Aya awoke slowly, to the feeling of someone gently running their fingers through his hair. He couldn't remember exactly where he was, or how long he'd been here, but, although this place felt unfamiliar and strange, he didn't believe he was in danger. He felt safe, warm, and protected. He forced his eyes open, fighting through the muzzy, light-headed feeling that threatened to consume him. It would be so much easier to give in to that feeling, to go back to sleep, instead of opening his eyes and facing whatever reality might be waiting for him. He was vaguely, dimly aware of aches and pains running throughout his body: the wounds on his back, which had become infected and re-opened so many times they hadn't had any chance to heal; the gunshot wound he had received in his escape from Kritiker, which still felt like it had only happened yesterday; the injuries he'd received in this latest set-to with Schuldich. He wasn't positive, but it felt like there were some broken bones --- ribs, almost certainly, and, maybe, a collarbone, and dislocated shoulder. All in all, his body was one, sore, festering, throbbing ache --- all the more reason to retreat back into the safety of knowing and feeling nothing, which the blackness offered him.
So much had happened in the past few weeks, and his memories tumbled over each other. They spun around in his mind, until everything ran together to create one long, unbroken string, and he wasn't able to separate one event from another. But, no matter how faulty his memory might be, no matter how muddled his thoughts, he knew for sure he wasn't at home, and, if he wasn't in familiar surroundings, the feelings of safety and protection had to be illusions. His mind, fuzzy as it was, told him that with enough clarity to make him realize he had to open his eyes, no matter how much he wanted to retreat.
He forced himself to the surface of consciousness, forced his eyes to open, only to see a hazy shape leaning over him. Aya expected it to be Yohji. He wasn't sure, but it seemed, somehow, that things had been that way for some time now --- he would wake up in some strange place to see the tall blonde leaning over him, peering down at him with green eyes camouflaged behind dark sunglasses that, even so, couldn't hide the worry and fear. Somehow, it seemed right, things being that way. It was status quo the way the world should be. He had told himself he didn't want anyone to come. He had told himself that, especially, he didn't want Yohji to come for him. But, inside, he had continued to hope. He hated himself for it, but he had continued to hope Yohji would come, because Yohji was his friend, the one person in the world on whom he believed he could count. On some level, he knew the rest of the team would be there for him, too. Somehow, he had always known it, even if he didn't want to. But, when everything in his life turned to shit, Yohji was the one who picked up the pieces. Yohji was the one who was always there. Yohji was the one who made everything all right, the one who made him feel safe, no matter how badly things were going. Aya struggled to focus, until, finally, as expected, a pair of eyes swam into view --- not familiar, jade green ones, but hard, crazed, rage-filled golden-brown eyes the eyes of an enemy, not a trusted friend.
"About time for you to wake up, Precious."
The sneering, condescending voice, with just a hint of German accent, shocked Aya awake. The fuzzy bits of memory fell decisively, irrevocably, into place in his mind, and the sinking feeling of despair settled into his soul as he remembered where he was. The hatred and rage he heard in Schuldich's voice, so contradictory to the gentle stroking of his hair and the feeling of safety and protection enveloping him, caused fear to surge through him. He tried to fight it back, but it overtook his mind with enough strength that he attempted to jerk into an upright position, only to fall back into Schuldich's supporting arms as a wave of dizziness overtook him. Suddenly, he knew, beyond a doubt, that he wasn't safe. He remembered now. He was in a cold, drafty warehouse, concrete and metal as far as the eye could see. He could hear the wind creaking and pushing as it rattled and shook at the metal walls around him, and, each day, Schuldich would come here to taunt him and probe his mind, seeking any possible feelings of loneliness, fear, or despair. The German seemed to feed off of it. At first, Aya had been able to fight Schuldich off, but, in recent days, it had become more and more difficult. Aya knew he was breaking.
He didn't remember how long he had been here. Maybe forever but, in the end, it didn't even matter. All that mattered was that he was here. He was Schuldich's prisoner. He was at the crazy German's mercy. As always, Aya fought against the fear, despair, and hopelessness welling up inside of him. He didn't want to give Schuldich any footholds over him, but, this time he couldn't stop it. He couldn't hold the emotions back any longer. He was alone. He was exhausted. He was hurting. He was scared. And, try as he might, he couldn't hide those feelings; he couldn't choke them down, even though he desperately wanted to. Instead, he gave in to them, letting them wash over him like the ocean tide, until he felt as if he was drowning. He knew Schuldich could feel the emotions that crashed around his mind. The German could hear them just as easily as if he was talking to someone over a phone. But, he didn't care. He was just too tired to care any longer.
"It's all right, Precious," Schuldich soothed, "Just give in. Give in to the despair and fear."
As dizziness overcame him, forcing him to fall back into Schuldich's embrace, the German's arms tightened around him. He tried to pull away, but he couldn't escape as Schuldich pulled him close.
"It'll all be over soon, Precious. I know you're feeling abandoned right now, but they're coming for you. Maybe not all of them, but the golden kitty is coming. I can feel it. Soon, very soon," Schuldich whispered. He leaned close to Aya, allowing his lips to linger at the edge of the redhead's ear. "Perhaps, when this is over, and your little playmate is dead when you have nothing left to live for maybe, then, I'll just keep you for myself. You're really pretty Precious, especially when you're like this when you're helpless and full of despair. So very, very pretty."
Aya didn't bother responding. At the moment, he was too weak and tired to defend himself. Schuldich had already camped out in his head, so it didn't matter, anyhow. The German was irrevocably ensconced there, and, even if Yohji was coming, as the crazy bastard said, even if the blonde, somehow, managed a rescue, Aya knew he'd continue hearing Schuldich's voice whispering in his mind, telling him everything was hopeless, telling him he'd never escape, telling him he was the German's possession. He'd hear that voice for the rest of his life, in every sleeping or waking moment he had. Schuldich smiled as he felt the redhead finally give in to the despair, as he felt Aya give in to him. He knew he had finally won. Whether he managed to kill any of Weiss or not, he had utterly and totally defeated the proud redhead who was their leader.
"It won't be much longer, Precious. I promise," Schuldich whispered, as he gently laid Aya back against the cold, metal wall. He rose and silently walked away without a second glance back at his prey.
Aya leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. For the first time, he realized his hands, which had previously been bound behind his back, were now tied in front of him. It would have given him the perfect opportunity to attack Schuldich, yet, he hadn't even thought about it. That was when he knew, with unerring certainty, the German had won. He was Schuldich's creature now, whether anyone came for him or not. Aya tried to hold back the fear and frustration that had been eating at him ever since Schuldich had taken him, but he couldn't, no more than he had been able to in front of the red-haired Schwarz. Finally, he gave in to it completely, and let sobs wrack his body until darkness claimed him once more.
