests ahead of those of their employers and he kept his distance emotionally because of it.

His other two teammates, however, saw a different side of him quite regularly.

The redheaded German telepath often teased him mercilessly yet they had a fairly brotherly relationship. Schuldich had proven himself time and time again as the boy's defender and protector against all comers including his own paramour. If Omi and Nagi had been more aware of the man's dedication to the Japanese telekinetic, they might not have feared discovery of their relationship as badly as they did. For now, though, whenever something was bothering Nagi that he couldn't discuss with his beloved Weiss assassin, Schuldich was the person he turned to for help and it warmed the German's heart to be trusted that way. Of course, Nagi was unaware that Schuldich assisted Crawford with understanding the complex youth by acting as an intercessor for both at times and their team was stronger because of it.

The amber-eyed Irishman was another case altogether, one that baffled Nagi yet there was a strong bond of friendship and brotherly love there, too.

When Farfarello was at his most lucid, the pair would often enjoy pleasant thought-provoking conversations and the occasional unpredictable journey to various museums or other typically "non-Farf" destinations as Schuldich had called them once. Most of the time, though, the pair would watch TV together or share cooking duty in the Schwarz kitchen making as much of a mess as one might expect but having a lot of fun doing it just the same. Unfortunately, there were also the days that reality was too difficult for Farfarello and he had to be forcibly restrained before being left locked in his specially equipped room in a straightjacket or other bindings. If he wasn't struggling and screaming too much at those times, Nagi would sit beside him and read to him, letting his calm voice help keep the demons at bay even if all he was reading aloud was his rather dry and boring textbooks while doing his homework.

At the moment, though, there were only the two of them in the kitchen that smelled of freshly steamed rice, miso soup, baked fish, and the brewing coffee.

Crawford gratefully swallowed the pain killers with some orange juice, then answered Nagi's question with a concerned tone in his voice, "It wasn't a precognitive vision per se, Naoe, more like a view of the present that I had no effect on." He shook his head, disliking these forms of visions since he couldn't affect them and all he could do was plan around it; he preferred to think of himself as being more powerful than that. The twenty-seven year old man continued, "It was as if this was something important yet beyond my abilities to change."

"Want to tell me about it?" Nagi offered, a sense of dread mixing with intrigue as he sat down at the table then sent an invisible tendril of force to carefully lift his treasured ceramic bowl and transport it through the air to him where he sat. As it serenely floated towards him, he reflected on how lovely the dish was, its stylized green ginkgo leaves dancing across a soft blue glaze always made him smile even when he felt sad or worried like he was at that moment.

Frowning and feeling annoyed that the images wouldn't leave his thoughts despite being hazy and uncertain, Crawford answered without thinking, "One of the Weiss kittens is in surgery or will be soon and it doesn't look like he'll make it."

A loud crash resounded through the small room as Nagi's soup bowl fell from the air, shattering the classical Japanese dish that Omi had labored over lovingly for so long, smashing it beyond recognition as its owner was overcome by horror.

Gasping with fear only once, Nagi tried desperately to control his heart rate as he felt his pulse race and blood pressure skyrocket as he asked unsteadily, "Which one?"

Distracted by his own headache and thoughts of annoyance with his psychic powers' tendency to tell him apparently useless things, Crawford initially missed the reaction he'd garnered in the sable-haired teen. He wrote off the strange tone in Nagi's voice as being reaction to his breakfast being ruined instead of something more important and he glanced at the mess on the floor and answered uncaringly, "I'm not sure, one of the two younger ones, I think. I saw Abyssinian and Balinese looking upset in what seemed to be a waiting room and there was something vague about the other two being in an operating room covered in blood and tubing, but what difference does it make? Are you going to clean that up or not?"

"What?" Nagi asked, shaking his thoughts free from the immediate terror he felt after hearing what the older man had seen and knowing better than to waste his breath to ask if Crawford was sure that his vision was correct, it always was no matter how painful the subject matter.

"The soup and that broken dish, Prodigy," the American man complained with a slight look of disapproval that the boy was even more inattentive than usual. In a sarcastic tone he added humorlessly, "Or were you planning on having Farfarello take care of it since so many of those pieces look sharp?"

Nagi shook himself free of the temporary inability to move and dropped from his chair to his knees on the floor next to the remains of his precious gift, feeling even worse that he'd lost the treasure that might've been Omi's last gift to him. Not caring as a long shard sliced his thumb open, the telekinetic allowed blood to drip forth heedlessly even as he gathered up as much of the bowl as he could, intending to keep it if he could do so without being questioned. His heart ached and he felt an emptiness he hadn't experienced in years and he cursed his carelessness and his inability to suppress his understandable feelings of sorrow.

Now growing concerned by the boy's odd behavior, Crawford sent a silent plea to his lover for assistance, {{Schu? Can you come to the kitchen, please? Nagi's acting strangely and I don't know what to do.}}

A sleepy mental voice answered, {{Yeah, I can be there in a moment, Brad. What's going on?}}

Puzzlement filled the older man's response and he admitted, {{I'm not sure. I had a vision, he asked about it, and when I told him, he seemed to lose his focus and broke a dish.}}

{{That doesn't sound so bad,}} Schuldich's mental frown was evident in his thoughts but so was worry for the youngest Schwarz assassin and he added quickly, {{I'm almost ready. Keep an eye on him for me and I'll be right there. Is Farf in there, too? It'd help to know what I'll be facing before I get there.}}

{{No,}} the American sent with a sense of relief. {{He's apparently still sleeping off the sedatives I had to give him last night. It'll be just the three of us.}}

The redhead nodded to himself in the mirror as he finished brushing his teeth and sent back, {{Sounds good. I'm on my way.}}

Crawford nodded absently to himself and went back to watching the telekinetic on his knees cleaning up the spilled soup with a dishtowel and suddenly realized that the boy wasn't using his powers to make the job easier the way he ordinarily would have. It seemed as if Nagi was so utterly distracted by something that he was unaware of his audience or his own actions and that sent an unpleasant burst of worry to the forefront of the precog's mind. If there was anything the leader of Schwarz truly hated, it was not being in control and that was certainly the case at this point, obviously.

Striding into the room in his usual casual-yet-sexy morning attire of sweatpants slung low on narrow hips and a tight, white t-shirt, Schuldich regarded the scene before him with undisguised surprise as his piercing jade gaze caught a crucial detail that his lover had missed. Crouching beside Nagi, he placed a gentle hand onto the boy's back and asked, "Chibi? What's the matter?"

Ordinarily, the telekinetic would have immediately complained about the nickname he hated with a passion, but this time all that happened was that Nagi flinched as he was pulled forcibly back to reality and asked, "What do you mean, Schu? I, um, I'm just cleaning up the soup that spilled, that's all."

Haunted deep blue eyes refused to do more than glance at the older man, yet the brief eye contact was all that was required for the redhead to have an excuse to reach out gently with his mind to ask, {{Why are you crying, Nagi? It's not like you to cry over something as simple as a mess in the kitchen.}}

Fear gripped the Japanese psychic and he double-checked that his mental barriers were in place and keeping the telepath from discerning the truth. When he was certain that none of his worries over Omi's safety had been exposed, he scrambled mentally for a valid excuse and found one as his thumb throbbed and brought his attention to itself. Relieved despite the fact that he was bleeding, Nagi lifted the injured flesh and commented almost believably, {{I cut my thumb, Schu, that's all. It hurts but isn't anything worth worrying over.}}

{{Then why do you simply reek of worry and fear, little one?}} Schuldich's mental tone was filled with the tenderness that he shared with the boy at times like when Nagi awoke screaming due to a nightmare or other horror that lingered, waiting for his reserves to be at their lowest points before striking. {{Please, Nagi, tell me what's wrong. Let me help.}}

A sad sigh left Nagi's throat and he shook his head, then rose to rinse out the dishtowel in the sink, then sent, {{I'm sorry, Schu, I really can't say. It's just that Crawford saw something that I wasn't expecting and it caught me off guard. There's nothing to do about it.}} After dropping the sodden towel into the draining rack by the sink, he said aloud, "If no one needs me, I've got to go get ready for school now."

"What about your breakfast?" Crawford asked with concern before he could halt the atypical show of fatherly worry from escaping. He was rewarded with a secretive yet loving smile from Schuldich who had turned to watch the interactions between the other two and found himself intrigued by the multiple levels of miscommunication on display there.

"I'm not hungry anymore," Nagi answered, then walked away, quietly closing his bedroom door before collapsing on his bed to hug his knees to his chest for a few minutes as he pondered what to do next.

Finally alone in the kitchen, Crawford turned to look at his green-eyed lover as the man poured coffee for them both and brought it to the table, sitting across from him and sipping the hot beverage experimentally. With as much patience as he could muster under the pounding of his headache, the American asked, "Well? Did you find out anything, Schu?"

The redhead shook his head yet his expression spoke of uncertainty as he answered, "Nothing specific, Brad. He mentioned you had a vision and then he refused to go into it. What did you tell him you saw?"

Scowling as he realized that perhaps the vision wasn't as random as he had preferred to believe at the start, Crawford said, "One of the Weiss team's in surgery and the prognosis isn't good."

"Shit," Schuldich looked surprised to hear this, Schwarz had never seriously attempted to kill any of the members of Weiss since Crawford's visions warned that all four of them needed to be alive for some critical situation in the future, yet it had to be more than that. He asked automatically, "Which one?"

The raven-haired man paused and then commented thoughtfully, "That's the first thing Nagi asked, too. I wonder why?"

"Why not?" The German asked with annoyance, "I think it's a perfectly reasonable thing to ask, don't you?"

"I guess so," Crawford remarked, shoving his diamond bright glasses back up the bridge of his nose then addressed the earlier question, "It had to have been either Bombay or Siberian. I saw both Abyssinian and Balinese sitting in some kind of waiting area obviously worried while the other two were in an operating room, but the details were hazy and incomplete."

"Hmm," Schuldich thought for a moment and sipped at his coffee processing impressions gained surreptitiously from Nagi's mind over the past few months and comparing them to what he'd seen and felt earlier while trying to deal with the distraught teenager. Coming to a conclusion, he explained, "Nagi seems to have some sort of connection with the youngest of the kittens. They always face off when he comes along on an assignment where we encounter them and possibly there is something to do with the fact that they are so much alike, almost the same height and maybe even the same age. Who knows? Maybe he identifies with him or something and to hear that *he* can be taken down and possibly face death on a cold table in some hospital somewhere made Nagi afraid it could happen to him, too."

Crawford nodded gratefully, this was logical and well thought out, just the kind of thing he had come to rely on his lover for when his own analysis of a situation failed. With a small smile of congratulations that the other Schwarz assassins rarely saw, he sent silently, {{Thanks, Schu, for helping me figure that out. I hope it's as simple as that but I guess we'll have to wait and see, won't we?}}

{{Yeah, I'm afraid so, Brad,}} Schuldich sent back allowing a note of concern to override his words as he added, {{However, I wouldn't assume that's everything. Unless I'm wrong, the dish he broke--and cut himself on, I might add--was one he told me was his favorite a couple weeks ago. When I asked him why he liked it so much, he got all cold and acted angry but I could've sworn I saw him blush a little. Why he'd be careless with something that important is what puzzles me.}}

Sighing and rubbing the bridge of his nose in frustration, Crawford answered, {{I've got no idea. Keep track of things for me, won't you, Schu? I'm going to go grab a shower and see if I can get rid of this damned headache.}}

Schuldich purred mentally and pretended to sound seductive as he answered despite knowing the response before the question was asked, {{Oh? Is that an invitation for me to come take your mind off of it, baby?}}

Crawford chuckled obligingly and then shook his head before leaving the room, {{No, it is not and you know it. It's bad enough I now have a mystery on my hands, but I've got a meeting with a potential client in two hours. I hate it when days start like this.}}

Snickering at how predictable his partner could be, Schuldich rose and got another cup of coffee then sent the man an image of the two of them from their last tryst in the shower along with a silent promise to take care of things in Crawford's absence. The taller assassin didn't deign to dignify that with an answer and the redhead sat back down to enjoy a moment's peace, contemplating what might actually be the hidden truth behind the morning's strange events yet had no clue.

*****

To be continued.

Please be advised: Parts 3 & 4 will be posted together.