Never the Twain Shall Meet

A/N: This starts precisely where the last one left off, since I couldn't think of a better beginning. So the first few paragraphs are identical to the last few of Windows. It's called 'Copy and Paste. ^_^

Nagi sat by the French windows of one of their boss's houses, in the suburbs, watching over a garden party with his laptop balanced on his knees. Crawford was wondering around, meeting and greeting, while Nagi sipped sangria (pretending every time Brad walked by that it was some non-alcoholic drink and failing miserably, judging by the look that was part amusement and part exasperation Brad wore each time he glanced over) and studied the performance of his surveillance cameras. And mucked about on the Internet, since not much was happening.

About a week had passed, and he was feeling much better. Each day got easier and easier as he struggled with the fact that Schwarz was really gone, and nothing would bring it back. He had begun to accept it, and spring days like these made it all the easier to convince himself that he really could be happier here.

He'd barely entered the chatroom when an all too familiar window popped up.

Bombay: Hi, Nagi.

Prodigy: Hello, Omi.

Nagi smiled.

Bombay: …Are you really in NYC?

Prodigy: Just outside at the moment.

Bombay: What's it like?

Oh, they were being so cautious. So much they couldn't say, so much neither was willing to say. It didn't help that it wasn't a particularly secure line, but that was merely an excuse. But then, it was, occasionally, nice to forget.

Prodigy: Nice. American. Sunny.

Bombay: sounds pretty good.

Prodigy: So where are you? Flower shop?

There was a long pause. Once more, Nagi realised he'd overstepped the tenuous, unspoken boundaries unconsciously agreed by the teens. Not only had he let on that Schwarz had known where Weiss lived, he had made a reference to a reality neither wanted to dwell on. The Koneko was too tied up with memories of hard fought battles and emotional pain. No wonder Omi didn't want to talk about it, so much bad stuff had happened…

Bombay: No, we have a van at the moment. I thought I'd mentioned that.

… or possibly he just didn't want to give too much away about Weiss's new home.

Prodigy: Van? Must get a bit crowded.

Bombay:  It's just myself and Aya now. Ken and Yohji were here until very recently, though. Despite that, of course I was left doing all the chores, the cleaning and the watering and the washing and…

If Nagi hadn't received the letter form Tot that morning, he would have just assumed that Ken and Yohji had been injured in the line of duty. Well, in a way they had, but it was the kind of injuries that don't show until they get serious. Would it be too tactless…

Prodigy: Poor Omi, Cinderella to the step-assassins.

Bombay: Yohji and Ken, the ugly Stepsisters, are gone now, leaving Cinder-Omi to clean up their mess. Aya, the stepmother, is sulking.

Prodigy: Does he have any other facial expression?

Bombay: Probably not.

Thousands of miles separated them, but Nagi could hear Omi's laughter. It was comforting and warm, and made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Somewhere, in a tiny cramped van full of flowers, another young assassin was feeling it too.

"Nagi? What are you doing?"

Nagi jumped guiltily. In doing so, it was immediately apparent that whatever he had been doing, he shouldn't have. He'd been too engrossed to notice Brad's approach, which in itself was telling. There were few things that would make the teenager unaware of his surroundings.

"I was… on the internet," Nagi admitted, hoping the partial truth would be enough.

"I see. What exactly were you doing on the internet?" Brad asked, worrying creasing his brow. If Nagi had been using their boss's digital connection to download hentai yaoi sketches, probably drawn by equally bored teenagers on entirely different continents, it would show on the bill, and they could lose a very cushy job.

"Chat room," Nagi sighed. He couldn't lie to Brad. All he could do was hope Brad didn't ask him directly who he had been chatting to. He could say 'teenager' and 'Japanese' and even 'male', but 'Omi' or 'Bombay' probably wouldn't go down all that well.

Brad sighed. "Is it really that boring?" he asked gently, sitting next to Nagi's wooden lawn chair on the stone steps. "Look, Mr Smythe has a daughter around your age."

"She's two years younger," Nagi said scathingly. Why was that adults could never correctly estimate a teenager's age? Hell, why was he complaining? He got away with buying both child tickets and booze, depending on how he dressed and walked.

"Well, I'm sure she'd still appreciate some company. Anything showing up on the cameras?"

"Only what's supposed to. A lot of guests, waving wine glasses and wearing expensive suits." Nagi offered Brad a conciliatory grin. "There's only so much 'oh yes, my shares went up 500% and my daughter has a new $700,000 pony and my fourteenth car cost more than this house' a guy can take."

"Tell me about it," Brad grinned back, briefly. "I'd forgotten how deathly boring humanity can be, without someone around to divulge their secrets and make this sort of thing generally a bit more interesting." Nagi's smiled faltered, and Brad winced. "Sorry," he offered.

Nagi shook his head. "It just… surprises me, sometimes. When you think about him. You talk to Michael about him. It's so… accepting. I don't know if I'll ever be able to do that." Nagi closed his eyes and let the warm sun trace crimson and gold patterns on the inside of his eyelids.

"It doesn't matter if you can't," Brad said sincerely. He squeezed Nagi's shoulder in an almost fatherly fashion. Nagi smiled, but not because Brad had said anything particularly comforting or cheering. It was because Brad had changed. A few years ago, hell, a few months ago, he wouldn't have touched Nagi, not even to comfort him. Back in Japan, it probably wouldn't have even occurred to him to comfort Nagi. Things had changed and Nagi was finally able to see that it was for the better.

The laptop beeped.

Bombay: Nagi? Are you still there?

Brad read the message.

* * *

Nagi sat in his room while Brad paced up and down outside. There was a conspicuously empty space where his computer had once been, and the room felt considerably larger. Nagi didn't like it. The room was the same size as the average Tokyo apartment, and he was beginning to feel agoraphobic in here on his own. The computer had taken up over half the room, he belatedly realised.

Crawford hadn't said anything, not at first. It wasn't until the ride home that he'd told Nagi exactly what he thought of him. Nagi hadn't said a word, accepting each criticism as it came, knowing every insult to be well founded. The whole thing had sounded terribly fair, from the accusation to the punishment, but inwardly Nagi fumed.

So what if he'd been chatting to Weiss's best boy? So what if he'd mentioned they were just outside New York? Crawford had been encouraging him to make friends.

Even an angry Nagi had to admit that making friends with Omi probably hadn't been what Crawford had had in mind. And, since he'd quit school, he was grounded utterly. Crawford let him out for bathroom breaks once in a while but that was it. Nagi had actually resorted to reading a book. The paper felt funny in his hands and he longed for the words to stream across a screen in front of him, and to not have to bother with al this page turning business. Some part of him acknowledged the absurdity of this, but Nagi didn't like being forcibly separated from his digital world.

Outside, Brad paced. He didn't know what to do. Too much had changed. He had no idea how to punish Nagi. Part of him wasn't even certain why he was punishing Nagi.

Michael had dropped by earlier, surprising both of them. Brad had forgotten he'd given his boyfriend a key. There had been much awkwardness. Oh, not just because Brad had not only forgotten the fact he'd given Michael a key and stood him up again, but because he couldn't come up with a plausible reason for punishing Nagi. There was so much he couldn't say. Michael had left, eventually, probably under the impression Nagi was suffering child cruelty at the hands of his boyfriend.

Brad's stomach tightened and hurt just thinking about it. He didn't want to lose Michael. He couldn't lose Michael. But he couldn't explain. It seemed so 'petty', forbidding Nagi to talk to someone who'd been an enemy in Japan, when he couldn't talk about being assassins and being psychic. His head hurt. A while ago, he'd contemplated telling Michael that he was a seer. Now, even that seemed ludicrous.

He found himself thinking of Schuldig. There had been no secrets then.

In three quick steps he was at the phone and dialling a number of a car pinned discretely beneath pizza places and their boss's mobile number and Nagi's final school report other miscellaneous scraps of paper. The phone rang, he distance making it sound tinny and cold. Finally, it was picked up.

Schuldig grunted something in German. Brad didn't have time to translate properly.

"Schuldig! I…" Brad stared at the receiver, dumbfounded. What exactly had he planned to say to his ex, once he got him on the phone? 'Hi, Nagi's chatting to Omi and I think my new boyfriend might break up with me for not being open enough?'

"If he's that intolerant, it's not worth it," Schuldig chuckled.

Brad flushed. "It's none of your business," he snapped.

"So why did you call? It's God knows what hour and I was comfortably asleep until you called me to say nothing." Schuldig's tone was faintly teasing, faintly mocking, faintly pissed, but overall resigned.

"I just wondered how you were. You haven't sent a car for a long time," Brad said stiffly.

"Yeah right. What was that about Nagi? It's hard to scan over a phone line."

"I caught him chatting to Omi on the Internet."

"So?"

Brad sighed. "I should have known better than to expect you to understand the ramifications of his actions," he snarled, about to hang up.

"Seriously, so?" Schuldig sounded equally exasperated. "They're just teenagers. Let them play out their little emotional melodrama and have their fun. Who's it harming? You're in America. Weiss are in Japan. It's over."

"I know," Brad told him shortly. "It's a matter of principle. We don't befriend the enemy. We never know when we might have to return."

There was silence from the telepath on the other end of the line, and Brad heard a sleepy voice asking in German who was calling at this 'verdammt' hour.

"We're not going back, Brad," Schuldig said softly. "Why are you so bothered? We're not going back."

There was a long pause as Brad let this sink in. He'd known, for a long time, and he'd accepted it, but he'd never really seen how it applied to them, to their lives. No wonder Michael had thought it sounded petty when he'd tried to explain Nagi's misdemeanour to him, it was petty.

"So, who's with you?" Brad said eventually, genuinely curious.

"Sven," Schuldig said proudly. "Technically my co-star, but you know how these things happen."

Brad chuckled. "Not personally, no," he smirked.

"Ah, you say that now," Schuldig leered vocally down the phone. "You should see him. 6ft 8 of pure Swedish muscle. Like a Nazi poster boy but sweet as sweet. His hair's paler than Farf's, and it's natural. So, who's Michael?"

"A guy," Brad said enigmatically. "I really ought to let you get back to Sven…"

"Not yet," Schuldig barked. "I want details, and you know it. You think I don't have rights as an ex to keep tabs on your every romantic overture." There was a grunt from behind him, and Brad listening to Schuldig scolding his lover in German for getting annoyed. Brad couldn't blame Sven for resenting the idea that Schuldig was having a cosy little chat with his ex.

"Michael," Brad mused once Schuldig had turned his attention back to the older man, "Michael is African-American and wears glasses. He takes his coffee the same way as I do. He gets on well with Nagi and we have a lot in common. He's a very nice guy, over all."

Schuldig made a muffled sound that left Brad frowning, but spoke before the American could ask any questions. "So, he's hot as hell, black as night and sweet as an angel's kisses?" Schuldig teased. "But you're keeping, ungh, secrets?"

"It's not something you can exactly explain," Brad said coolly.

"Sure it, nnnngh, is," Schuldig said breezily. "I mean, you've got to have some secrets to keep it, argmmm, interesting…" Schuldig was panting now. "Just pick and cho- ouurrh –ose."

"I'm sure," Brad said dryly. "Would it perhaps be convenient if I hung up now?"

"Ja-aaarrgh-aaa," Schuldig gasped. There were several bangs, then a drawn out dial tone as Schuldig finally managed to hit the cradle and hang up.

There was a quiet noise behind Brad. He spun around, ready to yell at Nagi for leaving his room, and found himself staring into a pair of huge brown eyes.

"Michael," he murmured.

"What can't you explain?" The young man asked softly, sadly. "Is it something to do with Nagi?"

Brad sighed, taking off his glasses and polishing them. "That's just part of it," he said. "However, I have come around to agree with you, I'm being petty. I shouldn't be punishing Nagi."

Michael frowned slightly. "Actually, I think you should," he said with a hint of trepidation. Brad put his glasses pack on and pushed them up his nose. The soft brown face came back into focus. "He's not here."

"What?" Brad was floored.

"When I saw you were on the phone I went to find him, but he's not in his room, or anywhere else in the apartment." Michael looked almost apologetic. "He struck me as the sort of boy to concede to a punishment, even an unjust one."

Brad shook his head wryly, making for the front door. He trusted Michael when the man said Nagi wasn't in the apartment, and he intended to start looking for him immediately. "You should have seen his reaction when I forbade him to see a certain girl. It was justified," he added hastily, "she worked for our boss's son, and I wanted to discourage him from dating fellow workmates. Besides, she was insane."

"Actually insane?" Michael asked curiously, following Brad out of the apartment and into the plush lift.

"Certifiably. She's in prison at the moment, with an old rival, who is also likely to be insane. I think Nagi's a bit put out, as we received a letter from her claiming she finally understood what Nagi saw in her, now she could see it in someone else. To be honest, that was something even I never saw coming." Brad leant on the railing and stared up at eh mirrored ceiling. He could feel the future, almost tangible, about to alter irrevocably, and knew that whatever was about to happen was out of his control.

"Any reason you should have?" Michael asked, leaning against him. Brad smiled at the warmth of another body against his. It had been so long since touch had been anything other than sexual, but Michael was a tactile person. It had taken Brad a while to get used to it, but it was pleasant and reassuring. He leant against him in return.

"Yes," Brad admitted quietly. "The lift's about to jam," he added.

There was a clunk and a whirr and a slow purring, so that the final silence seemed quite anticlimactic.

"I don't care if you can't explain," Michael said slowly, "I think I'd like you to try."

* * *

Nagi dropped off of his ceiling. He hadn't expected that to work, but Michael had arrived and Brad had taken Michael at his word so willingly. The teen actually felt guilty for duping the older men, who were now obviously concerned for him. Well, Michael was concerned. Brad was probably pissed.

Nagi waited for a quarter of an hour before trotting down the stairs. There were a lot of stairs, but the lift was taking so long to come when he pressed the button he gave up, and just hoped he wouldn't run into Brad and Michael on their way back up.

Once outside all sensations of guilt melted into the sunshine. It felt so good to be free! Nagi smiled as he wandered along, purposely avoiding all cyber cafés and libraries with Internet access. They'd check there first. His smile gave way to a thoughtful frown as he tried to second guess the two adults, before realising it was a futile exercise. Brad would find him no matter where he went.

A light breeze ruffled his hair and he looked up to see white clouds scudding across the sky as the wind picked up. It made Nagi wish he'd brought a jacket. After a while it started to get really cold, and he ducked into a small shop that looked vaguely interesting. As he wandered amongst the hardware and software it occurred to him that this would be an obvious place for Brad to look, but he didn't care.

He spotted a laptop with mobile Internet connection, and, on a whim, bought it. It was nice to have a bit of cash to splash around occasionally, and a new machine was always fun. If he got bored he could always take it apart and make it intrinsically better. That was what Nagi liked about machines. No matter how bad, no matter how good, they could always be improved.

Nagi paid for his purchase, ignoring the incredulous look on the clerks face, and asked if he could leave the box there. There was a bit of confusion, and eventually Nagi just walked out, trailing cables and what-have-you, to find a bench somewhere. He voided Central Park. It was too obvious. Eventually, in a small bookshop cum café, surrounded by silent men and giggling girls, Nagi deposited the laptop on a chintzy round table and started to set it up.

He got through two hot chocolates, a coffee, a cup of tea and three Danish pastries by the time he was done. He felt smug in the knowledge that it would have taken anyone else the better part of a day to do. A cute waitress in a short skirt offered him another drink and admired the laptop for being 'shiny'. Nagi felt vaguely contemptuous of her, but not as much as he would have done before, when he lived in Japan. Brad wasn't the only one who had changed.

Naturally, Nagi logged into the same chat room as before. He located Omi, who was lurking in several forums as once, obviously waiting for him.

Prodigy: Hi

Bombay: oh god, we need to talk.

Four words that scared the shit out of any self-respecting person, male or female. Harbingers of doom, all four of them. Nagi's stomach curled and he pushed his fresh cup of coffee away.

Bombay: Do you remember what I said about Ken and Yohji being 'away' and it just being Aya and myself?

Even typed, his urgency was obvious.

Bombay: Aya saw what I was doing. Talking to you.

Prodigy: Same here. Crawford threw a fit. He's going to throw another when he finds me.

Bombay: Aya said he loves me.

Prodigy: Huh. Crawford didn't say that.

Nagi felt a sudden, flaring jealousy. It was irrational, but he didn't care. Aya was there. Aya was with Omi. There was no way to compete. Suddenly, he felt angry with Brad. How dare he drag Nagi all the way out here? Nagi's anger manifested itself in a wave of rattling teacups and exploding scones.

Some customers screamed, some laughed, one fainted. The cute waitress ran out, crying. Nagi dragged his eyes away from the screen to stare at the havoc he was causing. A beep brought his attention back again, though, and he forgot the chaotic café as he stared at the simple pixels.

Bombay: How do I tell him no?

Nagi took a deep breath. It wasn't over yet, not by a long shot, but Omi didn't want Aya. It was a start. The problem was, Aya was an incredibly attractive man. He'd win Omi over, no doubt. Unless Omi didn't swing that way. But he did, didn't he? Schuldig had said… had hinted…

Prodigy: If you don't swing that way, he ought to accept it.

Bombay: But he knows I do.

"Yes!" Nagi gave a triumphant yelp, then blushed. He stared over the top of his laptop, expecting to see other patrons giving him odd looks. There were no other patrons.

Nagi's heart fell. He had to get out of here, before his mere presence became suspicious. He bundled up the laptop and grabbed a few pastries and cakes as he scooted out of the door and ducked into a nearby alley to continue his conversation. It was damp and full of dirty cardboard boxes, but Nagi cleared himself a space and squatted down, oddly at home. Alleys were the same in every city, and once you'd lived on the streets you could feel at home in the alleys whenever, wherever.

Chewing on a hot cross bun, Nagi opened the laptop again and studied what Omi had written.

Bombay: I value his friendship and I don't want things to be awkward, but I'm just not attracted to him.

Bombay: He's a really great guy, but this is all very sudden.

Nagi considered for a moment.

Prodigy: Are you even legal yet?

Bombay: Not quite, but he say it's not about the physical. He said he just wanted me to know, and he didn't need any kind of reply.

Prodigy: But he wanted one, didn't he?

Bombay: I could see it. He's been hurt before, I think, and he just wants me to say yes and be there for him. I can't, Nagi, not like that.

Prodigy: I know. It's okay.

Nagi ached. He wanted to be there, to hold Omi and tell him, face to face, that everything was going to be just fine. But he couldn't say it, couldn't type it. Omi had enough to deal with without worrying that his past nemesis wanted to cuddle him and caress him and do many other things to him that were making sitting cross-legged in tight jeans a tad uncomfortable.

Bombay: I don't know how long I can stay here. Close quarters and all that.

Prodigy: I don't know what to say. If you feel like coming to America, you're more than welcome.

Bombay: Haha. Thanks, Nagi, but it'll take more than that to cheer me up.

Prodigy: Haha? I wasn't joking.

Nagi stared at what he had just typed. Was that too intense? Would Omi take it the wrong way?

Bombay: I could never take you up on the offer, you know that.

Prodigy: Why not?

On the other side of the Pacific Omi stared at the screen. There had to be some hidden meaning. This was Nagi. The kid who'd tried to kill him several times. Yet, here he was, treating him like a trusted confidant. Omi had checked out the carrier signal, and yes, Nagi was in America, but that wasn't to say he wouldn't come back to Japan. It finally sank in, the enormity of what he was doing. He'd told Nagi about the van. He'd told Nagi about Aya. He'd mentioned Weiss's real names, he practically admitted that they'd lived at the Koneko and now he was seriously considering running away to the USA.

Prodigy: Still there?

Bombay: Barely.

Prodigy: Is there anything I can do to help?

Omi smiled, a grim, humourless smile born of too little childhood and too much suffering. Cynicism threatened to swallow the last of his humanity, and if he caved he'd be like Nagi. Amoral, bitter and resentful.

But then, if that was Nagi, why was he offering to help?

Bombay: I don't think so. I have a sort of plan. It involves lots of running away and pretending this never happened.

Prodigy: Like most of Weiss's plans then? Sorry, bitchy. But you guys never seemed to confront anything.

Bombay: So why are you in America?

Prodigy: Touché.

Bombay: I'm going to live with my grandfather.

Prodigy: Is that wise? Considering the rest of your family…

Bombay: He's safe.

Prodigy: Safe?

Bombay: He hasn't killed anyone for kicks.

Prodigy: That's definitely a good start.

Nagi stared at the screen. There was enough evidence on it to incriminate both of them, and in the right lawyer's hands, get them both put away for life, as well as bringing down Kritiker and Estet. Well, not Estet. They'd just slaughter any justice system that stood in their way.

His feelings for Omi were, well, confused. He didn't believe in long distance relationships, in fact, he didn't really believe in relationships at all. Until Michael, he had thought love and couples were things only seen on TV. Brad's actions around Michael made him doubt that, for the first time.

Brad and Michael… why hadn't they found him yet? It had been almost three hours, Nagi realised with a start.

Prodigy: I really ought to go back to the apartment. I think something must have happened to Crawford.

Bombay: Wouldn't it be safer not to?

Prodigy: If he's in trouble, I hope to dispel some of his anger by helping him out of it. Plus he's probably with Michael, who's been guilting him about punishing me in the first place.

Bombay: You think he's in trouble?

Prodigy: It's been hours. He would have found me by now if he wasn't.

Bombay: true. I ought to go as well, Aya's back.

Prodigy. Shit. Good luck

Bombay: You too.

And with that it was over. No one said 'good bye', or 'see you later', just 'good luck'. It was fitting in its way. Nagi sighed and shut down the laptop. As an after thought, on his way back to the apartment he bought a bag to carry the laptop in. Not only were his arms aching, but if Brad didn't see it the chance of him confiscating it was minutely smaller.

Nagi sat in the empty apartment and waited for Brad to get back. He'd had to take the stairs because the lift was stuck a he when he left the flat, but it never occurred to him that no one would have reported the problem by now. After a while he fell asleep, so when the phone rang he didn't answer.

* * *

"Damn," Brad swore. "He's there, but he's not picking up."

"Asleep?" Michael asked. "As you foresaw?"

"Almost certainly."

"Damn."