Elan Vital
::Sequel to Devil In the Sun::
Part 3
He stared at the broken shards that littered the floor near his feet.
No confusion clouded the eyes that seem to drill into the floor, as
if intending to set fire to the reading glasses for even daring to
fall from the table.
A man who believed that everything occurred for a reason, Crawford
knew this too had its own. He knew it could only be one thing. One of
his visions had come through and he had a feeling he knew which one.
He rubbed eyes grown weary from too much time spent staring into the
glaring monitor and buried his face into his hands for a moment.
To rest for a while, to think.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
He dreamed a dream last night...
of a solitary cabin up in the mountains;
of a cheerful fire that crackled inside a room that smelled of pine;
of a man split in two by responsibility and his desires;
of a man-boy with Stockholmed eyes torn by indecision;
...of a relationship destined to end.
In his dream the man would always open the cabin door quietly,
hesitantly, as if questioning his decision to do so. He would debate
with himself on the logic behind his actions and finally would
succumb to his first impulse, because there was nothing else he could
do but surrender. Because he knew that he would break into thousands
of pieces inside regardless if he refused to obey what he felt or
not. Because it was inevitable. Because it was fate.
In his dream the man-boy would be pacing in the room, or looking into
the fireplace, or playing chess by himself, mumbling softly, lips
pursed, brows drawn. The man didn't need his gift to know what the
other was thinking. It was the same thought that remained paramount
in his own.
He knew. They both knew.
Both would continue to fool themselves for as long as they could
because the other option was not acceptable by any standards at all.
In his dream the man would walk softly into the room, leather shoes
muffled by the carpeted floor, and when he was close enough, he would
breath one word, one name...
And the man-boy would smile, troubled eyes clearing at the sound of
the man's voice, his lips forming the man's name...
In his dream, he could feel the man-boy's breath on his face, a
welcome and warm caress on his cheek in the darkness of the bedroom,
as the man-boy softly told him...
Too soon though reality intrudes and he wakens from his bed, a frown
on his face at the remembered memory. He is not allowed to feel this,
not allowed to imagine a time long past recall. For that way was the
road to ruin of all that he and his companions had worked for,
nothing could come of it, not when insurmountable odds block the way
and the bridges have been burned.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Abyssinian, Sector 3 is all clear. You may proceed."
"Acknowledged." Aya rose from his crouched position. It was time.
Static crackled through the communicators as Aya went too near Ken,
tapping the shoulder of the other assassin lightly.
"Ikemasu."
Aya did not even wait for Ken's affirmative nod as he surged forward
on cat-silent feet. He knew Ken would follow closely behind, serving
as back-up should there be more than Aya could handle.
If Aya had any doubts on Ken's sanity in the normal world, he did not
carry them here. In the shrouded darkness of the night, the younger
man took on the identity of Siberian, assassin, dangerous harbinger
of death. He neither hesitated nor pulled back, fulfilling his share
of responsibilities as before.
If Siberian was a tad too intense as he closed in for the kill, his
teammates turned a blind eye. Because surely it was an aftereffect of
past events, one that did not harm the mission's objective or
Siberian himself. Morever, Aya thought, if it would serve to pacify
the turmoil inside Ken then why not? They had past all semblance of
morality to worry about the rightness of the situation.
All that mattered was that they had Ken back.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
His back protested as muscles were pulled, the drying scabs being
ripped out and producing new wounds beneath the bandages that wrapped
Ken's entire chest. He didn't slow down, sublimating the pain as he
followed behind Abyssinian's wake.
Ken felt the pain, Siberian did not. Siberian had a mission to
fulfill, he did not need weaknesses to impede his efficiency.
There was a time, his subconscious thought, when Ken and Siberian
could co-exist in one situation. But now…
"Snap out of it, Siberian." Abyssinian's cold voice penetrated his
thoughts. "We are nearing a high concentration zone."
"Hai."
"Balinese, Bombay, rendezvous in Section 4. Be prepared, targets are
heavily armed."
If Aya had turned around he would have found Siberian with an eerie
smile on his face.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Any heebie-jeebies, mein herr Oracle?" Schuldich said, leaning over
his chair to look at Crawford.
"None." Crawford said succinctly, ignoring the German's obvious jab.
"Tch. You look like you have something stuck in your arse. Oops, you
always look like something is stuck up your arse. My mistake."
Crawford did not even deign Schuldich with a reply. It was Nagi who
sharply retorted: "Schuldich. Shut up."
There WAS something niggling at the back of Crawford's mind. One with
the power to distract Crawford from his mission objective, if he let
it. The question of letting it slip was of course out of the
question. Nothing ever slipped from Crawford's iron control. This,
too, would not. It would not slip past his shields for Schuldich to
read.
Schuldich didn't even have to use his power. He knew what was going
on in Crawford's head. He knew what the Schwarz leader was worried
about.
"Landing in Tokyo airport in 5 minutes. Please stay in your seats and
fasten your seatbelts."
No, it didn't take a mindreader to find out what Crawford was worried
about.
TBC Comments onegai?
What? Its actually developing a plot? OMG!
Not dead. w00t! Not that alive either. ehehe.
::Sequel to Devil In the Sun::
Part 3
He stared at the broken shards that littered the floor near his feet.
No confusion clouded the eyes that seem to drill into the floor, as
if intending to set fire to the reading glasses for even daring to
fall from the table.
A man who believed that everything occurred for a reason, Crawford
knew this too had its own. He knew it could only be one thing. One of
his visions had come through and he had a feeling he knew which one.
He rubbed eyes grown weary from too much time spent staring into the
glaring monitor and buried his face into his hands for a moment.
To rest for a while, to think.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
He dreamed a dream last night...
of a solitary cabin up in the mountains;
of a cheerful fire that crackled inside a room that smelled of pine;
of a man split in two by responsibility and his desires;
of a man-boy with Stockholmed eyes torn by indecision;
...of a relationship destined to end.
In his dream the man would always open the cabin door quietly,
hesitantly, as if questioning his decision to do so. He would debate
with himself on the logic behind his actions and finally would
succumb to his first impulse, because there was nothing else he could
do but surrender. Because he knew that he would break into thousands
of pieces inside regardless if he refused to obey what he felt or
not. Because it was inevitable. Because it was fate.
In his dream the man-boy would be pacing in the room, or looking into
the fireplace, or playing chess by himself, mumbling softly, lips
pursed, brows drawn. The man didn't need his gift to know what the
other was thinking. It was the same thought that remained paramount
in his own.
He knew. They both knew.
Both would continue to fool themselves for as long as they could
because the other option was not acceptable by any standards at all.
In his dream the man would walk softly into the room, leather shoes
muffled by the carpeted floor, and when he was close enough, he would
breath one word, one name...
And the man-boy would smile, troubled eyes clearing at the sound of
the man's voice, his lips forming the man's name...
In his dream, he could feel the man-boy's breath on his face, a
welcome and warm caress on his cheek in the darkness of the bedroom,
as the man-boy softly told him...
Too soon though reality intrudes and he wakens from his bed, a frown
on his face at the remembered memory. He is not allowed to feel this,
not allowed to imagine a time long past recall. For that way was the
road to ruin of all that he and his companions had worked for,
nothing could come of it, not when insurmountable odds block the way
and the bridges have been burned.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Abyssinian, Sector 3 is all clear. You may proceed."
"Acknowledged." Aya rose from his crouched position. It was time.
Static crackled through the communicators as Aya went too near Ken,
tapping the shoulder of the other assassin lightly.
"Ikemasu."
Aya did not even wait for Ken's affirmative nod as he surged forward
on cat-silent feet. He knew Ken would follow closely behind, serving
as back-up should there be more than Aya could handle.
If Aya had any doubts on Ken's sanity in the normal world, he did not
carry them here. In the shrouded darkness of the night, the younger
man took on the identity of Siberian, assassin, dangerous harbinger
of death. He neither hesitated nor pulled back, fulfilling his share
of responsibilities as before.
If Siberian was a tad too intense as he closed in for the kill, his
teammates turned a blind eye. Because surely it was an aftereffect of
past events, one that did not harm the mission's objective or
Siberian himself. Morever, Aya thought, if it would serve to pacify
the turmoil inside Ken then why not? They had past all semblance of
morality to worry about the rightness of the situation.
All that mattered was that they had Ken back.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
His back protested as muscles were pulled, the drying scabs being
ripped out and producing new wounds beneath the bandages that wrapped
Ken's entire chest. He didn't slow down, sublimating the pain as he
followed behind Abyssinian's wake.
Ken felt the pain, Siberian did not. Siberian had a mission to
fulfill, he did not need weaknesses to impede his efficiency.
There was a time, his subconscious thought, when Ken and Siberian
could co-exist in one situation. But now…
"Snap out of it, Siberian." Abyssinian's cold voice penetrated his
thoughts. "We are nearing a high concentration zone."
"Hai."
"Balinese, Bombay, rendezvous in Section 4. Be prepared, targets are
heavily armed."
If Aya had turned around he would have found Siberian with an eerie
smile on his face.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Any heebie-jeebies, mein herr Oracle?" Schuldich said, leaning over
his chair to look at Crawford.
"None." Crawford said succinctly, ignoring the German's obvious jab.
"Tch. You look like you have something stuck in your arse. Oops, you
always look like something is stuck up your arse. My mistake."
Crawford did not even deign Schuldich with a reply. It was Nagi who
sharply retorted: "Schuldich. Shut up."
There WAS something niggling at the back of Crawford's mind. One with
the power to distract Crawford from his mission objective, if he let
it. The question of letting it slip was of course out of the
question. Nothing ever slipped from Crawford's iron control. This,
too, would not. It would not slip past his shields for Schuldich to
read.
Schuldich didn't even have to use his power. He knew what was going
on in Crawford's head. He knew what the Schwarz leader was worried
about.
"Landing in Tokyo airport in 5 minutes. Please stay in your seats and
fasten your seatbelts."
No, it didn't take a mindreader to find out what Crawford was worried
about.
TBC Comments onegai?
What? Its actually developing a plot? OMG!
Not dead. w00t! Not that alive either. ehehe.