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Still pressed to the back of his seat, Youji peered out onto
the road between his white-knuckled hands. Shuldich as silent beside
him…he seemed to be as curious as the blonde himself. There it was
again…the ominous flash in the dark…like…like…like…like headlights on steel…like
light on a sword.
Holy. Shit.
The roaring car bore down on the feeble glimmer, and Youji realized
what it was. It was Aya's katana gleaming in the dark…and behind
it the multi-facetted shine of Ken's claws…and the tiny spark of the tip
of a crossbow bolt. The headlight swung over them…and sure enough
there were three silhouettes against the sky…standing perfectly still…ready
for him. The light was blinding, for a moment, but the assassin's
instincts kicked in and he wrenched the wheel around suddenly. The
tires squealed their protest, the sudden turn almost capsizing the vehicle…but
then it was upright again, sliding sideways, the sound of metal a sickening,
piercing noise along the barrier. Suddenly, he felt the body of Shuldich
as the redhead threw himself over Youji's lap. He was spitting vile
curses, lip curled up in a sneer of hatred and…something near panic.
Through the fragile link between their minds, Youji felt the hatred streaming
into him like a violent river…images assaulting him…Crawford, Nagi…Farferello…blood…people…people's
faces screaming, streaming by…woman, children, men…blood…so much blood
and…Sanity returned and the world came into clarity. Shuldich had
control of him. Shuldich was there in his head. Leering, eyes
cold.
Give me your control
kitten. Give it NOW.
Even if he had wanted to, the blonde could not have resisted.
His foot slammed down on the accelerator again, hands spinning the wheel
back onto the road. His eyes widened in horror as he saw the headlight
do a second sweep over the three assassins in the road. His panicked
mind could do nothing to control his body as they headed straight for the
three on the road, engine roaring like an angry beast. Vainly he
fought back in his mind…but it was like a mouse fighting a cat…completely
and utterly useless. He sensed Shuldich calm as the redhead's control
over the situation was resumed. But all he could see was Aya, standing
still upon the freeway, not even shocked, not even a trace of fear in his
swiftly nearing violet eyes. At the last second he moved. And
when he moved, WeiB moved with him, the three assassin's synchronizing
a sudden leap…Aya one way, Ken and the blonde the other. He heard
the scream of metal on metal as the brunette's claws raked the sides of
the vehicle uselessly…Aya's move was more effective. A hissing of
air sounded as his Katana slashed the back wheel, and then over it, Shuldich's
cursing as Youji lost control over the direction of the little car.
It swerved sickeningly, sliding sideways again down the center of the road…and
then swerved again as Youji tried to keep it from sliding into the ditch.
Ahead, his savior. He glanced the barrier only in a brief flash,
but knew what he had to do. The car was still traveling at a significant
speed…and his captor had relinquished all control once more. Youji
eased on the accelerator, trying to keep the car moving forward rather
than sideways. It jumped, sputtered, jumped again and then roared
as Shuldich and Youji were thrown backwards, Youji's hands up over his
face with the expected contact. They hit, and he had no time to react…he
was thrown forward violently, felt the small resistance of the windshield,
and then was through it, flying over the hood of the car and onto the short
barrier. He grunted as his body connected with it with a sickening
crack, throwing him sideways and off of the thing, landing in a crumpled
ball beside it. He was aware of a faint heat…and the trickling of
blood…and then he lost all consciousness.
(a/n and just so we're all clear, Shculdich took control of Yo-tan's
mind to make him do all the funky driving stuff to try and kill the rest
of weiB...but then gave it back once he saw that he wasn't making things
better. And by throwing himself over youji's lap, no, megan, he was
NOT trying to give our favorite blonde a blow-job. -_-;;;)
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Schuldich was gone. That was the only thought that raced, like
raging, frustrated fire, through Aya's brain. Schuldich was gone.
And therefore, revenge: impossible. He ground his teeth, fingers
tightening on the jagged piece of metal that had once been the passenger
door. There was blood on the seat…the windshield had smashed.
But only one form had gone through it. And that had been Youji.
According to all logic trains of thought, the redhead could not have left
the car without WeiB noticing. He could not of. Impossible.
But then, when is came to Schwarz, nothing, it seemed was impossible.
Including disappearing into thin air. With a frustrated snarl, Aya
turned away from the smoking ruin that was all that remained of the viper.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Several paces away, concealed by tendrils of dark…and by the cement
wall in the center of the road, Schuldich was bent in pain, pale hands
pressed to his temples. He uttered no sound. Over him loomed
the straight form of Crawford, one black-gloved hand resting almost comfortingly
the redhead's bent back. His lips were pressed into a thin line as
he looked past their cover and out onto the other side of the road…where
the shadows that were WeiB moved like wraiths in the weak light of the
headlights. Behind him…the gleaming eyes of Nagi and the single yellow
one of Farferello glowed like the eyes of feral creatures. Nagi did
not move…the effort of moving the prone body of his teammate from the car
had been enough to wear him out. Not to mention being forced to stir
the man's mind from unconsciousness. Farferello cradled a long dirk
lovingly in two hands, looking directly at the back of the suited Crawford.
Under his breath he muttered curses…half prayers…
From Schuldich a soft groan…it seemed
to break the black-haired assassin's trance and he looked down on the telepath
with mild interest…and reproach. He crouched, so as to be on the
same level as the other. With one fine hand he lifted Schuldich's
chin, looking into the pained blue eyes for a moment. Then lifted
his other hand slowly. He brought it sharply across the assassin's
face. Schuldich recoiled, but his eyes were downcast, avoiding the
anger of the other.
"Don't try to steal
from me again, fool."
The hand that had slapped him waved the disc mildly between two fingers.
"Although…I know you will."
He stood, gaze once again locked on the drifting form across from him.
The eyes of Farferello and Nagi were wary behind him. All the better.
With a quick intake of breath, Crawford turned away.
"Lets go."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Ken held the prone form of Youji between two arms. He was stirring,
but only slightly. Blood tricked down his forehead…and from a gash
along his ribs. Omi's blue eyes were huge, his voice a whisper.
"Will he be okay?"
Aya was tearing cloth away from the wound at the blonde's ribs, and
it was a while before he answered.
"Probably."
With two fingers he prodded at the parted flesh. Youji groaned
softly, pulling away from his touch. Aya shrugged. And drew away.
"We should get moving. We need to get
this bandaged as soon as possible."
Carefully he took the blonde from Ken's tired arms. The weight
was considerable, but he took it without complaint. The matted blonde
hair fell over the closed eyes, ruby lips slightly parted. Relief
flooded him. Youji had returned to them. Alive. The relief
brought weariness…and weariness brought the reminder of his wound, searing
like fire blossoming in his side.
Ah well. Such things could be
dealt with. The loss of Youji could not.
Aya turned his head back towards the apartment. The desire for
revenge was nearly dead in him. Nearly.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Two days. Two days Aya had said. Two days in which he had
done nothing but sleep. It was little wonder he felt like he'd consumed
ten cups of coffee, three chocolate bars an entire liter of coke.
On the contrary, his wound was healing faster than Aya's…and the scratch
little more than a scab. Absently his long fingers played over the
loose ends of the bandage. Across from him Aya sipped at a cup of
tea. His Violet eyes were fixed on a notepad in front of him…although
as far as Youji could tell, he had not yet written anything.
"Come, Aya…I feel like a wound spring.
I can't sit here and do nothing!"
The redhead regarded him carefully.
"But you're going to have
to."
Youji sighed. Omi and Ken were handling the flower shop alone
today. Aya had been given the duty of babysitting. Apparently
he enjoyed it immensely. Note the sarcasm.
"Well. At least amuse me, then."
Aya's irritation was obvious over his notepad.
"Amuse yourself, you lazy ass."
Youji's reply was a breath of wind.
"If only you'd let me."
Silence.
"So I suppose my injuries will keep me from working the next few days,
ne?"
"If you can stand, Youji,
you can work. In fact, you'll be doing so tomorrow."
Well so much for that experiment. He reached for the remote and
flicked on the television. Aya's death glare was ignored. Figures.
Nothing good on.
"I'll make you a deal."
Aya's cool voice was hardly audible over the sound of the TV, but Youji
heard it well enough. The news announcer was immediately cut off
in mid-sentence as he hit the power button, attention turned towards his
teammate. The redhead had leaned back, his pencil and notepad on
the couch beside him. His expression was odd. Amusement…almost…
"You shut…and keep…that noise box off
and I'll find some way to amuse you."
Youji considered it…and then consented with a sleight nod. Aya
smiled.
"Okay. Multiple-choice question.
Right now I would like to, a: spread Schuldich's innards around on the
sidewalk, b: Spread your innards around on the sidewalk, or c: Finish writing
without interruption."
Youji scowled and absently threw the
remote at him. Aya caught it deftly, the smile turning into an uncharacteristic
grin.
"Don't know? Okay…how 'bout this one?
You are, a: a lazy, useless piece of shit, b: an annoying playboy asshole,
or c: going to make me lunch."
The blonde raised an eyebrow. Two could
play this game.
"Or d: a handsome, kind, considerate, tough, intelligent…"
Aya interrupted.
"Okay, okay...I wouldn't want you to go on all day."
Youji's turn to glare. He stood, stretching.
The restless energy from before had been replaced by a pounding weariness
from his wound. But he knew that he could not sleep. Instead
he flopped down on the couch next to Aya, peering over his shoulder.
When the redhead tried to turn the notepad away, Youji pushed it back down.
"Come on. I deserve to at least get a glimpse
after that little trick."
Muttering the assassin consented and Youji snatched it from him.
The page was blank. He turned a skeptical look on its owner. Aya's
creamy hands turned back the page before.
"Baka…"
Youji stared. On the page before him was a drawing of…himself.
In sleep, the green eyes closed, the penciled tendrils of his hair fallen
over full lips and cheeks. Long-fingered hands splayed luxuriously
before the face, reaching out towards the viewer.
"When did you do that?!?"
Aya shrugged.
"While you were sleeping, obviously."
The blonde muttered.
"Bastard."
The grin had returned to the other's face.
"I know."
"What, you miss me or something?"
Aya snorted.
"Of course I did. But Omi worried more."
Youji's face had broken into a triumphant
grin.
"Omi worried more. Bullshit! You probably cried like a
baby when you found out I was gone!"
Aya raised one fine brow.
"Hardly."
Youji was laughing. He handed
the sketch back to Aya, who set it on the table beside him. His head
was tilted back against the cloth, mocking. The redhead's mind stirred…the
memory of a memory…when he had lain alone and feverish and consumed in
pain and fire. He remembered thinking of Youji's face silhouetted
against the dark of a window. He remembered questions. Specifically…questions
about his sister…about…forgetting. And the summer nights…full of
light and laughter and evenings of only the four of them. No thought
of missions, or blood or Manx. Just being people…being normal.
He remembered Youji's questions…and he remembered leaving. And regret.
He had regretted leaving Youji cold and answerless on the living room sofa.
And yet, no way to turn back. To steal back the time that he had
lost. He turned to Youji. His face obviously betrayed his thoughts,
for the blonde titled his head to one side, looking curious.
"What's bothering you, Aya?"
Aya's lip twitched unconsciously.
"Just remembering."
"Oh? What?"
Aya looked at him through half-closed
eyes, a satisfied expression on his face. He lifted a single finger,
and traced the line of Youji's throat to the collarbone. The assassin
didn't resist. He saw the memory awaken in his face, saw the small
hurt that went with it.
"You see?"
"Yes."
Nothing came without pain. Not even
this. He reached up and brushed a lock of gold hair from Youji's
face.
"And you forgive me?"
"Of course."
"Good."
He drew away, picking up the notebook again and placing it on his lap.
"Then shut up and let me write."
Youji smiled and leaned against the arm of the couch.
"It's good to be back with
you, Aya. It's good to be back."
(a/n: see? >. I tooold you it was mushy. Yes, you all may go throw up now. but hell. I FINISHED IT! And once again, just so that we're all on the same page...recognise Aya's 'memory of a memory' from the FIRST scene? where he was still wounded and thinking about the summer? if not, go back and look. Yes, I can see realization dawning on all your faces. Yes, I know I should have explained it better in the scene. Yes, I KNOW aya is out of character, but you're all going to have to DEAL, okay? Ahahahaha. okay. Will get more S*it up later. for now. I FINISHED IT! I FIIIIIIINISHED IT! WHEEEEE! *ahem* well. thanks guys, for coming along on the ride...I appreciate it muchly.)
