Author's Note: After last chapter I'd thought I'd let up on you, but it's been such crappy weather lately that I just can't write anything happy or even close to humorous. Blame it on the weather.

Warnings: God this chapter has the works, just be prepared to be somewhat disturbed.

Disclaimer: I don't own Weiss, so don't sue me, hire me instead.

Chapter 6

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand removing some of the caked blood from his face and tongue. The aftertaste of Schuldich- sweet like honey, bitter like blood, musky like the grass after the rain- still lingering in the back of his throat. The German was good at surprises; he was always able to beat Crawford's pre-cognition with some strange or crazy stunt. The kiss had thrown Crawford completely off guard; the American's baser instincts would have caused him to stay pinned to the German but Thais was there and she was his love.

He needed to brush his teeth to remove all traces of Schuldich, to forget that this night had ever happened. He reached his room, Thais in front of him, watching him carefully with her amber eyes. He could see the piercing orbs in the dark; he made a line for the bathroom to take away the German. The Schuldich flavor was quickly erased by the taste of honey-cloyed lips soft and supple. The petals moved so innocently, so languidly against his own. Her small frame was slightly pushed against his, her warmth heating his chilled body. He hadn't touched her this way since she'd been there. His hands wrapped around her waist and they stood in the middle of his room for what seemed like an eternity.

She pulled him closer, instinctually backing closer to the bed, the backs of her knees bumping into the mattress causing them both to tumble backwards. A giggle escaped her lips as they landed softly on the bed, him careful not to crush her beneath him; she watched as his glasses flew from his face and landed on the pillow behind her. He looked down at her, the amber eyes joyous, her cheeks dimpled into that of a smiling, giggling female; it was just like when they were children.

/ "Why are you in here, Thais?" he asked, waking up feeling the sudden intrusion in his bed. She cuddled up next to him, curling her hand around his black hair.

"I couldn't sleep, Bradley," her voiced was soaked with exhaustion and within minutes she was asleep. He wrapped an uneasy arm around her, blushing as he did, and tried to fall asleep, her smell of warm apples surrounding him./

He ran his hand down her cheek, silencing the peal of laughter that had escaped. He traced over downy cheek, over her velvety lips and lowered his head to kiss her. Her arms wrapped around his pulling him closer. This was right this was what he wanted. The kiss, a once innocent one, became rougher, harder, more demanding. He slowly pushed his tongue into her mouth, exploring, searching, dueling. She moaned; he continued. He dug his hands into her thick, russet hair, pulling her mouth harder into his. He needed her passion, he needed her innocence; he wanted to take all that she was into himself and regain who he once was. In his mind he saw it, as clear as day, the moment he'd forgotten how to live.

Her soft pants and sighs spurred him into rougher action. He reached down to the belt of the terrycloth robe that she wore and thrusts it open. She was still naked and her body was warm. His lips lowered to her neck, nipping and sucking the sensitive skin. Shivers of pure pleasure tingled down her spine. He took her hands in his, pulling them up over her head and sticking them there. He shrugged out of his shirt, throwing the bloodstained white cloth to the ground.

 She broke her hands free of his, running them sensually down his muscled chest and wrapping them around his back. Slowly she massaged his scalp, surging her fingers through his down, raven locks. Her hands moved down from his hair to his neck, traveling the path to his back. He grabbed her hands before they went too low and pushed them back up to the mattress. Again she broke free, starting a new path, this time running her hands over his chest and down the defined abdominal muscles. He arms went to wrap around his back and explore the skin there and he again stopped her, pinning her wrists on the mattress. She giggled and pulled away, not being one to fall into his trap again. Her hands quickly darted to his back, waiting to feel the delicate, downy skin there.

What her senses returned was the opposite of what she was expecting. Her fingers sent to her brain the feeling of bubbled skin, scarred and marked. Her eyes widened and her breath choked. He quickly pulled her hands away. They broke from one another, him careful to keep his back hidden from her eyes.

"W-what happened, Bradley?" she asked, watching his quick retreat from the bed. He backed towards his closet and picked up a shirt pulling it over his head with quick force.

"I don't think we should do this," he noted calmly, but his stance gave his hidden emotions away. He looked like a female panther protecting their cubs, frightened and defensive. Feeling his mixed emotions- his fear, his anguish, his insecurity- she smiled and tried to calm him. She pulled the robe closed completely, cinching the belt tightly.

"It's okay, Bradley, we can just go to sleep," she said calmly. She motioned to the bed and he relaxed, his shoulders sinking a bit. He turned and reached into his closet, pulling out a shirt and a pair of boxers for her. She got them and put them on quickly, watching him all the while slip into bed. She got in next to him, laying her head on his chest and listening to his heartbeat. She listened to his breathing slow, felt him relax, felt his pulse decelerate and realized that he'd fallen to sleep. He shifted in his sleep onto his side and facing her. A bit of his shirt flew up revealing his back to her. She choked on her breath looking at the sight. She calmed herself and pushed the shirt down and buried her face into his chest, trying to hold back tears, trying to sleep.

****

Flashback

/It was so empty without her in his bed. Fifteen years old and he was already in love. He missed her that was true and from what the rumors were she'd escaped from the compound. The people of Eszet were still looking for her, searching all the twists and turns of the Austrian Alps for her body. It was on that day that Rosenkreuz made a decree to never instruct Empath's again.

He was lying in his bed, his head thinking about her, the way she used to smile, the way they'd skipped class during the first snowfall and had a snowball fight. The argument they'd had only a few days earlier. His hand went to his golden necklace, twisting and tangling his fingers in the metallic strands. He lowered his hands down to the lock; only she possessed the key. He'd never see her again; she'd always have the key.

He rolled over in his bed causing a distinct scent to rise from his sheets. It was her scent; she always smelled like an orchard or a fresh apple pie. Her scent always reminded him of Christmas, hot apple cider and spiced apple with cinnamon, sweet memories of a coveted childhood mingling with the reality of hell in Rosenkreuz. He should have run away with her, forgotten about this place.

"Where are you, Thais? Don't you know that I'm here all alone without you?" he whispered into the dark of his room. Funny, the room never looked this dark at night before. He sighed and closed his eyes, trying to get some sleep. The drastic ticking of the clock was keeping him awake.

Tick.

His mind was a jumbled mess, thinking about Thais, wishing that she was next to him.

Tock.

He had a test in the morning; he needed to desperately get some sleep.

Tick.

He'd been walking around like a zombie for the past few days, not being able to sleep without her in his arms.

The sound of the clock was joined by the persistent thumping of rubber-soled shoes down the hall. Far off whispers becoming clearer as his closed eyes and tired mind picked up on it. Someone must have been in trouble, that's the only time he'd ever heard the sound of people at this time of night. It was customary at Rosenkreuz that when a person misbehaved for them to be taken in the middle of the night by the staff and punished. He was glad that the sound never came for him. He rolled over in his bed and tried again to sleep. The ticking getting louder, the thumping getting closer, the whispers sounding like screams in his ears; he couldn't sleep, he mashed the pillow over his head and growled.

His door burst open, three darkly clad figures entering and pulling the covers from his body. They grabbed him, kicking and screaming, dragging him down the hall. They'd finally come for him.

****

Slash. The whip cracked, the blood spilt against the walls and against his face. He recoiled, feeling the leather slice open his back.

Crack. The man wouldn't let up; he continued to beat him no matter how he whimpered. The second hit of the whip falling slightly under the already torn area of the first. He wouldn't let them see him cry; he wouldn't give up, all he did was grit his teeth and bare the pain.

Whack. The third lick falling over his left shoulder, blood splattering over his chest. He screamed then, his eyes watering so he couldn't see clearly. The whip stopped.

"Student PC243, I'll ask you again," he knew the voice of the man asking was Professor Goldentaug, "where did the disappearing Empath go?" It wasn't as if he could answer, he was wondering the same thing himself. There wasn't a sound that escaped his lips, not a breath, not a whimper, nothing. He was lost, the feeling of the pain taking control of his senses. Goldentaug was upset with his silence and with a slash of his black-covered hand continued the whipping.

"You must learn respect, like all students. When you are asked a question, you will answer. When you are told to do something you will do it. Is that clear?" Goldentaug yelled over the sound of the whip. The young Crawford said nothing only held his breath from the pain. The whip stung his back one more time, then two more, then five, then ten, he lost count, his body losing blood, his back numb of feeling, his mind deadened. Goldentaug walked back up to him, took his hand and slapped Bradley so hard that his face stung. The man behind him continued to whip him, careful not to catch Goldentaug while he slapped poor Bradley around. Goldentaug punched him in the eye, forming a round black bruise. The older man held Bradley's chin in his hand.

"You're nothing, do you hear me. You're just a number. Worthless, soulless, you're nothing. My dog's shit is higher than you. We took you away from your trailer and made you into something. We gave you an education, gave you food, clothes, a roof over your head. You repay us like this, by withholding where that little, deceiving bitch is. You deserve this; you're less than garbage. We made you, don't ever think that we can't break you." Goldentaug added a punch to the stomach for good measure, making sure that Bradley would understand. The whip still cracked on his back, his eyes barely staying open. He should have passed out three times over from the pain but he couldn't.

Just as suddenly as he'd been dragged from his room, the whipping stopped. Little Bradley fell, his knees giving out on him. His fifteen-year-old body not being able to register any feeling, except for a stark numbness. Goldentaug lifted him by his hair and forced him to stand. As soon as he was on his feet, the larger teacher threw him back on the ground; Bradley cowered on his knees. Goldentaug stood in front of him and undid his black pants, letting them slide to his ankles, allowing his state of arousal to spring free. Bradley looked up, frightened, angry, and half-dead. The other men that had been hiding in the shadows surrounded him; he lowered his head crying in shame and knowing exactly what was going to happen.

"Don't act like you've never been in this position before. You're garbage, you're trash. Don't be so coy; you're below innocence. There is no innocence in Rosenkreuz. Now, you'll do as I say."

They did this for days and weeks later, torturing him, raping him, abusing his mind. It was that night that he'd discovered his inner strength, his ability to stay silent. If he said nothing, always did what he was told he didn't feel pain. He didn't feel pain, he didn't feel remorse, he didn't feel innocence he was just numb.

Three days later he was sitting in his room, the same cardinal that Thais had loved so much perched on the small branch. He toyed with it, feeding it some sunflower seeds he'd gotten weeks before. It hopped into his room, begging for more food, he caught it in his hands and squeezed it until its little neck broke. A trickle of red blood escaped where the bone plunged out of the body. It mingled with the red feathers, mingled with the white flesh that held it and he felt no remorse. That was the last cardinal he ever saw./