Part Three
Nagi stretched in the back of the car, smiling slightly. Rex had pushed the mission dossier into his hand as he made his way out of the building. Mamoru wanted to keep him from seeing Crawford and Schuldig for as long as possible, despite any assurances to the contrary. Besides, it was good to know something hadn't changed. He could still kill, no matter what gender he was. As Schreient had proved, assassination was an equal opportunity employment.
Despite being hurt by Mamoru's comments the morning he still felt more comfortable pretending to be male. He didn't need, he reasoned, to let his targets know how off-balance he was. At least his centre of gravity wasn't markedly changed, as it might have been had his breasts been larger, and he had never depended on physical techniques in battle anyway. Running was the most he required of himself, and maybe the pulling of a trigger, if he was really exhausted.
The car pulled up outside a station just under a mile from the target's building. Nagi climbed out and walked into the station. He bought a ticket and walked down to the platform. He stood amongst the crush and watched a train pull in. He let himself be shuffled towards it with the boarding crowd, and then away with the alighting crowd. Still holding the ticket he exited the opposite side of the station and began walking towards his target's offices.
Nagi knew he had something of a superiority complex. Puny mortals.
The security systems were deactivated long before he reached the building. Sometimes he missed being the person to do that. He had enjoyed sitting with his laptop near or within the building they were attacking. Sometimes he had played with the footage and left the puzzled guards (assuming they had survived) to wonder why the anime assassins of Noir had infiltrated their building.
For a moment, Nagi pictured himself as Kirika, though his amusement soured when he realised that it was more than a passing resemblance. All he needed to do now was cut his hair, and then the bemused guards would want to know why their employers were dead if the only person in the building was a cosplayer.
He'd always liked Chloe better anyway.
Schuldig said that one of the members, the male members, of Weiss Side B was called Chloe. Nagi wondered if he had a comatose sister too.
These musing had brought him to the building and he stared at the door for a moment. He concentrated, but entirely failed to teleport inside. Perhaps it was something to do with body image. He tried to unlock it mentally, but still nothing happened.
With a heavy sigh Nagi pressed the intercom.
"Flowers for Saito-san."
"You don't have any flowers," a suspicious voice came back.
"Pity," came a rather more familiar voice over the intercom. "There'll be no lilies for you grave."
There were the sounds of a very brief struggle, then Nagi was buzzed into the building.
The target was dispatched with a bullet, much to Nagi's distaste. Schuldig watched him sympathetically.
"You're screwed, aren't you?" he said in German.
Nagi holstered the small revolver in the spacious jacket again and stared out of the window. A familiar van was parked below them, a familiar kitten logo on the side.
"They'll know you were here. They'll know," Nagi said in the same language, voice cracking with strain, "that I was unable to access my unique talents."
"Are you coming home with me?"
"Yes." Nagi wrapped his arms around himself and stared at his feet. "Please."
Crawford frowned as Schuldig and Nagi disappeared into Schuldig's room. Schuldig, he knew, had the entire contents of a rather well-stocked bar in there. Nagi was too delicate right now, he felt, to go through that.
Nagi collapsed onto Schuldig's bed. "Can you make me forget?" he asked softly. "Just for a while?"
"That bad, huh?" Schuldig asked.
"I just want to be me again, for as long as I can," Nagi told him.
"You're still you," Schuldig said cautiously.
"Of course I'm not," Nagi said scornfully. "Do I look like me? Do I sound like me? Do I even act like me?"
"You think like you," Schuldig told him simply.
"You're missing the point," Nagi told him. "And I don't. I keep thinking things that are completely alien to me."
"What sort of things?" Schuldig asked.
"Give me alcohol first," Nagi commanded.
Schuldig produced a bottle of beer and as mildly astonished at how quickly it disappeared. "Planning on getting slaughtered, are we?" he raised his eyebrows.
"Absolutely," Nagi said firmly, reaching for a second bottle.
"Schuldig?" a voice came from outside. "Here, now."
"He's a prick," Nagi said vaguely. "Stay."
Schuldig sighed. "I won't be a minute, kid. Better I go now than get bollocked later."
"But I want you here," Nagi pouted. Schuldig frowned. Was that a third bottle already? "I..." Nagi sighed. "I'm not drunk enough yet."
"Schuldig!"
"In a minute!" Schuldig yelled back. "Nagi, what were you going to say?"
"Nothing," Nagi insisted. "Ask me again in a few bottles."
Schuldig grinned wryly. "Sure thing." He clambered to his feet and reappeared in the main room with a sigh. Brad had his arms folded and a face like thunder.
"Look," Schuldig said bluntly. "That kid's having trouble adjusting. He's got to get used to having a female body."
"He shouldn't have to," Brad said stiffly.
"Don't be an idiot," Schuldig sighed. "He's vibrating like a plucked string. He has to accept this now."
Brad's expression softened. "That bad?" he asked.
Schuldig swallowed. "I have a theory on what's happened, you know."
"Do tell," Brad drawled.
"Later. He needs me now."
"Nagi isn't the type to need people," Brad scoffed.
"No, he's the type to not want to need people," Schuldig said cryptically. "Do you have any idea how badly fucked up he is in the head? Of course not, half those issues he's carrying were created by you."
"Do you think you know what happened to his powers?" Brad asked coolly.
"It's wrapped up in my theory," Schuldig dismissed him. "Right now I have to get his head around the idea that just because he's a girl, and can't control his powers, it doesn't mean he's someone else. Remarkably resilient to the idea."
"Don't get him drunk," Brad sighed. A bottle rolled out of Schuldig's door, dribbling cheap beer as it wandered across the carpet. "...Any more so," Brad finished wearily.
Schuldig returned to his room. Nagi was lying on the bed, looking miserable. Schuldig ran a hand down his back, following his spine right down. Nagi squirmed. He'd always been a lightweight, Schuldig remembered wryly. Ah, the fun of pimping out the wide eyed boy to jaded business men, paying half before and half after when after never came.
"I think I have a boy brain," Nagi announced. Schuldig pried a bottle from his fingers and took contemplative swallows as Nagi went on. "I watched this program where they showed that there are differences between boy brains and girl brains once, right, and they showed how they could get mixed up. Testosterone, you see."
"So, like with transsexuals and hermaphrodites?" Schuldig asked.
"Intersex," Nagi said scornfully. "Not allowed to use that other word any more."
"Political Correctness sucks, and you can tell it that from me," Schuldig grinned lazily.
Nagi laughed and rolled on to his side to look at Schuldig. "You'd think they'd change my brain too, wouldn't you?" he said.
"Bit risky, that," Schuldig offered.
"Guess so," Nagi sighed.
"So, why do you think you have a male brain?" Schuldig prompted.
"Because I want lots and lots of sex," Nagi said glumly.
Schuldig burst out laughing. "Oh, kid, that's just a teenage brain!"
Nagi considered this. "Give me more alcohol," he said eventually. "Too much of this makes sense for me to be drunk enough." He sat up unsteadily.
Schuldig handed him the bottle. "How are you feeling?" he asked sympathetically.
"Why are you here?" Nagi countered.
"It's my room," Schuldig grinned. "Expand."
Nagi puffed up his cheeks, but ruined it by laughing at himself. Schuldig chuckled too. He moved to lie down on the bed next to Nagi, and the boy gave up his bottle to lie next to him. Schuldig rolled onto his side and draped an arm over Nagi, who responded calmly. It took a moment for Schuldig to recognise the feeling of Nagi's new breasts pressed against his own chest. It reminded him that his own brain had certain adolescent tendencies of its own. Nagi was hot and dry and smelt of beer and expensive shampoo. He was small and needy and his head tucked perfectly beneath Schuldig's own like two jigsaw pieces.
"It's weird," Nagi sighed into Schuldig's chest. "All this stuff I want to do. Stuff I take offence at. Why can't this body be more like mine?"
"It is yours," Schuldig sighed, breath ruffling Nagi's fine hair. "What do you want to do?"
"I told you," Nagi scowled. "Have lots and lots of sex."
Schuldig reached out to Nagi's mind. Chronically screwed up, as usual. Not identifying his physical desires as his own right now. Not even identifying his thoughts as his own, at times. For example, Nagi couldn't possibly believe that he would go to Schwarz for comfort. He had to be here for some other reason. Or the body had hijacked him. Or something.
Schuldig squeezed Nagi to him. "It's easy to be around familiar people when unfamiliar things happen," he told Nagi. "Besides, you've dealt with more crazy stuff as Schwarz than you have with Kritiker. Of course you want to be here."
Nagi wrapped his arms around Schuldig's neck. "What if I change?" he asked in a small voice.
That question making no sense to him, Schuldig skipped it and went back to an earlier point. "Are you horny, Nagi? Is that what you were trying to tell me earlier?"
Nagi raised his head and gave Schuldig a very patronising look. "Which bit of 'I want lots and lots of sex' did you understand?" he asked scathingly.
Schuldig laughed. "Fine, you're horny. Why haven't you dealt with it? You're getting just a bit obsessed, if I may say."
"You may not," Nagi pouted. "I don't know how girls deal with this. I couldn't make anything happen."
"How hard did you try?" Schuldig asked rhetorically. He held Nagi close again. If he'd been anything other than amoral, this would have presented a moral dilemma. As it was, all Schuldig had to worry about was how pissed Brad was going to be. Nagi writhed against him and he found a clumsy kiss planted on his lips. He was reminded how painfully little experience Nagi had in this field. Perhaps it really was about time someone showed him 'the way'.
Schuldig rolled Nagi onto his back and kissed him hard. Nagi was either too drunk or too scared to do anything more than open his mouth and let Schuldig in. Schuldig pulled back.
"I'm going to show you how to deal," he said, "but you've got to co-operate. I thought you were horny?"
Nagi blushed.
"Goddamn shy virgin," Schuldig smirked. "Look, I won't besmirch your precious purity, okay?" He wiggled his fingers in Nagi's face. Nagi's eyes widened in surprise and narrowed in anticipation. When his breathing began to quicken Schuldig plunged in for another kiss, wet but well-intentioned.
Schuldig slipped into Nagi's mind for a bit of anticipatory action. It was the easy way to be the best someone had ever had, though Nagi didn't really have anyone to compare him with. His readiness shocked Schuldig slightly. Dispensing with any other foreplay, Schuldig's hand disappeared into Nagi's trousers. Nagi groaned and wriggled. Schuldig eventually had to get rid of the trousers altogether as Nagi proved harder than expected to satisfy, even for the skilled German. He couldn't imagine how frustrating it must have been for Nagi, those hot feelings throbbing so low and so out of reach.
Female orgasm was strange, Schuldig mused, as Nagi finally arrived. Experiencing it through someone else's mind had to be slightly warped but Nagi would be able to make a direct comparison. And then there was that whole business of multiple orgasms.
Schuldig loved being a telepath sometimes.
Nagi was putty in his arms when he came back to himself. He grimaced at the stain in his trousers and levered Nagi onto the bed. The thoroughly drunk and completely satisfied girl slept soundly. Schuldig couldn't resist a quick hair ruffle. Lying like that in t-shirt and damp panties Nagi looked like the girl he was, and Schuldig couldn't fault his effeminacy.
Schuldig dug out another pair of trousers from the pile of washing mentally dubbed 'clean enough to get away with for short periods'. He sniffed his shirt and pulled it off, draping it over Nagi. He couldn't even remember buying the gauzy thing. Probably drunk, he figured. His fashion instincts tended to whittle down to 'ooh, shiny!' at times like that.
Crawford was watching an old horror film when Schuldig sauntered back into the main room. At Crawford's sharp look Schuldig explained, "He's sleeping," and settled beside him.
"I don't think that was wise," Crawford said stiffly.
"You have no idea how much he needed that," Schuldig sighed. "Imagine being around someone you lust after all day every day and yet not be able to indulge a single fantasy because the frustration would overwhelm you. Hell, imagine not being able to masturbate. That pretty much sums it up."
"He has a 'thing' for someone at Kritiker?" Crawford said softly. "I don't really need to bother guessing, do I?"
"I figure that's what brought all of this on," Schuldig sighed.
"Ah yes, your theory. Go on."
"Nagi brought this on himself," Schuldig said simply.
"How?" Brad asked, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.
Schuldig shrugged. "Give himself a bit of freedom, maybe? His subconscious is a mess. I think maybe it's the only way he can see of getting Tsukiyono into bed. It seemed logical at the time, and he was under stress."
"You think he subconsciously changed sex, when he can't consciously so much as change his hair colour?" Crawford said sceptically.
"Tot's still alive," Schuldig said.
"Ah."
"Yes. Would be nice if he'd mentioned this little talent before, you know?"
"Yes. I wonder why he didn't."
"He seems to be getting insanely powerful recently. There's not much left he can't do."
"Do you think he's blocking his powers, or has he altered himself too much to use them?"
"That's the sixty four million dollar question."
Crawford grimaced at the reference to his country's pop culture. Schuldig smirked at him and wandered away. Crawford hadn't expected him to return, but he did, with a bowl of chips and a pot of dip to boot. He set them between the two of them on the couch and sprawled out to watch the film. Occasionally he would make comments about the film, playing at Mystery Science Theatre until Crawford reminded him that, unlike the robots, he wasn't being forced to watch this. After a while, he began to snicker softly to himself.
"I'm not going to ask, you know," Crawford said pointedly.
Schuldig grinned at him. "It's so messily domestic, isn't it?" he said without further prompting. "Imagine if Weiss could see us now. Big Bad Schwarz watching Dracula's Bride's Second Cousin's Pet's In-laws and getting crumbs everywhere."
"You're not, are you?" Crawford asked. Schuldig laughed and flicked dip at him. Crawford bit back a smile, but Schuldig could sense his amusement anyway. "Unfortunately, this can't last," he sighed wearily. "Nagi's keeper is going to drop by soon, and it would be for the best if you were out of sight."
"I'm not running away for that Takatori's sake," Schuldig warned.
"Then do it for mine and Nagi's," Crawford told him. "And especially yours."
"What can he do to me?" Schuldig muttered, but he stood up anyway.
"If you want, you can go and get some food," Crawford dug his wallet out of his jacket pocket. "We've got nothing to eat for tonight."
"Is Nagi staying?" Schuldig asked.
Crawford thought forwards. "No," he sighed.
"I really don't like that boy," Schuldig grumbled.
"Nagi does," Crawford pointed out.
"And don't I know it." Schuldig took Crawford's wallet from him, sniffed at the contents and shoved it into one of his own pockets. "I guess I'll see you later."
"Hopefully," Crawford said dryly.
"Yeah," Schuldig shrugged. Any opportunity for further conversation was cut off by the closing door. Crawford turned back to the television, but it had lost its appeal now.
