Greetings! Welcome to Angst Theatre's presentation of "Cold November Rain"!
After a long drought, Melpomene is pleased to require a Kleenex warning be added to tonight's intro-note since she got really carried away with some *serious* emotional bishounen torture in Part 54. In fact, a couple of sections of that were too much to even let Lauren-the-underaged-Warnings-Muse read since the imagery in them almost skyrocketed past the "R" rating and threatened to dally in the "NC-17" zone instead. So, now that you've been given a chance to arm yourself with tissues if you think you might need them, allow me to get things started for you quickly.
{puts on the stylish tux and lights the marquee quickly wanting to let you get to the angst right away and then reads the playbill for you}
Tonight's performance opens with Part 54 as a cold night finds three souls lost in their own terrifying, angst-laden reflections which simply proves that even when surrounded by those you love, you can still be terribly, terribly lonely. Things improve in Part 55, however, as life slowly begins to return to normal for the men of Weiss as one of them says good-bye to the others and goes home.
{smiles since the Kleenex warning truly applies only to the first half of the show and everything else ought to be okay, but either way please allow him to encourage you to---}
Enjoy the Angst!
~~~Enigma~~~
(who feels rather astounded that this is the 27th posting run for this fic, a huge number that does *not* include posting intermission notices or email at the MLs or anything else! wow, what a lot of stuff to write, edit, and share, ne?)
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Title: Cold November Rain [part 54/62]
Book 1 of "Redirecting Destiny" and prequel to "Romantic Resolutions"
Author: Enigma
Series: Weiss Kreuz
Written: January-April, 2002
Rating: R
Pairings: (Yohji + Ken + Aya) (Omi + Nagi) (Brad + Schu)
Category: Dark! Yaoi Angst Action/Adventure Violence Blood Squick Language Romance Original Characters. 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, original characters designed to highlight the true stars, rare touches of sap, cigarettes, destiny, cruel cliffhangers. AU-OOC.
Disclaimer: "Weiss Kreuz" is the property of Takehito Koyasu and Project Weiss. All original characters featured herein (including but not limited to: Calico, Norwegian, Korat, Sokoke, etc.) are © Enigma, 2002, and are not to be used without permission. 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: 6. time: 0215-0530 hours. ++
*****
The remainder of the fifth day of the crisis that began with Ken being viciously gunned down in some forgotten building in Tokyo was spent fairly quietly by the members of Weiss and those around them as good news mixed with bad swirled through their heads.
Despite having a fairly lengthy rest that had lasted well into the afternoon, the claw-wielding assassin never quite recaptured the energy he'd enjoyed earlier on so his teammates had called it a night around 11pm and had gone back to the Hilton to relax. Once there, Yohji had sought solitude and spent an hour or so alone on the balcony smoking cigarettes at random intervals and trying not to think too much. For reasons he didn't wish to share with anyone, Aya, too, had wanted some time alone and commandeered the bathroom for a lengthy soak in too-hot water. Alone and lonely without his boyfriend at his side, Omi had made a nest of blankets on the couch and turned the television to a random station before sitting and staring at it unseeing until he slipped into an uneasy slumber.
Time passed unnoticed and soon temple bells far across the city rang out the melodic announcement that it was two in the morning.
Earlier, after deciding it was probably less stressful for their young teammate to sleep alone on the couch than it would be to awaken by himself in the large bed he'd shared with Nagi, the two eldest members of Weiss had left Omi where he was and went to bed. Now, however, the cerulean-eyed blond found himself wide-awake and profoundly lonely as he puttered as soundlessly as possible in the spacious luxury suite.
Wearing his favorite winter nightwear of a long-sleeved flannel pajama shirt with matching pants, Omi would've garnered a fond compliment from his boyfriend for looking decidedly "snugglable" to the diminutive telekinetic. But without Nagi there to say anything, the miserable seventeen year old paid little or no attention to what he wore since he didn't think it mattered anyway.
The unhappy teen re-read the thick manga Yohji had given him for the fifth time and stopped as he came to the pages where his boyfriend's treasured Peruvian iris was currently pressed and drying so as to preserve its beauty for months or years to come. An atypically sad smile crossed youthful features and as he carefully moved the blossom to another portion of the thick magazine so it could be exposed to drier paper, he sighed deeply. The color of the soft-as-velvet petals was an almost perfect match for his beloved's eyes and with another even deeper sigh, one that echoed the worry and fear in his heart, he slipped it back into the thick volume and set it aside.
"You miss him a lot, don't you?" A quiet, concerned voice asked unexpectedly.
Startled, Omi jumped slightly and turned his head quickly to gasp in surprise, "*Yohji-kun*! What are *you* doing out of bed?" glancing around and realizing they were indeed quite alone at that point, he added in curiosity, "But where is Aya-kun? Isn't he with you?"
Shaking his head sadly, the elder blond walked past his friend and stood in front of the glass door that lead outside, a place he almost wished he could be instead of where he was. Hands buried in the pockets of the lush terrycloth robe which was his only apparel other than the too-thin pair of old sweatpants he occasionally wore to bed, he remarked with a negligent shrug as if it truly didn't matter even though it did, "He's asleep, Omiitchi." Turning curious green eyes to the boy beside him, he asked, "But what are *you* doing up, bishounen? Shouldn't you be getting some rest after such a long, trying day?"
Glancing down at his feet and suddenly realizing they were cold without socks or slippers on them, Omi mimicked his friend's body language and shrugged, too, before saying, "I couldn't sleep, Yohji-kun. I woke up about an hour ago and all I could think of was Nagi and wondering if he's all right or not." He placed the fingertips of one hand against the glass door and rested them there, letting the chill of the night seep into him even as a melancholy song from an animated American movie echoed in his mind. [1]
Fighting the desire to state that if he truly thought for one moment that Nagi might actually be in any form of immediate danger, he'd jump in his roadster and go after the boy with little or no time allowed for discussion, Yohji answered with dubious certainty, "I'm sure he's okay. After all, Omiitchi, his telekinesis saved *you* after you'd fallen off of a bridge. What could people who supposedly care for him do that might be more powerful than *that*?"
Yohji winced mentally as his own guilty conscience conjured up a witch's brew of horrific images that ran the gamut from things involving Crawford's cold glare and biting remarks which he himself had been the target of during missions all the way to Schuldich's presumed ability to "mind-rape" the boy. Yet, as long as he had declared his intention to allow the two teens to determine their own destiny in their own way, the jade-eyed man would do his level best to hold his tongue and not add ideas that they might not be ready for.
With a quiet sigh, the younger blond allowed his head to gently fall forward until he was leaning his forehead against the cool glass. As he let the chill of the door enter him more deeply, Omi responded with open fear and concern, "I have no idea, Yohji-kun." Letting agonized blue eyes sink shut, he remained where he was as he revealed his greatest fears, "I'm always afraid that someday they will find out about him and me and they'll get so mad, they might do almost anything to either or both of us. Not that I really care what they might try to do to me, I assume I'll die in battle anyway and if it's at their hands, would that really be a big surprise to anyone? I doubt it. No, I'm afraid for my Nagi."
Tear-dampened lashes fluttered apart as he tried not to see the nightmarish images he'd carried shamefully unspoken for months as he explained, "I know that he says he loves them like brothers and that they care about him, too, but after what he said yesterday, how can that be *true*?! They don't give him enough to eat, they make him go out and kill people and say it's his job, and then he felt certain that they hadn't left him alone with us because they trusted him but he didn't have a better reason. I mean," his head rose sharply and the tears were now coursing down his cheeks unfettered and he turned pleadingly toward his teammate and he begged, "How can *anyone* who says they love someone make them so miserable, Yohji-kun?! How can they *do* that to him and yet he still remains loyal and goes back to them?! It's just not right! It's just not *right*!!"
The elder man had listened in growing horror and sadness as his young friend became more agitated and possibly irrational. As it became obvious there really weren't a lot of answers for either of them short of meeting some of the other members of Schwarz somewhere other than the battlefield and getting to know them personally, these were mysteries that Nagi alone held the key to.
Wrapping both arms around the weeping boy and pulling him close, Yohji soothed him with calming sounds and gentle warm caresses to the back of his head, a combination that had worked wonders through the years they had known one another.
Sobbing freely for a few minutes, Omi allowed himself to purge many unspoken fears as well, ones of a much darker nature that hinted at answers he couldn't face.
One recurring nightmare question was if Schuldich was the "Master Mind" his codename implied, could he actually force Nagi to do something even more horrible than assassinations and then erase the memory of the crime so thoroughly that no one would ever even know about it? If this was the case, then the gods alone knew what horrors his boyfriend might have been forced to commit without his knowledge and he doubted Nagi's world-weary young soul could forgive himself for that as well as some of the baser crimes he'd committed as a Tokyo street child. Omi knew some of the tortured history of his beloved's life before Schwarz yet mysteries remained that neither knew the answers to with certainty.
A concern of a similar caliber was a more prosaic one that revolved around what would happen if Farfarello decided to take his well loved knives and leave the alabaster skin Omi loved covered in fresh lines of crimson that never had a chance to even leave a scar? The Irishman was an expert bladesman when he was in control of his faculties, yet on the occasions that the amber-eyed man lived up to his codename and was a true "Berserker" it was entirely possible to envision him killing Nagi without hesitation.
As for Crawford, there were many worries that could be given voice yet the cerulean-eyed teen's greatest fear was what might happen if the precog envisioned an opportunity to catch the young telekinetic when he was helpless and possibly force his attentions on him sexually? There was no reason a priori to assume that the twenty-seven year old leader of Schwarz might have intimate desires for the too-thin body of the one Omi loved, yet the man codenamed "Oracle" was the ultimate unknown for the Weiss archer. Anyone who could see the future and then change it through his actions was dangerous beyond words and the young blond simply didn't know the American well enough to realize that there was nothing sexual in the raven-haired man's thoughts pertaining to his youngest teammate. Bradley Crawford might have a few truly distasteful qualities attributed to him rightly or wrongly, but being a rapist wasn't one of them. Unfortunately, Omi had no way of knowing that and he feared for his lover's safety knowing that such a gross violation of his trust might well cost Nagi part of his sanity.
Right now, though, there wasn't room for any of these terrifying deeply held fears in Omi's head, he was simply afraid that Nagi had been refused by his "family" and might be somewhere lost in the city of Tokyo feeling abandoned, forgotten, and unloved.
Dragging a deep snuffling sniffle of breath in and trying to push back the useless tears, Omi wiped at his eyes as he cuddled close to the reassuring warmth of his eldest teammate and whimpered softly, "Th-th-thank you, Yohji-kun."
Titling his head to the side so that he could peer down at the miserable boy in his arms even as he fervently hoped his expression held none of the anger and uncertainty he himself was feeling at the time, the jade-eyed man asked, "For what, bishounen? I haven't done anything, so why are you thanking me?"
Sniffling bravely yet not releasing his firm grip on his friend, the teen answered unsteadily, "For not saying anything just now." Pulling one last sniffle deep into himself, Omi tried to straighten and pull away as he explained, "I didn't really need any answers to all that. I know that I can trust Nagi-love to do what's best, but sometimes it gets to be too much for me, you know?" Peering up through tear-soaked eyelashes, slightly reddened sky blue orbs begged for unconditional reassurance that may or may not have been based on reality.
Choosing to comfort above all other things, Yohji smiled warmly at his distraught friend and ran his fingers through Omi's hair to straighten it after he had unintentionally mussed it as he offered, "I know what you mean, bishounen." With a deep sigh and a sad glance back to the closed door that separated him from a certain scarlet-haired man who had left him feeling confused that evening, he commented, "Sometimes it's hard for our minds to trust those we love as much as our hearts want to. There're always mysteries and things left unsaid that bring in the doubt that we feel guilty for feeling, isn't there?"
"Yeah, that's what I was thinking, too," Omi agreed tiredly and leaned back into the older assassin's embrace for only a moment longer before pulling back and asking shyly, "Um, Yohji-kun? Would you like to play Yahtzee with me or maybe watch TV? I really don't want to go to bed all alone and everything."
Understanding what the boy needed probably better than he himself did, the older blond nodded his head and agreed easily, "Sure thing, Omiitchi. Why don't you make us some hot chocolate or something while I go catch a smoke and then we can see if there's any of those old Godzilla movies on that you like so much, okay?"
Omi was going to complain about his friend's recent renewed reliance on tobacco but the idea of sipping cocoa and watching a cheesy model of Tokyo being crushed under the foot of a man in a silly green dinosaur costume with a zipper in the back drove the thought away. With a hint of a genki smile and a yawn, the shorter blond looked up at the taller one and said, "That'd be great, Yohji-kun. Thanks!"
"Not a problem, kiddo," the jade-eyed man smiled as he watched his friend rush off to the small kitchen area to happily set the tea kettle on to boil. Now that he knew he was no longer under scrutiny, Yohji released a deep, melancholy sigh of his own and slipped out onto the balcony.
After sliding the glass door shut behind him, he placed a cigarette between his lips, leaned into the small flame of his lighter, and gratefully inhaled a deep lungful of nicotine-laden smoke enjoying the almost painful burn as the acrid gas passed down his throat. Releasing the grayish vapor into the clear night sky thoughtfully, Yohji wondered about what was really going on between himself and the scarlet-haired man whom he had left comfortably resting in their bed.
The fact that Aya had finally verbally confirmed his feelings for their brunette partner had made the jade-eyed man more than pleased at the time. He vaguely recalled crying tears of joy when it happened, yet since a similar pronouncement had not been made regarding himself, Yohji couldn't help but start to wonder what he truly was to the elder of his two lovers after all. Was he merely a warm body in the violet-eyed man's bed there to soothe the needs of the libido but not those of the soul? Was he merely someone whose admittedly well-built and experienced body could bring the screams of passion to those thin yet sensual lips?
Knowing that he himself truly loved and admired the scarlet-haired man whom he deferred to on the battlefield had made it somewhat easier during the last day or so, but now it was preying on his mind to know the truth. Sadly, a fear that the answer would be that he himself was nothing more than a so-called "fuck buddy" to the man who had kissed him so savagely in celebration barely 48 hours previously kept him from going back to Aya's side and asking him pointblank how he felt.
All these deep and rather dark thoughts swirled through Yohji's troubled mind and he finished his first cigarette in record time, desperate for the relief the intrinsic drug in the tobacco could bring him and not getting it fast enough. The jade-eyed man stood in the chilly darkness and forced himself to accept that as long as Aya had proclaimed himself to Ken and the two of them seemed so happy, he ought to drop the subject instead of acting like a spoiled child. After all, who wanted a discontent, sulking man hanging around them whimpering and asking whether he is loved or not?
Having lit a second cigarette from the still glowing yet spent butt of the first one, the blond man took a few deep inhalations of nicotine and quietly prayed it would hit his system quickly. Unable to shake the feeling that there were key things that had gone unspoken by Norwegian and possibly others beyond Aya that would someday effect him drastically, he felt like a pawn in the hands of fate. This simple realization left Yohji feeling incapable and less of a man than he preferred to think of himself as and with a deep sigh, he tried to finish of his cigarette before Omi came to tell him the cocoa was ready.
Disconsolately adding the second butt to the receptacle the hotel staff had left rather prominently displayed for that purpose, he looked down with lifeless green eyes at bare feet gone numb from standing in the cold. Trying to remind himself to show only good cheer and none of his sorrow in front of his youngest teammate, he glued an artificially relaxed smile onto his face and went back inside.
Unaware of the emotional torture his friend had just put himself through, Omi greeted him sweetly and mentioned there were plenty of tiny marshmallows in Yohji's mug of cocoa since he thought the former detective enjoyed it that way. Then the tired teenager went to retrieve a blanket for them both to sit under in anticipation of watching a 1960's Godzilla gleefully wrecking untold damage on a miniaturize faux-Tokyo.
While the cerulean-eyed youth was far enough away not to see the expression, the elder of the two frowned unhappily at his cup. Yohji hated marshmallows but he didn't have the heart to tell Omi that.
Eventually, the two sat together in peace and before the "monster d' jour" arrived for his ceremonial trouncing by the giant reptile, Omi was fast asleep curled against Yohji's side like the cat whose name he bore when in battle.
Without thinking about it, Yohji allowed his fingers to tangle gently in soft blond hair and his unwitting actions helped his friend to slip into a deeper, more restful slumber. Time slipped away as it always does and by the time the temple bells pealed the call of 4am, he, too, was asleep and the television simply played on and on as background music for the two emotionally-strained dreamers.
*****
Meanwhile, in the bedroom with the largest bed in the entire luxurious suite, Aya had awakened to discover that he was alone and rather lonely without either of his two partners at his side.
Not particularly alert at first, the swordsman had rolled over, and intended to go right back to sleep yet it was already too late for that. The flickering light of an emergency medical airlift helicopter at the nearby helipad atop the hospital caught his eye and without meaning to, Aya found himself wide awake and worried about those he loved.
There was no way for Aya to identify the precise moment that he became hyperaware of the life-and-death struggles that occurred in a normal bustling medical community such as Tokyo General Hospital, but with Ken's kidney injury remaining unimproved, he paid more attention to it now. Despite automatically reciting the traditional prayer for health for the victims of a disastrous apartment building fire that he did not know who were being offloaded to stretchers in a terrible hurry, in his mind he hoped that they might all be registered organ donors.
After all, if Ken needed a new kidney then there were many others who did as well and he hoped that perhaps some good might come from the bad if this was the case and the burn victims were too far gone anyway.
Forcing that macabre thought from his mind, Aya rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling for a moment and pondered whether or not this would be a good time to talk to Yohji about his true feelings. Despite knowing that he did indeed love the wire-wielding assassin with as much strength of conviction as he felt for Ken, the violet-eyed man continued to be oddly incapable of saying so. There was no logical reason for the block and therefore no rational approach to overcome it, yet in the early morning darkness, Aya was closer to being able to say the words than he had ever been.
Glancing at the clock and seeing that it was almost five in the morning, an unhappy frown crossed elegant pale features and Aya realized that the only thing that would've kept Yohji from returning to bed without requiring a return to the hospital was their youngest teammate. He correctly assumed that if Omi needed him, the elder blond would remain by his side but it meant that the scarlet-haired man had enough time to change his mind about discussing his inner feelings with his partner.
With a tired sigh, Aya foolishly chose to wait until later to talk to Yohji convincing himself that this was neither the time nor the place for him to pledge his heart aloud. Thinking that it would be better to speak of the matter when the third member of their ménage à trois could be party to the conversation, the violet-eyed man rolled over and tried to force himself to go back to sleep unsuccessfully.
If Ken had been aware that the younger of his two lovers was withholding a verbal avowal of love from the elder one, he would not have been pleased regardless of the reason. As practical and grounded as he was, the brunette knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that they each needed to hear the words to be absolutely sure of their place in each others' hearts and souls.
Aya thought that perhaps when their vow of abstinence was no longer needed, he'd find it easier to say what he felt and the mental image of the three of them wrapped intimately around one another caused an all too familiar ache to build in his body. Knowing he wasn't going to act on the impulse to seek relief, he buried his face in his partner's pillow allowing the lingering light scent that was distinctly Yohji's to ease his mind into silence and he found slumber beckoning him back to itself before long.
The field-leader of Weiss was far from wise when it came to matters of the heart, obviously. His failure to speak what was in his heart when it was most needed would come to have disastrous consequences for himself and both of the men he loved in the months to come, something he would've avoided had he known.
Sadly, fate is cruel and it occasionally had an insidious way of turning what should have been the kindest of intentions into the cruelest of outcomes and it would take a blood sacrifice to set right what was now wrong. The greater pity was that it would not be Aya himself who would have to pay the price for his silence but only time would reveal which of the people that he loved would suffer so that he could be redeemed.
*****
To be continued.
Author's Notes:
[1] The song I had in mind at this point is one whose title I'm not certain of but I believe it is "Somewhere Out There" from "An American Tale." While this Don Bluth film may not be a classic in most other regards, that one haunting melody along with its sad, sweet lyrics of two young souls separated by fate has stayed with me years after I last sat and held a sick child through a dark, miserable night.
Full Author's Notes to Run at Conclusion.
Please be advised: Parts 54 & 55 will be posted together.