Author: Mirrordance

E-mail: mirror_dance2@hotmail.com

Title: Bed of Roses

Type: part 3/6

Spoilers: generally, with references to entire series

Warnings: drama, angst, language, violence, yaoi

Teaser: After two years of semi-retirement from Kritiker, Ran and Yoji return to action when they discover the new target is a murderous, out-of-control Siberian

"Bed of Roses"

a WKff by Mirrordance

don't own anybody…

CHAPTER THREE: Stranger

TWO YEARS LATER

      The wind was whistling in the night outside.  It was the rainy season, and it was blistering cold.  The pitter-patter of the first rain drops graced his bedroom window, making strange rhythms and stranger patterns on the glass.  The sounds shouldn't have been loud enough to wake him up, but they did, because… well because there was a presence nearby that was far more potent than the coming storm.

      Yoji shot up in bed, his eyes immediately finding...

      "Omi," he said, a little bit awed.

      A tight smile.  The blue eyes were beautifully glacial, deeper and darker than he remembered.  His blonde hair was sandier now, or maybe it was just the moonlight, playing with its color.  Longer, too.  It teased the collar of his all-black outfit.  He was leaner, now, his face showing the elegant bones that were only shadows and promises before, when he was younger.  And taller.  Omi was taller now too.

      "How long has it been?" Yoji asked, just to make conversation.  Because he knew, for god's sake, he knew it by heart.  It's been a little over two years since Ken and Omi had vanished from their lives.

      "Two years," Omi replied, keeping his voice down, moving forward and sitting next to Yoji in bed, "How are you?"

      "What?" asked Yoji testily, "you're suddenly just taking an interest? I don't mean to sound like your wife or your mother, Omi, but it would have been nice if you and the jock at least said goodbye, or called up once to say you're both still alive."

      "We weren't supposed to," answered Omi tentatively.

      "Fuck it," snapped Yoji, "We never let the goddamn rules stop us before.  Why, damnitt? I think I deserve a goddamn answer."

      Omi bit his lip, thinking about how to phrase his words… "Manx came to Ken and I.  She said that just that year, they lost three assassination teams.  They investigated it and found out that they were lost because… well if one member gets caught, they all follow and try to save him.  Or if one of them gets taken hostage, they give in to the demands, that sort of thing… Kritiker came to the conclusion that, while a bonded team performs better than a simply-task-oriented team, they also compromise the mission in cases of emergency or capture, which are very real and constant possibilities.

      "So they decided on a trade-off.  Less but adequate performance from a less-social team is better than a dead, well-bonded group and a failed mission, so they decided to break up the well-bonded teams like Weiß and put the members in different teams.  But she also knew we would never agree to it.  So she threw in a deal."

      Yoji's jaw set, but his brows raised, prodding Omi to continue.

      "She said to Ken and I, that if we cooperated, they would move you and Ran to I and R," said Omi in one breath, waiting for Yoji's reaction.

      Intelligence and Reconnaissance.  While it was still dangerous, it was far less dangerous than assassinating.  He wondered why he hasn't been asked to kill anyone the past years… Yoji shook his head in dismay.  Of course the two bakas agreed to that.  That was the problem in the first place, that they all cared too much for each other.

      "Why didn't she come to Ran and me instead, to make the deal with us?" asked Yoji, after a long moment.

      Omi smiled a little, and his cheeks flushed just slightly, making him look wonderfully young again.

      "She said," he replied, "that since assassination was more physical, and Ken and I were younger, we had more years left at the peak of our performance."

      Yoji frowned.  Omi smiled wider.  He just knew the playboy would detest the idea of being told he was old…

      "I'm not even thirty and thirty's not so old," Yoji groaned, "I mean they should see James Bond.  And that dad-guy from Alias.  And… um… Andre Agassi.  Then again… younger and younger sickos are popping out of the woodworks... I never thought I'd get to thirty.  I'm betting Kritiker never thought we'd get so old too! I bet they sat through our birthdays and thought, 'wow, another goddamn year, aren't they ever going to die?'"

      Omi chuckled, his eyes glistening.

      "Damn," Yoji muttered, "say… where is the jock?"

      Omi's eyes dimmed, and he said nothing.

      "Jesus!" exclaimed Yoji, his heart pounding as he grabbed Omi by the shoulders, "you came over here to tell me he's dead, didn't you?!"

      "No, no…" Omi said, quickly, trying to calm him down, "but… I don't know.  God.  I came here because I need your help—"

      Omi paused when he heard the barely-perceptible sounds of Ran's footsteps just outside Yoji's door.  He watched the light underneath the door dim with a shadow that seemed to pause, then turn away and leave.

      Yoji waved it away carelessly.  "It's just Ran.  Does it every night around this time.  He seems always to be on the verge of knocking on the door and talking to me or what-not, I never found out 'cos he always changes his mind and goes away.  Every goddamn night for two years—"

      Yoji paused, tilted his head at Omi.  "You look sad."

      Omi quickly flashed him another tight smile.  "It's just strange, I guess."

      Yoji shrugged.  "I always think about knocking him out of his misery and opening the door and asking him what's on his mind but… well, its about time he seek one of us on his own, if you know what I mean… um… why do you need my help?"

      "It might be nothing…" Omi hesitated.

      "You came all this way," pointed out Yoji, "You might as well."

      "Ken and I weren't assigned to the same team," said Omi, "but you know… left and right you hear all these stories.  Just… savage killings, the kids in school think its some kind of animal… but I know different… I know it's him…"

      Yoji's jaw set.  "Shit, Omi… Ken was on the right goddamn track, those last days he was here…"

      Omi was chewing on his lip, and Yoji knew that what had just been said wasn't even the worst of this situation…

      "I work deeper inside Kritiker now…" said Omi, "I… I hear things… he is very effective, but they are starting to think he is dangerous.  Then I notice that first, they pull him from his team and made him a single operative… then they are giving him the hardest of assignments, maybe thinking he is very good at what he does and if he should fail, at least he is dead and the danger is out of the picture.  He always succeeds, though, and I fear… they may want to eliminate him completely, in more direct ways…"

      "You mean make him a target?" Yoji asked flatly.

      Omi nodded.  "But… I may be speaking too soon, I don't know… they consider him both an asset and a threat to the discretion of the organization… I don't know… what do you think? I was shit-scared, I couldn't… I couldn't really talk to anyone else about this."

      --

      "Fuck, Omi…" Yoji breathed, "Ken needs a leash... and you need to watch your mouth, you never used to curse."

      Omi shook his head.  "Yoji…"

      Yoji rubbed at his eyes, "I know, I know.  I am taking this seriously, I swear to god…"

      Omi glanced at his watch.  "I have to go.  But you know, now.  Think about it.  If I find something else out, I'll come back.  Talk to Ran."

      "Talk to Ran," muttered Yoji, as Omi vanished into the shadows of his room, then stealthily out of the window.  Although Omi was extremely discreet, Yoji knew the very moment he had gone, because his potent presence had vanished, like a ghost.  Like a dream.

      Were you even here at all?

      But the sick feeling in his gut was proof enough to him that Omi had been here, and he had said the things he had said, and… and Ken was in as deep a shit as he feared.

* * *