Part Four
A/N: Eheheh... Guess who entirely forgot about this? I've got nearly all of it written, as well. There's just a few points where I'm not keen on the pacing, a little like here. I use chapters as an excuse to jump through time and not deal with Nagi dealing. I may rewrite or add chapters later on. Anyway, that was why I originally put off updating, then life got in the way and it wasn't until I suddenly started getting reviews that I realised I'd left it half finished, having promised to update it all within a week. Oops. Anyway, hopefully I won't forget again. If I do, email, or review, or poke the livejournal. Considering I've already promised someone a sequel, I can hardly abandon this one.
(Oh,
incidentally, is sudden influx of reviews a coincidence, or did someone
rec this half-finished shambles somewhere? Just curious)
Nagi raised the revolver and shot the man twice in the head before he could even get out from behind his desk. His companion dealt with the bodyguards calmly and efficiently.
It had been what, three weeks now? It had taken him a week to admit to his colleagues that his telekinetic powers seemed to be absent. At first, he had been assigned to work with Weiss, but even powerless Nagi found himself unable to work at their level. It was... it was arrogance, and he knew it. Maybe he had been doing this longer, maybe he did have a more impressive reputation, maybe he could claim to lack that conscience which still inhibited them, but none made effective arguments against Mamoru's cold glare.
To his surprise, though, Mamoru had conceded the point and allowed him to work with other members of the organization instead. Namely, Persia himself.
"You couldn't work with them either," Nagi had accused him with a smirk.
"Maybe I just missed working altogether," Mamoru had chided him.
Nagi fought the constant distraction his partner provided him with a determined professionalism. He found it hard to breathe sometimes, and his heart beat so loud in his ears that he couldn't always hear the instructions in his ear piece. One night, after a particularly good kill, he'd given in to what he was sure was a perverse impulse and tried masturbating with his revolver. He'd wished for Schuldig's expertise anyway, and the cleaning the gun had required afterwards made him snicker every time he thought of it. If nothing else, that proved to him he was still an eighteen year old boy.
Pressed back to back with Mamoru, firing down adjoined corridors, he felt his knees weaken. He heard Mamoru moan and wondered if he was fooling himself in thinking he was pressing against him harder. Mamoru's hand, the one not grasping the gun, reached around Nagi and dipped towards his crotch. Nagi bit his lip hard. Mamoru's questing fingers brushed sensitive places and Nagi was reminded again that perhaps Schuldig was right in claiming the trousers were too tight. His partner's fingers reached their destination at last and pulled a clip from Nagi's belt compartment.
The last three guards collapsed, but Nagi's watched alerted them with a shrill beep that their time was already up. The first explosion was in the basement of the building, making the whole structure shake violently. As the ground floor walls blew outwards the young men found themselves falling sharply. Nagi felt Mamoru's arms surround him and his fall was abruptly halted as Mamoru grabbed a broken pipe. Their relief was short lived as the first and second floor explosives went off simultaneously. They were blown sideways, slamming into a disintegrating wall, but Mamoru didn't let go.
They still had several stories worth of fall left, and another three floors of explosives. Nagi squeezed his eyes shut and prayed to a god he hadn't believed in since the Catholic orphanage he'd grown up in had been destroyed before his eyes. His head hurt insanely and lights flashed on the inside of his eyelids. White noise filled his ears and in the far distance he heard another explosion. As they fell and flew amongst the crumbling rubble Nagi blacked out.
Nagi came round maybe only seconds later. They were lying a short distance from the still falling building. Mamoru's arms were still tight around him.
Teleportation. Nagi couldn't work out how he'd done it.
"Prodigy?"
"Mgh."
"Alive, then." Mamoru loosened his grip and sat up. "Did you teleport us?"
"Mgh," Nagi repeated, refusing to move. He had a migraine to rival any previous one, and the lights of Tokyo burned his eyes. There was still ringing in his ears, and every limb was suffused with pins and needles of such exquisite agony. Mamoru's fingers caressing his skin made the pounding in his head worse, but he felt he could tolerate that.
"Prodigy, your clothes are still smouldering," Mamoru said, voice strained.
It occurred to Nagi that Mamoru was stroking his stomach, which ought to have been swathed in jacket and t-shirt. Despite the screaming objection of his limb, he raised a hand to shade his eyes so that he could open them. Mamoru's fingers moved slowly up and down his bare stomach, occasionally brushing the lower curve of Nagi's small breasts. Nagi's breath hitched in his throat, and Mamoru's hand froze.
Nagi's jacket had been shredded by the shrapnel of the building. Blocks were still falling around them, though none of them hit the couple. Mamoru's fingers moved to pinch out the smouldering edges of Nagi's t-shirt, which had not only been ripped and burnt but also wrinkled upwards by Mamoru's cradling arm. Nagi's trousers were not in any better state, though his modesty was better preserved. As his back was still covered, he suspected Mamoru's front would be, though he suspected the back of Mamoru's coat and trousers were in an equally poor state.
As his eyes adjusted to the light of the Tokyo night, multiplied by the burning remains of the building, Nagi lowered his hand and reached down his own body, as fascinated as Mamoru by his revealed nipple. It was dark, and hard. Goosebumps freckled his breast. His breath was coming in short gasps and he could feel the heat between his legs. He could feel, against his lower back, a dissimilar heat.
A car pulled up beside them.
"Persia, Prodigy," Rex called from the driver's seat.
Persia climbed unsteadily to his feet and pulled Nagi up with him. Nagi met Rex's eyes, half expecting derision or jealousy in her eyes. Instead, there was a smug satisfaction. Both assassins stumbled into the back of the car.
"We received additional intelligence after your departure relating to a tip off," Rex explained. "The target was aware of Kritiker's attentions and called for extra protection."
"We gathered," Persia said dryly.
Nagi pulled a blanket around himself, wincing as it brushed burnt or bruised skin. Under the tent he made for himself he ran a hand across his breast before. Something between his legs pulsed. He wasn't... he wasn't a he, was he?
Nagi withdrew her hand from the blanket and began to search through the first aid kit Rex had placed on the back seat.
"He's coming to terms with it," Schuldig commented, lighting a cigarette on the smouldering remains of a deceased bodyguard. "We're going to have to find Nagi a girl's name soon. He's admitting that the body is still his own, or her own. I'm guessing that's how she managed the teleport, though I imagine self-preservation played a role too."
"What, no comment as to Mamoru's attentions?" Crawford smirked at him.
Schuldig ground his teeth.
"Bastard's not good enough for our little girl," he said, apparently sincere.
The car pulled up in front of them, the driver's eyes completely blank. Schuldig found himself missing the intractable Manx at times like this. Rex wasn't even aware of what was happening to her, let alone able to defend herself against it. She climbed out of the car obediently and Schuldig slid past her to take her place. Crawford rode shotgun.
As he stared out of the windscreen, Crawford deigned to explain the purpose of this exercise. Neither young assassin in the back seat seemed particularly upset. Schuldig suppose being almost killed could sap the emotions like that.
"We're sorry we have to do this," Crawford said crisply, "but the more traditional methods seemed to be made unavailable to us."
Schuldig hadn't been aware that they'd tried 'more traditional methods' of getting in touch. He supposed Crawford had phoned, once at most, and decided this was preferable.
"We wish to discuss Nagi's condition," Crawford went on.
"We want you to quit feeling him up when he's barely conscious," Schuldig added.
Nagi's eyes widened in the rearview mirror.
"I... I never..." Mamoru stuttered before remembering himself. "I don't need to dignify that accusation with a reply."
Is there something I should know? Nagi asked Schuldig.
Aside from the fact we were watching that lovely little display of public affection? Schuldig smirked, knowing that if he could see Nagi's reflection Nagi could see his. Though, on reflection, if he could see Nagi's reflection he couldn't see out of the back of the car, which was the whole point behind having a mirror in the first place. He contemplated adjusting it, and decided against.
Schul-dig, Nagi wheedled.
You're a girl, remember, Schuldig pointed out. You're going to screw yourself over no matter what answer I give.
That's sexist.
No, Schuldig sighed mentally. I mean you're going to wonder if it's your gender, or if it's you.
Oh. Yes.
Yes. See, Uncle Schuldig's not so misogynistic, is he?
Nagi chuckled quietly. Yeah right.
Schuldig could feel Mamoru's curiosity, but no more than that. The young man had constructed some pretty good mental barriers over the years. Humanity, though was infinitely predictable.
"We're not talking about you," Schuldig said, just loud enough for Mamoru to hear. He received the mental equivalent of an elbow to the ribs from Crawford. Apparently they needed Mamoru nice and relaxed and not focussing on Schuldig's telepathy or history or general personality.
"If you wanted a crash test dummy to drive, you should have brought your own," Schuldig muttered. Crawford placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, making the holster under Schuldig's coat dig into the skin. It would be in the wrong position now, and rub every time he changed gears. Schuldig realised he hadn't even registered that the car was a stick-shift, and smirked through the windscreen. No wonder Crawford was making him drive; the man always managed to produce the kind of grating sounds Schuldig associated with Rosenkreuz torture rooms when required to acknowledge the presence of a clutch.
"Persia, you are aware of Prodigy's condition." Not a question. Hence, no answer. Schuldig had forgotten how much he hated watching other people play these games. He could feel Nagi's impatience and irritation seeping through the psychic membrane too, which didn't help his mood. "You are aware that it may be permanent."
"Our medical staff said 'probable'."
"The only experience your medical staff have with Psys is Prodigy himself. Even e is relatively inexperienced."
"We will not be beholden to you."
"Is that the Royal We?" Schuldig put in before he could think, and hence before Crawford could foresee. "Only, Nagi owes us a hell of a lot. He'd be dead otherwise. Many times over."
"Schul-dig," Nagi groaned.
"Whiner."
"-" Nagi was physically elbowed in the ribs, much to Schuldig's satisfaction. He curled up in pain, and guilt poured from Mamoru, though outwardly one wouldn't know it. Just as well Nagi had that little bit of empath in him, Schuldig decided. The relationship was dysfunctional enough already without those kind of misunderstandings.
"We have come to believe Nagi caused this himself," Crawford announced. "There is a less common branch of psychokinesis - a micro-bio bias - that would allow him to do such things. As with his macro-telekinesis, it has manifested due to a subconscious urge. However, the cause, unlike Tot's 'death'," Schuldig could hear the quotes and wondered if the others could too, "is not immediately obvious."
"I... see."
"Obviously, Mastermind is the most prominent tool in discovering the cause of this change."
Schuldig knew Crawford must have known that was a dangerous statement, as much from knowing Mamoru as from his gift. Which meant Crawford was banking on that reaction, and had some plan that depended on it.
"Prodigy in an employee of Kritiker. I can not allow him to associate with known terrorists." Mamoru had a coldness of tone and stiffness of mind Schuldig generally associated with Abyssinian. This was fun.
"Weiss were known terrorists," Crawford reminded him gently.
"They are also Kritiker employees."
"So are we."
Crawford signalled for Schuldig to pull over, outside the main Kritiker building. He switched the engine off and listened with his ears to a silence his mind insisted was louder than most crowds.
"You are not under my employ." Cold. Sharp. Suspicious. Smart boy, Schuldig reminded himself.
"We are under your grandfather's."
"Nevertheless, I can not allow you to take Prodigy from us until I receive written confirmation of that, along with instructions to do so."
"Of course."
Mamoru climbed out of the car, and Nagi followed with barely a hesitation. Schuldig prepared to turn the engine back on when he noticed Crawford opening his door as well. He shot the older man a quizzical look.
"It's not our car."
"Fuck that."
"Come on." Crawford stood ouotside the car, face invisible but tone placating. Mind? Flavour of the day was smug.
"If you think I'm taking public transport..." Schuldig growled.
"Have you looked at where we are?"
Grudgingly, Schuldig climbed out of the driver's seat. He glanced at Crawford, then turned in the direction he was looking. On the opposite side of the road stood the building that housed their apartment.
"You're enjoying yourself far too much this evening," Schuldig told his partner.
"I know." Crawford smiled. "Now Mamoru knows the situation, he will keep Nagi by his side, forcing some kind of resolution. Not only that, but his trust in his grandfather will falter."
"And we live opposite them, and got a free ride home."
They exchanged a look.
"For me, politics, mindgames and a peaceful resolution. For you, petty victories," Crawford said.
"'If everybody looked the same, we'd get tired of looking at each other'," Schuldig grinned. "You want to make the day complete and order dinner on the purple girl's credit card?"
"Yes. Yes I do."
