Chapter Forty-Six – Picking up pieces

The rumour went round that there were to be spot checks. On what, no one was quite sure, but the pyromaniac two rooms down said he'd seen a telempath in tow. Nagi heard them outside the door. He didn't really care what they were checking for - cleanliness, attendance, psychological damage... He was screwed on all counts. The room stank of decaying flesh.

When they came, they didn't say anything. A look at him, a look around the room, and they left.

When the cleaners came, they didn't disturb him.

When three new roommates moved in, Nagi having apparently graduated to the next year without even turning up to classes, they avoided even looking at him.

Then Schuldig came.

"Mon petit ami!" Schuldig said, spreading his arms flamboyantly.

Nagi had fully intended to ignore him, as everyone else, but he couldn't stop himself form asking, "Doesn't that mean 'my boyfriend' in French?"

Schuldig shrugged with one shoulder. "Aren't you glad I'm here?"

"No."

"Oh, Nagi." He was laughing softly, but not in a way that upset Nagi, which was odd, since other people being alive tended to upset him at the moment. "How are the room mates?" Schuldig asked after a moment of swinging his legs and scuffing his feet.

"I have room mates?" Nagi snorted.

Schuldig ruffled his hair.

"I have a plan."

"Oh dear."

"Oh, don't worry, you're not part of it. Unfortunately, that means you'll have to die along with everyone else, but c'est la vie." Schuldig shrugged again.

"Everyone else?"

"Well, you're useless to me right now."

Nagi glanced over at him, the corner of his mouth twitching.

"Useless?"

"Ja."

"Can you keep a secret, Schuldig?"

Intrigued by this sudden change to Nagi's recent relentless apathy Schuldig leant in. Nagi studied him solemnly, the effect only marred by that rogue lip, which kept twisting upwards. It was a smile almost as frightening as Crawford's, or Schuldig's own. Schuldig found himself catching his breath. The kid was well taught.

The bed disintegrated first, it's components flinging themselves towards separate walls. The other bed went much the same way, and then the window blew out. The door, meant to open inwards, burst out with enough power to dent the opposite wall. Plaster began to fall from the ceiling.

"Precisely what is this secret?" Schuldig asked.

Everything stilled. The door slammed back into the frame. The glass reformed in the window. Both beds put themselves back together, Nagi's actually sliding under them and lifting both to their original positions.

"I hurt: I harm," Nagi said.

"What class did they have you pegged as?"

Nagi smiled, no teeth.

"I don't think there is a class for me."


Every night, soft hands traced his scars. Sometimes he felt it, sometimes he didn't. He couldn't never see the owner of the hands, and frequently he couldn't even see himself. He wasn't sure whether it was attraction or fascination, or attraction born of fascination.

He liked it, in a way. It fit no description of any afterlife in any version of the Bible. He was alive, and imprisoned was just another word for challenge.


"Why don't you put on some music?"

And to his surprise and utmost horror, Crawford did. Abandoning his clothes in the bath, having come back yet again to continue wringing the blood out, Schuldig made his way rapidly to the main room. For a brief, insane, moment, he though Crawford must have gone into the bedroom. Instead, after a moment's wild staring he spotted a pair of feet hanging over an arm of the sofa, which faced away from him. He stalked over to peer down at Crawford, lying stretched out on the couch yet again. It began to dawn on Schuldig just how much of his time his old mentor was spending there now.

"You need a new project," Schuldig breathed through his teeth. Sticking his hands in his pocket he moseyed around the couch to squat by Crawford's head.

"Are you going to chain me up again to find out what it is?" Crawford asked quietly, never opening his eyes.

"A few months ago an ambition like I've never felt hit this place. You make Hertz and the rest of them small fry. Hell, you probably make look like Hitler small fry."

"Thanks," Crawford said dryly.

Schuldig grimaced good-humouredly. "Made me horny," he said casually. "But then, your power trips always did. I never got it until I killed Rammi. It's just wow. Like being hit by a tidal wave of adrenaline and stuff."

"It can be addictive," Crawford commented.

"You think I haven't noticed?" Schuldig stood up and began pacing. "I never knew it was so easy. I mean, I've got a huge list of people I want dead. I can't see why I was so fussed before. Hertz, DuBois, every technician in those labs, even you, before you got so pathetic."

Crawford opened his eyes and blinked at the water-stained ceiling. "Me?" he asked. And then, "I'm pathetic?"

"Yeah," Schuldig shrugged. "You've got a real talent for pissing me off. I left you to die, but hell, now I just want to shoot you. You've got a gun, haven't you?"

"You can't use my bath for washing and then just shoot me!" Crawford spluttered, sitting up.

"Why not? I don't care if you die with dignity or not," Schuldig grinned at him. "You've killed people, I know you have."

"Many," Crawford said coolly. "And I have the capability to kill many many more."

Schuldig snorted. "You're not the only wino to stake that claim. Tell me, do you think you're Kaiser Wilhelm too?"

Crawford stood up, making use of those five or six inches he held over Schuldig. Despite the hair, he could still look over Schuldig's head. He smirked at the wall.

"I thought killing a man might make you one yourself, as it did me, but I suppose I was mistaken," he said calmly. "I don't like being mistaken, Schuldig."

Schuldig laughed. "I've been a man longer than you," he scoffed.

"Men don't walk around boasting about killing people. You're like a boy with a toy soldier."

"You wanna see me kill someone?" Schuldig challenged. "Want to see me rip out someone's throat?"

"You'll just walk out there and kill a stranger, a potentially useful stranger, just to prove your point? Only a boy is so rash."

"Fine. I'll kill Hertz. You can't say he's a random stranger. And he sure as hell ain't useful."

"Of course he is, boy. And not only that, but he would squash you like a bug. What child overestimates their strength like that?"

"The 'boy' thing is getting really old," Schuldig snapped. "And I'm not falling for any of this. I have my plans, you have yours. And I saw that vision of yours where they were the same, and I'm not sure I want in on that."

"What, total anarchy? The destruction of the Estet? The chance to rule the world?" Crawford cocked an elegant eyebrow.

Schuldig pouted childishly. "Not your way," he said eventually. "I know you. You'll leave me to die first chance you get. No use carrying dead weight, you'll say, and have me wander into some suicidal situation without giving me all the facts. Between Nagi and Farfarello you'll have no use for me. I can't wipe out hundreds at once, and I can't slit a throat with the kind of delicacy that wiped out Jei's folks."

"Oh dear," Crawford said, smiling slightly. "You're not jealous, are you?"

"No, just not stupid," Schuldig said firmly. "We have completely different fucking ideologies. Me, anarchist. You, obsessive compulsive control freak. Why would I want to fucking rule the world? I just want to have fun."

"I thought you said that power made you horny," Crawford pointed out, stepping forwards. To Schuldig's credit, he didn't back up, but this left them pressed together. Schuldig was horny.

"My kind of fun wipes out civilisations," Schuldig purred. "I'm not some petty small scale anarchist-at-weekends. You know that. Maybe you will rule the world, but I'll have destroyed it first."

"Good," Crawford said, voice low. He looked down, straight into Schuldig's eyes. "I'll want to start afresh."

"Good," Schuldig said, at a loss for what else to say. Did Crawford want him to kiss him? They were so close. He was so hard.

"So our paths will cross again," Crawford said softly.

"I guess," Schuldig murmured. His eyelids fluttered. He could feel Crawford's breath on his lips.

"No matter what we'll be bound to each other in some indefinable way," Crawford whispered.

"We already are," Schuldig swallowed. Can't you feel it?

"Yes, Schuldig, yes I can."

Schuldig strained up for that precious touch, lips slightly parted, eyes slightly shut. For a brief, hot moment he thought it was going to happen. He could feel the pull of Crawford's mind, the sense of magnetism drawing them ever closer together. But while Schuldig stood, head tilted back, Crawford didn't move. Cold eyes fixed on him through distant glasses and as Schuldig focused on him properly the coldness leaked into his own form. He felt the chill in his stomach and in his heart. He felt it in his mind, and knew that this was how Crawford killed, without that hot rush and mad thump that Schuldig now knew.

He staggered backwards just in time. The bullet embedded itself in the wall with a sound that reminded Schuldig of the end of the world. For a moment he just crouched and blinked, hands half upraised.

"You have a lot of work to do yet," Crawford said calmly. "Boy."

This time, Schuldig didn't correct him. He let himself out.