::sighs:: This part would've been out a couple of days ago, except that an RSI flare-up in my wrist means I'm stuck typing much slower than usual. (It's either that or break out the painkillers, which I refuse to do.) Many, many thanks to everyone who reviewed! I've got a couple of comments in response to some of the reviews, other than big huggles which are dispensed to all the wonderful people who said they wanted more of this fic. ^_^
random person: actually, I put a lot of thought behind picking
Rammstein as a band Schuldig would like. I did read the translations of the
lyrics ages ago - it's part of the reason I like them so much, and also why I
think Schuldig would like them. He's a German in Japan, which I would imagine
means some part of him feels alien so he'd want something to make him feel more
at home in a strange land - but, being Schuldig, he wouldn't be patriotic in any
sense of the term. Rammstein fits the bill perfectly - they sing in German, but
they'd hardly appeal to the majority of Germans. ^_^
Li: ::wince:: Yes, I know I haven't updated in 4, nearly 5 months. Well,
we have stronger bits of Schu+Yohji in this part, so I hope that lets me off the
hook a little. . . . The reason for not updating is my laziness, exams, my
laziness, joint problems, my laziness, a social life, and my laziness. .
Sorry!
I'm sure there were more people than that I wanted to leave comments for, but FF.N is being a bugger and won't let me onto the reviews page to check. So, sorry! Please know that all your comments are most appreciated (and ego-fattening)! ^_^
Warnings: language, some angst, some humour, some Schuldig OOC in this
part (heh, he goes genki ^_^), but it's with good reason!
Pairings: Schuldig/Yohji (I'm getting there, okay?)
Summary: Schuldig's POV as he copes with life after Schwarz and Estet. And then Yohji finds him, and things get interesting.
Archive: my site, The Temple of Lunacy http:// lunatic.deep-ice.com
Disclaimer: I like denial. They're all mine.
As always, dedicated to Karen from KanaDUH. ^_^ And to the parasite, or squirmy, or whatever. :P
Healing
by Anria
Part 4
The next morning I wake to a feeling of unusual warmth.
Moving a little closer to the source of this warmth - not snuggling, I do not snuggle - I drowsily realise that I can't be in my little shithole, because that's never warm in the fucking morning. Must've fallen asleep on the couch at Kudou's place.
That just proves to be far too much for my not-awake mind to cope with, and I mentally shrug my shoulders, loosening my hold on the rational thought I sometimes employ when awake. I burrow deeper down into the source of the warmth, shifting until I get into a comfortable position where our hips aren't knocking together and my shoulder isn't digging into his chest. In response to my wriggling, his arm twitches, fingers brushing my wrist-
Oh. Fuck.
My eyes shoot open, and I stare at the ceiling for a long, shocked minute. Yohji has a nice ceiling, I think semi-hysterically. Someone had painted it, not wallpapered it, the paint swirled into circles and waves while it was still wet to create an interesting pattern to be staring up at.
Yohji sighs a little in his sleep and shifts, his fingers sliding along the back of my hand.
I stiffen, squinting my eyes shut against the horrible, intense pain that I know is going to come any second now-
Any second now. . . .
Feeling more than a little silly, I open one eye and peer down the length of my body. Yup, Kudou's bare fingers are quite definitely resting on my bare skin - and I don't feel a thing.
. . . okay, Schuldig, hyperventilating is a bad thing.
Nothing's happening. Why the fuck is nothing happening?
Since contact with Yohji obviously isn't going to harm me in any way right now, I relax into his body, relishing the warmth of the first human body-on-body and skin-on-skin contact I've had in months. I don't know how long this lull is going to last, so I'm going to take full advantage of it while I try to figure out what the fuck is going on.
My thoughts are driven far away from coherence by the simple sensation of him, though. I can't think of anything but how this feels - it's been so long. . . .
So long since I've touched anyone.
His chest rises and falls in time with his breathing, moving gently against my back. I don't think I've ever slept with someone behind me before, and the sensation is a little unusual. One of his arms is thrown casually over my stomach, the tips of his fingers resting lightly on the fabric of my shirt. That one simple touch seems to burn into me, making me hyperaware of everywhere our bodies touch.
His breath stirs the hair on my neck, his head tucked down so his face is pressed into my hair. He's only a couple of inches taller than me, so that's got to be straining his neck. But I don't want him to move. I don't want to disturb this strange peace that lies over us, and not just because I might lose the fragile connection that keeps his mind from blasting into mine. He's warm, and despite the lack of padding on his bones he's soft, and the way he's curled up around me with his chest pressed to my back and his arms cradling me like I mean something - I don't want to lose that. I shut my eyes and melt into him, and allow myself to pretend for a little while that I'm someone else and he's someone else and we're somewhere far, far away from here, and-
-and there's an ache in my chest that tells me I really don't want to be far away from here. I press back in Yohji more firmly, wishing that his arms would slip around me and hold me to him so I could feel like this feeling of safety was meant for me. And being disgusted with myself for it - since when do I need anybody? Since when do I need to feel 'safe'? It's got to be a hold-over from the alcohol I drank last night. Got to be.
But the ache in my chest won't go away.
Yohji twists and stirs, his muscles tensing as he stretches, shattering the fragile illusion I built up around the two of us. I sit up like a shot, suddenly terrified that he'll wake up and feel me relaxed against him and - and - and I don't know, okay! But whatever it is my subconscious is feeling fit not to share with me, it scares the shit out of me.
He yawns widely and blinks his eyes open, seeing me sitting beside him. He smiles faintly before closing his eyes again, apparently content to fall straight back asleep.
Fuck that. If I'm gonna be awake and panicking, Kudou, so are you.
His fingers are still resting on my hand, so I carefully twist my wrist to capture the long, slender digits in mine, in essence holding hands with him. "Kudou, wake up," I command him.
"What for?" he murmurs, fingers twitching in my grip. A slight frown creases between his brows. "Doesn't feel like leather. You got new gloves?" he asks drowsily.
"I'm not wearing gloves."
Yohji cracks one eye open, scowling at me. "Don't be bloody ridiculous, Schu," he says, and shuts his eye again.
Oh, that does it.
I snarl and grab a handful of his hair, yanking his head up and shoving our conjoined hands in front of him.
"OW! Schu, what the fuck-" he abruptly cuts off, staring at what I've shoved into his line of vision.
I let go of his hair, anger draining from me suddenly. His head thuds back onto the couch, his eyes staring at where my bare hand is clutching his. Slowly, he looks from that to me, and I can see the shock, amazement, and question written all over his face.
"I don't fucking know," I say. "I woke up, and we were touching. I don't know why. . . ." I trail off. I don't know why my head - our heads - haven't exploded with pain yet. I don't know why my shields are still up. I don't know anything.
Kudou wets his lips nervously. I stare at the flickering tip of his tongue, suddenly unable to tear my eyes away. I find myself wondering if this strange lull will hold out long enough for me to kiss him, to find out if his mouth tastes as sweet as I think it does. I wonder if he would reciprocate, or shove me away.
"Do you . . . are your shields still up?" Yohji asks nervously.
Without looking at him, I nod.
His fingers close around mine, and I see him sit up out of the corner of my eye.
"Schuldig."
His voice is firmer now, commanding. I look at him without thinking about it - sodding Crawford, drilling these bloody responses into me - and he looks serious, but not anywhere near as nervous as before.
"This is probably a really stupid question, but . . . are you still a telepath? Do you still have your talent?"
My brows snap together and I scowl at him. "You're right, Kudou, that is a bloody stupid question," I say.
He grins at me, unrepentant. "Just checking," he says merrily, and I can feel the rising tide of joy in him, and I start to grin back-
Wait.
Wait just one frickin' minute.
I can feel him? I can hear his thoughts?
When the hell did that happen?
I suddenly realise I could feel his thoughts all along. The realisation terrifies me, because now I stop to think about it - I can't feel anyone else. Just him. His thoughts and emotions have been affecting me all along - but I can't feel anyone else's. Just his. Which has never happened before.
Except. . . .
When I've had my shields up before and someone's touched me, for a few moments all I can feel is them. It knocks me out shortly after that, and when I wake up my shields are down so everyone's thoughts pound down into my head - but for a moment before I pass out, all I can feel is the mind of the person who touched me.
Kudou and I had touched while we were asleep, so maybe . . . maybe the force of his sleeping mind was strong enough to get through my shields, but not strong enough to knock them down.
I close my eyes so I don't have the distraction of Kudou's face in front of me, force the terror laced through my thoughts aside, and start poking around inside my head.
And there it is.
A single, slender cord connecting my mind to Kudou's.
It doesn't go over the shield, or under it, or around it. It wouldn't be able to. Instead, it goes straight through it, the shield sealing itself around the edges of that one slim, strong mental connection.
Of course. Why didn't I think of that before? Punch a hole in the shield, secure a connection, then seal the shield straight back up again, around the connection. The connection holds and I don't go to La-La-Land.
Opening my eyes, I smirk at Kudou. I can't help it. He stares at me like I've gone insane, and his eyes widen when I very, very slowly release his fingers and pull my hand away. I'm taking a chance here, because I don't know if it will work or not - it should work, but nothing is certain.
Aha! Yes!
Grinning like a madman I jump to my feet before Yohji's incredulous eyes, then grab his face and plant a big smacker right on his lips. Too elated to consider turning it into anything else, I whoop and jump away, dancing in circles around Yohji's apartment.
"What's got you so happy?" Yohji says, sounding amused. He stands up by the couch, arms crossed over his chest.
Without thinking about it, I send my response along the slender thread connecting us through my shield. [That I can do THIS!] I yell into his head. [WOOHOO!]
"And," I say, skidding to a stop in front of him, "that I can do this!" And I grab his hands in mine and drag him into an energetic dance, skidding around his apartment and still grinning like a madman, relishing the feel of his fingers in mine. Yohji's laughing, letting himself be twirled around without resistance.
Suddenly he stops, and I damn near trip over my own feet as he yanks on my arms to halt my momentum. "Schu, what the hell is going on?" he demands, flipping from being caught up in my enthusiastic joy to seriousness fast enough to leave my head spinning.
"I don't know why I didn't think of it before," I tell him excitedly. "I can make a connection to someone's mind without having to drop my shields - I just need to punch it through them! The shields seal up around the edges, which leaves me with a perfectly strong connection to someone - like you-" I grin, waving our combined hands at him, "-but doesn't inflict me with the thoughts of everyone else in the goddamn area! So now I can touch people as much as I like!" Leaning backwards, I let out a loud whoop and spin away from Yohji, dancing in circles.
"So how did this happen?" Yohji asks, leaning against the wall with a bemused expression on his face.
I stop and grin at him. "I think we must have started touching sometime during last night, when we were both asleep," I tell him. "Your mind didn't have the full force it does when awake in it, so the contact was strong enough to punch through my shields and establish a connection, but not enough to knock 'em down."
A slow smile spreads over Yohji's face, crinkling the corners of his eyes. Damn, he's pretty. "That's great," he says.
I grin. "I know," I say, and wander into his kitchen to grab a beer. Too early in the morning for hard liquor - although I catch sight of a clock which says it's four in the afternoon. I shrug to myself, opening the fridge - that's early in the morning for me. Night shift'll screw your body clock up.
When I straighten up again, Yohji's standing not more than a foot from me and frowning. Yesterday I would have been startled at his sudden appearance - the guy makes no goddamn sound - but now I hide my grin behind the can. I knew he was there. The newfound control I have gives me a feeling of power - a power I've never felt before. The power to control both my own thoughts, and my own 'talent' at the same time.
"Schu, do you know how to make the connection?" Yohji asks me. "I mean, you can't exactly wait until you both fall asleep before you shake someone's hand," he adds reasonably.
I scowl at him, the feeling of power abruptly vanishing. "Thanks for raining on the parade," I say sarcastically, slamming the fridge door shut and making my way back into the living room.
Yohji winces and follows me into the room. "Just making sure you got all your bases covered," he murmurs, choosing to lean against the wall rather than sit down. Yohji likes leaning against things, I've noticed. I think it's because it puts him in the perfect position to advertise - with his shoulders against the wall he somehow finds it damn near impossible and apparently very uncomfortable to put his hips in line with them. This leaves him in a position which is entirely natural to him but shows him off to the greatest effect - broad shoulders outlined on the wall, muscled arms crossed over his chest, long legs sloping down to the floor and hips thrust forwards just enough to be noticeable.
It really is a very nice view.
I sigh and slam the can down onto the coffee table, flopping onto the couch. "I know how it works in principle," I say. "Just haven't tried it while I'm awake yet."
"You wanna try it now?" Yohji asks, his eyes slits that watch me cautiously.
No.
"Sure," I say, shrugging lightly to push back the rising concern. I really don't want to lose this connection, but if I don't drop it now and try to replace it, I'll never know for sure if my idea was right or if it was just a fluke.
I really hope it wasn't just a fluke.
Yohji walks over and drops bonelessly into the armchair, then smirks at me. Yeah, you can look smug all you want, you bastard - you're not the one who's gonna have to do the work.
"Do your thing," Yohji says, his lazy drawl turning the words into an innuendo. Okay, that and my perverted mind at work.
Shoving inappropriate thoughts aside - inappropriate? What the fuck? Now I know I'm mellowing - I frown and close my eyes, concentrating on the connection between us. I bite the inside of my lip, fighting with myself. I really don't want to lose this connection. Not now.
Not ever.
That decides it.
I sever the connection in a split second, not giving myself time to think about it, then take a deep breath and watch the shield seal the place the connection took up. I don't need to prod it any more - I think I've managed to ingrain the habit of automatically mending the shield whenever it gets slightly damaged into my subconscious now.
Thank fuck.
I force my impatience back and make myself wait until the shield is fully healed. It takes an effort of will I'm proud of myself for - patience is not my strong suit. Nor is waiting until things are fully healed.
Okay, focus. I select a different part of the shield, and try bludgeoning it with the full force of my mind. It creaks a little - metaphorically, of course - but remains firm.
I pause, puzzled, then roll my eyes, realising the truth. Of course it would hold up against a full-frontal attack of a telepath of my calibre - that's what it was meant for, after all. Whether that attack came from the inside or the outside was irrelevant. Unless amplified by touch, which meant it got a metaphorical foot in the door, nothing would knock it down.
So what the fuck do I do now?
I scowl at my shield, which is rapidly becoming a pain in the ass. I knew I shouldn't have severed the connection. Now I'll never get it back.
That thought brings a deep sense of unease with it, which I ignore, focusing on the problem at hand. Or at head. Or something.
Pushing more random thoughts out of my head, I take a deep breath and start again.
Oh, for fuck's sake!
I scowl at my can of beer. Actually, I've been scowling at it for the past half an hour, so it really doesn't make much difference. That just makes me scowl harder.
How fucking difficult can it be to knock one tiny fucking hole in my goddamn fucking shield?! I built the damn thing, I should know how to knock it down!
Well, that's the problem, actually. I do know how to knock it down - but I only know how to knock it all down. The manual doesn't come with instructions for destruction on a minute scale.
A hand reaches into my line of vision, removes the beer can, and replaces it with a tall glass of what looks (and smells) like whiskey.
Yohji's careful not to touch my fingers as he replaces the can.
I sigh, my anger suddenly gone, leaving me feeling wonderfully depressed. His hand settles on my shoulder, and he murmurs, "You'll get the hang of it eventually. You did it once, you can do it again."
I snort, and down half the glass.
And promptly go into a coughing fit.
Still hacking, I manage to dump the glass on the table and choke out, "Good kick."
Yohji settles next to me, and I can almost feel his smirk. "Like it? Thought you'd appreciate something that burned a bit more than the usual crap."
Déjà vu hits me like a ton of bricks, leaving me slightly dizzy. Okay, so being hit with a ton of bricks would make you more than slightly dizzy - if you were left alive at all - but we're talking metaphors here, so they don't have as much weight as the real thing.
He grins at my incredulous expression when I turn to him. "Yup, that's the stuff you gave me the first night at the bar," he says, nodding towards the glass. "Thought I'd repay the favour."
I roll my eyes at him. "You didn't hack up your lungs when you took a drink of it."
He wags his finger just under my nose. "I had a shot glass," he says, smirking. "I wasn't stupid enough to down half a normal glass of the stuff in one go."
"Who was the one who gave you the shot glass?" I ask pointedly.
"Who was the one who was following bar instructions?" he shoots straight back.
I wince. "Touché," I say.
"Speaking of the bar. . . ." Kudou peers back over his shoulder, craning his neck to look at the clock on the stereo. "Isn't it about time for you to start work?"
My head whips around to stare at the clock. "Holy fuck," I blurt, jumping to my feet and diving for my shoes. "Kudou, you're driving me or I'm hotwiring your car!"
"Me?" I can hear his innocent expression. Come on, Yohji, don't try that shit on me - I know you better than that. "What have I got to do with you being late for work?"
"Everything! It was your goddamn idea!"
"What was?"
"Everything! Now get your sodding coat before I'm late and get kicked out on my ass!"
Yohji just chuckles and gets his sodding coat.
[End Part 4]
Comments?
Ooh, can I do a random plug here? I recently opened my new fic rec site, Don't blame the messenger, so I was wondering if any of you lovely people would like to go visit? The URL is http:// anria.deep-ice.com/rec/ . No need for a www. ^_^ See ya!
