Author: Mirrordance
E-mail: mirror_dance@hotmail.com
Title: Dead Waters
Type: series
Spoilers: basically references to stuff all throughout the series.
Warnings: angst, language and violence
Teaser: Ken befriends a hesitant Farfello in strange circumstances,
Ran gets hasseled by an investigative reporter looking into
vigilante groups, and Schwarz want to collaborate with Weiss against
a common enemy...
Keywords: Weiss, Schwarz, Action

"And one of the elders of the city said, Speak to us of Good and Evil.

And he answered:

Of the good in you I can speak, but not of the evil.

For what is evil but good tortured by its own hunger and thirst?

Verily when good is hungry it seeks food even in dark caves, and when it thirsts it drinks even of dead waters..."

--an excerpt from "The Prophet" by Kahlil Gibran

"Dead Waters"

Part 6

      Crawford thought this next task was unprecedented.

      He reviewed the events that led him here, amazed at the suddenness of it all.  Farfello goes missing, he foresees Weiss' danger, they go to the shop and save them from the shape-shifter, they decide to stay…

      And now he was helping opening up the goddamn flower shop.

      Him! Manning a flower shop!

      He tsked at the idea of this…manual labor, but did remove his coat and rolled up his shirtsleeves, ready to be the best at whatever he did.  From the corner of his eye, he watched the others.

      Farfello wouldn't be here, of course.  As much as the prideful Irishman would deny it, he was insecure, to an extent.  He wouldn't be seen in this daylight, and must have been somewhere upstairs or at the back.  Schuldich was sitting on a battered table near the back, smoking with Kudo.  Nagi was there too, looking oblivious to the world as he read through the novel Tsukiyono just abandoned in favor of cleaning the glass outside.  Fujimiya was reviewing the sales records, and Hidaka was lugging around sacks of…of…God knew what.  Seeds? Grains? Fertilizer?

      So here he was, with rolled-up sleeves, wondering what he was supposed to do.  He surely didn't want to laze around, like the rest of Schwarz.  When he thought, he always ended up with some new prophecy that, at the moment, he didn't want to think about.

      "We're going to need some groceries, with more of us around the house," Hidaka was saying.

      A band of girls stepped into the shop, and Brad felt like…like…a lobster dinner at the end of a forty-day fasting. 

      "I'll go," he offered quickly.

      Hidaka snorted, as if he understood completely.  But let it go.  Brad noticed Fujimiya pulling off his apron and walking by his side.

      "I guess you're coming," he told the redhead, his old adversary.

      Of course Ran didn't say anything about that.

      The grocery was too near to waste gas on, so the two men walked side by side.

      It was surely a sight to be seen.  Both men were tall and lean and strikingly good-looking.  One man in a crisp white button-down polo with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and dark slacks that fit perfectly.  His hair was dark as his skin was pallid, with cunning eyes beneath sharp glasses.  Beside him, making less of a strut but just as daunting, was a red-head with features as if sculpted by the hand of a master.  He was wearing a loose black shirt and just as dark pants, like a black-hole in daytime.  Still, Ran looked graceful beside the brash Crawford, save for his much more embittered eyes of near-see-through violet.

      Both men might have been aware of the stares of the women and the glares of other men.  But wouldn't have said anything.

      They strolled inside, and each grabbed a wire basket to put the goods in. 

      Ran wordlessly placed food on his basket, and when it filled, gave it to Crawford to carry, and filled that one too.

      Before stopping by the counter to pay, Crawford snatched two chocolate bars and grabbed Ran's arm insistently, leaning towards the other man's ear.

      "I can see it now," he said, "If you smile at the clerk, she'll give you thirty bucks off under the guise that she has no change"

      Ran looked at him nonchalantly, and a certain, unreleased part of himself wanted to go see if the pre-cog was right, though he was almost absolutely sure.  Crawford was well-dressed, well-presented, for a guy who supposedly didn't have a job after finishing his term as bodyguard with the late Reiji Takatori.  He used up all his assets, for sure.

      But thirty bucks was a big thing, and Ran so no point for the clerk to lose it, since she probably needed it more than she did.

      So he moved forward with a frown and paid the entire thing in whole, as was right.  Beside him, Crawford gave the lady a swashbuckling grin, and got a free packet of Juicy Fruit for his efforts. 

      More flower boys, more female customers.

      The Koneko's popularity with women was so great in the city that men were reluctant to go in (even to but flowers for a special friend or their mothers), for fear of being thought as…not-so-straight.

      Nevertheless, that day, the flower shop was practically pouring with females.  It wasn't usually this bad, as they usually came in different times of the day.  But the news that there were new boys in town spread quickly; everyone wanted a look.

      "I'm going to have to come up with something extra fantastic if I want to get that anchor job," said Dane MacAllister to her female companion, who also happened to be her producer, Aira.  Both women were having a free day from their very demanding workload and were taking a stroll around town, bearing shopping bags.

      "I have to agree," said Aira.  "The industry's more competitive than ever now"

      "I'm looking for an angle," said Dane, "I had a shot at the Shadow thing but, well…life goes on, I guess.  But there's something more going on here than meets the eye.  I've never felt stronger about anything—"

      "What's this?" Aira asks, looking at the flower shop crowd.  "Aren't these girls supposed to be in school or something?"
      Dane looked at the crowd nonchalantly, distracted by her thoughts.  "Someone killed the Shadow, Aira.  And it wasn't the cops"

      "Butt out from the Shadow a bit, here, Dane?" said Aira, "Maybe it's a sale!"
      Dane looked at the crowd, now.  "It's a flower shop, Aira"

      "Well maybe there's some celebrity inside!" exclaimed Aira, grabbing her friend's hand.  "Doesn't matter.  We're reporters! We're supposed to be at the center of the activities"

      Dane laughed.  "Not the center, Aira.  The center is the activity, and we bring it to the people.  Bird's eye view.  Which reminds me of the Shadow--"

      Aira rolled back her eyes.  "You know what? Never mind it with the figurative language, and forget the Shadow for two seconds," she mocked her friend with an eerie tone, "That flower shop over yonder is mighty suspicious"

      Dane sighed.  "Fine.  At least we might be able to get a human interest story out of this"

      The two women stepped forward to walk into the shop, only to collide with Ran and Crawford, spilling shopping bags of clothes and paper bags of food on the concrete.

      "Sorry!" Dane said by reflex, and fell on all fours, gathering her things and separating it from the food.  She raised her eyes to apologize further, and found herself eye-to-eye with Ran Fujimiya.

      "Oh," she said flatly, "You."

      Ran raised his eyebrows, recognizing her as well and apparently not impressed.  He gathered his own things beside Crawford, whose eyes were narrowed in thought.

      The two women and the two men got up, dusting themselves off.  That was when Dane noticed something…

      She put down her shopping bags on the ground and moved toward Ran, startling him into a freeze when her hand pulled down the v-neck of his shirt and looked at his neck—

      Ran recoiled, remembering the triangular mark of dots the Shadow had left there.  So much has been happening that he had forgotten about it, forgot to hide it.  It wasn't so bad  now, barely obvious even.  But Dane's eyes knew what they were. 

      Dane was staring at him with a hand to her mouth; blue eyes wide.

      Ran pushed his way past her into the shop, and she followed without thought, leaving Aira to gather her bags and stay outside, unable to get into the crowded shop with so many things.  Crawford stood beside her with a tentative smile on his face.

      "Your friend?" asked Crawford.

      Aira looked glumly at the shopping bags.  "Yeah"

      "She's a reporter," said Crawford, glancing at the shop glass.

      "You've seen her on TV?" asked Aira.

      Crawford found no need to say that he knew that because he knew the future that awaited her.  "Yeah," he lied.

      "I'm her producer," said Aira.

      "Stick with her, okay?" asked Crawford, wanting to give the lady a shot at gaining from Dane's bright future, if she played her cards right.  "Take my word for it"

      Inside, Dane was given a dirty look by the multitude of women who frequented the shop.

      First, she was a 'newbie.'  A foreign newbie too, and since the boys barely paid romantic interest to them, maybe their tastes went to foreign women, making her an enemy.  And, she ventured where no one of them had ever dared before—to the back room, trailing after Ran.  There was no sign to say it was for employees only, nor has there ever been a need for one until now.

      None dared follow her, that's for sure.  Ran had a scowl on his face.  But none dared stop her either.  White Cross wanted to see what this was about, and it wasn't as if they were very strict about those matters anyway.

      "Ran Fujumiya," she called, and he stopped walking and looked at her distastefully.

      "Say what you want and leave," he told her laconically.

      "We were at the station two days ago," she said, thinking quickly, "you were looking for your friend, I recall.  You were wearing a dark orange turtleneck shirt, so if the triangular mark had been there before I wouldn't have seen it.  But I'm sure now that it wasn't, because at that time, everyone who bore that mark on their neck was dead.  Bodies have been springing everywhere with that weird mark.  Well, that same night, someone kills the Shadow.  A vigilante, according to the cops.  So you were okay in the morning, and now you have that mark on you, but you're still alive.  Same night, someone kills the Shadow.  What happened in that time window?"
      Ran stared at her, thinking maybe he could make up some excuse.  But he was never good with words, much less lies.  He hated the taste of them in his mouth.  Besides, there was no lying to a woman like this.

      "I can take a stab at guessing," she went on, "Either you were caught and was about to be killed when the vigilantes rescued you and killed the Shadow, or you killed him yourself.  Either way, you were there.  Am I right or am I right?"
      "You're crazy," he told her flatly.

      "I'm right," she said melodiously, "now I want to know how much it'll cost for an exclusive.  I can see it now.  We can show the mark.  Then feature your silhouette to avoid identification.  It will be the best tell-all anyone has ever seen—"

      "No," Ran said decisively, thinking fast.  How the hell was he going to handle this leak? He turned to go up to his apartment, and as he expected, she followed him, rattling off more plans for the exclusive.

      He went inside and she followed him too, just as she followed him around when he closed all the windows and locked them, taking keys in his wake.  Then he went out of the apartment and closed the door on her face, locking it from the outside.

      It wasn't the best plan; then again, he was never really very good with people.  Nevertheless, she would be out of his way (and he, out of exposure) until he could figure out what to do with her.

      He heard her pounding against the door, cursing him. 

      Just as he was about to go down, Crawford appeared, with Dane's companion by his side.  He looked knowingly at Ran, unlocked the door and shoved Aira inside too.

      Now there was double banging from the imprisoned women.

      "I figured you didn't want a witness, when they start to look for the reporter," said Crawford.  Ran didn't even bother to ask how he knew.

      "There are witnesses all over the goddamn shop!" muttered Ran.

      "They won't care if the Earth swallowed the reporter woman," said Crawford with certainty.

      "What a fucking mess," muttered Ran, more to himself than to Crawford. 

      "You're not annoyed at having been found out," said Crawford knowingly, "You knew someone was bound to come close sooner or later.  You're just pissed that it had to be you.  All hail Fujimiya, the invincible leader who was caught"

      "I wasn't caught," snapped Ran irritably, even as two angry women were banging against his apartment door, cursing him and demanding to be let out.  It wasn't a wonder that Crawford was smirking.  But what irritated him most was that Crawford had come too close to the mark.

      How was he going to tell the others that, apart from terrorist groups and cops at that, they now also have an investigative reporter on their tails?

      Yoji paused outside Ran's apartment door, his head tilted to the side as he considered the situation.  Beside him, Omi, Ken, Ran and Farfello were doing the same thing.  Downstairs, the shop was left to Momoe, oblivious to the once-danger of Schwarz, and got them working alongside her.  They were surprisingly civil to the old woman.

      There was no more banging this time around.  Just a lot of crashes, as the two women took out their frustrations on the piously neat Ran's lair.  He was wincing at his imagination of the chaos that awaited him.

      Yoji looked at him disapprovingly and tsked, making him irritated even more.

      Yoji unlocked the door and opened it wide.  "You can come out, now!"

      The two women stood up from the floor, strewn with Ran's things.  With dignity, they strolled out with chins in the air.

      "Just like that, huh?" asked Ken, looking after the two women with fascination as they strolled out.

      "Ran, Ran, Ran" Yoji said, in a tone that made Ran feel like a reprimanded, naughty kid no one knew what to do with.  "Your action was a sign of guilt.  Now, if you had just let them go, things would have been mighty simpler.  Of course, these women are sure they're right.  But the fact remains: they have no way of proving it.  Who are they going to tell? Who's going to buy it? Flower boys by day, vigilantes by night? Please.  It's been done"

      Ran was embarrassed.  Deeply.  But found no need to show it.  Yoji's line of thought was perfectly logical.  He hated it that he had to be told this way.  He hated it that he wasn't he one who said it or thought of it.  RAN FUJIMIYA DIDN'T make mistakes.  And to commit such a stupid one was beyond anything he had ever experienced before.

      Ken, bless him, was smirking helplessly.  Omi's mirth was much more restrained, shown only in his eyes.  Oh-Gracious-Leader-One was human after all, and it was a nice thing to have to see at last.

      That night, Omi was lying awake, staring at the ceiling.  A few feet away, one of the men who had caused his sister's death was lying on a sleeping bag in his apartment.

      In the mornings, it wasn't so hard to forget.  But at night, with a drizzle outside, he couldn't seem to take his mind away from the grief that this man had caused him.

      As if feeling his eyes, Nagi turned over in bed and looked at Omi, who shut his eyes quickly, feigning sleep.  Nagi snorted at him , telling him it was pointless.  Omi sheepishly opened his eyes.

      It was dark in the room, but eyes like theirs were well-adapted to that.

      "What are you thinking about?" Nagi asked.

      "My sister," Omi said without preamble.  The darkness, as it had always been, worked as a bitterly pleasant shade for him to hide beneath.  He could say anything now, and it was best to get this cleared, being that they were supposed to work together.

      "I don't know what to say," Nagi admitted tightly.

      "Do you ever regret?" Omi asked.

      "Regret what?"
      "The things you did," said Omi, "the things you were?"
      "Once in awhile"

      Silence.

      But Omi was satisfied.  Nagi knew by now that they had been wrong.  Schwarz was no longer in business, for whatever reason.  That is why they've had relative peace and zero-contact the past few years.  Omi was willing to give them a chance.

      "For whatever it's worth…I'm sorry," said Nagi quietly.

      Omi closed his eyes, let a tear fall against his pillow.

      "Thanks"

      Of the craziest, most unexpected things in the world, Yoji knew he had a definite winner here.  It's been days since the members of Schwarz started living with White Cross, and he was no longer feeling a sense of danger.

      As a matter of fact, strolling down to the basement and finding the German on the couch, smoking HIS cigarette, no longer gave him goosebumps.

      Yoji sat beside Schuldich, who gave him a cigarette and even lit it, two pairs of eyes meeting over an orange flame.

      "You people live the high life, around here," said Schuldich, leaning back on the couch and smoking rings.

      Yoji glanced at the red-head, with his sharp clothes and languid manner.  "You don't look like you're hard-up either"

      Schuldich shrugged.  "I do what I can.  Not enough jobs here for a foreigner without all the right qualifications, but then again…I'm not the average guy"

      Yoji didn't bother to ask the powerful man beside him what kind of means he turned to to maintain his lifestyle.  It could dismay him, and right now, with their teamwork imminent, he found no need to end up feeling that way.

      "It's not as bad as my old day-job," said Schuldich with a laugh, reading Yoji's frown.  NOT his thoughts.  He's learned to use his powers in moderation.  Life was simpler that way.

      "What made you change?" asked Yoji, not able to resist himself.

      You, Schuldich's mind replied.  Instantly, as if it were absolutely natural.  White Cross changed Schwarz.  They were supposedly weaker and without power, but won anyway.  Schuldich realized maybe it's really about heart after all.

      "I'm a practical guy," he said instead, "I mean, what was this society these goody-goodies wanted so badly to protect anyway?"

      "How did you find it?" asked Yoji wryly.

      "Pretty interesting"

      Days pass.

      The fifteenth arrives at last.  Mission night.

      Crawford lifted his face from washing it on the sink.  One minute he's trying to see through a blur, the next he's looking at Ran Fujimiya's cold eyes.  He squints, then slips on his glasses.

      "I hadn't known those were real," said Ran flatly.  The comment made Crawford's eyes widen slightly.  It was probably the first time he had initiated any conversation.  Then again, he must have wanted something to seek out Crawford as he obviously had.

      "It's not bad," said Crawford, "I was trying to see through the water in my eyes"

      Ran nodded, accepting this.

      "Translation: no determent to my performance tonight," assured Crawford wryly.  "What do you want, Fujimiya? You DON'T talk"
      Well, he DOESN'T regularly do the things he's been doing lately.

      "Will we succeed?" Ran asked bluntly.

      Crawford considered the question.  "Contrary to popular belief, I still find select situations surprising.  There are a lot of futures to choose from.  There are a lot of consequences.  You never know, really.  I may have a more concrete idea than others, but I can never be absolutely sure"

      Ran frowned in thought.  "Will Schwarz remain by our side?"
      "You just hate it that you're not sure, are you?" smirked Crawford, "Tell you what, Fujimiya.  What's the use of playing with your heads with a masquerade, when we could have just killed you at any time these past five days?"

      "Good," said Ran, convinced.

      Good.

      At least one thing in the world was.