Rain and Music Boxes | Chapter 4
A Weiß Kreuz Fanfiction by Majokai Yukiko
Pairings: Crawford + Schuldich
This is an amateur effort and does not intend to infringe on the rights of Takehito Koyasu, Project Weiß and its associates.
A/N: Have I ever mentioned that I pose up teasers of my fics on my blog site? Well, I do. But since Fanfiction.net does not allow me to post up URL, you guys will have to check out the link yourself on my bio page, that is, if you are interested.
I've already finished writing the next chapter of this one. Review and I'll post it up. (The more you review the faster I write. ^^)
-- Blood. It kept flowing. Staining the ground in crimson glory There was no way to stop it No way at all.
Just let it flow. Let it go. Sin. They kept accumulating Listen! Can't you hear the sorrowful cries Of the dead when the wind blows? They were asking you, demanding A reason of their death And you have no answer
"Mad Season", black.heaven
Tokyo, Japan
Schuldich had not expected much upon his return. There was no need for red carpets and fresh flowers strewn at his feet. His return to Japan was not a victory parade. But a small gesture like picking him up personally from the airport would be nice.
Crawford was not there.
The black limousine sent by Takatori Reiji took both him and Hirofumi to the Diet Building. It would be nice to see Nagi at the front door awaiting his return.
But the kid was not there either.
There was nothing for him in Japan except for a certain irritating geek next to him, trying to hold his hand for the nth time since the plane landed.
"Don't touch me," Schuldich nearly yelled in anger. Turning his back on the Japanese, he made his way towards the elevator. His head was spinning with brilliant colors. The mental shields around his mind were down and the sheer magnitude of thoughts forcing their way into his brain at the same time was almost too much to bear.
Crawford...Brad...Schuldich mentally called out to the American. Even if he had not liked him a wee bit, Crawford would help him. He was a member of Schwarz after all. He had to.
The German collapsed against the cold marble walls. Beads of cold sweat were running down his forehead and Hirofumi's constant bantering had not helped to calm his nerves at all.
"What's the matter with you, Schuldich? Do you only love me in Berlin and not in Tokyo?" Hirofumi demanded.
Brad...the silence...I need the silences...and get this prate away from me.
Aloud, Schuldich could only smirk at the other man's naivety.
"Love? Who are you to demand that from me? The eldest son of a pathetic minister is nothing in my eyes. Come back when your dad's the prez, kid."
The Japanese man looked as if he was about to say something until the clicking of boots against tiles interrupted him. Hirofumi looked up and met the hazel eyes of an American briefly, before the man in the white suit shifted his attention to the pale-faced German.
"Schuldich!" Crawford quickly took the young man into his arms and held on tight, oblivious to the strange looks they were getting around the lobby.
This was why Schuldich enjoyed being around clairvoyants so much, regardless of how insane or dangerous they were. Clairvoyants had an imaginary power field around them. Any normal within this field would be particularly susceptible to the clairvoyant's manipulation. Similarly, the closer a normal was in a telepath's power field, the louder his thoughts were projected. A vacuum could only be formed when power fields intercept. So long as Schuldich keep his power field intercepted with another's, his mind could know the true bliss of silence.
"Thank you," Schuldich whispered, chokingly allowing Crawford to help him into the elevator to the 7th floor where his office was located.
Hirofumi could only watch the two men leave in silence. In that sudden moment, he felt that he had been so terribly, totally mistaken all these while. Helping his father attained presidency would not only be beneficial to the national well being of Japan, it could also bring him what he desires.
By hook or by crook, Takatori Reiji would be the next president. He would see to that personally.
*** Crawford's Office Diet Building Tokyo, Japan
Estet would be pleased. That was Schuldich's only response when he caught Hirofumi's train of thought. He allowed himself to be led into the room quietly; not that he had much choice in the first place. His head was still throbbing in pain and with his current weakened state; he did not feel up to it to rebuild those Godforsaken mental shields.
"What happened out there?" Crawford asked. The voice, although soft in volume, was spoken forcefully. The leader of Schwarz knew that his teammate could not handle him raising his voice now. But keeping that anger and worry contained was taking more than just patience and skill. It had been years since the telepath's protective shields were breached, and that was before Schuldich was a fully trained telepath. Berlin was a madhouse then, with the fall of the Berlin Wall. The onslaught of thoughts was too much for any telepath to take. But now, with his current strength and experience, there was not reason for the shields to collapse again. The unknown was disturbing, and it was driving Crawford to the brink of insanity.
"You should know. The shields fell."
"I know they did. I want to know why they did and how." To be sure that Schuldich would provide him an answer, Crawford added with thinly laced threat. "Don't make me shout at you, Schuldich."
The German winced.
"I don't know," he admitted truthfully. Meeting Crawford's doubtful gaze, he hastily smiled and promised to report the matter to the top. Perhaps the Magi would have some answers for them.
"You said you have a gift for me." The American sighed in exasperation. They were discussing something important and serious but his belated birthday present was all the telepath was interested about? !
"Redheads..." he muttered under his breath, walking up to retrieve something from his desk drawer. "Haven't met one that isn't loud and stupid."
"What did you say?"
"Something insulting," Crawford replied dryly. "Catch."
Schuldich gave a confused blink when a longish black box landed in his lap. Picking it up, he examined it for a moment before checking its contents.
"Wow! Brad! How did you know I've been wanting this pair of sunglasses for a very long time?" The smile on Schuldich's face was priceless. And for a moment, Crawford thought he would have given anything to see such a smile on an assassin's face. It was the smile of contentment and true joy.
It had been a long time since he saw Schuldich smile like this. Hazel eyes widened in shock when he caught that thought. Had he ever seen the German smile at this in the first place? It was a familiar feeling. So strangely familiar that it triggered a painful clenching in his heart.
As if...
As if he had lost something important.
"Brad?"
Crawford snapped out of his reverie to meet the concerned look on Schuldich's face.
"Are you alright?" The telepath asked. The American looked into his own reflection in the red tinted lens of the sunglasses and shook his head.
Schuldich knew better than to ask. Interesting and amusing, as it was to see Crawford divert his gaze and think up of some pretty lie to tell him, Schuldich did not think he was in the mood for that sort of fun right now. All he wanted was a long good sleep and nothing else.
It had not occurred to the telepath that he was sleeping more than usual.
"My luggage! I left them in that geek's car!" Schuldich suddenly exclaimed. Damn it! All his belongings were in there. His music box!
The German would have gotten up and ran all the way down if he could. But once he got onto his feet, those undependable muscles gave way again, letting him collapse back onto the couch and into darkness.
"Schuldich! Schuldich!"
How strange.why was Brad calling him 'guilty'?
*** Magic Bus Hospital Tokyo, Japan
Somebody was shaking him violently; making his head hurt more than it already was. Was he in a hospital? Chris wondered, the bright white lights above pierced through his closed eyelids, forming a crimson silhouette against nothing.
His mother must have gone too far in her beatings to land him in hospital. But who would have sent him here? They could not possibly afford the hospital bills.
"Sorry, mami. I'd get up now." Chris muttered, not realizing until a moment later that his voice was much lower than he remembered. "Fich."
"Mami? Wake up, Schuldich." Chris's thoughts came to a sudden halt. Stop thinking, yes. Peace at last, peace is good. He cracked apart his eyelids with much difficulty, quickly throwing an arm across his eyes to block out the bright ceiling lights. Was that how hospitals wake their patients? With supersonic lights to make sure they had no choice but to try their best to get up?
The shaking stopped at once. Finally getting his eyes used to the surroundings, Chris looked around, wondering who was the man who had spoken just now.
It was a tall stranger with jet-black hair. Dressed in an expensive white suit, he looked every bit like a successful businessman who could take on the world and win. But right now, those usually scheming amber-brown eyes were filled with worry and concern.
A name came to Chris at once. He knew this stranger, but his memory of Brad Crawford was this American boy who was barely older than he was, not this formidable-looking adult.
"Brad? Where am I, and why are you here?"
Crawford narrowed his eyes. Schuldich never called him by his first name unless he was in the mood to irritate. Not that he was not in that mood very often, but the look on the German's face was innocent, almost confused even. No, Schuldich was definitely not in the mood to joke.
"I'll run a few tests on him later," the doctor beside him informed before walking out of the room. Crawford nodded briefly, his eyes still hard on his bedridden teammate.
"You fainted in my office. Schuldich, this is serious."
"Woah, wait a minute! Why are you calling me 'guilty'?" Chris swept his hair away from his face, wondering for a moment why his fringe was not tickling his eyes like it usually did, and held out his hands before him. "I am not."
Blue eyes widened in horror as Chris took in the sight of his hands. His fingernails were well manicured and cleaner than they had ever been, and his hands were much bigger than he remembered. These were not the hands of a thirteen year old. No way! They were the hands of an adult!
He flipped his palms up to face him, feeling the calluses on his fingertips in shock and horror. He never had calluses like these before, not even after years of cleaning that pathetic little hut with Lysol. These were calluses formed after years of handling a weapon.
Then Chris did the only thing that seemed reasonable to him then.
He screamed.
"Schuldich! Damn it!" Crawford grabbed the German by his shoulders and pinned the lithe body against the headboard of the bed. "Stop it!"
A stinging pain on his hand told the American that he had slapped his teammate. But he did not have the time to regret his action. For some reason, that act had calmed the other man somewhat. Schuldich looked up shakily at Crawford, his aquamarine eyes glazed with pain and something else. Hurt?
"What.what year is it?"
"Nineteen ninety-three." Crawford replied, puzzled over the question.
Chris gasped. He had lost four years of his life. So.did that mean he was seventeen now? Mami? Where was his mother? What about his school? What about Kiel? There were so many questions on his mind. So many questions left unanswered. And that man holding him.was he really Brad Crawford? If he were, then that would explain why he looked so different. Brad would be twenty-three now. But Brad would not slap him. Would he?
"What do you remember?" Crawford asked, suspecting from the skittish way the telepath was behaving that it was memory loss. He had read about that in the Estet library before. Telepaths, especially those who overused their powers, could easily suffer from backlash. The results were usually memory loss, and for more serious cases, insanity.
"Look Brad, I know this sound dumb, but I am not this person here. I am Christopher Nicolae Heinrich, born in Kiel and I'm thirteen! Thirteen!" Chris paused, his lower lip quivering in hurt as he noted the look of disbelief and amusement on Brad' s face. This was not Brad Crawford.the American would never mock him this way.
For the first time in his life, Chris hoped the painful contact of his mother's cane. At least that was familiar.
+End of Chapter 4+ +Continue to A Brief Respite+
Pairings: Crawford + Schuldich
This is an amateur effort and does not intend to infringe on the rights of Takehito Koyasu, Project Weiß and its associates.
A/N: Have I ever mentioned that I pose up teasers of my fics on my blog site? Well, I do. But since Fanfiction.net does not allow me to post up URL, you guys will have to check out the link yourself on my bio page, that is, if you are interested.
I've already finished writing the next chapter of this one. Review and I'll post it up. (The more you review the faster I write. ^^)
-- Blood. It kept flowing. Staining the ground in crimson glory There was no way to stop it No way at all.
Just let it flow. Let it go. Sin. They kept accumulating Listen! Can't you hear the sorrowful cries Of the dead when the wind blows? They were asking you, demanding A reason of their death And you have no answer
"Mad Season", black.heaven
Tokyo, Japan
Schuldich had not expected much upon his return. There was no need for red carpets and fresh flowers strewn at his feet. His return to Japan was not a victory parade. But a small gesture like picking him up personally from the airport would be nice.
Crawford was not there.
The black limousine sent by Takatori Reiji took both him and Hirofumi to the Diet Building. It would be nice to see Nagi at the front door awaiting his return.
But the kid was not there either.
There was nothing for him in Japan except for a certain irritating geek next to him, trying to hold his hand for the nth time since the plane landed.
"Don't touch me," Schuldich nearly yelled in anger. Turning his back on the Japanese, he made his way towards the elevator. His head was spinning with brilliant colors. The mental shields around his mind were down and the sheer magnitude of thoughts forcing their way into his brain at the same time was almost too much to bear.
Crawford...Brad...Schuldich mentally called out to the American. Even if he had not liked him a wee bit, Crawford would help him. He was a member of Schwarz after all. He had to.
The German collapsed against the cold marble walls. Beads of cold sweat were running down his forehead and Hirofumi's constant bantering had not helped to calm his nerves at all.
"What's the matter with you, Schuldich? Do you only love me in Berlin and not in Tokyo?" Hirofumi demanded.
Brad...the silence...I need the silences...and get this prate away from me.
Aloud, Schuldich could only smirk at the other man's naivety.
"Love? Who are you to demand that from me? The eldest son of a pathetic minister is nothing in my eyes. Come back when your dad's the prez, kid."
The Japanese man looked as if he was about to say something until the clicking of boots against tiles interrupted him. Hirofumi looked up and met the hazel eyes of an American briefly, before the man in the white suit shifted his attention to the pale-faced German.
"Schuldich!" Crawford quickly took the young man into his arms and held on tight, oblivious to the strange looks they were getting around the lobby.
This was why Schuldich enjoyed being around clairvoyants so much, regardless of how insane or dangerous they were. Clairvoyants had an imaginary power field around them. Any normal within this field would be particularly susceptible to the clairvoyant's manipulation. Similarly, the closer a normal was in a telepath's power field, the louder his thoughts were projected. A vacuum could only be formed when power fields intercept. So long as Schuldich keep his power field intercepted with another's, his mind could know the true bliss of silence.
"Thank you," Schuldich whispered, chokingly allowing Crawford to help him into the elevator to the 7th floor where his office was located.
Hirofumi could only watch the two men leave in silence. In that sudden moment, he felt that he had been so terribly, totally mistaken all these while. Helping his father attained presidency would not only be beneficial to the national well being of Japan, it could also bring him what he desires.
By hook or by crook, Takatori Reiji would be the next president. He would see to that personally.
*** Crawford's Office Diet Building Tokyo, Japan
Estet would be pleased. That was Schuldich's only response when he caught Hirofumi's train of thought. He allowed himself to be led into the room quietly; not that he had much choice in the first place. His head was still throbbing in pain and with his current weakened state; he did not feel up to it to rebuild those Godforsaken mental shields.
"What happened out there?" Crawford asked. The voice, although soft in volume, was spoken forcefully. The leader of Schwarz knew that his teammate could not handle him raising his voice now. But keeping that anger and worry contained was taking more than just patience and skill. It had been years since the telepath's protective shields were breached, and that was before Schuldich was a fully trained telepath. Berlin was a madhouse then, with the fall of the Berlin Wall. The onslaught of thoughts was too much for any telepath to take. But now, with his current strength and experience, there was not reason for the shields to collapse again. The unknown was disturbing, and it was driving Crawford to the brink of insanity.
"You should know. The shields fell."
"I know they did. I want to know why they did and how." To be sure that Schuldich would provide him an answer, Crawford added with thinly laced threat. "Don't make me shout at you, Schuldich."
The German winced.
"I don't know," he admitted truthfully. Meeting Crawford's doubtful gaze, he hastily smiled and promised to report the matter to the top. Perhaps the Magi would have some answers for them.
"You said you have a gift for me." The American sighed in exasperation. They were discussing something important and serious but his belated birthday present was all the telepath was interested about? !
"Redheads..." he muttered under his breath, walking up to retrieve something from his desk drawer. "Haven't met one that isn't loud and stupid."
"What did you say?"
"Something insulting," Crawford replied dryly. "Catch."
Schuldich gave a confused blink when a longish black box landed in his lap. Picking it up, he examined it for a moment before checking its contents.
"Wow! Brad! How did you know I've been wanting this pair of sunglasses for a very long time?" The smile on Schuldich's face was priceless. And for a moment, Crawford thought he would have given anything to see such a smile on an assassin's face. It was the smile of contentment and true joy.
It had been a long time since he saw Schuldich smile like this. Hazel eyes widened in shock when he caught that thought. Had he ever seen the German smile at this in the first place? It was a familiar feeling. So strangely familiar that it triggered a painful clenching in his heart.
As if...
As if he had lost something important.
"Brad?"
Crawford snapped out of his reverie to meet the concerned look on Schuldich's face.
"Are you alright?" The telepath asked. The American looked into his own reflection in the red tinted lens of the sunglasses and shook his head.
Schuldich knew better than to ask. Interesting and amusing, as it was to see Crawford divert his gaze and think up of some pretty lie to tell him, Schuldich did not think he was in the mood for that sort of fun right now. All he wanted was a long good sleep and nothing else.
It had not occurred to the telepath that he was sleeping more than usual.
"My luggage! I left them in that geek's car!" Schuldich suddenly exclaimed. Damn it! All his belongings were in there. His music box!
The German would have gotten up and ran all the way down if he could. But once he got onto his feet, those undependable muscles gave way again, letting him collapse back onto the couch and into darkness.
"Schuldich! Schuldich!"
How strange.why was Brad calling him 'guilty'?
*** Magic Bus Hospital Tokyo, Japan
Somebody was shaking him violently; making his head hurt more than it already was. Was he in a hospital? Chris wondered, the bright white lights above pierced through his closed eyelids, forming a crimson silhouette against nothing.
His mother must have gone too far in her beatings to land him in hospital. But who would have sent him here? They could not possibly afford the hospital bills.
"Sorry, mami. I'd get up now." Chris muttered, not realizing until a moment later that his voice was much lower than he remembered. "Fich."
"Mami? Wake up, Schuldich." Chris's thoughts came to a sudden halt. Stop thinking, yes. Peace at last, peace is good. He cracked apart his eyelids with much difficulty, quickly throwing an arm across his eyes to block out the bright ceiling lights. Was that how hospitals wake their patients? With supersonic lights to make sure they had no choice but to try their best to get up?
The shaking stopped at once. Finally getting his eyes used to the surroundings, Chris looked around, wondering who was the man who had spoken just now.
It was a tall stranger with jet-black hair. Dressed in an expensive white suit, he looked every bit like a successful businessman who could take on the world and win. But right now, those usually scheming amber-brown eyes were filled with worry and concern.
A name came to Chris at once. He knew this stranger, but his memory of Brad Crawford was this American boy who was barely older than he was, not this formidable-looking adult.
"Brad? Where am I, and why are you here?"
Crawford narrowed his eyes. Schuldich never called him by his first name unless he was in the mood to irritate. Not that he was not in that mood very often, but the look on the German's face was innocent, almost confused even. No, Schuldich was definitely not in the mood to joke.
"I'll run a few tests on him later," the doctor beside him informed before walking out of the room. Crawford nodded briefly, his eyes still hard on his bedridden teammate.
"You fainted in my office. Schuldich, this is serious."
"Woah, wait a minute! Why are you calling me 'guilty'?" Chris swept his hair away from his face, wondering for a moment why his fringe was not tickling his eyes like it usually did, and held out his hands before him. "I am not."
Blue eyes widened in horror as Chris took in the sight of his hands. His fingernails were well manicured and cleaner than they had ever been, and his hands were much bigger than he remembered. These were not the hands of a thirteen year old. No way! They were the hands of an adult!
He flipped his palms up to face him, feeling the calluses on his fingertips in shock and horror. He never had calluses like these before, not even after years of cleaning that pathetic little hut with Lysol. These were calluses formed after years of handling a weapon.
Then Chris did the only thing that seemed reasonable to him then.
He screamed.
"Schuldich! Damn it!" Crawford grabbed the German by his shoulders and pinned the lithe body against the headboard of the bed. "Stop it!"
A stinging pain on his hand told the American that he had slapped his teammate. But he did not have the time to regret his action. For some reason, that act had calmed the other man somewhat. Schuldich looked up shakily at Crawford, his aquamarine eyes glazed with pain and something else. Hurt?
"What.what year is it?"
"Nineteen ninety-three." Crawford replied, puzzled over the question.
Chris gasped. He had lost four years of his life. So.did that mean he was seventeen now? Mami? Where was his mother? What about his school? What about Kiel? There were so many questions on his mind. So many questions left unanswered. And that man holding him.was he really Brad Crawford? If he were, then that would explain why he looked so different. Brad would be twenty-three now. But Brad would not slap him. Would he?
"What do you remember?" Crawford asked, suspecting from the skittish way the telepath was behaving that it was memory loss. He had read about that in the Estet library before. Telepaths, especially those who overused their powers, could easily suffer from backlash. The results were usually memory loss, and for more serious cases, insanity.
"Look Brad, I know this sound dumb, but I am not this person here. I am Christopher Nicolae Heinrich, born in Kiel and I'm thirteen! Thirteen!" Chris paused, his lower lip quivering in hurt as he noted the look of disbelief and amusement on Brad' s face. This was not Brad Crawford.the American would never mock him this way.
For the first time in his life, Chris hoped the painful contact of his mother's cane. At least that was familiar.
+End of Chapter 4+ +Continue to A Brief Respite+