Life didn't return to him right away.
Days passed and Yohji vaguely felt himself come back to reality, only to weakly sink back into darkness moments later. It was like this for a very long time. In one instant his mind would boot up, pain would return to him and he almost felt like himself. Then the claws of fatigue would regain their grip on his wary physic and draw him back to a sleep that was beginning to feel enternal. So, he was still alive, helpless, and he wasn't sure how long he would stay in this condition.
Is this the end? He wondered. Where ever his team memebers had dumped him it was warm and soft. Why can't I wake up? Actually, if felt kind of nice.
Voices echoed in the back of his memory, he only caught half of the conversations that must have swarm around him. How pathetic, he couldn't pull himself together. And yet, he was so tired he didn't care. A dull throb beat against his side.
"Need I remind you that I don't approve of his presence." A voice chided. "He makes the others nervous."
That wasn't Aya talking. That wasn't Omi or Ken.
"He'll leave when he's ready. He just needs time." A hand reached out and brushed hair away from Yohji's face. The hand was strange, strong, and cool to the touch. "Its not safe to return him to Weiss just yet. Not in this state. Not with what's after him."
Yohji's head tossed to the side in an attempt to shake himself back to reality. His eyelids felt so heavy, his lips seemed to be weighed down, and it was difficult to breath. The more he tried to regain concoiousness the more evident the pain on his side was.
"...you yourself said its not wise to interfer with the affairs of mortals, what inspires the sudden interest?" Another voice teased.
A pause, perhaps not a pause. Perhaps Yohji had just blanked out again. "I kept him alive for three years, I'm not about to let him fall now."
This time he did sink and realized, when he woke up again, that some time had ellasped. How much time, he did not know.
"...it will never end." A rough tenor mumbled.
Yohji's heart skipped a beat in panic. He had enough, he wanted to be awake. He was somewhere soft and warm, but he was not with Aya. He was not with Ken and Omi. And those whispers, the shadowed bodies that had been floating over his head for god knows how long, were starting to sound painfully, terrifyingly familiar.
"Oh well, whatever. Nevermind." Footsteps.
He was not about to become Schwartz or Estets pawn. Experiment. Prisoner.
"Hush kitten." The same cool hand fell again on his face, stroking him.
Wild emerald eyes sprang open. With a single, agonizing lunge Kudoh Yohji sat up for the first time in three weeks. Something inside him tore. Probably flesh. Stitches it felt like. The hand that held his face jerked back and Yohji stared into equally shocked, unguarded eyes. He had never seen that expression on the Mastermind bastard before. He wish he had the time to enjoy it. But he couldn't. Instead his back arched and he let loose the most frightening, high pitch scream either assassin had ever heard.
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Bradley Crawford barely flinched when the banshee wail bounced through the hall and echoed into the dining room. His cream brown eyes lifted above the rim of his newspaper to regard the person seated opposite him in a cool, sadisticly amused tone. "It would appear he's awake."
The Japanese youth paused from his typing and sighed. He pushed his chair away from the dining room table and put the password up on his laptop's screen saver. "...I'll help with damage control."
"Oh good," Crawford took another sip of his coffee and turned to the business section. "Because I wasn't planning to."
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Strong arms held him down as he struggled to claw his way to freedom. Yohji spit and snarled and utterly forgot all of his assassin training in the fury of pain and panic that seized his being. He was not going to be a prisoner to Estet. He was not going to be Schwartz captive.
Oh god. What if they had already used him. What if they had pulled everything from his head and had gone to capture the others. Omi. Aya, Ken.
"NO, get away from me!"
Schuldig laid ontop of him, trying to force him back into the bed. "Easy, Kudoh, you're going to tear..." Yohji's knee shot up and buried itself into Schuldig's gut. The telepath leaned into the pain to keep from doubling over. "...FUCK, you'll tear your stitches, god damn it." Schuldig finally managed to take both of Yohji's wrists in his hands and was staring furiously at the olders man face.
Suddenly he threw his head over his shoulder and grinned to something Yohji could not see. "He's a fighter, huh?"
"...Maybe he wouldn't be in such a panic if it didn't look like you were trying to rape him." A young, annoyed voice replied. Naoe Nagi stepped to the bedsides right with a glass of water and bottle of painkillers. "Get off him, Schuldig. He's not Farfarello."
Schuldig obeyed and Yohji calmed down a bit. Not for the reassuring presence of Schwartz's youngest memeber, but because he knew if said memeber wanted to, he could restrain Yohji in a way that would be far more unpleasent than anything Schuldig could manage. Yohji felt himself fall back against the pillows, breathing heavilly. The pain in his side was so mind numbly brilliant that Yohji wasn't even beginning to recognize it as pain anymore.
Damn, the Schwartz bastard was right. I shouldn't have moved.
On cue, Schuldig's head tilted to the side and he flashed Yohji a most beautiful sneer.
"Kudoh." The telekentic commanded, in his most calming voice - as if he was talking to a wild animal, "You may or may not remember, but you were shot on a pier about three weeks ago. I'm going to check your wounds and make sure nothing was... broken."
Yohji didn't remember the little brat being so chatty, much less so commanding and sure of himself. From all his encounters with the small boy, he had remembered feeling pity for Nagi. Pity that he was stuck with Schwartz, which always seemed reluctant. Pity that he was in the business of killing, which he was far too young to do. And pity that he so often bowingly and shamelessly followed every order and Crawford and Schuldig dished out.
Lithe, confident hands lifted the blanket from Yohji's side, then moved away the bed clothes Yohji was postive was not his own. He winced as Nagi's butterfly touch roamed on is inflamed side, but knew it was more gentle than anything Schuldig would have ditched out. He found himself inspecting the wound as well. The stitches looked stretched, but more or less intact. The amount of black thread buried into his honey toned flesh was more than he would have considered necessary, but aside from the normal brusing and swelling, the job looked well crafted.
Nagi shook his head. "That little stunt aggreviated the wound, but it will heal properly." Large eyes turned accusingly at the only red head in the room. "He won't be able to walk for another few days, and he shouldn't be running around for any length of time for another couple of weeks. It could still tear."
Yohji's brow furrowed and he clenched his teeth. "...What the hell am I doing here?"
And why are you treating me this way.
Another tilt of the head from Schuldig, another beautiful smile. "We found you bleeding and disorientated at a site we were contracted to demolish. Of course, the place was already a smoldering pile of flame when we got there. Funny how Weiss and Schwartz scheduals so often coincide."
That was enough. Yohji felt his rage building and saw Nagi take a step backwards. "That. Doesn't. Explain. Why. I'm. Here."
Schuldig frowned, the smile gone. "I scanned the area, Kudoh, Weiss wasn't anywhere near your useless body. Would you rather I have left you there to die?"
Yohji frowned back. "I would have expected it."
I know Schwartz. You didn't catch me out of the kindness of your heart.
Cruel jade eyes narrowed. "You," the German snarled, "know nothing of Schwartz."
In a blur of the famous inhuman speed, Schuldig disappeared. Nagi followed shortly after, glass of water and bottle of pain killers left on the nightstand as an afterthought.
Days passed and Yohji vaguely felt himself come back to reality, only to weakly sink back into darkness moments later. It was like this for a very long time. In one instant his mind would boot up, pain would return to him and he almost felt like himself. Then the claws of fatigue would regain their grip on his wary physic and draw him back to a sleep that was beginning to feel enternal. So, he was still alive, helpless, and he wasn't sure how long he would stay in this condition.
Is this the end? He wondered. Where ever his team memebers had dumped him it was warm and soft. Why can't I wake up? Actually, if felt kind of nice.
Voices echoed in the back of his memory, he only caught half of the conversations that must have swarm around him. How pathetic, he couldn't pull himself together. And yet, he was so tired he didn't care. A dull throb beat against his side.
"Need I remind you that I don't approve of his presence." A voice chided. "He makes the others nervous."
That wasn't Aya talking. That wasn't Omi or Ken.
"He'll leave when he's ready. He just needs time." A hand reached out and brushed hair away from Yohji's face. The hand was strange, strong, and cool to the touch. "Its not safe to return him to Weiss just yet. Not in this state. Not with what's after him."
Yohji's head tossed to the side in an attempt to shake himself back to reality. His eyelids felt so heavy, his lips seemed to be weighed down, and it was difficult to breath. The more he tried to regain concoiousness the more evident the pain on his side was.
"...you yourself said its not wise to interfer with the affairs of mortals, what inspires the sudden interest?" Another voice teased.
A pause, perhaps not a pause. Perhaps Yohji had just blanked out again. "I kept him alive for three years, I'm not about to let him fall now."
This time he did sink and realized, when he woke up again, that some time had ellasped. How much time, he did not know.
"...it will never end." A rough tenor mumbled.
Yohji's heart skipped a beat in panic. He had enough, he wanted to be awake. He was somewhere soft and warm, but he was not with Aya. He was not with Ken and Omi. And those whispers, the shadowed bodies that had been floating over his head for god knows how long, were starting to sound painfully, terrifyingly familiar.
"Oh well, whatever. Nevermind." Footsteps.
He was not about to become Schwartz or Estets pawn. Experiment. Prisoner.
"Hush kitten." The same cool hand fell again on his face, stroking him.
Wild emerald eyes sprang open. With a single, agonizing lunge Kudoh Yohji sat up for the first time in three weeks. Something inside him tore. Probably flesh. Stitches it felt like. The hand that held his face jerked back and Yohji stared into equally shocked, unguarded eyes. He had never seen that expression on the Mastermind bastard before. He wish he had the time to enjoy it. But he couldn't. Instead his back arched and he let loose the most frightening, high pitch scream either assassin had ever heard.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Bradley Crawford barely flinched when the banshee wail bounced through the hall and echoed into the dining room. His cream brown eyes lifted above the rim of his newspaper to regard the person seated opposite him in a cool, sadisticly amused tone. "It would appear he's awake."
The Japanese youth paused from his typing and sighed. He pushed his chair away from the dining room table and put the password up on his laptop's screen saver. "...I'll help with damage control."
"Oh good," Crawford took another sip of his coffee and turned to the business section. "Because I wasn't planning to."
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Strong arms held him down as he struggled to claw his way to freedom. Yohji spit and snarled and utterly forgot all of his assassin training in the fury of pain and panic that seized his being. He was not going to be a prisoner to Estet. He was not going to be Schwartz captive.
Oh god. What if they had already used him. What if they had pulled everything from his head and had gone to capture the others. Omi. Aya, Ken.
"NO, get away from me!"
Schuldig laid ontop of him, trying to force him back into the bed. "Easy, Kudoh, you're going to tear..." Yohji's knee shot up and buried itself into Schuldig's gut. The telepath leaned into the pain to keep from doubling over. "...FUCK, you'll tear your stitches, god damn it." Schuldig finally managed to take both of Yohji's wrists in his hands and was staring furiously at the olders man face.
Suddenly he threw his head over his shoulder and grinned to something Yohji could not see. "He's a fighter, huh?"
"...Maybe he wouldn't be in such a panic if it didn't look like you were trying to rape him." A young, annoyed voice replied. Naoe Nagi stepped to the bedsides right with a glass of water and bottle of painkillers. "Get off him, Schuldig. He's not Farfarello."
Schuldig obeyed and Yohji calmed down a bit. Not for the reassuring presence of Schwartz's youngest memeber, but because he knew if said memeber wanted to, he could restrain Yohji in a way that would be far more unpleasent than anything Schuldig could manage. Yohji felt himself fall back against the pillows, breathing heavilly. The pain in his side was so mind numbly brilliant that Yohji wasn't even beginning to recognize it as pain anymore.
Damn, the Schwartz bastard was right. I shouldn't have moved.
On cue, Schuldig's head tilted to the side and he flashed Yohji a most beautiful sneer.
"Kudoh." The telekentic commanded, in his most calming voice - as if he was talking to a wild animal, "You may or may not remember, but you were shot on a pier about three weeks ago. I'm going to check your wounds and make sure nothing was... broken."
Yohji didn't remember the little brat being so chatty, much less so commanding and sure of himself. From all his encounters with the small boy, he had remembered feeling pity for Nagi. Pity that he was stuck with Schwartz, which always seemed reluctant. Pity that he was in the business of killing, which he was far too young to do. And pity that he so often bowingly and shamelessly followed every order and Crawford and Schuldig dished out.
Lithe, confident hands lifted the blanket from Yohji's side, then moved away the bed clothes Yohji was postive was not his own. He winced as Nagi's butterfly touch roamed on is inflamed side, but knew it was more gentle than anything Schuldig would have ditched out. He found himself inspecting the wound as well. The stitches looked stretched, but more or less intact. The amount of black thread buried into his honey toned flesh was more than he would have considered necessary, but aside from the normal brusing and swelling, the job looked well crafted.
Nagi shook his head. "That little stunt aggreviated the wound, but it will heal properly." Large eyes turned accusingly at the only red head in the room. "He won't be able to walk for another few days, and he shouldn't be running around for any length of time for another couple of weeks. It could still tear."
Yohji's brow furrowed and he clenched his teeth. "...What the hell am I doing here?"
And why are you treating me this way.
Another tilt of the head from Schuldig, another beautiful smile. "We found you bleeding and disorientated at a site we were contracted to demolish. Of course, the place was already a smoldering pile of flame when we got there. Funny how Weiss and Schwartz scheduals so often coincide."
That was enough. Yohji felt his rage building and saw Nagi take a step backwards. "That. Doesn't. Explain. Why. I'm. Here."
Schuldig frowned, the smile gone. "I scanned the area, Kudoh, Weiss wasn't anywhere near your useless body. Would you rather I have left you there to die?"
Yohji frowned back. "I would have expected it."
I know Schwartz. You didn't catch me out of the kindness of your heart.
Cruel jade eyes narrowed. "You," the German snarled, "know nothing of Schwartz."
In a blur of the famous inhuman speed, Schuldig disappeared. Nagi followed shortly after, glass of water and bottle of pain killers left on the nightstand as an afterthought.