Chapter Eight

Yohji paced around the hospital waiting room nervously. Aya hadn't wanted to go to the hospital, protesting that Yohji hadn't when Yohji got shot, and that had been a gut wound and et cetera et cetera until Omi had sharply ordered him that he was going whether he liked it or not.

Omi maintained that he only needed one stupid person in the group, and that Yohji filled the quota quite nicely.

Though the doctors had assured them that Aya was going to be fine, they had decided to stay until he woke up. Ken had nodded off with his head against the wall, and Omi was sitting calmly, watching Yohji pace. It was starting to make him dizzy. "So what happened?" he asked, glad that it was late and the room was empty except for them.

"He got shot," Yohji answered.

"Balinese?" Omi asked. "Report."

Yohji sighed and sank into the chair next to Omi, knowing that Omi would personally kick his ass if he prevaricated any longer. "Hayabusa had bodyguards. One of them was Schuldig, the other was a man I've never seen before. It wasn't Crawford, so it must have been the fourth member of their team, who did the job on that chemical weapons company. Schuldig tried to get us to back down. I know how good he is with a gun. I couldn't have gotten it with my wire. So I backed down. Aya charged like the numbskull that he is and Schuldig shot him. As I said, I know how good he is. He aimed to wound, not to kill."

Omi blinked, trying to come up with an appropriate response. "Did you notice anything important about this new guy?"

"I didn't see him in action. He said that Schuldig could handle us. I think he figured out who I was. But he was really creepy."

"Creepy?" Omi asked.

"Yeah. He said that if Schu didn't handle us, he would paint the walls with our blood. Creepy."

"All right, I'll agree with that," Omi said. "That would explain which Schuldig shot Aya. Of course, it could also be the fact that Aya was charging him."

"He was more charging Hayabusa than charging Schu," Yohji replied.

"I really don't like the fact that they're working for scum like this," Omi reflected. "It means we'll be meeting them more and more often."

"Yeah, thanks for reminding me," Yohji snapped.

"Kritiker will send another team for Hayabusa," Omi said. "And I'm not sure I can hide it from the higher-ups that you have a relationship with Schuldig."

"It's none of their business," Yohji muttered, though he knew it wasn't technically true. Anything that could potentially interfere with future missions was considered Kritiker's business.

"I'll try," Omi said with a shrug.

Yohji pushed his hair out of his face. "It was stupid to think it would work," he said bitterly. "I knew what kind of jobs Schu did. I should have realized that this would happen eventually."

"Just because he does this kind of work didn't guarantee that you would come to a problem like this," Omi said, trying to sound comforting.

"Great," Yohji muttered. "Just fucking great."

^^^^

Schuldig came home at seven o'clock the next morning. He started to cook breakfast. He had absolutely no idea how to deal with what Brad had done. He was definitely cranky, but being actually angry with Brad was something he wasn't used to. Therefore, he was settling on the option of pretending that it had never happened.

Brad came out at eight o'clock. He settled down with his morning coffee and the newspaper as always. It was a routine they were all used to. Schuldig could tell that Farferello was asleep, and Nagi was cringing in his room again.

Schuldig slammed a plate of breakfast down in front of Brad, and decided to bring a plate to Nagi. There wasn't a chance in hell he would be able to coax Nagi out of his room, not with both himself and Brad in bad moods.

"Come in," Nagi said, when Schuldig knocked. He glanced up as Schuldig came inside. "I set up your computer," he said quickly. "It's all ready for you."

"Yeah," Schuldig said. "I'm sorry I didn't thank you for it last night." He set the food down on the desk next to Nagi. "We're not mad at you, you know. We're mad at each other."

"That's bad enough," Nagi mumbled, then pushed the food away. "I'm not hungry. Thank you."

"Try to eat something," Schuldig said. "Humor me."

Nagi picked up the chopsticks and poked at the rice. He knew that Schuldig must have made the meal specially for him, and felt bad that he didn't want it. "Wh-what did you and Crawford argue about?" he asked nervously.

"Fearless Leader set me up last night," Schuldig said. "He knew that Yohji was going to be coming and just wanted to see how I would deal with it."

Nagi managed a scoopful of rice. It made him feel slightly queasy. "Well," he offered quietly, "maybe it's because there'll be a time when clashing with them is unavoidable."

"I suppose it's possible," Schuldig said. He didn't want to disagree, because he knew that Nagi rarely offered his own opinion, especially when he thought it was one that Schuldig didn't want to hear. "But it still doesn't excuse Brad from being a major asshole."

Nagi simply shrugged and continued to look at the rice.

"Okay, if it's going to make you sick, don't eat it," Schuldig said.

"I'm sorry," Nagi said.

"You don't need to be sorry," Schuldig said. "But really, no one's going to hurt you. You don't need to be scared."

"I know," Nagi replied.

"Past conditioning?" Schuldig asked.

"Something like that," Nagi agreed.

^^^^

Schuldig and Yohji had already had a date set up the next day, and Schuldig was determined to pretend that nothing had happened. They had agreed that Schuldig would come by at around seven o'clock, and that they would set up the rest of their date from there. Neither of them was very organized.

The flower store was empty except for the old lady who helped them run it. Schuldig slipped past her and into the house, going up to Yohji's room. After a few deep breaths, he knocked on the door. After an interminably long moment, Yohji called for him to come in.

Schuldig stepped in and closed the door behind him. His heart thudded painfully in his chest at the sight of Yohji, sprawled out on his bed, reading. "So, anything exciting happen today?" he asked. He had to pretend there was nothing wrong, though Yohji's displeasure permeated the room like a haze of smoke.

"Not today," Yohji said, sitting up and tossing the book aside. It landed on the floor with a soft thump. "But something very interesting happened yesterday. I believe you were there for it?"

"Oh. You mean the whole bodyguard thing," Schuldig said casually, and flopped into the first available chair.

"Yeah, that whole thing where you shot Aya," Yohji replied, his voice strained with tension.

"Well, he charged us," Schuldig said, still trying not to sound as though it were a big deal. "While armed. Not good, you know?"

"He didn't charge you," Yohji snapped immediately. "He charged the politician. You know, the one that was evil incarnate?"

"The one I'm being paid to keep alive," Schuldig said, his voice taking on a bit more of a challenging tone. "With all his blood in the proper container, even."

"That ordered you to kill a bunch of random people that, regardless of what you try to tell me or yourself, didn't deserve to die," Yohji shot back.

Schuldig was slightly startled; he didn't know that Weiss had realized that Hayabusa had been behind that particular attack. "Yes, he did, and there isn't much I can say if you don't believe me. I had a job to do, and I did it."

"All right, fine," Yohji snarled. "Maybe they did deserve to die. But what if they hadn't? What if you'd known that they didn't realize what they were involved in? Would you still have done it?"

Schuldig leaned back in his chair, letting out a slow breath. "Now there's a question that's destined for trouble."

"That's why I want an answer," Yohji said angrily.

"Honestly?" Schuldig sighed and committed himself to the argument, for better or for worse. "Yes, I would have anyway."

"Great." The anger had gone out of Yohji's voice, leaving his tone flat and strangely emotionless. He studied his hands. "I'm dating a sociopath."

"Did you want me to lie?" Schuldig asked.

"No," Yohji said. "I wanted you to say no and for it to be true."

"If it makes you feel any better, I wouldn't have killed Aya," Schuldig said, then frowned and added, "I didn't kill Aya."

"Aya's not the point," Yohji said. "I know why you shot Aya. Hell, if he had charged at me like that, I would have shot him. And I know how good you are with a gun. You shot to disable, not to kill, I know that. But . . . don't people's lives mean anything to you?"

Schuldig shrugged slightly, avoiding Yohji's eyes. "Some do."

"Well, hell, where do you draw the line?" Yohji challenged.

"Never thought about it too much," Schuldig admitted, knowing that it wasn't the answer that Yohji wanted to hear. "I don't know where I draw the line. I guess if the person means something to me."

Yohji gave him a long look. "That's fucked up," he finally proclaimed.

"Don't you think I know that?" Schuldig asked, eyes narrowing. "And what about you? Where do you draw the line?"

"I don't kill innocents," Yohji snapped. "I only kill people who are hurting others, who are ending other lives."

"Everyone hurts everyone and no one is innocent," Schuldig said softly, his voice filled with conviction.

"Maybe so," Yohji said. "But some people are sure worse than others. How long before I'm supposed to be hunting you down?"

Schuldig thought that he could probably ask Brad. "If you were going to hunt me for my crimes, you'd be doing it already," he said wearily.

"Maybe. Maybe not," Yohji said bitterly. "You only just got to Japan. Maybe Kritiker hasn't found you yet."

Schuldig shrugged. "What do you want me to say? I know my morals are fucked, but there's not much I can do about it."

"No," Yohji said quietly. "I guess there isn't."

"I wish I could change for you," Schuldig said, slumping.

"I wish you could too." Yohji stood up and started looking out the window. Schuldig waited in silence. Waited for the other shoe to drop. He could feel it rolling around in Yohji's head, but didn't want to look to see what he was going to say. "You think it's going to happen again?" Yohji finally asked. "Us being in opposition, I mean."

"If you're going to go after this guy again, yeah," Schuldig said. "We have a contract."

"We got pulled off that case," Yohji said. "I think they realized that you're guarding this guy. I just mean in general."

"I don't know," Schuldig said. "I don't know what he'll want out of us."

"Are you going to be working for him until the end of time?" Yohji asked impatiently.

"Nah, just until he either runs out of money or pisses one of us off," Schuldig said.

"But a while?" Yohji persisted.

"Yeah, most likely."

"Then . . . I don't think I can see you for a while," Yohji said. His eyes didn't move from the window; he intently studied the traffic on the street below.

Schuldig slumped even further. "Why?"

"I don't know, Schu . . . I just . . . I need to think about this for a while."

"Right." Schuldig asked. He wanted badly, to say what he was thinking, which was that he was right; everyone hurts everyone. But he didn't. He simply sat there, trying to pretend that he wasn't upset. Why should he be upset? He'd only known Yohji for a few months. They had gotten close, but it was nothing compared to what else could happen, like losing Brad. Besides, he was Schuldig, the sociopath. Why should he care?

"I'm sorry," Yohji said softly, and Schuldig could tell that he meant it.

"Well, that's new," Schuldig said, standing up. "No one's ever been sorry about anything they've done to me before. I knew there was a reason I liked you."

"I'll see you around, I guess," Yohji said, finally looking over at him.

"It's your call." Schuldig headed for the door. "But I can't change who I am. I've tried before." With that, he walked out, intent on doing all the great things that Brad never let him do.

^^^^

By the time Yohji got to the hospital to visit the others, he was feeling quite possibly the worst he had since Maki had died. It was safe to say that he was very unhappy. Aya was awake when he got there, though he looked pale. Ken and Omi had settled in the chairs beside his bed, which left Yohji standing.

"Hi," Yohji said. "How you feeling, Aya?"

"They're making me stay here at least another four days," Aya snarled. "And then stay in bed for another week. And then I can't practice for another three!"

"Wow," Yohji said. "That sucks."

"You're telling me," Aya growled.

"Well, why'd you charge someone who was aiming a gun at you, you airhead?" Ken asked, looking slightly amused.

"In my defense, you've seen me do it before. I've never gotten shot while doing it. People can't usually track someone well enough to aim when they're at a full-out run and using a three-foot sword aimed at their head." Aya paused. "Actually, it was aimed at the politician."

"You should have known how good he was with a gun," Ken said. "I mean, Yohji backed down. That should have given you a clue."

"Yohji's fucking him," Aya said flatly.

They all blinked for a minute at this un-Aya-like phrase.

"Oh, yeah," Ken said.

"Was," Yohji added.

Everyone turned to him. "Was?" Aya asked.

"Was," Yohji repeated.

"Why'd you break up with him?" Omi asked. "I mean, it doesn't look like Aya's holding any extra ill will."

Yohji shrugged slightly, leaning against the wall. "Because it would be stupid to lie to myself and convince myself that it would be just this one time. It won't be. It could happen again, probably will if they keep taking the same sort of jobs. I can't in good conscience date someone who's a total sociopath."

"Is he a total sociopath?" Aya asked.

"Well, he doesn't seem to care about killing innocent people," Yohji said bitterly.

"Oh," Ken said, after a long moment of silence.

Yohji slumped down so he was sitting on the floor. "My life sucks," he proclaimed.

"And you think you're alone in that?" Aya asked dryly.

"No," Yohji said. "But I reserve the right to mope today."

No one argued.

^^^^

Three hours later, Schuldig was extremely drunk. It actually irked him somewhat that he wasn't more drunk than he already was. He was still thinking, and as far as he was concerned, that could never be good. In fact, he would have preferred to have been completely unconscious, but no such luck.

"Was this really necessary?" Brad asked dryly, settling on the barstool next to Schuldig. The one annoying thing about precognition was that it didn't give him places; it had taken him two hours to locate Schuldig.

Schuldig blinked at him slowly, his presence setting in. "I didn't hear your blank spot get here," he said, sounding puzzled. He had to speak slowly and deliberately in order to make the words intelligible.

"That's because you weren't listening," Brad said mildly. "I'm here to take you home."

Schuldig shook his head.

"As much as you may not like it," Brad added. "You're coming home." At least he had gotten to Schuldig before he had done anything truly stupid.

Schuldig just shook his head again, nearly losing his balance and sliding off the stool. "No. Then I'd hafta think."

"You can have one of your sedatives once we get there," Brad assured him, knowing that he'd never get Schuldig anywhere without that promise. "But I'm not just leaving you here."

"Why not?" Schuldig whined.

"Because you'll get into trouble," Brad said.

"So?" Schuldig turned to see him and this time did fall, but caught himself on the bar before he could hit the floor. "It's all I do anyway." He had slipped into German without even noticing.

Brad put his hands on Schuldig's upper arms to keep him in one place and upright. "Schuldig. You are coming home with me and that's the last I want to hear about it."

"No!" Schuldig tried to pull away, but Brad had him in a firm grip.

"You don't want to fight me, Schuldig."

"See! Now you're pissed at me too!"

"I'm not angry with you," Brad said, showing much more patience than he usually did with Schuldig. "I just want you to come home. We have a deal that you will not use recreational drugs."

Schuldig studied the floor. "I haven't yet," he said, knowing even in his drunken state that this was a lame answer. "What does it matter anyway? I'll never be what people want."

"Because it does, and because you're a valuable member of this team and I'm not going to let you do this to yourself," Brad said firmly, with no emotion in his voice. He was stating a simple fact. "You're coming home, and you're doing it now."

"I don't want to."

"You can either come with me willingly, or I will make you come with me," Brad said. "It's up to you."

"I don't belong there anyway!" Schuldig tried to shake Brad's hands off. "Leave me alone!"

"Schuldig," Brad said, a warning tone in his voice. "This is your last chance."

"Leave me alone," Schuldig repeated, and tried to bolt. He found, however, that he was incapable of moving the slightest inch. Even drunk, he knew what that meant. His eyes widened and he scanned the club, searching for Nagi's small form. "Let me go!"

"No," Brad said, without a moment of hesitation. "I gave you a chance to come with me of your own volition, and you didn't take it. You were warned." He watched impassively as Schuldig struggled against Nagi's power. "Come on," he said, and turned to head for the door. Schuldig found himself dragged along by Nagi's power, and cursed him underneath his breath for being such a powerful telekinetic.

He subsided sullenly when he realized that he wasn't going to get away. He followed Brad to the car. Nagi trailed along behind them quietly, his guilt at forcing Schuldig along and fear that the telepath might retaliate radiating off of him. Schuldig got in the car of his own volition, into the back, sprawling across the seats.

Nagi sat in front, and Brad began to drive. Everything was silent for a few long minutes. Schuldig was drunk and upset, with Nagi's emotions as well as his own. Brad was the usual blank wall. "I'm sorry, Schu," Nagi said softly, slipping back into his habit of calling him by the more easily pronounceable name.

"I'm not mad at you," Schuldig replied, though he wasn't sure it was entirely true. He settled for glaring drunkenly at Brad, who was steadfastly refusing to apologize. He simply continued driving until they were there.

"Are you going to get out or do you need Nagi's help?" he asked, voice neutral.

Help. That was a laugh. Schuldig wasn't sure if he should be pissed about the phrasing or grateful. He didn't bother replying; he just dejectedly got out of the car and started up to the apartment. Nagi and Brad followed. Brad let them into the apartment, and Schuldig immediately tried to eel past him and get to his room.

Brad put himself between him and the hallway, though he let Nagi squeeze past and bolt into the safety of his own room. He got hold of Schuldig's arms again, though more gently this time. "I'm sorry about what happened between you and Yohji," he said. "But I couldn't let you do this to yourself."

"Why does it matter what he thinks of me anyway," Schuldig said sullenly, facing the hallway that led to his bedroom. He didn't even understand why he was upset. He just knew that what Yohji had said made him feel like his heart had been put through a blender.

"Because you care about him, perhaps?" Brad asked.

"But he doesn't care," Schuldig said, steadfastly not turning around to look at Brad. "He doesn't like me."

Brad turned him around slowly. "There's a difference between not caring and not accepting someone," he said.

"How can you care about someone if you won't accept them?" Schuldig asked.

Brad shrugged. "I'm probably not who you would want to use as a case study in human emotions, Schuldig."

"He thinks I'm a monster. Everyone does."

Brad saw that he was going to fall over in a few minutes. He steered him over to the sofa and sat him down, the sat next to him. "I don't."

"Why not?" Schuldig asked curiously.

Brad shrugged again. "Because you're not? Because if you are, I am too? I'm not sure."

"But that's not right," Schuldig said, shaking his head. "I do stuff that isn't right and I like it." He slumped further, and decided he was done with self-analysis for the day. "And he doesn't like me like that."

"He'll get over it," Brad said with a shrug.

"Maybe he's not the one who's wrong," Schuldig replied.

"Maybe not. But he will change his mind, if you give him enough time."

"Will he?" Schuldig asked hesitantly.

"Yes. He will."

Schuldig slumped over, resting his head on the arm of the sofa. "I don't like it when someone makes me think about how fucked up I am," he said, his voice muffled by the fabric.

"Nobody does," Brad replied.

"I can see why he thinks the way he does," Schuldig said dejectedly. "But he can't see the way I do." He wondered how fast his body was burning through the liquor. He was feeling a lot more sober, but was well aware that he was talking a lot more than usual. If Brad noticed, however, he wasn't saying anything about it.

He just shrugged. "If he did, it would be too easy."

"I want something in my life to be easy," Schuldig said. "Just once."

Brad wondered for a moment what would happen if he kissed Schuldig. A relationship between the two of them would probably count as 'easy', at least in Schuldig's eyes. They had known each other for five years. They respected each other, cared about each other. But Brad had no doubt that the way Schuldig saw him was only as a protector, nothing more.

To disturb that could disrupt the group dynamics they functioned on, and that was something that Brad didn't want. There were other reasons, other problems that he expected would hurt a relationship between them. No, Schuldig was right. He would never have anything easy.

"I'd like to think the last few years haven't been too taxing on you," he said, his voice light to cover his moment of hesitation.

"They've been pretty good," Schuldig agreed. "Aside from the mind-reading thing."

"Of course." Brad smiled slightly, the dry smile that Schuldig was so used to.

"Maybe things were all right when I was little," Schuldig said thoughtfully. He had left his moping and moved onto the state of random conjecture and reminiscing. He had no memory of most of his childhood, but that wouldn't stop him from wondering.

"Maybe they were," Brad said. It seemed best to just agree with what Schuldig said until he fell asleep.

"I mean, if I'd been like this when I was little, someone would have had the good sense to drown me, right?" Schuldig asked, and then went on thoughtfully before Brad could reply. "Sometimes I remember little bits of it. I liked it. What was your childhood like?"

"Mine?" Brad asked, startled. Schuldig rarely inquired about his personal life, and had never before asked about anything before they'd met except some things about Esstet. "It was very normal."

"Tell me about it," Schuldig said, shifting around so he was lying on his back and could keep looking up at Brad. "I'm not sure I know what normal is."

"I had two very normal parents," Brad said. "A very normal younger brother. A very normal house with a yard and two cars. No picket fence, though."

Schuldig had to laugh at the thought of Brad ever living in a house with a picket fence. "How long did you live there?" he asked. He was starting to feel sleepy.

"Until I was six."

"Is that when your power showed up?" Schuldig asked, wondering why in five years he had never thought to ask any of these questions before. Somehow, Brad carried around a don't-ask-don't-tell rule with him. At Brad's nod, he asked, "How did you start working for Esstet? Or did they come for you when you were six?"

"They came for me," Brad confirmed. "I foresaw my entire family dying in a car accident on the way to a restaurant. I refused to go. I tried to explain it to my parents, but I was young and they thought I had just had a nightmare or something. In the end, they couldn't get me to go, so they left me with a babysitter. Esstet came to get me while they were gone."

"That blows," Schuldig remarked. "Did you ever find out what happened to them?"

"No. I don't know if my vision came true or not. It's possible that I delayed them enough by refusing to go." Brad shrugged. "But it's also possible that my delay was all part of what I Saw."

Schuldig shrugged slightly. "I bet they lived. Even if they didn't believe you, they would have been more careful."

"The accident wasn't necessarily my father's fault," Brad pointed out. "Sometimes even when you can see it coming, you can't avoid it." The motto of every precognitive he had ever met.

"Oh." Schuldig considered this as well as he was able. "I'm sorry. Do you want to know what happened?"

"A little. But it was a long time ago."

"Nagi could look for you," Schuldig suggested. "There would be records and stuff. Sometimes I think about asking him to look for my family."

Brad shrugged slightly. "They're not my family anymore, not really. Maybe I don't really want to know."

"What was the Esstet school like?" Schuldig asked curiously.

"Very intense," Brad said concisely. "No room for classroom jokes or personalities. They were training an army of brainwashed Talents." He rolled his eyes slightly, indicating what he thought of Esstet. His own method of scraping the bottom of the barrel to find the few treasures, then gaining their loyalty, wasn't particularly appreciated by Esstet.

"Well, they couldn't have done a very good job of it," Schuldig said, giving Brad an appraising look. 'Brainwashed' was probably among the last words he would have picked for Brad. "I know better than to think you're someone's puppet, even if you don't have a sense of humor."

Brad smiled. "Don't tell," he said, and his tone was only half-joking.

"Why didn't I have to go to the school?" Schuldig asked curiously. This was something he had been wondering about every since the council had delivered their edict that Nagi was required to go.

"Because to be honest, Esstet never believed that you would amount to anything," Brad said with a shrug. "You were my project, against their wishes. I think they were hoping that your failure might bring me down a few notches on the arrogance scale."

"So they didn't want me?" Schuldig asked, choosing to not comment on Brad's arrogance.

"There were two ways your future could go," Brad said. "I was well aware of both, and I chose one for you. Hope you don't mind."

"What was the other?"

"I never looked into it too deeply," Brad said. "But you never would have made it any further than the alley I found you in."

Schuldig pondered this. "I like this one better," he finally said. "What about Nagi? Did they let you keep him for the same reason?"

"No, they didn't make that mistake twice. Nagi was taken out of my hands and put in the Institute shortly after I found him. I had to pull a lot of strings to get him back out and on the team where I wanted him. But they definitely recognized his power. He wasn't there as long as they would have liked, but you can see the damage that they did to him."

"He seems mostly okay," Schuldig said thoughtfully. "He's a nice kid."

"I'm glad you aren't angry with him," Brad said.

Schuldig poked him in the ribs, hard. "It was you telling him what to do," he said. "He would have left me alone."

"Of course," Brad said. "Are you angry with me?"

"I don't think so anymore," Schuldig said, though he looked like he might indulge in a good long pout. "Are you mad at me, for what happened when they attacked?"

"No, I'm not mad at you," Brad said, then smiled slightly and said, "I knew what would happen anyway. Are you sober now? You should get some rest."

"I suppose."

"Trust me," Brad said. "It's late. Once you get into bed, you'll realize how tired you are."

"Okay." Schuldig heaved himself to his feet.

"Good night. You'll feel better in the morning."

"Promise?"

"I promise, Schuldig."

^^^^