Chapter 13: Resolutions



[RAN]

This morning I thought that for the first time in a long time, things made sense.

I was smiling as I awoke, the dream leaving me with the memory of the last time Ken had tried to make spaghetti for us - who had given him the idea _that_ went in sauce, anyway? The acrid smell had filled the apartment, and my orange sweater, the one I wore merely to piss Yohji off with its garishness, was ruined. The picture Omi took of Ken cowering, Yohji laughing, and me standing in the middle of the smoke-filled kitchen covered in sauce was framed and sitting on top of the bookcase in my room, along with my other "Ken" mementoes: a ticket stub from a concert I'd dragged him to; a book we'd read together; a messy finger painting one of his soccer kids had done of Ken and I sitting in the park; dried plum blossoms from the best day of my life, last spring.

I snuggled closer to his warm body, inhaling his rich, spicy scent. Opening my eyes, that's when all hell broke loose. Orange hair, not brown; jade eyes, not bluish-green. Schwartz. I was sleeping with a Schwartz. The worst thing was, it wasn't even the first time - I'd been screwing him for over two weeks now, with not a whit of regret.

What the hell was wrong with me?!

I tensed, expecting him to smirk at my confusion, to laugh at me and my misplaced emotions, and to rip my mind to shreds.

Something was different, though. We both remained silent for a moment, and it was as if when I looked up into his face I really _saw_ him, perhaps for the first time. Not as an enemy, or as an object, but as a real, live, vulnerable human being. I think he sensed that something was strange about my reaction, because after cracking a joke, he looked deep into my eyes, leaned over, and kissed me.

He had never done that before; I had always taken him roughly in my arms, ravaging his mouth and claiming his body as my own. My own to hurt, my own to abuse, my own to fuck.

This time, he cupped my face with his hands, pressing his warm lips onto mine. He slowly nibbled on my lower lip, gently slipping his tongue inside and exploring every part of my mouth as I relaxed and lay pliant in his arms. I groaned softly and urged him closer, and soon he was on top of me, pressing every inch of our bodies together; the heat from his slow movements and the raw intimacy of the moment making me break out in a sweat.

Then, as I felt his hardness teasing at my entrance and pressing forward, something inside of me snapped. I growled and grabbed his upper arms, pushing him off and rolling us over, regaining control and forcing my way inside of him harshly and roughly, as usual. He suppressed his cries of pain as I took him, trying with all my might to eradicate the tenderness he had shown me.

I can't explain what happened in those moments afterward, when he looked at me with intense, piercing eyes and urged me to leave Japan, but it was if all those faulty logic circuits in my brain connected, the controls switched on, and everything became clear:

Schuldig is my enemy. My enemy has been spying on me. My enemy wants me to leave, so that they can kill my friends. I've been tricked, fooled, and lied to, and have placed everyone in danger. This made perfect sense, right? I mean, what a brilliant strategy for Schwartz to employ: first, lull me into complacency, then swoop in for the kill.

I kicked him out of the small apartment, ignoring the hurt and anger on his face, convinced that I finally was in control of the situation, insistent that I had to free myself of him.

Only...Schuldig hadn't killed me, had he? As the hot water rained down on my cool skin, the nagging thought kept popping up: he _hadn't_ killed me! God knows, he had the chance last night, after I so stupidly fell asleep in his arms. At any moment he could have reached into his jacket, pulled out the gun I know he carries, and blown off my head. Surely that would have made his superiors happy, right? Then why the warning? Why the chance to escape? And why, at the very end, that bitter message, //*It's not over with us, you know. Not by a long shot. Don't say I didn't warn you.*//

Argh! As I towel dried my hair and stared at my face in the mirror, I cursed and yelled every foul word I know. What am I doing? Really, what the fuck am I doing? It all makes sense one moment, and is chaos the next, swirling until I don't know myself.



I dressed and fumbled with the doorknob, opening up to a grey afternoon. Walking always clears my thoughts, and besides, I'm not going to come to any answers sitting here on my ass. I head out, oblivious to the crowds and the coming rain, intent on sorting my way through this screwed up mess once and for all.

***

I've never been more confused in my entire life. The thoughts and images are running over in my mind, colliding and contradicting, trapping me inside foggy logic and hidden motivations. Schuldig. Schwartz. Kritiker. Weiss. Ken. And somewhere, floating amidst them all, the shattered pieces of myself: Abysinnian, Aya, Ran. It's like a puzzle, and I'm madly trying to fit the pieces together, desperately wanting, perhaps for the first time, to see the larger picture.

Knowing that I can no longer run away; knowing that I've been doing nothing _but_ run since that dart hit my neck.

I suppose I could take it one at a time. Okay, first, Schuldig: didn't kill me, could have killed me, not finished with me. Then, Schwartz: going to kill me, most definitely. Or damn well going to try. Next, Kritiker: most likely watching me, and probably knowing full well about Schuldig and me, which means they know about a possible leak in their security. Typical Kritiker solution to a defective agent? Capture, dead or alive. Great.

Okay, so I've probably been targeted by Kritiker, which brings me back to...Weiss. I left them over two weeks ago with a pathetic note and an unspoken goodbye, no explanations or apologies. God only knows what they think of me now, but if anything, I've put them all at risk, and both they and Kritiker know it. Which means that I won't be left unchecked for too much longer.

And finally, Ken. Gods, Ken...I see him there, in flashes of memory: running through the park on a clear day, smiling and laughing, his hair blowing in the breeze and face set in a confident expression as he maneuvers the soccer ball...

...the look in those aqua eyes when he told me that he loved me...

...patiently brushing my hair and gently rubbing my bruised back...

...quietly holding my hand and just talking, the sound of his voice the only anchor keeping my on earth...

...showing me his smile, presenting me his heart...

...the pain and terror on his face as I kicked him in the chest, telling him to leave me...

I clamp my hand over my mouth to suppress a cry as I recall in an instant everything he's done for me, and all I've done to him.

What did I do? Gods, _what did I do_?

Yohji's voice echos from far away in my mind, sounding the undeniable truth:

//"Christ, Aya, do you think that you're the only one who hurts? Who bleeds inside? Can't you see the haunted look in Ken's eyes as he waits for you to come back to him? And what do you give him for all his pain? A black eye? Maybe some cracked ribs? Because why, because you hurt, because you're in pain? You selfish sonnofabitch!" //

As the skies above me open bringing down the cold rain of late autumn, I continue to walk, ignoring the tears which fall on my cheeks.

***

The Shozan-teien Garden, where Ken had brought me a warm afternoon last March to see the plum blossoms. Why did I come here? I head to the admission gate, tossing 500 yen at the girl inside.

"Arigatou gozaimasu! Would you like to rent an umbrella? Only 400 yen."

I shake my head at the girl, just wanting to get on with whatever it is I need to do here. "No."

"Well, enjoy your walk. The gate closes at sunset, in about half and hour." She flashes me a wide smile.

"Arigatou." I nod, and walk into the park.

I hurry past cedar trees and greenish rocks, heading for the plum orchard, tightening my coat around me against the crisp October air and the pelting rain. All around me, the images and voices float, filling my head and surrounding me with equal amounts of pain and comfort.

// "Breathe deep, Ran! It's beautiful, ne?" Ken closed his eyes and took deep breaths, a look of pure pleasure on his face. He looked so young, so innocent, so peaceful. Aya smiled, pulling Ken close. "Not as beautiful as you."

Ken blushed to the tips of his ears, unable to believe that Ran was making a display of affection in public, let alone in the middle of the garden where schoolgirls and old ladies could see them! But heck, if Ran was willing...

They kissed slowly, petals of plum blossoms gliding in the air around them. //

The trees were empty, the blossoms having fallen months ago. My throat tightens as I see the spot where I had first told Ken I loved him, where I had pledged to never hurt him. Where I had told him that I no longer lived for revenge or only for Aya-chan, but that I lived for him.

Where, ultimately, I lied to him. It feels wrong to be sitting in the plum orchard without him.

// "Look, Ran, a pair of Kiji-bato..." Ken pointed up at the pink-tinted doves flying in unison, alighting branch of a nearby cedar tree. "They mate for life, you know."

Impulse grips Ran as he voices his deepest fear. "Ken, will you ever leave me?"

Ken was startled by the intensity in his love's voice. "Ran, you don't have to worry about me leaving you--you're stuck with me, koi! Forever. I promise."

The doves took flight together as Ran enfolded Ken in a tight embrace. //

Ken never left me. He kept his promise, and I broke mine. I broke every promise I ever made him, and he hasn't left me. I shut him out, and he waited. I beat him, and he waited. I've fucked Schuldig, and I know that he's still at home, bruised and waiting. For the first time in months, it seems, my thoughts are completely free of the fog, and my resolve is firm.

Picking myself up off the bench, I know that I owe him something. I owe him everything. I should at least talk to him, try to make him understand why it can't ever be as it once was. I head back to the flat I walked away from two weeks ago, with a singular thought: Ken is waiting.



[KEN]

I think that there are times when pure silence can be as loud as screaming. As Manx delivered her message, a cry as loud as any utterable noise resonated throughout the trailer in the form of a shocked quiet.

What the heck? Manx has fallen off her rocker, years of the job have gotten to her or something... I mean, what is she talking about? "Kill them both"?! Really! What does she think this is? We don't go around stabbing our friends in the back, we don't go around slicing our lovers into pieces when they piss us off or...or betray us. We just don't! I sat there numb and disbelieving as Manx was practically pushed out of the trailer by Yohji, who firmly slammed the door behind her, cursing all the way. He fumbled in his pocket for a cigarette, and with a shaky hand placed it between his lips, inhaling with an almost impossible force. Omi and Yohji kept exchanging glances from each other to myself, as if they were silently debating what to say, or perhaps searching in their own minds for something to explain what Manx had ordered us to do.

I was the one who spoke first, anger and disbelief in my voice. "We can't do this. We can't kill Ran! We can find him, and bring him home, and kill Schuldig, but we can' t betray Ran. I won't."

Yohji exhaled and looked over at me, his face set in a grim expression. "Of course you won't, Ken. Neither will we. But there's no telling what Kritiker might do."

"Why?! What did Ran ever do to them, other than become a murderer to fulfill their agendas?"

Omi made his way across the trailer, and knelt at the floor by my side, his small hands resting on my knees and eyes looking up into mine. "Ken-kun, you know that we won't let anything happen to Aya-kun. But think about it: if Aya-kun is out there involved with Schwartz, there's is no knowing what kind of information he's telling. We all remember how bad Aya-kun was, just before he left. As hard as it is to accept, he may have switched loyalties."

Yohji threw his cigarette on the floor and stalked over to the table where Manx had placed the Kritiker intelligence reports. He sat down and ran his fingers through his hair, shaking his head and he skimmed through the papers. "Kritiker is scared shitless, plain and simple." His voice was filled with bitterness. "They want to get rid of Aya rather than deal with his problems, because it's more convenient. They stuck by him for awhile, but damned if they're going to let him loose with everything he knows, especially if he's showing signs of having cracked."

Throwing the papers down, he looked over at Omi and myself, and spoke the simple truth: "I mean, did any of you honestly think for a minute that Kritiker would ever let any of us go?"

A silence fell over us as we each thought about that statement. I worked it over in my mind, trying to reconcile it with what we knew of how Kritiker works.

"No, Yohji," I began, "I don't believe that this is that serious. They want us to get him back, and they are bluffing us so that we will understand how important this is. They don't expect us to kill Ran!"

He simply shook his head and countered, "Ken, this is Kritiker we're dealing with. They want to cover their own tracks. Nothing more, nothing less. It's a wonder they're even willing to let us try to bring Aya back."

"Of course we'll get Ran back! Only...what do you think they'll do with him once we get him?"

Again, Yohji didn't mince words in his ever-present realism. "Probably put him in a hospital, try to get him back to operational status. If they can't fix him, who knows."

Omi's head snapped over to Yohji, his grip on my thigh tightening. "Yohji-kun! Don't be so cold."

"Omi, I'm only trying to think like them."

I can't listen to this anymore. These debates won't get us anywhere, not when Ran isn't here, not when he's out there alone and probably scared and being subjected to the whims of that asshole Schuldig. God knows what he's done to Ran... he probably couldn't wait until one of us showed some vulnerability before pouncing.

There's only one thing I can do, really. I wasn't aware that I'd gotten up and headed toward the door, propelled by the strength of my desire to find Ran. Halfway across the trailer, a firm grip latches onto my arm, pulling me around and face-to-face with Yohji. "Ken. Listen...if it does come down to it, you won't have to be the one to do it. I wouldn't do that to you."

What the hell? "Let go of me, Yohji."I wrench my arm free and grab my coat, heading out into the rainy afternoon. Ran's out there, somewhere. The last time I went to him, he beat me senseless and went to Schuldig, and I have no guarantee that he won't do the same thing again. But I can't sit here any longer waiting, knowing that he's in danger.

Ran, I'm coming. Please, please don't fight me. Not this time.

***

Admittedly, it's rather pointless to keep wandering in circles: this is a huge city, and I've no guarantee that he's even still in it. But something is pulling me along, and as I look around I realize that I'm on the edge of the familiar soccer field in the park, the place where I first started to spend time with Ran away from the shop and the team.

I kick at the ground and stare at the wet earth, trying to block out Manx's words:

//"It came to our attention that Abysinnian has been engaging in a sexual relationship with someone who we feel poses a risk to the security of Kritiker...Schuldig, to be specific"//

Schuldig. What? Why, Ran? Why him...what did he do to you to make you think that he was what you needed? Did you even have a say in the matter, or did he simply twist your mind to make you go along with whatever he desired? Either way, what he's done in unforgivable. "Schuldig, I'm going to kill you. I'm going to slice you to ribbons, and take Ran back."

The words sounded cold even to my own ears, and as they hung in the air of the empty park, I knew that they were true. I would do everything in my power to make that bastard pay for taking Ran from me.

*Are you sure that's going to be the answer to your problems?*

What? I whip my head around and feel my stomach bottoming out at the image before me. Standing under the tall oak tree, as Ran had done so many times before, was Schuldig. Rage colours my vision as I quickly advance toward him, before my head clears and I come to a full stop, acutely aware of the fact that I don't have my weapon. Great. Just great. What the hell is he doing here?

He seemingly ignores my odd behaviour, and keeps rambling on, invading my consciousness. *I can see into his mind, you know, as I can see into yours. Do you want to know what's in there?*

I continue to meet his gaze, trying to shake his voice out of my head. "Bastard!"

He laughs, and speaks, his real voice far more harsh and deadly than I remember. "Why do they always say that? Can't anyone come up with a creative insult?" Schuldig chuckled again. "Look, kitten. I don't care whether or not you two fix up this little melodrama of yours. I don't give a rat's ass if you live happily ever after or if he beats you to death tomorrow."

"Then why the hell are you here? Have you come to rub my face in it? To let me know that I couldn't keep him, that he had to go to you?"

Schuldig opened his mouth to reply and quickly stopped, his eyes flickering downward for a second. He looked...uncertain. That was a hoot. Schuldig, suffering from a lack of confidence? He quickly resumed eye contact and continued, his voice taking on an edge I have never heard, losing some of its nasility and sarcasm. He looks me full in the eye, unnerving me to the core. "Yeah, we fuck. And it's damn good. But it's hollow. You know why? Because he hates me and he hates himself. He loathes being with me, he just needs to feel...strong. He loves you, he just can't see it. But it's there."

What the hell? Why is he doing this? Is he telling me the truth, or is he merely enjoying twisting the knife? I don't trust this bastard as far as I could kick him, and he knows it.

Schuldig sighed heavily as he advanced toward me, oblivious to the rain."Kitten, you're really none too bright. How the hell do you think Ran magically happened to appear back at your place that morning, half dead in his Porsche? Do you think he had the strength to escape? Or do you really think that after capturing such a prize anyone would cheerily return it?"

"What are you getting at?"

"One of our private contracts, you see. Crawford's got us into freelance work since you disposed us of Estet. Imagine my surprise to walk in on your precious Ran getting his brains fucked out by my fellow employees."

My throat tightens as I momentarily see a flash of the dirty, dark room, the sweaty man grunting as he roughly takes Ran. Ran, who bleeds onto the floor, tears staining his cheeks, his eyes squeezed shut. Ran, who is desperately crying my name...

...the scene shifts slightly and I can see overlaying the image a small boy with orange hair and green eyes which cry in an equally filthy room, an echo of a memory...Schuldig...

...it comes to a sudden halt with two gunshots and shouts of surprise from the attackers, two of whom fall next to Ran, blood gushing from their wounds. Free from the onslaught, Ran slips into unconsciousness before being gently picked up by Schuldig...

I squeeze my eyes shut and the vision leaves me. "Why..why didn't you kill him?" I am sickened by what I have seen, but more than that, I am confused by Schuldig, and the realization that he could have taken Ran's life at any moment after shooting the man who was...was...

Schuldig's voice comes softly, breaking my thoughts. It is little more than a whisper, but it is heavy with purpose. "I thought he deserved to get his revenge."



~~~`~,~@





Schuldig sighed as he lifted a cigarette to his lips and flipped a stray hair out of his eyes, watching a confused Hidaka scamper back to Weiss' flat, sorting through the mess of information Schuldig had given him.It wasn't really so surprising, he thought, what he had done tonight, was it? He really had only two options: either keep laying in that bed preparing to wipe Aya's mind, or to get up, sneak out the window, and make sure Weiss didn't fall into his own hands. At least now, when Weiss took the bait, they would know who was behind it, and would be on full guard. And maybe, just maybe, Aya would have a fighting chance of getting that bastard Kawakami.

Taking a deep drag, he closed his eyes and tried not to think about what Crawford would do to him if he found out.



~~~`~,~@







a/n: Yes, the end is near, probably two or three more parts. Thanks for sticking around!