Disclaimers: I do not own Weiss Kreuz, or any of its respective characters.
So please don't sue me, I don't have any money.
This story is also written as a continuation of NekoSandy's "Fractured Futures Trilogy" and is written with her permission, so for the love of mercy don't harass me for using the original characters that appeared in her story.
Warning, I've read one too many 'Evil Brad' fics. . . I'll try for next time my muse not getting so carried away with being herself. Apologies to all the Brad fans out there. Sorry.
A New Dawn Emerges. Part eighteen.
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Frustrated, Omi continues to work at the computer . . . wishing death on Brad Crawford. He tries not to glare at the man sitting calmly behind him reading an imported copy of the Wall Street Journal. An unsettling bump can be heard from the hallway, followed by what Omi would assume is cursing. Yohji walks into the living room rubbing his forehead, his eyes bright with unshed tears.
Sighing, Brad doesn't even bother looking up from his paper. "Yohji, stop right now."
Dreamy jade green eyes look in Crawford's direction, but not into those determined eyes. His lip twitches, marking his unvoiced question . . . Realizing that the American doesn't understand the gesture, he vocalizes it, "What is it?"
Holding up two fingers, "How many fingers am I holding up?"
Letting a smirk spread across his mouth, Yohji answers. If I'm wrong, it'll look like I'm being sarcastic. "Four."
"You really can't see how many fingers I am holding up can you. The same as you didn't see the door you walked into in the hallway, or the chair you are going to trip over should you take one step forward." Brad comments. "How bad is your eye sight really?"
The smirk drops off of Yohji's features. Testing, he moves his knee forward slightly, and finds the arm of the chair. Slowly his lower lip pushes out as a small pout replaces the smirk.
"How bad is it Yohji?"
"Worse than yours," is the flippant reply.
Another sigh escapes the American. "I assume that before you were using contact lenses. What happened to them?"
"Never assume anything," a playful expression replaces Yohji's pout, "you'll make an ass out of you and me."
Without warning Brad gets up, annoyed beyond even speaking, four good steps close the gap between him and the small blond. Yohji is barely given an instant to try and escape before his upper arm is grabbed none too gently by the man towering over him. A slight yelp escapes his lips as his arm is yanked upwards almost causing him to lose balance.
Omi is about to get up to help Yohji, but a frigid glare from Crawford glues him to his seat.
"Shut up," Brad all but growls at Yohji as he shoves the smaller boy through the hallway. //Schuldig, keep Omi in the living room.//
Schuldig calmly walks into the living room while peeking into Brad's mind and sees what the American intends to do . . . //Fine, just don't hurt Yotan too badly. We don't need Bombay getting too overprotective and trying to kill us just yet.//
Yohji is thrown into his room, and promptly his legs tangle in the suitcase causing him to land on the floor slightly dazed. Brad steps in, closing and locking the door behind him as he removes his belt. "If you are going to act like some misbehaved child, then I shall treat you as such."
"Jodete, Cabrón[1]."
Calmly Brad steps out of the way of Yohji's leg as the small boy tries to kick him and then backhands the blond so that the force of he blow throws him against the side of the bed.
There are three seconds before Yohji can get his bearings again. It only takes Brad two of those seconds to sit and drag Yohji into his lap. On the third is when the belt first strikes Yohji, causing him to cry out, more from surprise and shock than actual pain.
Squirming, Yohji yells at the larger man, "Let me go!" That is the last coherent thing that the blond is able to say before Brad lays into him, belt lashing, not letting up even for an instant. Not even escaping from Brad's lap makes the American ease on his assault.
Now the lashings land anywhere and everywhere on the small frame. Before they had simply been confined to his backside. Red angry welts begin forming on arms, legs and chest.
//BRAD!!!// Schuldig screams in Brad's mind, //Knock it off!!! You are seriously going to hurt him!!!//
A moments hesitation from Brad is all Yotan needs to slide himself under the bed out of the larger man's reach.
//You've just scared the kid out of his wits, and now he's under the bed. This entire situation is really getting to you, isn't it?// Schuldig gives a mental sigh, //It isn't Yotan's fault that he is here and not Erik. I want Erik back even more than you do, and I'm not in that room fucking beating up someone that is weaker than me. Hell, this situation is worse for Yotan because he doesn't even know if it is permanent or not. You are so not fucking helping the situation by losing your cool and beating the shit out of Yohji just because he pissed you off.//
//Schuldig, you come and take care of him. I won't be able to get him out from under there . . The injuries are only superficial, if I try to get him out from under the bed, he'll fight me and will get hurt, but he will come to you.//
//What about Bombay here? He is looking at me like he wants to stick more than a few darts in me now.//
Crawford looks into the immediate future, //He will stay there if you tell him to. He won't be happy about staying put, but he will stay there.//
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Under the bed Yohji curls up into a fetal position, ignoring the tears spilling down his cheeks. He hears the door unlock and then open followed by the sound of footsteps, someone leaving and someone entering the room.
Schuldig walks over to the bed and peeks under, "Hey kid, you all right?" stupid question.
Green tear-filled eyes peer back at him, "Schu?"
"Yeah kid, it's me. Come on out from under there," Schuldig extends his hand to the scared boy under the bed. "Don't worry, Brad left, he can't hurt you . . . I won't let him hurt you."
Yohji takes the hand offered and lets himself be pulled out from underneath the bed.
Before Schuldig can say or do anything Yohji falls into his arms, crying, the need for comfort overbearing and coming off of him in waves. All of the stress, the uncertainty of who he is, Jason or Yohji, the need to be accepted, the fear of rejection . . . the confusion of conflicting memories, conflicting identities. The utter loneliness of knowing that he really is alone in this situation. Loneliness coupled with a paralysing fear of powers that he might have, powers that he does have, powers that he has unconsciously blocked, but nonetheless used.
Gently, Schuldig wraps his arms around the weeping boy. He doesn't say anything, he just accepts this, they might have tried to kill each other in the past, but right now that seems inconsequential.
-----------------------
[1] "Jodete, Cabrón."="Fuck you, Bastard."
Responses to Reviews:
Gale: It's going to take a little bit more than ff.net being a bit baka to make me disappear. . . If worse comes to worse, I tend to put my fics up on my site, though it might be a good idea for me to update. ^^;;; Once again, sorry about the 'Evil Brad' thing. . . . I'm trying to curb that, he should go back to being the 'I care about some people but I don't want to admit it, Brad'. LOL Hmmm. . . .Schu/Yohji/Omi . . .. that has possibilities. Though not sure yet, I'll let the boys decide on that one as they go along. As for Erik, well. . . I can't really answer that without giving spoilers. Oh, and don't worry about long reviews. . . I love reading them (and re- reading them).
Soulshadow: Hey thanks! Hope that this chapter is up to your expectations. Unfortunately it isn't as long as some. . . but, I'm still working on number 19.
Yanagi-sen: Yannie!!!!!! *GLOMPS* Bad Aneki. . . ^.~ But I'm glad that you enjoy my fics as much as I enjoy yours.
This story is also written as a continuation of NekoSandy's "Fractured Futures Trilogy" and is written with her permission, so for the love of mercy don't harass me for using the original characters that appeared in her story.
Warning, I've read one too many 'Evil Brad' fics. . . I'll try for next time my muse not getting so carried away with being herself. Apologies to all the Brad fans out there. Sorry.
A New Dawn Emerges. Part eighteen.
--------------------------------------------------------------
Frustrated, Omi continues to work at the computer . . . wishing death on Brad Crawford. He tries not to glare at the man sitting calmly behind him reading an imported copy of the Wall Street Journal. An unsettling bump can be heard from the hallway, followed by what Omi would assume is cursing. Yohji walks into the living room rubbing his forehead, his eyes bright with unshed tears.
Sighing, Brad doesn't even bother looking up from his paper. "Yohji, stop right now."
Dreamy jade green eyes look in Crawford's direction, but not into those determined eyes. His lip twitches, marking his unvoiced question . . . Realizing that the American doesn't understand the gesture, he vocalizes it, "What is it?"
Holding up two fingers, "How many fingers am I holding up?"
Letting a smirk spread across his mouth, Yohji answers. If I'm wrong, it'll look like I'm being sarcastic. "Four."
"You really can't see how many fingers I am holding up can you. The same as you didn't see the door you walked into in the hallway, or the chair you are going to trip over should you take one step forward." Brad comments. "How bad is your eye sight really?"
The smirk drops off of Yohji's features. Testing, he moves his knee forward slightly, and finds the arm of the chair. Slowly his lower lip pushes out as a small pout replaces the smirk.
"How bad is it Yohji?"
"Worse than yours," is the flippant reply.
Another sigh escapes the American. "I assume that before you were using contact lenses. What happened to them?"
"Never assume anything," a playful expression replaces Yohji's pout, "you'll make an ass out of you and me."
Without warning Brad gets up, annoyed beyond even speaking, four good steps close the gap between him and the small blond. Yohji is barely given an instant to try and escape before his upper arm is grabbed none too gently by the man towering over him. A slight yelp escapes his lips as his arm is yanked upwards almost causing him to lose balance.
Omi is about to get up to help Yohji, but a frigid glare from Crawford glues him to his seat.
"Shut up," Brad all but growls at Yohji as he shoves the smaller boy through the hallway. //Schuldig, keep Omi in the living room.//
Schuldig calmly walks into the living room while peeking into Brad's mind and sees what the American intends to do . . . //Fine, just don't hurt Yotan too badly. We don't need Bombay getting too overprotective and trying to kill us just yet.//
Yohji is thrown into his room, and promptly his legs tangle in the suitcase causing him to land on the floor slightly dazed. Brad steps in, closing and locking the door behind him as he removes his belt. "If you are going to act like some misbehaved child, then I shall treat you as such."
"Jodete, Cabrón[1]."
Calmly Brad steps out of the way of Yohji's leg as the small boy tries to kick him and then backhands the blond so that the force of he blow throws him against the side of the bed.
There are three seconds before Yohji can get his bearings again. It only takes Brad two of those seconds to sit and drag Yohji into his lap. On the third is when the belt first strikes Yohji, causing him to cry out, more from surprise and shock than actual pain.
Squirming, Yohji yells at the larger man, "Let me go!" That is the last coherent thing that the blond is able to say before Brad lays into him, belt lashing, not letting up even for an instant. Not even escaping from Brad's lap makes the American ease on his assault.
Now the lashings land anywhere and everywhere on the small frame. Before they had simply been confined to his backside. Red angry welts begin forming on arms, legs and chest.
//BRAD!!!// Schuldig screams in Brad's mind, //Knock it off!!! You are seriously going to hurt him!!!//
A moments hesitation from Brad is all Yotan needs to slide himself under the bed out of the larger man's reach.
//You've just scared the kid out of his wits, and now he's under the bed. This entire situation is really getting to you, isn't it?// Schuldig gives a mental sigh, //It isn't Yotan's fault that he is here and not Erik. I want Erik back even more than you do, and I'm not in that room fucking beating up someone that is weaker than me. Hell, this situation is worse for Yotan because he doesn't even know if it is permanent or not. You are so not fucking helping the situation by losing your cool and beating the shit out of Yohji just because he pissed you off.//
//Schuldig, you come and take care of him. I won't be able to get him out from under there . . The injuries are only superficial, if I try to get him out from under the bed, he'll fight me and will get hurt, but he will come to you.//
//What about Bombay here? He is looking at me like he wants to stick more than a few darts in me now.//
Crawford looks into the immediate future, //He will stay there if you tell him to. He won't be happy about staying put, but he will stay there.//
--------------------------------------------------------------
Under the bed Yohji curls up into a fetal position, ignoring the tears spilling down his cheeks. He hears the door unlock and then open followed by the sound of footsteps, someone leaving and someone entering the room.
Schuldig walks over to the bed and peeks under, "Hey kid, you all right?" stupid question.
Green tear-filled eyes peer back at him, "Schu?"
"Yeah kid, it's me. Come on out from under there," Schuldig extends his hand to the scared boy under the bed. "Don't worry, Brad left, he can't hurt you . . . I won't let him hurt you."
Yohji takes the hand offered and lets himself be pulled out from underneath the bed.
Before Schuldig can say or do anything Yohji falls into his arms, crying, the need for comfort overbearing and coming off of him in waves. All of the stress, the uncertainty of who he is, Jason or Yohji, the need to be accepted, the fear of rejection . . . the confusion of conflicting memories, conflicting identities. The utter loneliness of knowing that he really is alone in this situation. Loneliness coupled with a paralysing fear of powers that he might have, powers that he does have, powers that he has unconsciously blocked, but nonetheless used.
Gently, Schuldig wraps his arms around the weeping boy. He doesn't say anything, he just accepts this, they might have tried to kill each other in the past, but right now that seems inconsequential.
-----------------------
[1] "Jodete, Cabrón."="Fuck you, Bastard."
Responses to Reviews:
Gale: It's going to take a little bit more than ff.net being a bit baka to make me disappear. . . If worse comes to worse, I tend to put my fics up on my site, though it might be a good idea for me to update. ^^;;; Once again, sorry about the 'Evil Brad' thing. . . . I'm trying to curb that, he should go back to being the 'I care about some people but I don't want to admit it, Brad'. LOL Hmmm. . . .Schu/Yohji/Omi . . .. that has possibilities. Though not sure yet, I'll let the boys decide on that one as they go along. As for Erik, well. . . I can't really answer that without giving spoilers. Oh, and don't worry about long reviews. . . I love reading them (and re- reading them).
Soulshadow: Hey thanks! Hope that this chapter is up to your expectations. Unfortunately it isn't as long as some. . . but, I'm still working on number 19.
Yanagi-sen: Yannie!!!!!! *GLOMPS* Bad Aneki. . . ^.~ But I'm glad that you enjoy my fics as much as I enjoy yours.