When Nagi mentions "football" in this fic, he means the 11-men-a-side game, called "soccer" in the US. I really do prefer to call it football.

>Blinded

Part Ten

Crawford came back to the house in Yokohama, after taking the paranormal they found, a telekinetic, to Rosenkreuz.

The house SS provided was a typical Japanese house. Living room and kitchen on the ground floor, two bedrooms and a bathroom upstairs. Small and old, there were water stains on the walls and they had learned to avoid certain spots on the floor where the floorboard squeaked or even moved whenever they stepped on them. It was nowhere as good as the other places Crawford and Schuldich had lived in in the west, but business was poor for the SS, and they refused to pay more. Houses in Japan were too expensive anyway.

After a tiring long haul flight, despite the prospect of going back to that shabby place they called a house, he almost looked forward to it and even hoped that there would be someone to pick him up at the airport, and he caught himself scanning the crowds for a certain German in the arrival hall. Shaking his head slightly and telling himself not to do that again, he made his way through the crowds, beginning his journey home.

When the front door swung open, Crawford was rewarded by a sight he had almost taken for granted for the last eighteen months. Blue eyes turned, sparkled, followed by a wide, genuine smile. Simply beautiful, and perfect. The way Schuldich could make his heart stop never ceased to amaze him.

"Yo Crawford, how was your trip? Want some ice-cream?" Schuldich was wearing a black tanktop and grey sweatpants, all loose-fitting, making him look thinner than he was. His long hair was tied up roughly with a piece of leather string.

Before Crawford could answer, Schuldich handed him a one-litre tub of chocolate ice-cream, and a spoon. Schuldich was already having a tub himself. Crawford smiled gratefully. Japanese summers were terribly hot, and although the air-conditioning was turned to maximum, ice-cream was always good.

"You're going to catch a cold." Crawford lifted a finger, pointing at Schuldich's outfit, eyes unconsciously lingering on the round-shaped scar above the German's collarbone, two inches from the neck. It was a dark, small dent with slightly raised flesh around its edge.

Whenever he saw that mark, he was reminded of his failure. It was a reminder that the telepath was ready to throw his life away for him without a second thought, that every decision he made could put a lot at stake. It was a reminder that he could not make any mistakes again, that another failure could not be amended so easily.

Crawford caught himself looking at Schuldich's shoulder again, and turned away, back to his ice-cream. Schuldich had forgiven him. To put it exactly, Schuldich never blamed him. But Crawford still had to learn to handle that failure, the first one in his life.

"'You're going to catch a cold.'" The German repeated, mimicking the American's voice. "Is that a 'I care' type of comment, or 'I see it coz I'm a precog' comment?" He flashed a devil-may-care smile, but at the same time put his ice-cream down and pulled on a sweater that was hanging on the back of a chair. It was a dark grey, oversized knit that was horribly mishaped, perhaps because it was meant to be handwashed but got thrown into the washing machine. It was not that Schuldich was not careful, he just could not care less about most things.

"Does it matter?"

"Of course it does." Schuldich said with mocked pain, which was quickly replaced by a grin when the other man rolled his eyes and sighed. "You didn't answer me. How was the trip?"

"Nothing special. Expect to move out of this hole in the next few months, because we won't be talent-scouting anymore. They've given us a protection contract from a politician - I think it's their way of rewarding us. They liked the telekinetic a lot."

"You didn't like the girl enough though." Schuldich flung himself onto the other end of the couch, the spoon in his mouth muffing his voice. "I wouldn't mind having her on the team for our Plan, you know, she's rather pretty. But I guess you like the church one better."

Crawford flashed him a look. //You do know anybody can be listening.//

A mental snort came from Schuldich. He held out his tub of cookies-and-cream ice-cream. "Hey, swap, I wanna try the chocolate one too." He said, the previous little talk about telekinetics quickly forgotten.

Tubs of ice-cream exchanged hands, the way Schuldich talked and acted prompting Crawford again that even at twenty-one, the mind reader was, and would always be more a kid than a man. At times like this, Schuldich was not merely a colleague, but a friend who was a little like a younger brother - clever but careless, or more precisely, more carefree than Crawford was.

He had not told Schuldich anything about Naoe Nagi. The German knew the telekinetic lived in a church, but had no idea he was a child with doll-like looks. He did not even know the name. He did not ask. Crawford guessed Schuldich did not care very much whether they found a telekinetic or not, or even if they would get out of SS in the future. After over a year's partnership, Crawford had observed that the German's world was rather empty, and he was so far the only person he saw that was part of that world. Sometimes even Schuldich himself seem to be standing outside, looking in, so detached he was from himself. A telepaths' trait, maybe?

Sometimes Schuldich could be too much for him. It was not dependence like Jamie, worship like Glyn, or the suffocating pressure he felt from his parents, but sometimes, the way Schuldich looked at him prickled his skin. There was a fierce intensity behind those depths, some sort of animalistic hunger, a longing that Crawford first saw when they met in Hamburg, and it seemed to burn through him.

That longing was always there. And it frightened him, because he never knew what it was for.

A low, mechanical humming comes during Crawford's momentary pause, causing the two of men to turn. The precognitive gets up and pulls out the vibrating mobile phone from the inner pocket of the coat that is hanging from a hook on the door. He makes an educated guess to who it is on the other side.

"Nagi."

"Wrong." A voice replies in English, the Irish accent faint but still detectable. "No prize for you."

On the bed, Schuldich picks up the expression on the American's face, and does his best not to laugh. //It's Farfie, right?//

If Crawford's memory serves him right - and so far it has not failed - Farfarello had never called him before. A perfect reason for his mistake.

Farfarello does not wait for Crawford's reply. "Where are you?"

There is Japanese music coming from Farfarello's side. Nagi must be there too. "England. You?"

"We're still in Berlin." Nagi this time, his voice as gentle as ever. "In the hotel. I need the computer to get to your phone." He adds as an explanation, because they have a computer in the room. "You went to pick up Schu?"

Crawford nods despite knowing that Nagi and Farfarello cannot see him. If only this is a video-phone... but when Nagi set up this line, they did not think they would ever use it this way. "I didn't leave a note, sorry."

"That's okay, we've figured out what's going on. Actually, Farfarello did. I meant to call earlier, but he told me not to."

"He's getting smart." Crawford laughs, his voice slightly dry from all the talking today. From the other side, Farfarello laughs too. The two ex-Schwarz members may be speaking on a computer microphone, so both voices are picked up.

//There's a fine line between insanity and genius. Farfie's crossed that, I think.//

Crawford glances briefly at Schuldich, gesturing him to be quiet for a moment. He can only handle so many voices at the same time. "I've arranged the funeral. Next Monday, at noon."

Everyone pause. Reality dawns - Schuldich is dead. Then Farfarello speaks again. "I have a couple more days to drink, then."

"He's taken a liking to German beers, Crawford." Nagi explains, allowing amusement to seep through his voice. "Can you believe that? And architecture as well. He's dragging me to see all these places. We just came back from the Reichtag."

Farfarello, the one they used to put in a straitjacket, likes architecture? The two of them travelling around like tourists? That makes no sense to Crawford. They changed. Over the years, away from Schwarz, they had grown like young men were supposed to.

Is that pride he is feeling?

"My employer..." Nagi pauses. They all know who Nagi is working for now, and have no opinions about it. "He's giving me time off indefinitely. He knows what happened. He knows I expect myself to go back too, but not so soon. There's so much I missed the last four years. I'm taking my time to catch up with Farfarello now. " Nagi stops again, then adds, with a hint of hopefullness. "Maybe you should join us, Crawford. Farfarello's got so much to tell, and so have I..." He trails off.

"Come, Crawford, and teach Nagi to drink. He's twenty-one and he doesn't touch alcohol."

Crawford smiles at Farfarello's comment. Is Nagi twenty-one already? The concept is difficult to grasp, especially after talking to Schuldich not long ago about the thirteen years-old Nagi in Japan. "I'll see you two next Monday, then... We'll see."

"Okay... Crawford?"

"Yes?"

"... Please take care." Voice hesitant and laced with worry, Nagi is telling Crawford that he is not unaware of the impact of Schuldich's death has on him. "You were always the one to watch over me... things were crazy back then and we never said much... Gosh, I don't know what I was going to say. I'm not trying to return a favour but... you do know you can always call me."

This, coming from the boy who used to be so frightened of him, and once attemped killing him so that he could run away. "Thank you, Nagi... thank you." Crawford closes his eyes, savouring the moment. "You take care too. See you."

Crawford ends the call, almost sorry that he has cut off the radio waves that linked him and Nagi together. It is true that they did not talk much during their time in SS, and when they did, it was usually Crawford giving instructions or scolding the child. He brought Nagi into the SS, made him live with three psychotic - he considered themselves that - killers, and put his life in danger so many times. Crawford slapped him simply for looking for love; allowed Farfarello to hurt Tot despite his visions; left him on his own when his powers were out of control... Of all the people in Crawford's life, or at least those who are still alive, Nagi is the one with every reason to hate him. Yet, he -

//Getting nostalgic, Brad? Nags gotcha didn't he?//

Crawford stares at the small black and silver gadget in his hand for several moments, then finally puts it down. "He hated me."

//He loves you, you moron.//

Crawford stiffens.

//He hated you because you gave him no choice.// Laughter rings in the room. Schuldich gestures for Crawford to sit down again. //But he only needs to take one look at SS and Rosenkreuz to realise you already made the best choice for him. How can he hate you?//

Crawford's smile is almost bitter. "You know what I'm going to say."

//'Only fools believe in love'? That's why Nags didn't talk to you, you ridicule anything to do with love, even love for family and friends, but Nags so believes in it, man, just look at the way he looks at Tot. And he doesn't want you to call him an idiot.//

Schuldich crosses his arms behind his head and leans into the pillow, waiting for Crawford to digest his words. Crawford has always been slow when it comes to these things. It is not surprising though, love has always had a very low priority in his life. Or to be precise, there were so many other things that had priority over it. Like staying alive.

//Remember that time when we took Fujimiya Aya from the Schrient girls, and we left without him?//

Crawford nods. How can he forget? Nagi did not come home for three days, and when he did, he had Tot beside him, asking Schwarz to take her in. The look in his eyes said that he would not accept "no" for an answer, although Crawford had no idea what Nagi would do if she was rejected.

//He bluffed, that stupid kid. He already made his mind up to choose Schwarz over Tot.// Schuldich said with a grin. Back then, he chose not to tell Crawford what was on Nagi's mind and let things unfold themselves. It had been a correct decision. //He told me some emotional shit, something like we're his family, and a family's for life, he wouldn't let a girl ruin it all. He said you're like a big brother. But I think you're more like his daddy.//

Family? A family of an American, an Irish, a German and a Japanese? Nagi definitely has a sense of humour.

Yet, deep down, Crawford knows what Nagi meant. And he was ready to give up his first love for the twisted life his surrogate family provided.

"I'm like his dad?" Crawford repeats the words, pulling a face as he runs a hand through his black hair. "You have to be kidding."

//Yeah, I think you're his Bradley-daddy. Schwarz had definitely been his family...// Schuldich replies, his mind drifting off...

To Nagi, Schwarz had been his family.

To Schuldich, Schwarz had been the purpose of his life.

To Farfarello, Schwarz might had been his channel to internal peace.

What was Schwarz to Crawford? Not SS, not Rosenkreuz, but Schwarz? Had it been a cage? Had it been a burden? Had it been a regret? Schuldich never dared to ask.

Actually, why not ask? Schuldich shakes his head slightly, biting back a sigh. It has been so many years, he deserves the answer now, does he not? Yes, he will ask, when Crawford finishes his story. He will find a time to ask him.

Crawford's voice brings Schuldich focus back to the present again.

"We argued a lot over him." Crawford says, chuckling at the memory of himself and Schuldich disagreeing with each other just like...

//Like worried parents debating over which school to send their kid to and shit like that.//

"Rosenkreuz thought you and Farfarello would give me the most trouble, but it was definitely Nagi who had me on my toes."

//Yeah, who'd have imagined?//

It was a Monday when it all changed. Crawford was sure because he got home at around midnight that day, but Schuldich was still waiting for him to eat dinner together. They were eating Chinese when a vision came, without himself willing for one, and its shock and intensity made him choke on his egg fried rice.

The day prior, he had visited the Yokohama Penichua Church again, keeping the pressure up on Amamiya Kaoruko as he was instructed to. Amamiya's next killings were going to be Crawford's final job with the nun, since him and Schuldich had been assigned to be bodyguards to a politician SS had their eyes on.

He saw Naoe Nagi every time he entered that church, about twice a month for the six months since their first meeting. Over that time, the child's kitten had grown into a young cat, and Naoe himself had grown an inch taller and put on some weight, although he still looked a little sickly and on the thin side.

The conversations they had had almost always been one-way. The boy usually nodded or shook his head as an answer, with the occasional "yes" and "no" if Amamiya was present, as if to be more polite when the nun was watching. But after the third visit, Amamiya knew she had to leave the two alone, and Nagi had kept his silence since then.

Fear never left those large, blue eyes whenever they were laid on the American. It did not take Crawford long to understand that the boy was not afraid of him, but what he represented - that he was indeed abnormal. Before, the child could push the idea away, but with Crawford standing before him, there was no denying the truth anymore.

Crawford talked to Nagi during those meetings, just anything that came to mind that seemed okay to tell the child. Sometimes he found nothing to talk about and he would sit in the room to read the newspaper. By the sixth month, he had succeeded in sitting on Nagi's bed to read whilst the child sat closeby to read the pages, feeling safe enough to be near the man. Crawford was not sure if it was because of Amamiya's counselling finally had some effects, or if it was the child just realising that he was not going to hurt him. He made a mental note to speak to the nun about Nagi again.

"Can you understand all the words?" Skimming through the sports pages, Crawford found himself still struggling with specialist phrases and kanji that were not derived from Chinese.

Naoe Nagi nodded, pointing at the picture of a footballer at the centre of the page. The headline said 'Nakata Hidetoshi leaves for Europe'. "I want to do that."

Crawford paused at the sudden statement. It was the first time the boy freely offered information about himself in order to start a conversation. "You want to be a footballer?"

"No. I just want to play."

"I'm afraid I can't help you, I know nothing about football. I know some other sports though."

Silence.

"I'll come again next week. See you." Crawford folded his paper and left it with Nagi, knowing the child liked to read. As he stepped out of the tiny room, he teased his brain for a vision. A brunette would offer to teach Nagi sports, and then disappoint him. "Don't be too hopeful about anything tomorrow." He told Nagi.

The child tensed. He must have felt the flow of energy. Whatever there was between the two of them that enabled the child to try to start a conversation earlier dissolved, and the fright returned to the blue eyes.

Bad move? The child would have to accept his abnormality sooner or later, anyway. But even aided by his clairvoyance, Crawford never expected the acceptance would be a violent struggle, which was exactly how it turned out to be.

Schuldich had laughed right out loud when Crawford choked on the rice, but he did put his food down and patted the elder man hard on the back to help him breathe again.

Once the specks of rice found the right way down his throat, Crawford stood. "We're going out, now."

The German blinked up at him several times, then followed, keeping his questions down until they were in the car. "Something going on?"

"We're getting our telekinetic. It's now or never."

When they reached the church, Naoe Nagi's power had already ran loose. Crawford felt the ground vibrating slightly beneath his feet, as if there was a minor earthquake. The church's structure complained noisily, and several roof tiles were shaken loose, breaking apart when they fell. They had at most two minutes to extract the boy from the building, or his powers would cause it to collapse and the child definitely would not survive.

Four shadows ran out of the church through the front door. Crawford knew it was a group which went by the name "Weiß". SS had passed him a file on that organisation when he was at the headquatres, and warned of their possible intervention on their job with Amamiya. But Amamiya had seen her final job tonight, and SS did not care - or in fact, welcomed - Weiß to kill her.

There were also children and teenagers running out of the church from every door, some screaming, some crying. But it was the boy who still remained in the dangerous church that mattered.

As expected, Amamiya Kaoruko's corpse laid on the wooden floor, the front of her simple dress soaked in blood. At the corner stood Nagi, his power running out of control, creating a whirlwind that began from around the corpse.

The precognitive was stuck on what to do. He got here in time, but there was no way he could walk into the church without serious injuries.

"Leave it to me." Schuldich offered, taking a small step forward so that he was through the front door. He did not move, but after two years of partnership, Crawford knew the telepath was speaking to Nagi silently. After half a minute, the shaking ceased, and Nagi turned towards them, acknowledging their presence.

"Come, this building's not safe now."

Nagi did not move. It took Schuldich some more mental nudging to make him follow Crawford's words. Crawford almost sighed in relief, silently glad that Schuldich was there to help him out. He drove, Schuldich sat with Nagi at the back, the child soon falling asleep from exhaustion. It was an amazing sight, the German half cradling the Japanese boy. So, so beautiful it was surreal. It took much will for Crawford to keep his eyes on the road and not the mirror.

//Now I see why you're so taken by "the church telekinetic"// Schuldich smiled, brushing strands of hair away from Nagi's sleeping face.

Crawford knew better than to reply.

//And so, we brought home a bomb...// The German shakes his head, smiling.

Seeing unspoken words, Crawford gestures for him to continue.

//Why did you bring Nagi home and not send him straight to Rosenkreuz?//

Crawford takes a moment to dissect the question. Why? Because he wanted to get to know Nagi before Rosenkreuz could. But...

//Because you liked Nagi? Brad, the collector of good looking things.//

Of course that had to do with it. But there was something far greater than that. "Because I had a vision of him without trying for one." Crawford breathes out slowly. "Whenever that happens, what is foretold will dictate the rest of my life, and whoever else that is involved."

The German taps his lips with two fingers. //Mmm. So I can safely say that your fate is tied with those you have visions about.//

Crawford almost voiced his denial right away. He never believed in fate, even though he knows the future. Particularly because he can foretell the future. He can avoid accidents, he can take people by surprise, he can change the outcome of events... Fate? What fate?

Then, was it fate that Schuldich had to die?

The blinding pain and shock he felt when that uncalled for vision of an aeroplane exploding mid-air are still so vivid now. And he simply cancelled his own upcoming flights, without even suspecting that it was that explosion that would kill the German. He had been warned. In fact, he had had so many chances to prevent that death, but in the end, he was the one who caused it by telling Schuldich to get out of his life.

Had that been fate? If it had, was that vision evidence that he would fail Schuldich and that failure would cost the German his life?

Why had he never, ever learned from his mistakes?

"Brad... You never loved me did you?" Jamie's desperate plea, shaking fingers digging into his arms... his last question... knowing the answer, but still hoping beyond hope.

Why does his own selfishness always stabs back at him?

"What have I done wrong, Crawford? ... Give me one reason why you hate me so much."

Oh Gods, no, he had never hated Schuldich. Not even during their most heated arguements or coldest silent wars, hate had never been his feeling for the German. He could be shaking with rage, so angry that when Schuldich dared him to lash out, he almost did, but he had always valued the man and recognised his importance. It was just that, after SS, he no longer wanted anyone or anything to remind him of the eight years as SS' puppet, or of the expectations from his parents he had to live up to after Jamie and Harriet died. He did not want anyone to look up to or depend on him anymore. It was too much.

Schuldich's devotion, in particular, was too much. Crawford did not want, and did not feel he deserved, that devotion any longer. So he ran away like a coward after that final battle with SS, trying to forget the one man who trusted him from day one.

And by running away, he killed Schuldich, who he told himself to never hurt, having learned the lesson the hard way with Jamie.

He killed him, the only person in this world who never judged or asked for anything from him.

He killed him. He killed...

That cursed headache is returning.

//Brad?// Schuldich draws closer when Crawford pulls his knees up and buries his face in them, arms and hands holding his head. //You tired?//

The German can hear the way the other man consciously controlling his breathing and then after a while, Crawford mutters a reply, not trusting his own voice. //My head.//

Crawford only gets headaches when... Pulling himself closer, Schuldich tries to recall if it can be anything he just said that is causing this. But no, Crawford is not an emotional person, there has to be something else, something he had been holding back since the day he found him in this Liverpool hotel, and this "something else" is trying to break through the dam Crawford has created for it and is now struggling to repair.

Schuldich thinks he can remember what warmth feels like now, as he lays his face on the back of Crawford's neck and winds his arms around the man. He can remember what it feels like to be alive, the feeling of touch, of gentle breathing, of having a trembling person in his arms, of fear, of regret, of trembling, of wanting to cry but having no tears for it...

Schuldich bites his lower lip, suddenly aware that he is catching Crawford's feelings and emotions as the usual barrier between them is dropped unconsicouly by the older man. Schuldich accepts it, sharing his own calmness and helping his companion carry that overwhelming rush of pain.

Whatever had caused this moment to happen ceases to matter.

All that matters is that, for this moment, their feelings and emotions merge until there is no beginning or end, and two become one.

Schuldich allows himself a small smile when he realises that this is infinitely more intimate than making love.

[to be continued]

Author's note: Crawford and Schuldich were good friends - does that idea irk anyone? It's their early years though, and it's going to change. Crawford will become more "anime Crawford-like", Schuldich will become wilder... there will be things to cause that change, and things that result from that change.

Crawford finds Nagi in the year 1998 in this fic. This means their ages are slightly out from the anime settings. But then again, the Weiss members stay at the same age all the way through the two animes and all the dramas... so everything is just a rough estimate I guess. Nakata Hidetoshi is a famous Japanese footballer who went to play for AC Perugia and is now playing for Parma AC ^^ (excuse me, I won't call myself a football fan but I do like watching it)

And before anyone begins to worry: no, the end of this fic won't be "Crawford imagined Schuldich's ghost because he feels guilty". Schuldich does exist. I would never, ever write that guilty imagination thing, so don't you worry about that at all.