Interlude: Schwartz



Schuldig was bored. It had been two days since the last encounter with his kitten; his body protesting the unwanted break from Aya's attentions. Temporary, he reminded himself, this is only temporary. He'll call for me again. He won't be able to help himself.

The pair had been frequenting various by-the-hour establishments throughout the city for about two weeks now, and trying very hard to keep their late-night liaisons a secret. Or at least Schuldig had--it wouldn't really do for Crawford to know about this latest game. Schuldig honestly didn't think that Aya would care if Siberian found out about their little affair, considering that he didn't seem to care about anything. Aya's mind was always an intrigue; thoughts coherent one moment and foggy the next.

It had been tempting at first, to touch those confused thoughts and twist them, perhaps nurturing that once-gleaned rush of killing or tapping into the tensions between Aya and Balinese. Just a slight nudge, and he could completely shatter the fragile mind, or push the redhead toward carrying out the dark thoughts that lurked inside. Over time, however, something strange had happened, something slightly...unsettling.

While he had originally been amused by Aya, there was something else which touched him with each encounter. Perhaps it was the almost child-like sense of fragility resonating around the stoic man which interested the telepath. Or perhaps it was the image that he couldn't erase from his own mind, that of a beautiful pale body marred with dirt and filth, laying face-down on a cold floor, face streaked with tears.

Perhaps, ultimately, it was the fact that Schuldig knew that which each encounter Aya somehow was calming, stabilising. The only thing Schuldig wasn't really sure of was wether or not this was from the physical activity or from the subtle ways in which Schuldig would touch his mind, beating down the spots of blinding pain and smoothing out knots of confusion.

Slightly agitated, Schuldig shifted his weight as he stood in the doorway of Crawford's room, watching the American straighten his tie.

"If you are so bored, you can always reconsider and join me." Crawford addressed the redhead in his native German, but knowing full well what his response would be.

*No way. The day I voluntarily go to one of those boring intelligence sessions is the day Farf throws out his knife collection*

Crawford involuntarily smiled as he picked up his jacket from his bed and made his way toward the door. "Fine. Stay here, then. You can keep an eye on Farfarello, and make sure he doesn't get out of his room." He paused in front of his lover. "And leave Nagi alone. He needs to conserve his strength for tomorrow, and your 'games' wear him out terribly."

Schuldig sighed and leaned back against the doorframe. *Brad, you never let me have any fun!*

Crawford smirked. "We'll see about that -- after I get home." As he sauntered out of the bedroom, he threw something back at Schuldig, almost as an afterthought, but obviously intentional. *Oh, you might be interested to know that tonight's topic of discussion is your latest toy--I wouldn't get too attached to the kitten, if I were you.*

Schuldig jerked his head in Crawford's direction, caught off guard. *Fuck.* "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

As the front door shut, the English voice came back inside his mind. *You'll see. Tonight.*

***

The first thing Schuldig did after Crawford had left was make his way to the room of Schwartz's resident psychopath and unbolt the door.

Smug bastard. Just a mild touch of defiance would let Crawford know that Schuldig wasn't happy with being left hanging like that, and should get home the point that no one toys with his mind.

Retreating to the now empty bedroom he occasionally shared with Crawford, Schuldig flopped down on the mattress and drifted to sleep.

***

He was awakened almost an hour later by a strange noise which could only be described as deranged laughter coming from the living room. Dragging himself to the lounge, Schuldig blinked a few times at the sight which greeted his eyes.

"Farf, what in hell are you doing?"

The Irishman was sitting in the middle of the living room, knife protruding from his mouth. Between his legs rested Crawford's new desktop shredder, surrounded by an enormous pile of shavings and pulp of various colours and textures.

Farfarello removed the knife from his mouth, licking his own blood from the blade. A single amber eye looked up at Schuldig and the psychotic voice sounded cheerful as he answered in English:

"I'm shredding."

"I can see that - what are you shredding?"

"Stuff. Mostly Crawford's. From the drawers in his bathroom. And from the fridge. And from his desk."

The knife reentered Farferello's mouth, his pale lips closing around the blade. As a slight trickle of blood made its way out of the corner of his mouth, his single eye closed and a soft sound of pleasure escaped from between his lips.

Schuldig sighed. He knew better than to disturb Farf when he was happy. The only thing he didn't look forward to was explaining to Brad that he had left the Irishman alone long enough for him to reduce many of Brad's personal care products and Imported American food to a sticky pulp. Not to mention a few shredded business reports.

Things being as they were, it was best to listen to him and not bother Nagi. The brat was probably busy on his own, anyway. A quick "look" into Nagi's room confirmed what he had suspected: the boy was entertaining himself this evening with the help of his computer. Stupid kid.

Frustrated, Schuldig headed for the door, grabbing a long, black trench coat and his trademark sunglasses on the way. As his direction steered him towards the new downtown location of Weiss's ex-resident redhead, Schuldig tried repeatedly to convince himself that it wasn't because he was concerned over why he hadn't seen Aya for two days, or over whatever the hell Crawford was plotting next; it was just his deprived body pulling him towards release. Toward Aya.

It was a hard sell.

~~~~`~,~@