Aya's scream cut through the heavy nighttime silence that had fallen over the flower shop and the rooms they shared above it. It reached out, as if it was a living thing, to grab Yohji and drag him out of a sound sleep with icy, black talons. The oldest Weiss member jolted awake, succeeding in toppling the chair, which had been his bed for the last week, to the ground. As Aya screamed again, Yohji struggled to untangle his long legs from the chair's seat and arms. By the third scream, he had managed to free himself, and he stumbled toward the bed, closing the short distance with only a couple of long strides.
He reached Aya just as the redhead was about to unleash another unearthly, ear-drum-shattering scream, and gathered the younger man into his arms as gently as possible, muttering softly, "Aya, shhh. It's OK. You're OK."
Aya was shaking, sobbing, and whimpering in pain and fear. Yohji could hear him muttering: "Aya!" "Mom!" "Dad!" "No! Don't don't leave me don't leave me alone!". He knew that Aya was fighting against ghosts from his past, and, with each passing day, it seemed to be more and more of a losing struggle.
Aya moaned and struggled weakly against the arms that encircled him. He didn't have enough strength to inflict any real damage, but he succeeded in landing a lucky blow across Yohji's face with his elbow, which made stars dance momentarily in front of the older man's eyes and succeeded in re-blackening the swollen eye he had inflicted on Yohji that first night in the restaurant, a little over a week ago.
Since he had returned to the flower shop with Aya, the redhead's condition had shown little improvement. The Kritiker doctor, when he finally arrived, had announced that Aya had a pretty bad case of pneumonia, and that he had, most likely, already been sick with it when he went on the mission. It confirmed Yohji's initial suspicions, but, still, did nothing to salve the guilt he still felt. When both Yohji and Omi expressed surprise at the diagnosis, the doctor had told them that this condition was not quick to develop, and that Aya had probably been sick for months. Yohji could still remember the questioning look the doctor had thrown at them, as if he was asking how they could possibly have missed something like this, but Omi and he had only been able to stare at the ground and mumble that Aya was good at hiding things. Even to them, it had sounded so damn lame. Yohji still seethed with anger as he recalled the self-righteous way the doctor had acted. What the hell did that guy know, anyhow? He was one of Kritiker's newer acquisitions, and he hadn't ever even seen Aya before. He certainly couldn't know their leader as well as they could. Still, Yohji knew that part of his anger, and Omi's too, was directed inward. They were both upset with themselves at not noticing Aya's condition before it had deteriorated into something this serious. After watching Yohji and Omi squirm around and try to make excuses for allowing their leader's health to fail, the doctor had set them up with IV antibiotics and fluids. He had wanted to immediately transport the redhead to a hospital, but Yohji had been adamant about keeping Aya there. After a little persuasive arguing on his part, Omi had finally agreed with his decision. They both knew how terrified Aya was of doctors and hospitals, and neither of them could bear the thought of seeing their leader in that kind of setting. The doctor had managed to give them one small measure of relief by confirming that the gunshot wounds weren't very serious, although Aya had lost a lot of blood during his escape from the police.
That had all happened about a week ago, although it seemed like a much longer time to Yohji. Aya had been drifting in and out of consciousness --- mostly out, if one had to be brutally honest about the state of things --- and, thanks to his high fever, which had yet to break, his few waking moments hadn't exactly been lucid. Yohji had remained with the Weiss leader the entire time, and it seemed to him that the week had passed as one big blur, broken only by the redhead's feverish nightmares and screams of fear and sorrow. Aya had awakened time and time again, screaming out one name after another --- his mother's name, his father's, his sister's, even the names of the other Weiss members. Each time, Yohji had been there to hold him and assure him that he wasn't alone until, finally, he had slipped back into an uneasy, restless sleep.
Yohji frowned as he struggled to hang onto Aya without harming him, and felt the full weight of his exhaustion settling in on him. He was reluctant to admit it, but he was coming to realize that the past week had taken a heavy toll on him. He wouldn't have ever admitted it to anyone, and he probably would have killed anyone who managed to guess, but he considered Aya a friend --- probably the closest friend he had in the world, even compared to the other Weiss members. When Aya had first joined them, they had all hated him. He had seemed like such a bastard ---strong, cold, calculating, carefully holding himself aloof from everyone and everything around him, but those qualities had eventually drawn Yohji to the redhead. He had initially concluded that Aya was everything he wanted to be, but could never achieve, and he had tried everything in his power to build a friendship with their icy leader. It had taken months, but Yohji had felt grateful when Aya finally seemed to accept the hand of friendship extended to him. Once Aya had opened up a little to let him in, Yohji had quickly realized that the redhead was nothing like the way he seemed. The icy façade, the anti-social behavior, and the emotionless way he had of dealing with everyone around him were all just an act --- a mask he painstakingly and carefully kept in place to shield himself. The tall blonde hadn't yet figured out just what Aya was hiding from, but, from the little he knew of the redhead's past, he could make a pretty good guess. Either way, figuring out that Aya wasn't the strong, emotionless iceberg they all thought he was had made their leader seem that much more vulnerable and in need of protection, and Yohji, despite his own selfish, lazy tendencies, had become Aya's staunchest defender. Although the other Weiss members hadn't overcome their fear of Aya and his mood swings enough to see through his mask, Yohji knew they would also give their lives to protect their leader.
Aya moaned and let out another strangled scream as he pushed against Yohji's chest. Watching him struggle and suffer like this ate away at the tall blonde. The little he had been able to understand from Aya's fevered mumblings had told him that their leader still felt he didn't have a place with them, that he didn't belong anywhere, and that no one cared whether he lived or died. That cut Yohji to the bone. How had they failed to make Aya understand how important he was to each of them? How had he failed to show Aya the friendship the redhead so desperately needed?
Days ago, Yohji had let go of the guilt that had been eating at him over his unexpected "no-show" at the last mission. He knew that his failure to back their leader up hadn't really contributed to Aya's current condition, which he considered a lucky break. Even Omi and Ken, who had returned from soccer camp a couple of days ago, had forgiven his lapse of judgment. But, knowing that Aya felt so alone and lost, that he truly believed he didn't matter to any of them, had created a new, special kind of guilt that had settled in and started to gnaw away at Yohji's heart.
Aya had just started to settle back down when a noise from behind caused Yohji to turn around. Omi and Ken were standing in the doorway, silhouetted by the light from the hallway. No doubt they had been awakened by Aya's screaming. It was a scene they had repeated more than once, and the tall blonde wondered for a moment how long the other two had been standing there watching. Yohji could feel Aya's body relaxing against his, and he smiled and waved at his other two teammates, silently letting them know that everything was all right and warning them away. Ken waved back and turned to pad silently back to his room, but Omi ignored Yohji's implied command and crept quietly into Aya's darkened room.
"Yohji," he said, lowering his voice to a whisper when the older man placed a finger to his lips as a warning, "You look exhausted. You need to get a good night's sleep."
Yohji shrugged and gently laid Aya, who was now silent, back onto the bed. He pulled the blankets up over the redhead and then turned to reply, "He needs it more." He returned to his former resting place, lowering himself heavily into the chair and nodding his thanks to Omi, who had picked up the fallen piece of furniture.
"I could stay with him," Omi said quietly. The boy moved forward to stand next to the bed and slid his hand underneath Aya's heavy bangs. He frowned slightly as he turned back toward Yohji, "He's not getting much better, is he?"
Yohji shrugged again and ran his fingers through his tangled hair, brushing it off of his face. "I don't know. I think his breathing is better if this fever would just break" His voice trailed off before he finished his thought.
"I could stay with him," Omi volunteered again, repeating his earlier statement as if he thought Yohji hadn't heard him.
Yohji shook his head. "No, I'm fine. You go back to bed. You have school tomorrow, and, besides, you know Ken will never be able to deal with all the afternoon fangirls on his own. You know how flustered he gets when no one's there to protect him." He smiled over at the boy when he heard Omi chuckle.
"Yeah," Omi replied, sliding to a sitting position on the floor. He leaned against Yohji's leg and continued, "Ken's really not good at dealing with girls, is he? I think that's why he likes working the afternoon shift with Aya, since he seems to be able to get rid of sightseers quicker than any of us."
Now it was Yohji's turn to chuckle. "Yeah. Nothing can clear a room like him yelling: "If you're not buying anything, then leave!"," he said, dropping his voice into his best Aya imitation. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and his chin in his cupped palms. "I wouldn't mind hearing him say that right now, actually."
"It's not your fault, Yohji," Omi said. He leaned away slightly and peered up at the older man. "You don't have to feel guilty."
"I don't," Yohji said softly. "That's not why I'm staying with him. I want to. I just want to watch out for him, you know?"
Omi stretched as he stood. "Yeah, I know," he said, laying his hand gently on Yohji's shoulder as he turned to exit the room. "Just don't forget we're all in this together, OK?"
Yohji waved his hand behind his head in a silent response as he heard Omi pull the door closed behind him.
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Aya awoke slowly and stared in confusion at the white ceiling above him. The day was just turning from night to dawn, and the gray half-light seemed to make the white paint glow. He had fuzzy recollections of terrible visions of his family disappearing before his eyes, abandoning him over and over again, and he wondered for a moment if he was caught up in another one of them. No, he finally decided, this couldn't be one of the dreams, if they had even been dreams in the first place --- they had seemed so real. No, this didn't feel like one of the visions. In those, there was usually a field of flowers or surrounding flames. There wasn't ever a white ceiling.
He started to sit up and immediately concluded that this was a stupid and foolhardy course of action as the room started to spin crazily around him. He decided to just lie quietly for a moment and gather his thoughts, instead. After all, there wasn't any reason to jump right into action, was there? As he continued to stare up at the ceiling, he slowly realized that he was at the apartment Weiss shared above the flower shop, in his own room. He couldn't remember coming back here, and he frowned as he realized that he didn't remember much of anything. He had a hazy recollection of something going wrong with the mission and of Yohji coming to look for him, but after that, just vague, confused snatches of the nightmares.
A soft sound to one side drew his attention away from the ceiling, and he managed to sit halfway up, leaning back on his elbows. Yohji was asleep in a chair beside the bed, long legs stretched out in front of him, arms crossed across his chest, head tilted back over the chair's back, and he was snoring. Aya frowned again as he wondered how long the blonde had been there. From the looks of him, Yohji had spent more than a few nights in that chair. Aya risked sitting up all the way, which, thankfully, didn't make the room spin this time, and silently watched the older man sleep. He had a feeling that he should be angry with Yohji over something. Considering how irresponsible and selfish the tall blonde normally was, he was certain Yohji deserved it, but another memory surfaced to erase any anger he might have held toward his companion. He remembered feeling so lost, alone, and afraid during the nightmares, but there had been something else, too --- a voice telling him that everything was all right, that he wasn't alone anymore. He realized with a start that the voice had belonged to Yohji.
'Why?' he wondered. 'Why would Yohji do that?'
Aya shook his head in irritation, and groaned quietly when the gesture seemed to shake his brain loose and cause it to rattle around in his skull. He settled for glaring at Yohji, instead. He didn't understand the man, and he found that fact vaguely irritating. Yohji acted like his friend; Yohji said he wanted to be his friend. But, Aya knew better. He didn't have friends. He was a killer, a murderer. Murderers didn't deserve friends. So, what was the blonde up to? What was he trying to pull? He hadn't yet figured it out, but he knew he would, eventually. Everyone wanted something from him, and he was sure the oldest Weiss member was no different. He wanted and needed friendship and companionship so badly, and he desperately wanted to accept the friendly hand Yohji seemed to extend to him. But, each time he came close to allowing himself to feel, to allowing himself to drop the protective mask he hid behind, his mind would remind him that everyone wanted something, and time would tell what Yohji Kuduo wanted from him. His mind kept reminding him that no one on this earth could possibly want to be his friend just for the hell of it.
Suddenly, another thought occurred to Aya, one that spurred him to get out of bed, against his better judgment. He groaned quietly as his feet touched the floor. His head ached, and every part of his body hurt. How was it possible for even the bottoms of his feet to hurt like this? He leaned heavily on the side of the bed as the room tilted and whirled crazily around him, but, after a few minutes, he managed to choke down the dizziness and get his bearings. Things were starting to come back to him now, and he remembered being in an alley in the pouring rain and stealing yes, stealing a coat from a homeless man. He pushed back another wave of dizziness and a few black spots that popped up and clouded his vision, and then moved purposefully toward his dresser. He remembered now that there was somewhere he needed to be. There was a debt he needed to pay. He succeeded in dressing without waking Yohji, although he paused every few moments to make sure the older man was still snoring quietly. If Yohji or the others found out, they'd probably make a big scene. At the least, he was certain they wouldn't be happy about him leaving the house. No, he definitely had to sneak out unnoticed.
It only took him a few additional minutes to gather the things he wanted to take with him. Before long, he stood in front of the door holding a couple of pairs of his old pants, a few shirts, and a heavy canvas jacket that he hadn't worn in months. He paused in the doorway for a moment and sighed as he silently dropped the clothes on the floor and stalked back to the chair, where Yohji still slept. He glared down at the older man and, before he could change his mind, removed the blanket from his bed and settled it over Yohji in one smooth motion.
He crept down the hall, careful to avoid the squeaky spots in the old wood. He paused momentarily before he passed the doorways to first Omi's and then Ken's, rooms, holding his breath until he heard sounds from within that told him they were sleeping undisturbed. Yohji's room was the last one he had to pass before he reached the stairs that would take him down to the door to the outside world, but Yohji was asleep in his room, so Aya knew he was home free. As he crossed in front of the blonde's door, he paused again, momentarily lost in thought. Having made up his mind, he entered the room and began rummaging around in Yohji's dresser drawers. If anyone would have the things he wanted, it would be the oldest Weiss member. He knew that Yohji had a penchant for hiding cigarettes and booze all over the house so that none of them would know how much he actually drank or smoked, but he also knew that the tall blonde liked keeping a certain amount of his stash close at hand --- for emergencies. Finding nothing in the first drawer, he pushed it almost-closed and pulled open the next one. He frowned and slammed it shut almost immediately when he realized that it was Yohji's underwear drawer. He shook his head. No. It was too horrible. He couldn't bring himself to look in there. He opened a third drawer and felt relieved when he found socks. He shoved around several mismatched pairs of footwear, wondering why Yohji, who was always so immaculately dressed and such a fashion hound, would have socks that didn't match. Finally, he found what he wanted, and smiled as he lifted a pack of cigarettes and a full bottle of scotch from the drawer. He glanced back into the drawer and chuckled softly as he realized it was Yohji's last bottle. He got unsteadily back to his feet, using the dresser for support, and made his way out of the room. He was still laughing as he descended the stairs, picturing the look on Yohji's face when the older man discovered his last bottle of scotch was missing.