Well, it's been a while... for some reason this fic wanted to be written today, instead of Talking To The Dead. Anyone still with me? ^_^;;



Chapter 2



Omi stared dumbly at the German before him, shock momentarily rendering him mute, frozen in place. His entire world had been turned upside-down in the last than twenty-four hours; he was beginning to wonder if the knock he had taken to his head had addled his wits at the same time.

Schuldig - his savior? Was this Fate's idea of a sick joke?

He pushed down the hysterical laughter bubbling up in his throat at the absurdity of the thought; it would only serve to further antagonize the telepath, and in his current state Omi knew he would be almost completely unable to defend himself. Remember, this is the man responsible for Ouka's death. He clenched his fists, his nails digging crescents into his palms. He is dangerous - especially when provoked.

Narrowing his eyes, Omi regarded the man casually leaning against the doorframe. If Schuldig was still listening in on his thoughts, he was not giving any outward indication of it. "What do you mean, savior?" he asked in as civil a tone as he could manage.

"And here I thought you were supposed to be the smart one," Schuldig mused aloud, moving across the room in quick strides to Omi's bedside. Omi continued to stare straight ahead, making no acknowledgement of Schuldig's close proximity.

Recognizing that the boy would not be bated further, Schuldig stopped at a point just outside of the range of Omi's reach. Omi turned his head slowly, with exaggerated care, not willing to allow his enemy to leave his sight, no matter what the price he would pay in pain.

Schuldig watched him from a short distance away, obviously amused. Omi bit his lip but refused to let the man get to him; if he was still alive, it meant there had to be a reason Schuldig was keeping him around - charitable assassins did not exist, certainly not in the form of former rivals and enemies. Schuldig must want something from him.

No, he corrected himself. Not want. Schuldig needs something from me. There's no other logical explanation for -

"...why you're still alive?" The German leaned forward so that his lips were barely an inch above Omi's ear. His voice purred with promised antagonism, undercutting a thin veneer of necessary civility. "I see you do catch on quick, after all. It would have taken your Siberian at least twice as long to figure it out."

Ken... Omi clenched his fists, consciously willing away memories of the nightmare still fresh in his mind.

Schuldig pulled back, perhaps sensing the danger of staying within the proximity of Omi's reach even despite his condition. Omi grunted, but unclenched his fists once the man retreated from his personal space. Of course, from that distance all Schuldig would need was a gun to kill him, but Omi was too exhausted and worn to let that detract from the false sense of security wrought by the small stretch of territory between them.

Enough dancing around, he decided. It was time to lay it all out on the table. Summoning up a tone of bored civility from a well of calmness deep within himself, he looked the telepath directly in the eye and addressed him. "What do you want?"

A smirk tugged at the corners of Schuldig's mouth. "Oh? Do I always have to want something?" The smirk broadened into a leer. "What if I told you I saved you out of the goodness of my heart?"

"Then I'd know you were lying." Of all of the times to be incapacitated, he thought ruefully. "Now let's cut the crap and get straight to the point. What the hell happened?"

Where do you want me to start? Schuldig uncrossed his arms and leaned forward, meeting Omi's gaze with equal ferocity. When your team fucked up the ritual? When the demon possessed Sakura Tomoe?

Omi grabbed at his head, ugly purples and vivid blues flaring in his vision from the sudden mental intrusion into his concussion-damaged head.

How about when the building collapsed? The hellish scene replayed repeatedly in Omi's mind. Desperately he clutched at the air, trying to suck more oxygen into lungs still damaged from his near drowning. That's the last real memory you have before waking up here, right?

No! He jerked his body upright in the bed, pain flooding in to his head in a rainbow of dazzling, bright colors. He threw his hands over his ears to block out the shrill awful noise surrounding him - only to realize that it was the sound of his own screaming.

Firm hands grasped his shoulders, digging tight into the muscles, yet considerate enough to refrain from shaking him and exacerbating the fierce pain in his head. He felt something cold prick his right arm, moments before the pain started to ebb away.

Omi blinked his eyes, noticing first the restored silence of the room. His eyes swiveled to the hand still gripping his right shoulder, and followed it up to frowning face of the German telepath.

"Hey, kid. Don't do something stupid like that again."

Was he hallucinating again?

Omi fought back against the gauzy layer of numbness threatening to envelop his consciousness. His voice lagged a half-second behind his thoughts. "What the hell is that?" He struggled to keep his eyes open as he felt his body slowly lowered back down parallel to the mattress.

"Magic potion." Omi saw a something long and silver flash in the light a moment before Schuldig flipped his wrist away. "Try to stay awake. I know I probably gave you too much, but you've got a concussion, so you need to stay awake."

Omi blinked twice. Now he was certain he was hallucinating.

Schuldig's face moved in close to his, blocking out the light. If Omi did not know better, he would have thought the man looked almost contrite. Look, I may not like you either, but I don't exactly have a choice about working with you. Get used to it.

With some effort he managed to speak past the lump caught in his throat. "What about Schwarz?"

The face in front of him darkened a moment before Schuldig pulled away, out of Omi's immediate sight. "Gone." There was a rough edge to the word that echoed in the hollow room.

Gone. Nothing more needed said; Omi implicitly understood what had been left unspoken.

Dead brown eyes... Yes, he understood the meaning of the word 'gone.' Omi was not the only one who had lost comrades.

But what the hell would drive Schuldig to ally himself with him? As far as he knew, the death of the elders of Estet left the organization in shambles. If both Schwarz and Schreient were gone, what did that leave?

Sakura Tomoe, the tired nasal voice interrupted in his head.

"Sakura?" He tried to raise his head, but it resisted, like a lead weight. Whatever drug Schuldig had injected into him earlier was far too effective, Omi decided.

And you're wrong about Estet. The voice was lazy - tired. They're determined she's their meal ticket to immortality.

A newspaper was tossed onto the bed. Before Omi could even scan the headlines, a long index finger pointed to the picture in the center.

"Oh my god..." He closed his eyes, a wave of nausea washing over him once again.

"You think that's sick?" Schuldig yanked the paper before Omi could get ill all over it. "You haven't seen what Rosenkreuz is capable of. And I'll bet my life Estet's called them in to catch her." He snorted in disgust. "That's why we've got to kill her before they get to her."

"What?" Omi struggled against the hand that had moved quickly to hold him down against the bed. "You can't kill Sakura! She's just an innocent!"

"And how many innocents have you killed in your time, Weiss?" Cold blue eyes leaned in close, intimidating him back against the mattress.

The image of blue-haired, bubbly girl with bright, imperious eyes flashed in his mind. Ouka...

"Not nearly as many as you," he shot back venomously.

For a moment the stalemate held. Then, without a word, Schuldig turned his head away, removing the restraining hand from Omi's chest at the same time. Footsteps echoed in the empty room as the other man retreated from Omi's vision.

You'd better get used to the idea, Weiss.

Omi clenched his fists tightly, willing the voice away, despite the futility of the effort. "Why?" he spat back bitterly.

Because if we don't kill Sakura Tomoe, a whole lot of innocent people are going to die. But then... Schuldig trailed off.

The image of Ken's dead eyes flashed in Omi's mind.

...What's the value of a single life?



TBC...