A/N: Well… thanks for the response mina-san ^^ So far so good I suppose? Well for a first WK fic anyway…the way I work, all chapters are subject to latter revision. However, the actual plot is never tampered with. You don't need to go back and re-read a chapter I've change if you don't want to. Generally, I add internal monologues and revise for spelling and consistency. If an idea pops into my head latter that I like, I go back and add it… but it never changes the actual plot of the story.

Thanks to the reviewers:

Riisha: Omi on top of Ken huh? … You totally read my mind ~_^ …Glad I somehow gave you an idea to use in your own work; makes me feel productive.

Sakusha: I'm glad you like my continuation ^_^ I'm gonna keep writing it until I'm satisfied with the outcome. I hope you will be too.

Tweety: Glad you like my writing style ^_^ I'll definitely be doing everything in my power to salvage Omi and Ken's relationship…

So I give you the next chapter….

Disclaimer: I do not claim any rights to "Weiss Kreuz Gluhen" or any of the characters there in. The plot (if you can call it that) is entirely my design.

Warnings: Expect angst, mild violence, the use of colorful language, sexual content (yaoi/limeish), lovers quarrels, and Omi acting like a Takatori for a while (can't be helped).

(*~*~*~*~*~* - Signals end of flash back)

"Absolution" ~ Prologue Part 2

[A/N: opening flash back Omi POV set after the death of Kase in season 1]

The rain pinged off streetlights and poured out of gutters, sparkling in the light of the full moon like silver tears. Alone, huddled under a small red umbrella, I braved the stormy streets. Desperately searching for any sign of Ken.

Aya and Ken had one of their trademark spats that morning. Then, the hot-tempered teen ran off to go work with a local peewee-soccer team he'd been coaching. Nothing out of the ordinary really. Only when it was time for our afternoon shift, he didn't come back. I figured he wouldn't want to see Aya, so I swapped shifts to avoid anymore eruptions from the two. But I closed the flower shop on my own.

Dinner was eerily quiet. I prepared Ken's favorite, homemade beef and vegetable ramen. I even delayed the meal for two hours in hopes he would come home and join us.

We finally ate when Yoji started to complain that his stomach was about to implode.

The only sound throughout the meal was the silverware scraping cheap porcelain. Aya hardly ate at all, and Yoji just kept looking at the door, picking at the cold noodles and sighing. The whole scene made me think that they knew something I didn't.

Long after those two went to bed, I stayed awake on the sofa, watching infomercials, waiting. My eyes transfixed on the stairs, convinced that any second, Ken would walk through the door with some crazy story about how he got really lost coming home somehow.

The midnight hour approached without so much as a sound from the rest of the house.

Then the storm came.

Rain pounded the windows of the small apartment as the thunderstorm raged outside. My concern increased by the second. Where the heck was he? Ken had a knack for disappearing after feuding with Aya, but he always came home after a few hours. Not to mention he missed a MEAL.

We're BOYS. We're like dogs. We always come home when we know there's going to be FOOD.

Frustrated, I grabbed the remote, clicked off the TV, and resolved to go out and find the brunette on my own. Knowing Aya would worry; I scribbled a note and posted it on the fridge. Again… guys … food… he'd find it easily.

Wandering around the dark city streets, the rain soaked through my shoes and into my socks, which made walking uncomfortable. I'd been everywhere and anywhere Ken might have gone to be alone and no luck.

I could hear Aya's voice in my head, lecturing me about how ridiculous it was to go wondering out in the rain. Every bone in my body ached, reminding me that I had cram school tomorrow and I should be in bed. I began to wonder if my friend had already gone home, and was wondering where I had gone. I hope I haven't made anyone worry.

I was ready to give up when the high stadium lights around the fields in the park caught my eye.

Now only some insane person with no regard for his own well being would be sitting in the park on a night like this. Thus, it was a possibility that Ken was still running around the field kicking a soccer ball. If nothing else I'd just be taking the scenic route home and the trees would help keep some of the rain off.

The wind picked up a bit and the branches along the path began whipping around violently. I tightened my grip on the umbrella as Mother Nature threatened to whisk it away. But physical strength had never been my strong suit and I lost my battle with the wind. The red umbrella flew from my hands right into the high branches of an oak tree. I stared up at the lost object in disbelief, letting the raindrops splatter on my face.

Now I had nothing to shelter Ken (if I should find him) or myself.

The rain began to come down in sheets and I took off running in the direction of the house. The winding path led me past the soccer field, and I stopped briefly, just on the chance he was still there.

My heart lurched as I noticed a dark figure seated on the bottom row of aluminum bleachers. Mission accomplished.

"Ken-kun! Ken-kuuuuun!!" I called, racing down a muddy hill and doing my best not to fall on the slippery grass. I knew it was Ken. It had to be! The way the figure sat, the hair, the clothes, it HAD to be him.

So why didn't he look over or answer when I called him?

Gasping for air, I stopped about a yard away and starred at an unresponsive Ken. Chocolate hair soaked and dripping, the young lad sat with a completely deflated soccer ball on the ground between his feet. Clothes soaked so they clung like a second skin; the boy just gazed down at his upturned palms, lifelessly.

Something was REALLY wrong.

"Ken-kun?" I whispered, voice raspy from lack of sleep and a dry throat. My heart was pounding out of my chest from the sprint. The beating echoed in my ears like a drum.

Ken remained like a statue, frozen in the rain; examining his hands. I approached slowly, placing a light touch on the boy's shoulder. It felt like if a touched him, he would crumble beneath my fingers.

The dark haired youth winced as the spell he was under seemed to break and he quickly turned and gazed up at me, wide-eyed.

"Omitchi? Why are you here?"

What a question! Why AM I here? I spent the whole night worried to the point where I thought I was going to vomit at any moment. I wanted to see him so badly. To know that he was ok!

"Ken its 1am! You've been gone fourteen hours!" My throat ached as I tried to get through to him. I mean, wasn't it obvious why I was there? I'm human. I care. I was worried about my best friend!

"My hands…they won't stop shaking." He replied, and looked back down at his damp upturned palms that seemed to glow a ghostly white under the artificial light.

Everything about his demeanor made him seem so far away. Almost like a lost child.

"Ken-kun." I knelt down on the muddy grass and reached up to wipe the slick hair from Ken's forehead.

"I just can't go back I can't stop shaking…"

The heat of his brow sent shivers down my arm. "Ken-kun you're burning up!"

"I just need … someone….Omi?"

His voice cracked as he finally looked at me. I mean really looked at me, almost as if those deep brown orbs saw right through me. Breath stuck in my throat and water dripped from my bangs to obscure my vision, I jerked back in surprise.

But Ken reached out abruptly, grabbing my arm.

" Don't go… please? I just need….."

Completely perplexed, I looked down at the bronzed hand that desperately clung to my left arm. His hold loosened and abruptly released me.

The thunder roared across the sky and the wind began to pick up again.

" Let's go home, Ken-kun. Please?"

I approached him again, only this time I lost my balance on the wet field and fell face forward.

Expecting to slam face first into the mud, my body went ridged. Only, strong arms suddenly wrapped around me and I was nestled against soaked cloth.

I fell, right into Ken's chest.

"Gomen nasai. Arrigato." I stammered as I tried to stand again. But his arms squeezed tighter until it hurt like I couldn't breathe.

Ken seemed to choke back tears.

"I just need some one to hold on to…Damn it……"

Once my initial surprise passed, the only thing I could do was sigh and give in. I wrapped my slender arms around his back and let one hand drift to run through the matted mass of wet hair. His body shivered as tears mixed with raindrops.

Sometimes I wonder if when it seems like we can't just breakdown and let everything out, the sky cries for us.

* ~*~*~* ~*

Mamoru Takatori awoke from the dream panting and dripping with sweat. Shaking hands quickly fumbled for a small orange bottle on the nightstand, knocking over the lamp and alarm clock. Popping off the cap he quickly pulled out two purple and yellow pills and swallowed them hard.

Too late: The headache had already begun to clamp down like a vice on his brain.

For almost six months now, he'd suffered from attacks, usually following nightmares. Ever since he and his grandfather had begun disagreeing on the selection of new Weiss members. The debate between family brought back painful memories of a past he couldn't seem to forget.

'I wanted a life where I wouldn't have to kill. But now I'm just stuck pulling the strings.'

Kritiker needs Weiss. The four-person assassin group had been the organization's backbone since its creation. Although the Crashers were always available; Saijo [1] was adamant about re-forming the group and a data base of candidates had been set up. Some of the would-be assassins were barely thirteen. Thirteen! It had been difficult enough for Mamuro to send Sena into the battlefield and watch the teen suffer. Perhaps he chose the young boy because he saw some of the old Omi Tsukiyono in him.

In the end, he felt responsible for Sena's demise. He of all people should know better than to pin a young boy against his parent. At first, all he wanted to do was please his grandfather, an old man who was practically on his deathbed. So he eventually fell into his role. Becoming the new Persia was just a way to watch over his former comrades, but he was naive and unprepared for the duties the role entailed. Eventually he adjusted, but with the parting of the third generation Weiss [2] left him feeling lonely. Sharing his thoughts with his grandfather proved a very bad idea indeed, for the eldest Takatori once again brought up the subject of marriage.

Marriage…

Who the hell was he supposed to hold with such dirty hands?

'Damnit now I'm thinking like Ken.'

Furthermore, Mamoru resolved the moment he walked through the mansion's gates; the Takatori line would end with him. He would not be responsible for bringing another child into this web of deceit. Not to mention the only girl he'd ever kissed was Ouka, his own damn half-sister. He had one lover in his entire life, another male. What the hell did he know about pleasing a woman and being a good husband and father?

Wiping away some of the sweat on his brow, he threw a fist at the wall and squeaked as his knuckles hit the plaster.

'Damn this weak body.' He growled inwardly before flopping back onto the bed. The headache only squeezed his head tighter as he attempted to sleep again.

As his heavy eyelids began to drift south again, the door to his suite was thrown open by a guard in a black suit. Startled, the blond leapt from his bed and stood in only his underwear.

"Oh…uh..Forgive me Takatori-sama." The man stammered and lowered his gun. " I thought I heard a noise."

"Everything is fine." Mamuro replied, obviously annoyed.

"Uh …Hai. Gomen nasai."

The black suit bowed and retreated, quickly shutting the door behind him.

Sighing, the blue-eyed young man gave up on sleep and turned toward the window, which over-looked the estate's garden. Rain poured down and the flowering plants seemed to dance in the wind in thanks for the sky's nourishment.

Mamoru glanced down to see that he had been unconsciously rubbing the tiny scar on his abdomen.

The dream, the scar, and the night sweats: all because tomorrow he had an important business venture to make in hopes of finalizing the fourth generation of Weiss. His grandfather would most likely have him shot if he knew where his young heir was planning to go.

Inwardly, he damned his grandfather for convincing him to stay. He damned the flowers for having the freedom to grow. He damned the rain for falling.

He damned himself for not being able to just walk away.

'Kuso. This place is a prison.'

TBC…

[Notes]

[1] Omi's grandfather… appears briefly in Gluhen and plays a huge role in the dramatic image albums (which I just finished today ^_^).

[2] Back story note… the 1st Weiss was annihilated on a mission… the second group disbanded after refusing to participate in the Takatori family feud… Therefore our boys are generation three…I've met Weiss fans who don't know this so I thought I'd better offer explanation.

End Note: Yeah I know, Omi's not the ganki uke we all know and love… well what do you think he'd turn out like, living with his manipulative bastard of a grandfather for a year?

As I mentioned before, I finished reading the transcripts for the 'dramatic image/precious' albums today, and that kinda fueled this chapter. I really feel that Omi needs a voice and therefore decided to add this chapter instead of going right into the plot. I really love that kid and I can't believe the shit he let his grandfather get away with in the dramatic precious…

Like it? Hate it? Press that little button and let me know! ^_^