Chapter Twenty – Shadows without Substance

A/N: I've been looking forwards to this and the next chapter since before I started writing this damn fic. Lots of shounen ai, and even more suspense. Why did I make myself (and you) wait so long? Hang on, how'd this fic get so long?

It was Wednesday night. Schuldig had been driving himself crazy all week, and Nagi with him. Eventually it was Nagi who came up with a plan, despite still being partially unclear as to what was going on at all. It was a simple plan, and to Schuldig's taste. All that remained was to consult Crawford, and they'd be off. Okay, it needed a little more refining, but they had two days until Mr May arrived, and it was not the sort of plan to have in the forefront of your mind with a telepath around.

Part of Schuldig still pined for the English man. He wanted to stick around and try to reignite the fires that had convinced him that coming here would be a good idea. If Greg loved him, then everything would be fine. Somehow.

Oh, he knew it wasn't true. He knew that no matter what Gregory felt for him, he'd still hate everything that would happen to Crawford, and he'd still be here. But part of him wanted to believe that Greg would take him back to the Sahara, and they'd be alone and happy. Two telepaths in each other's arms, unmolested by Rosenkreuz or Estet or the rest of the world.

Schuldig stopped sharply in the middle of a corridor. He was going to see Crawford. He was thinking about Greg. Why did the two combined make him feel like he was living up to his name?

He glanced down at the bottle in his hand. Well, it had seemed like a good idea. He'd seen enough similar bottles in Crawford's apartment. He couldn't read the label, but the general impression he'd got was that it was good. Hopefully Crawford would think so too. It seemed like a fair enough conciliatory gesture, a bottle of wine and a plan to save his sanity, but what if it wasn't enough?

Schuldig was aware that saving his own skin wasn't the only motivation here. As much as Greg, Bradley was idealised in Schuldig's mind, the young man who had fought for him and cared for him, in a cold, distant sort of way. Schuldig knew that the person who had done that for him was gone, partly due to his own behaviour – no, not partly, mostly – but he cherished the hope that at least some part of him could be convinced to reinhabit the shell of a man that was Crawford. Of course, if he couldn't have Bradley, he'd still fight for Crawford. Damn, he was sexy. Like a comic book villain, like the devil incarnate, seducing Schuldig for his evil machinations and never giving a damn about him. Okay, so the machinations probably weren't all that evil, but Schuldig couldn't see Crawford being denied anything.

Another part of him rejected all of this. If Crawford didn't want him, why fight? Schuldig could have any other person in the institute, and it was only the fact that Crawford was so deliciously unattainable that made Schuldig want him. Sure, he might have liked Bradley, but Crawford made himself difficult to like, and it wasn't worth the effort, really.

"Are you ever going to get here?" A familiar voice complained. Schuldig stared up the corridor. Crawford was slumped in his own doorway, watching him. "I had a vishion of you arriving several minutesh ago," he informed the teen.

Schuldig followed Crawford into his apartment. The room was quite dark, lighted by a single candle on a small table. Next to it stood an empty bottle, and another one was poorly concealed underneath the table. Crawford sat down carefully, and turned to watch Schuldig.

"I'm not going away," he enunciated carefully.

"We could, though. Nagi's bloody powerful. The three of us combined? They wouldn't be able to lay a finger on us. You'd see them coming, I'd know what they were planning, and Nagi could destroy them. He really doesn't mind."

"I know, Schuldig. Sit down," Crawford seemed to have sobered up during Schuldig's brief speech. Schuldig pulled up a chair.

"Bad things are going to happen, Bradley. You won't survive them intact," Schuldig warned. "And you're going to take me and Nagi down with you."

"But I can make them less bad. It's all subjective, you see."

"No. I don't. They're going to rape you. Greg is going to shove his cock where the sun don't shine and those walls in your head are going to shatter. How the fuck are you going to make that less bad?"

"Therein, you have the answer," Crawford smiled triumphantly, to Schuldig's utter confusion, and poured both of them a glass of wine. "I know, you think I'm drunk, and it's true, but I'm getting used to it." The slurring was gone from his voice, and Schuldig wondered whether Crawford had been faking it for the security cameras.

"That's not a good thing," Schuldig down the entire glass absentmindedly. "Alcohol's as much as drug as any other." He looked strained. "Why won't you let me help?"

"But I am, you see. You are the most vital part of my plan. I know I wouldn't even consider this sober, so I'm asking you now, but we'll wait until I'm no longer drunk to do it. I won't go back on my word, no matter how drunk I am when I make it." Crawford poured himself another glass, and glanced questioningly at Schuldig. Schuldig shook his head and dug a bottle of beer out of a pocket of the recently washed jacket. Crawford looked amused. "Remind me to ask how you get hold of all this stuff at some point," he grinned. "I never managed it."

Schuldig shrugged eloquently. "So what's this plan?"

"Not yet. You still think I'm rapidly descending into alcoholism. How are my shields?" Crawford waited patiently while Schuldig probed his mind.

"I can't find any cracks," Schuldig smiled, "but on Friday-"

"This isn't about Friday, it's about now. How are yours?"

"I don't have any," Schuldig said expansively. "But don't worry, no one has the faintest idea what I'm thinking. Too much interference."

"Good, good. I made an interesting discovery while on my travels. I was lent a passive telepath, to help me find certain charges. You see, it's much harder to read someone's mind while they're drunk, and what coherent thoughts they do form are generally nonsensical." Crawford looked pleased with himself, and poured out yet another glass of wine.

"No," Schuldig said.

"No what?" Crawford leant back and sipped demurely on the burgundy liquid.

"It's not true. I can read the mind of a drunk person easily. Sure, it's fuzzy, but it's all there." Schuldig stared at him sadly.

"But you are the most powerful telepath on the planet, my dear," Crawford smiled at him condescendingly. "And tell me, do you find it easier or harder to find out who is thinking, when they're drunk?"

Schuldig looked marginally impressed. "I hadn't noticed that. You're right, it's harder to tell. By the way, you know what they're bringing you in for, right? A vision Frau Dubois had."

"I didn't actually. I assumed some passive had credited me with some heretical thought, or Hertz was just in a snit," Crawford looked contemplative, swirling the wine in the glass around. At first it looked gentlemanly and suave, then it slopped over the edge and he looked like a rather tipsy prat again. His glasses were crooked. "Shit."

"Tell me what you want, Bradley. I'm not going to sit here all night. Unlike some, I do have a curfew." Schuldig looked impatient, but he poured himself another glass of wine and sat back, expectant. He took a sip, fighting to keep from screwing his face up.

"I want to have sex."

Red droplets misted between them in a burgundy spray, hanging in the air like a spurt of blood for a brief moment, during which both men appreciated their beauty in an abstract sense, and drenching Crawford's navy blue suit.

"You spat on me," he said peevishly.

"Holy shit!" Schuldig yelped. "Mein gott, Bradley, don't just say stuff like that! Don't fucking play with me," he growled. Schuldig had not so much leapt to conclusions as launched himself by rocket like a cartoon character to crash squarely into them. "I don't like to be toyed with. It's petty, Crawford. Sure, I said the same to you, once, but if you can't let that go… I was serious, Bradley, it's not nice to take the piss like that-"

"Don't you want to have sex with me?" Brad asked, face a picture of rejected misery. If he had been sober, it would have merely been a picture, displayed to convince Schuldig he was serious, but he was drunk enough to let his feelings show, whilst sober enough to know it would help his cause. Inside, he was hurt. He'd never expected Schuldig not to believe him. It was strange, and painful.

"That's my fucking point! I knew you could be cruel, but it's fucking sadistic to… mock… oh." Schuldig stared at him. "Not a joke."

"Not a joke." Brad watched him carefully, tying to work out what Schuldig's eventual reply would be. Schuldig was frowning, and Brad's heart sank.

"Absolutely serious." Schuldig didn't ask questions, he just thought aloud. He was still struggling to take it in.

"Perfectly so."

"Us? You and me? Sex? The act of sexual intercourse? Holy shit." Schuldig found himself flung back and forth between overjoyed ecstasy and the terror of hope. And deep apprehension. There was no way Bradley would feel the same tomorrow, hang over and all. Really, no point hoping. "Really you and me?" he asked in a small voice.

"Yes, Schuldig. When I'm sober, and can't back out – don't let me back out, will you? – you and I will have adult, consensual sex." Crawford reached out and squeezed Schuldig's shoulder amiably. "I think you are a very attractive man, Schuldig. I know you feel the same way about me. Think about it: I'm still a virgin. Of course rape is going to scare the shit out of me. That's why it's the first thing they thought of. But if I can get used to the idea of sex with another man, then perhaps it will have less of an effect than they hope. And you can tell me whether my shields are holding, and stuff."

Schuldig was vaguely amused at hearing Brad utter the phrase 'and stuff', a very un-Brad phrase, but the foreboding kicked in. "Brad, even I fear rape. I've been having sex since I was eleven, I've been selling my body to anyone who'd ask, and rape is still one of my greatest fears. It's a nice plan, but you don't understand enough." It felt… wrong, to be the one in control, the one in the know. It also bothered him the currently the aspect of the situation he found strangest was him explaining something to Brad, rather than the nature of what he was explaining.

"Gregory May, Esquire, doesn't like rape. He hates the discipline techniques here. If I act willing, then he will be gentle. I want you to make me able to be willing." Brad tugged on Schuldig's shoulder and pulled him over, so that Schuldig was half crouched next to Brad's chair. "Let's face it, I want this, you want this. But I won't let myself do it. Now, I have the perfect excuse."

"You know, we could all run away then have lots of sex," Schuldig said hopefully. "That's a good plan too."

"I've invested too much in staying here, Schuldig. It's too late." Brad tugged and pushed on Schuldig until he had him carefully positioned. Schuldig found himself curled in Crawford's lap, arms around his neck to keep steady, feet resting on the table. "Schu, please. I trust you. You're the only one I can say that about. It's up to you, Schu. Will you?"

Schuldig found himself staring into soft brown eyes. He brushed a few strands of hair from them, and kissed Brad, very gently. He could taste the wine, a sharp reminder of how fleeting all this bliss would be, and how bad it could feel afterwards. He had everything he wanted, but it felt like a shadow of everything he could have. At that moment, Schuldig decided to spend the rest of his life looking for what cast that shadow, and having that instead. Brad wanted power and control, Schuldig wanted Brad.

Schuldig pulled back, licking his lips. "You're the seer," he murmured in his best sultry voice, "what do you think?"

Brad's arms curled around his waist, cuddling him closer. "I trust you," he told Schuldig sincerely. It was just a shadow, but it was a sign that there was definitely something there to cast it. There's no smoke without fire, and no shadows without substance.

I love this chapter, even though it didn't turn out exactly as I planned. So sue me, I'm inordinately proud of that last line. ^_^ Oh yes, and the suspense. ^_^ I'm evil. I want to hear you beg. Mwahahaha…