The strange quiet voice was the first thing Yohji heard when he came to again. Yohji frowned against the bedrooms darkness and tried to adjust himself in the mess of sheets. The bed beneath him was damp with sweat but felt fairly clean, still the unfamiliar cotton made his skin crawl. The whole situation made his skin crawl.
Here he was, trapped in Schwartz lair and he had nothing but exhaustion to defend himself with. He wondered if Weiss knew where he was. What if they just presumed him dead? They wouldn't be looking for him, he would just have to wither away here at the mercy of his superhuman enemies until they either found him useless or boring. And then they would...
He tried to mull over the conversation he had with Schuldig, but the words were too ridicolous. One of the telepaths tricks... it had to be. But why would Schuldig make himself sound so... humane? Even concern and offended and upset. That just didn't make sense. He knew Schuldig, and Schuldig loved being in control. He didn't gain the upper hand through compassion either, Yohji had seen the red head work people over. He could manipulate others without exposing himself to vulenrability, he certainly hadn't acted gentle or sympathic when he screwed with Sakura's head.
What was his angle here?
"Now that we know he's going to be okay, we should return him to Weiss." Yohji recognized that voice. That impatient sighing tone that could only belong to the young Naoe Nagi. His heart tightened when he heard that statement.
Return him to Weiss? Would they? But if they did, that must mean that they were up to something.
"Not yet," Farfarello's rasp, "Too dangerous."
Yohji bite back a cry as his attempt to sit up on his own failed. His stomach muscle gave out and he fell limply against one of the many pills piled up beneath him. He didn't like the thought of being so helpless with that Schwartz pscyho only a room away from him.
"But..." Nagi's voice countered, a little more quickly than Yohji was accustomed to. "Doesn't he make..."
"It's okay," The boy was cut out by the first voice, the quiet one Yohji had never heard before. "I don't mind him here. I guess."
Yohji wished his could see beyond the slight crack of the bedroom door. A small curtain of light poured in from the hall and although he wasn't able to make out the silloute's of the conversing members of Schwartz, he could tell that they were talking right next to the enterance. They must have stopped to have a discussion on their way in. Yohji prepared himself to go limp and fake unconciousness when they decided to come in.
"What about Crawford?" Nagi asked.
There was a pause between the other two speakers, then the one with the quiet voice answered. "He said Schuldig can do whatever he wants with Kudoh. He doesn't have any plans."
Nagi sighed and Yohji could hear him shuffle around. "I wish he'd be more assertive in this matter. I don't like having him here, it makes me nervous."
The quiet one chuckled, "You're usually so calm headed, this isn't like you. Look at me, do I look nervous?"
Instead of answering, Nagi changed subject, "When will the Yukigawa contract be finished?"
"Next Monday." Farfarello answered. "Don't talk about it. He might be listening."
Yohji tensed and attempted to arrange himsef more approiately in the bed. He needed to look like he had been sleeping the whole time when they finally came in.
Another laugh from the quiet one. "Ooh, now I feel nervous." A slight pause in the conversation, then shuffling. "Hmm, its almost ten. Cartoons are about to come on. Call if you need help, Nagi? Come on, Farf."
The bedroom door was pushed open and it took all of Yohji's willpower not to jump with fright. His effort wasn't good enough though, as he could hear Nagi pause in the doorway and regard him with suspicion. The room was washed with a calm yellow glow coming from the hall lights and Yohji slowly opened his eyes. Troubled green met ancient brown in a contest of wills, Yohji was the first to back down.
Nagi sighed again and approached the bed, turning on a lamp at the nightstand and seating himself onto a chair that was already pressed close to the mattress. "How are you feeling, Kudoh?" He questioned after a moment of silent examination.
Yohji pushed down his immediate fight or flight reaction and fixed a steady stare on the boy. "Why are you keeping me here"
Nagi turned to the nightstand and pulled open one of the top drawers. From there he took out a medical kit and neatly set it ontop of the blankets. "Its what Schuldig wants." Was his practical, detached response. The kits lid popped open and the teenager rummaged through the contents. "I don't agree with it. I think we should have left you there. But the others disagree."
Yohji's eyes widened in slight horror as Nagi pulled out a strange device and placed it up to his ear. He jumped back in the sheets at the sudden popping noise the device did inside his head, expecting a rush of pain and possibly death. Nagi withdrew the tool with a queer expression on his face, turning the device around to study it. "Well, Kudoh. According to this thermometer you're body temperature is normal."
It took a lot of make a sex crazed drunkard like Yohji Kudoh feel like an idiot. This did it.
Nagi rolled his eyes and placed the device back in the box.
"Is this... is this Schwartz headquarters?"
The question caused the boy to freeze and he looked up from the kit a bit startled. Yohji felt slightly anxious as Nagi's expression melted from mild shocked to mocking amusement. "You could call it that. This is our apartment. This is where we live, eat, and plot evil."
To his disgust, he found himself blushing. How could a kid make him feel so foolish? "So... then... why?"
Nagi sighed, "I told you. It's Schuldig. I guess he doesn't want to see you die. And for the record, I don't really care. Now don't throw a bitch fit, I'm going to pull back these blankets and check your bullet wound." True to his words, Nagi grabbed the blankets away from Yohji and rolled them away from his stomach. The hairs on the back of Yohji's neck rised from both the invasion on privacy, the horror of his inescapable vulenrability, and wash of cold air from the thick coverings.
"Will you... let me go home after this?"
"Yeah, when you're up to it. The wounds healing, but you still shouldn't be walking for awhile." Nagi produced a can of balm from the kit and used a q-tip to smear it around Yohji's healing flesh. "You're being awake two days in a row is a big step forward. And the sooner you get out of here, the better. I think Dark Zoilo wants his room back."
"Oh..." Yohji took in the words but still didn't believe him. He mind returned to the repeating track of betryal. Schwartz was defiently plotting something - when weren't they? Schuldig was probably somewhere close by now, invading his subconcious, programming thoughts into his head that he wouldn't realize were foreign until it was too late. He was going to be Schwartz puppet he knew it, he was going to... Wait. "Who?"
Nagi looked up at him as he forced the blankets back into place. "He's a psychic on our team. You don't know him."
Yohji's mouth dropped slightly, processing this new information. "Schwartz got a sixth...?" This means... Weiss was out numbered. Weiss was outnumbered. He was wounded and probably being brain washed, and Schwartz now had a sixth?
Nagi shut the kit and placed it back in its drawer. "What do you mean 'got'?" He mocked, standing up and turning off the light. "He's been part of our team for years. You just never noticed. Get some sleep Kudoh. You need to heal."
-------
Schuldig came home around sunset and smiled at the calmness of their apartment complex. Up here on the 40th story things were muted, the hundreds of minds below them couldn't reach him up here. They were like ants and this - he gazed into the somber living room, floor and walls awash with the blood orange glow of the setting sun - this was his sanctuary.
Nine years, he had worked nine years to get this. Crawford was building him an Empire and Schuldig had been with him since the beginning. Before Takatori, before Schwartz. Before they were anything but little boys being trained to become killers in a psychic cult called Rosenkratz. Everything Crawford had promised him he had delievered, and Schuldig would do anything to make sure it remained that way.
The presence of Yohji Kudoh in his life was a minor threat. A danger he embraced openly. Because, no matter how much the red head enjoyed peace and quiet, he still liked a little risk in his life. Yohji could do nothing personally to him. Schuldig was too smart and too fast to ever be harmed by the Japanese assassin; but what he stood for, what geared him was dangerous.
There was more to the organization Yohji and his friends were working for than what the dim-witted children could ever imagine. Kriker. Rosenkruez. The Free-Masons. Yohji's white cross and his ideals of justice were nothing more than a shadowed link to an enemy that could pull Schwartz back into everything they had fought for almost a decade to detach themselves from.
But that didn't mean that Schuldig was going to let this chance pass itself up.
He had plans for his little White Knight. And Schwartz. And the rest of Kriker.
Schuldig entered the living room and pulled his scarf off. It was getting colder by the day and he had to carry around extra clothing to survive Tokyo's harsh weather. Next he unbuttoned his coat and drapped it on the couch, knowing that either Nagi or Crawford would be by sometime in the next hour to hang it up. Damn their obbessive compulsive personalities. They'd also spring out of their hiding places to make dinner soon.
The house was so quiet in the early evening.
Too quiet.
Even after all these years the silence still caught Schuldig off guard. As a telepath he had always craved the sensation, his senses were almost blind to be able to tell the difference between a natural calm and a psychic induced stillness. But today he could detect it and his eyes slowly began to roam the rooms interior, looking for the source of the soundlessness.
Shadows, shadows, false light...
"He's awake."
Ah, there it was.
Schuldig shrugged out of his boots and gloves and fell against the couch. The spell was broken and the sound of his body crushing against the soft leather sounded like a thousand panes of glass shattering. He set his feet on the coffee table and stretched out. "Hows he feeling, huh?"
"Anxious."
Schuldig dug his hand inbetween the cushions of the couch for the televison remote. "Where's Farfarello? Out?"
"He's sleeping."
Schuldig tilted his head to the side and frowned slightly, "His medication acting up on him again? He hasn't been cutting, has he?"
"No," The quiet voice answered, "he's just sleeping."
The TV turned on and Schuldig began to channel search. The motion was half-assed though, he already knew he wouldn't be interested in anything showing. What he really wanted to do was run in and check on Kudoh. But he didn't want to look desperate in front of his team members. Concern, Schuldig? For an outsider?
He paused on the cartoon channel and tapped the remote against his forehead. "How about you? You okay that he's here? I could move him to my apartment, you know."
Damage control.
"It's okay, I guess."
Schuldig stared at the moving pictures, "Huh. You'll tell me if it starts bothering you, right? I like to know these things. Not because I care, but because I don't want Crawford kicking my ass for... distrubing team dynamics. You know how it is."
"It's okay, I guess." He repeated in the same questionable tone. Schuldig suddenly felt eyes upon him and felt a second presence in the room. He relaxed under the scruntiny. "My show's going to be on in twenty minutes. Its the season finale, so I get the TV, ok?"
Schuldig tapped the remote against his head a few more times, blue eyes swinging towards the ceiling in thought. "Hm, maybe I should bring a TV into Kudoh's room. He's going to be bedridden for a few more days, don't want him going crazy."
He lowered the remote then tossed it onto the coffee table.
"Ah...but that'd require lifting something. And Farfie's asleep. Oh well, I had good intentions. I'm going to take a shower. Knock yourself out kid."
Schuldig left the living room, hearing the televison change channels as he entered the hallway.
-----
That night the German telepath used his powers to monitor Yohji's consciousness. When he felt the Asian surface from his dreamlike state he prepared a plate of food and threw a few helpful items onto a bed tray.
The kittens thoughts were paranoid, nothing more than could be expected. Schuldig could always go into his little head and ease the suspicion out of his mind, sort of like ironing the wrinkles out of a damp shirt, but Yohji wasn't as stupid as he looked and might notice the tampering.
If only he were an empath.
Crawford came into the kitchen with a folder in his hand. The American had graced them with his presnese at dinner but hadn't made an effort to interact with them. No, once again Brad Crawford showed up to a meal with his laptop and spent the entire evening alternating between typing and spooning rice into his mouth. Now he couldn't even get a glass of water without bringing some work with him.
The Oracle had certainly managed to keep himself busy after the fall of Estet. And to Schuldig's displeasure, seemed to enjoy the overload very, very much.
"Feeding him?" Crawford asked, while pulling a glass out of the cabinate.
"Well, I figured he had to eat at least once a week." Schuldig replied with a bit of a smirk.
Crawford raised an eyebrow, "I'm impressed. With that kind of motivation its a wonder the goldfish only survived two weeks."
Schuldig took a moment to pout. "It didn't starve to death, it commited suicide. Goldy couldn't take it anymore, Brad. Not in the tank we bought for it. I mean, it only had a handful of colorful rocks and a small treasure chest. Now if you let me buy the 10 gallon supreme aquarium for him, with the little neon viking castle and gold tinted---"
"That's fascinating Schuldig, but I stopped listening two minutes ago." By the swift shifting of his eyes on the folder paper, Schuldig could tell that he was joking. "For once, try to clean up after yourself. And don't leave any unused food in Dark Zoilo's room. We don't want a repeat of the milk incident."
Schuldig rolled his eyes and shuffled away. He had a few witty replys but held them back, if he let them loose he knew he and Crawford could be standing there all night. Bickering was foreplay to the American and Schuldig didn't have time for games.
He had to concentrate anyway. He had overloaded the bed tray with too many dishes and was in trouble of letting it all spill on the floor. God forbid, if that were to happen he'd be forced to clean all of it up by himself. And Schuldig didn't clean anything up.
Eyes focused on the tray, he almost missed the rather large hunting knife that shot forth from the hallway, stopping dangerously close to the tendons of his ankles. A feral amber eye stared up at him, and Schuldig had to move the tray to the side to gaze down at the threat.
Farfarello was seated on the floor, back resting against the doorframe of his bedroom. He had a pair of headphones wrapped around his neck and several magazines laid out in front of him. His head tilted to the side and he delicately sniffed the air. "Are those... grapes?"
Schuldig sighed, "Yeah, they're grapes. I didn't want to cook anything, so I just threw a bunch of random food together."
A pale hand reached out demandingly. "We will not be sharing grapes with the enemy."
Schuldig bit back a second sigh and set the tray on the floor, giving Farfarello a chance to exmaine the entire contents. He quickly removed the small bowl of fruit from the selection, then as an afterthought attacked the box of cheese crackers. Still, with his selections made, Farfarello eyed the tray suspiciously, wanting to make sure none of his food was being eaten by an outsider.
"...does it meet your approval, Master?" Schuldig snapped.
"If I find my ice cream tampered with I will skin Kudoh alive and use his back hide as a grocery bag." Farfarello said.
"Right," Schuldig picked the tray up and continued down the hall. "Ice cream, off limits."
Farfarello popped a grape into his mouth and glared at his retreating form.
----
Yohji had been laying awake for the pass twenty minutes. He felt so drained, he could barely lift his head to look at the digital clock he had found on the nightstand. It was almost eleven o'clock, Omi's bedtime - after being put in the hospital for twenty-fours hours from overworking himself from school, work, and work he had nearly died from exhaustion Aya and Yohji decided that their baby needed a bedtime. He wondered how Omi was.
Was anyone else hurt during the mission? Schwartz had said that the rest of Weiss was no where to be found. So that meant that they must have been all right.
Why did it feel like they abandoned him?
"Yo, Yohji." Schuldig kicked the door open with his boot and grinned at the bed ridden figure.
Yohji scowled and closed his eyes, both from the sudden onslaught of light and the horror of seeing the red head's face.
"I have a nice face," Schuldig said. He set the tray down and perched on the bed. "You should consider yourself so lucky to be able to see it. Hmm, I can see you're feeling better. Your thoughts are clear."
"Quit reading them." He grumbled.
Schuldig laughed, "I can't help it. You're thinking about how sexy I am. I'm flattered. I brought you some food, you know."
Yohji's nostrals flared in outrage and he was about to snarl and say he didn't want anything that Schwartz bastard had to give him when a sudden wave of nasusia overtook him and his drew in a breath. Schuldig was there immediately, lifting Yohji's body into a half sitting position, so that if he had to vomit he wouldn't choke on it. His hands were so... gentle and strong, it was hard to imagine that this was the same criminal who tried to kill all of Weiss over and over again.
Schuldig's mouth thinned. "You smell. And you're a bastard. Are you going to puke on me or what?"
"...go...to hell, Schuldig." Yohji hissed.
"Ah, kitten," Those same strong hands moved forward and combed away hair from Yohji's face. "You see, I've already been to hell. But I came back for you. Aren't you flattered?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Let your stomach relax, then I can take you in for a shower and you can eat some."
The thought of Yohji taking a shower in the same eight mile radius of Schuldig only made his stomach more upset.