Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters. Shoot all I own is a wallscroll, and the second part of An Assasin and a White Shamen.... sigh
Time Frame: Anywhere you want to be
Warnings: Extreamly messed up Schuldig; attempt suicide
Title:
Summary: Sometimes you wake up for something simple, but it is at just the right moment that you are able prevent something devistating from happening.
Note: Yes, well this is something of a spurr. I am finally getting back into writting stuff again! does alittle dance
---------------------------------------------------
He would periodically wake up at night. Get up for a glass of water, a quick trip to the bathroom, or just to see how everyone is. What ever. Sometimes he'd get up just to get up, and walk around before going back to sleep. Having spent so much time on the streets kind of screwed up your sleeping habits for life.
But that didn't really bother him. He may be the youngest, but he had an odd sense of responsibly. Always had. Always will. And he enjoyed it.
Tonight, he was thirsty.
The glass of water levitated to his hand before he took a sip. Maybe it had sensed his need. He hates water, but it's better than drinking milk. He was allergic to milk, you know. Gave him the hives. Schuldig would make fun of him about it, too. Which was worse. So he drank the bland liquid, before yawning and sending the glass back to the sink.
He walked back towards the area in which all but Farfarello's bedroom was. Farfarello had his own area, just recently added on. His room was the furthest from the bathroom. He told Crawford once the reason why he doesn't like being close, and that's because he liked quiet. And that he was a light sleeper. Hell, everyone but Farfarello was.
He counted his blessings to the fact that at least he knows he'll sleep at least 3 hours a night. He had seen Crawford run on four days with no sleep. At least he was asleep now, though Crawford might have taken one of Schuldig's medicines to sleep; he wasn't sure.
Schuldig's room was in the middle. He likes to be in the center of things. Plus, deep down, he feels safe to be surrounded by people he knows. And if he has a 'moment' at least someone will hear him.
The boy yawned before walking by the bathroom. The light was on. He distinctly remembered it being off. He stopped. Unsure what to think. Maybe someone was in it? A quick glance down the hall showed that Schuldig's room was vacant.
He lifted his hand and knocked on the door. "Schuldig?"
There was no reply. Nothing but a weird sound of pills falling on tiles. That weird phrrr phrrr sound.
Worry sunk in the young boy's stomach. What was he doing? He knocked again, repeated the name. Maybe he hadn't heard it the first time.
But he was ignored once more.
He heard a whimper. A soft, scared whimper from behind the door. He tried the door and found it to be (of course) locked.
But to a telekinetic, that was easy to fix.
The door opened and Nagi braced his eyes to see.
Sometimes, you wish you hadn't looked. But later you're grateful you did. This is one of those times. Because... to see a proud man crumbled up on the floor, pills scattered about him, leaning over his knees in which he sits in-between, mouth agape, rocking slightly isn't exactly the best thing to find.
Schuldig's mouth was opened in a silent scream, a razor placed against his thigh, hands burying it slowly into his flesh. His eyes were closed, and were moving behind the eyelids a little to fast for comfort.
Now, just for future reference, most proud people are not suicidal. They may have flaws, but don't tend to try to destroy them in the 'ultimate shame' as Farfarello said once, and Schuldig as well. He is a proud man.
Very proud.
And an asshole.
But still, proud.
The boy stared at the man for a moment before assessing that something was off. Quickly he strode over to the man, mentally grabbing a hold of that razor before it bit any further into the skin. Once that was taken, he looked at the man.
His eyes where opened now, noting the missing razor from his fingers. His eyes were glazed. Unfocused. Confused. His hands, bloody now, are pulled from between his legs and reaching out for the boy.
The boy, now scared at this picture coming to him, leapt backwards, yelling.
"CRAWFORD!!"
Schuldig's arms immediately withdrew, coming to his head, legs drawing up as he began to rock in the motion so similar to one of Farfarello's 'moods' that it was more than disturbing.
It was just plain scary.
He felt sorry for having yelled. Realizing that... whatever happening with Schuldig, yelling wouldn't help.
That's when he noticed that Schuldig was talking. But it wasn't him. The English was a little too proper. A little to... un-German. It wasn't even his voice. It was... someone else.
"Kill it, kill it all away... kill kill kill this thing you live in... not like it's going to matter if you kill it. Just swallow the pills it'll kill you soon enough...yes, soon... Soon I'll be amongst the dead happy and dead just have to kill this body. Die. Die die die die die die!!!!" by the end of the rant, Schuldig was yelling. Trapped inside whoever's mind it was.
The boy, faced with the face that he would have to confront; what he'd hate to do, but would deal with later...he reached out to the crumpled man, cradling his head and pulling him to his chest.
Just as soon as Schuldig started to sob heavily, the leader of Schwarz ran to the door way. Glasses flopped onto the face, hair mussed from sleep, he blinked into the light seeing the strange picture of a boy with a phobia of touch carefully cradling a man's head who is sobbing painfully, hands stretched to either side of the elder's body.
Crawford quickly assed the situation, noted the bleeding on the hands and thighs of the German, and the look of panic as Nagi held the man. Brad quickly stepped into the bathroom, placing a hand on Schuldig's back trying to rouse him from the sobbing.
Soon enough, Brad had a sobbing telepath gripping onto him saying he doesn't want to die. Don't let him die.
Crawford snorted at the situation, while holding onto the man.
"What happened?"
"Got me. He was like that when I found him."
The telepath's murmuring started to settle, just as that voice slowly faded.
"Schuldig, wake up now. Don't you dare follow along with that voice. You stay here. Schuldig. Wake. Up," Crawford's stern voice growled, annoyed, into the orange haired man's ear.
The boy watched as the stern voice of the ever present legal leader slowly pull the man back. No matter whom you are, when Crawford said something you listened. It was just instinct.
Those green dazed eyes started to look frantically around him. Searching, just as that lost soul left. The orange haired man desperately clung to the skin of Crawford. A stable entity within the shell of his body.
And just as suddenly as the outbreak of someone else's mind entering his, he sat up and stared at Crawford, dumbfounded, eyes clear as a bright day. Everything normal... minus the blood running from his thighs and hands from the razor. Minus the pills scattered across the bathroom tile. Minus the anger dripping from the cold glare of the stony leader.
Nagi knew what was next, a long and tiring lecture for the German, who knew he shouldn't wrap so close around one's mind. These moments are what shatter telepaths. They are what breaks them from reality. The whole fact that he was so close to death and had experienced it was enough to drive someone insane.
These moments, if completely followed though... without someone there to keep him from killing himself were what scared Nagi in his sleep. What made Crawford worry. What made Farfarello antsy. These moments are what made the whole team worry that without that telepath to hold them together, they would drift along to a quiet death of being alone.
Nagi withdrew from the blood-spattered room, to find a needed medical kit.
------------------------------
Owari......
note: THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU TO OBSCURED ILLUSIONS FOR BETA EDITING THIS!!! I DEDICATE THIS TO YOU!!! And to Jiasa-chan... and to Zelly-chan. Since it was because of them this came about! I love you guys!
Time Frame: Anywhere you want to be
Warnings: Extreamly messed up Schuldig; attempt suicide
Title:
Summary: Sometimes you wake up for something simple, but it is at just the right moment that you are able prevent something devistating from happening.
Note: Yes, well this is something of a spurr. I am finally getting back into writting stuff again! does alittle dance
---------------------------------------------------
He would periodically wake up at night. Get up for a glass of water, a quick trip to the bathroom, or just to see how everyone is. What ever. Sometimes he'd get up just to get up, and walk around before going back to sleep. Having spent so much time on the streets kind of screwed up your sleeping habits for life.
But that didn't really bother him. He may be the youngest, but he had an odd sense of responsibly. Always had. Always will. And he enjoyed it.
Tonight, he was thirsty.
The glass of water levitated to his hand before he took a sip. Maybe it had sensed his need. He hates water, but it's better than drinking milk. He was allergic to milk, you know. Gave him the hives. Schuldig would make fun of him about it, too. Which was worse. So he drank the bland liquid, before yawning and sending the glass back to the sink.
He walked back towards the area in which all but Farfarello's bedroom was. Farfarello had his own area, just recently added on. His room was the furthest from the bathroom. He told Crawford once the reason why he doesn't like being close, and that's because he liked quiet. And that he was a light sleeper. Hell, everyone but Farfarello was.
He counted his blessings to the fact that at least he knows he'll sleep at least 3 hours a night. He had seen Crawford run on four days with no sleep. At least he was asleep now, though Crawford might have taken one of Schuldig's medicines to sleep; he wasn't sure.
Schuldig's room was in the middle. He likes to be in the center of things. Plus, deep down, he feels safe to be surrounded by people he knows. And if he has a 'moment' at least someone will hear him.
The boy yawned before walking by the bathroom. The light was on. He distinctly remembered it being off. He stopped. Unsure what to think. Maybe someone was in it? A quick glance down the hall showed that Schuldig's room was vacant.
He lifted his hand and knocked on the door. "Schuldig?"
There was no reply. Nothing but a weird sound of pills falling on tiles. That weird phrrr phrrr sound.
Worry sunk in the young boy's stomach. What was he doing? He knocked again, repeated the name. Maybe he hadn't heard it the first time.
But he was ignored once more.
He heard a whimper. A soft, scared whimper from behind the door. He tried the door and found it to be (of course) locked.
But to a telekinetic, that was easy to fix.
The door opened and Nagi braced his eyes to see.
Sometimes, you wish you hadn't looked. But later you're grateful you did. This is one of those times. Because... to see a proud man crumbled up on the floor, pills scattered about him, leaning over his knees in which he sits in-between, mouth agape, rocking slightly isn't exactly the best thing to find.
Schuldig's mouth was opened in a silent scream, a razor placed against his thigh, hands burying it slowly into his flesh. His eyes were closed, and were moving behind the eyelids a little to fast for comfort.
Now, just for future reference, most proud people are not suicidal. They may have flaws, but don't tend to try to destroy them in the 'ultimate shame' as Farfarello said once, and Schuldig as well. He is a proud man.
Very proud.
And an asshole.
But still, proud.
The boy stared at the man for a moment before assessing that something was off. Quickly he strode over to the man, mentally grabbing a hold of that razor before it bit any further into the skin. Once that was taken, he looked at the man.
His eyes where opened now, noting the missing razor from his fingers. His eyes were glazed. Unfocused. Confused. His hands, bloody now, are pulled from between his legs and reaching out for the boy.
The boy, now scared at this picture coming to him, leapt backwards, yelling.
"CRAWFORD!!"
Schuldig's arms immediately withdrew, coming to his head, legs drawing up as he began to rock in the motion so similar to one of Farfarello's 'moods' that it was more than disturbing.
It was just plain scary.
He felt sorry for having yelled. Realizing that... whatever happening with Schuldig, yelling wouldn't help.
That's when he noticed that Schuldig was talking. But it wasn't him. The English was a little too proper. A little to... un-German. It wasn't even his voice. It was... someone else.
"Kill it, kill it all away... kill kill kill this thing you live in... not like it's going to matter if you kill it. Just swallow the pills it'll kill you soon enough...yes, soon... Soon I'll be amongst the dead happy and dead just have to kill this body. Die. Die die die die die die!!!!" by the end of the rant, Schuldig was yelling. Trapped inside whoever's mind it was.
The boy, faced with the face that he would have to confront; what he'd hate to do, but would deal with later...he reached out to the crumpled man, cradling his head and pulling him to his chest.
Just as soon as Schuldig started to sob heavily, the leader of Schwarz ran to the door way. Glasses flopped onto the face, hair mussed from sleep, he blinked into the light seeing the strange picture of a boy with a phobia of touch carefully cradling a man's head who is sobbing painfully, hands stretched to either side of the elder's body.
Crawford quickly assed the situation, noted the bleeding on the hands and thighs of the German, and the look of panic as Nagi held the man. Brad quickly stepped into the bathroom, placing a hand on Schuldig's back trying to rouse him from the sobbing.
Soon enough, Brad had a sobbing telepath gripping onto him saying he doesn't want to die. Don't let him die.
Crawford snorted at the situation, while holding onto the man.
"What happened?"
"Got me. He was like that when I found him."
The telepath's murmuring started to settle, just as that voice slowly faded.
"Schuldig, wake up now. Don't you dare follow along with that voice. You stay here. Schuldig. Wake. Up," Crawford's stern voice growled, annoyed, into the orange haired man's ear.
The boy watched as the stern voice of the ever present legal leader slowly pull the man back. No matter whom you are, when Crawford said something you listened. It was just instinct.
Those green dazed eyes started to look frantically around him. Searching, just as that lost soul left. The orange haired man desperately clung to the skin of Crawford. A stable entity within the shell of his body.
And just as suddenly as the outbreak of someone else's mind entering his, he sat up and stared at Crawford, dumbfounded, eyes clear as a bright day. Everything normal... minus the blood running from his thighs and hands from the razor. Minus the pills scattered across the bathroom tile. Minus the anger dripping from the cold glare of the stony leader.
Nagi knew what was next, a long and tiring lecture for the German, who knew he shouldn't wrap so close around one's mind. These moments are what shatter telepaths. They are what breaks them from reality. The whole fact that he was so close to death and had experienced it was enough to drive someone insane.
These moments, if completely followed though... without someone there to keep him from killing himself were what scared Nagi in his sleep. What made Crawford worry. What made Farfarello antsy. These moments are what made the whole team worry that without that telepath to hold them together, they would drift along to a quiet death of being alone.
Nagi withdrew from the blood-spattered room, to find a needed medical kit.
------------------------------
Owari......
note: THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU TO OBSCURED ILLUSIONS FOR BETA EDITING THIS!!! I DEDICATE THIS TO YOU!!! And to Jiasa-chan... and to Zelly-chan. Since it was because of them this came about! I love you guys!