The standard disclaimer applies. I own no part of Weiss, but I retain the rights to my ideas as my own.
I'm sorry for taking so long, life tends to happen to the best of us. I'm not giving up, don't worry. I'm already composing the next chapter.
Schuldig inhaled slowly and deeply as Crawford kept talking. The smoke curled lazily from the cigarette poised between his long fingers, meeting his exhaled breath. The two twirled and intertwined with each other, and Schuldig just kept watching it. He knew Crawford knew he wasn't listening, but this was for the Irishman's and the little boy's sakes too. Speaking of sakes…he wondered if there was any sake left in the cupboard. It was impossible to hide anything from the American. He always knew where you put it. Bradley didn't like it when he drank too much either. Hell, no one liked it; when Schuldig got drunk everyone within fifteen feet felt the hangover the next day.
" Are you listening to me Schuldig?" Crawford was glaring hard at the German, who was enjoying the rising buzz of anger in the man's mind. It was kind of spicy, and prickly at the same time.
" You tell me." Schu loved to pull that one, and Crawford absolutely hated it when he used that line. Half the reason Schuldig did it in the first place…
" I asked you if you had confirmed the report." Brad spoke with slow, steady words, and Schuldig smiled. The precog wasn't perfect, no matter how much he put on the façade. Schu just liked to remind him of that every once in a while.
" Don't you know?" He caught the slightest catch in the American's thoughts, like a vortex beginning to swirl in his mind, and finally decided to drop his game. " Yes, yes, of course I did. And from the rising tensions surrounding the little blond, I'd say Takatori was right." Crawford nodded, as if he already knew Schuldig would say what he did. And that bothered the German more than anything else; sometimes, just sometimes, he never knew if the aloof man really did know and had simply decided to play the rest of them.
" We attack, and you two," Crawford glared pointedly at Farfarello and Schuldig, " I want him in good condition, understand? No. games." Farfarello simply nodded, the German was a little put off. He wanted to have just a little bit of fun. Feeling mutinous, he rose from his seat on the couch.
" Nagi, be a dear and help me get Farfie to bed." Schuldig took the Irishman by the arm and led him forcefully away. He'd made the mistake of thinking Farf was okay with Brad's decree just a moment ago, but he suddenly noticed the knife emerging from the lining of the psycho's pants. The last thing they needed right now was an angry madman flinging sharp objects around the room. Every hole in the walls, with the exception of the ones in Nagi's room, was Farf's fault.
It really was easier to put Farfarello up for the night when the Japanese boy was there. It meant that while Schuldig was securing buckles and straps he was threading ropes through the appropriate pulleys and stays. And, to top it off, Nagi could simply levitate the psycho to where he was supposed to be until they secured him in his upside down position.
" Schuldig, do we really have to do all of this?" Nagi asked when they shut the door to the Irishman's room. The German stopped and looked at him but, like always, those blank eyes were completely unreadable and he didn't feel like giving the effort to make his way through the labyrinths of the boy's mind.
" He likes it, you know that. He thinks it hurts God." Schuldig smirked as he made his way down the hall. Nagi held back, head down. When he spoke it was very quiet. But the brunette was always quiet.
" You know what I mean, Schuldig. I'm not sure we should…" The way he said it made Schuldig stop in his tracks. He turned around to look perplexed at the boy standing so demurely in the middle of the hall, shook his head, and went into the living room again.
Nagi slowly moved to his own room and sat down on his bed. As an afterthought he glanced over at the bolt on his door, flicking the latch locked. He tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling, then out the window. Was this what he wanted? His memories flashed back to his childhood.
He was always alone. He remembered searching, seeking for anyone who would listen and understand. Instead, he was torn apart by the scathing words thrown at him from those he craved acceptance from. Freak. Thing. Strange. Weird. Those names, those people and places made him the quiet, but vengeful boy he was.
He had found a place in Schwarz. He respected Crawford, and had discovered some kind of recognition as part of their group. But he never could forget that none of them could empathize with him. None of them had been through…all that pain. The scores, the bruises, the cuts, the spurns, the rejection…the solitude.
He wanted them to pay, for all of humanity to suffer just as he did. He wanted them to feel alone and shunned. He would have retribution for the childhood they stole from him. The wind began to surge through his open window, blowing the curtains off the rods and throwing them all into a crumpled heap on the floor. Nagi stood in the middle of the tiny hurricane ripping through his room, eyes glowing.
Then he wondered if this creature had gone through everything he had. The wind faltered. Did he understand? Was he too, strange and alone? Was this boy rejected, even by his friends, as Nagi had been? He shut his eyes and let out a breath, and with it went all of the anger and resentfulness.
He looked around; now his room was a mess again. Crawford would be angry with him for losing his temper like that. He bent to pick up the curtain rods and the formless mass of cloth that had blown right off of them. Nagi calmed down even as he put everything back in its place.
Meanwhile, Schuldig sat down again on the couch across from Crawford, who was looking pensive. He regarded the German with a cool glance, then gazed off into oblivion again.
" Crawford, what do you want to do with him?" the psychic asked, his curiosity piqued. He seemed to have snapped the American from a vision, by the way the man suddenly turned his head to face Schuldig.
" I am merely curious to see if the Takatoris were so successful even in their adolescent years. Considering Masafumi's madness…" here Crawford smirked a little, " which never did get the results he desired, I wonder if their smaller projects may have had better results." Brad then proceeded to pick up the newspaper from the table and read it, as if to signify the end of the discussion.
Schuldig had no aptitude for biology and its sciences, but this was certainly an idea that could be toyed with. Chaos was the flavoring of the world, and with so much order life became very bland. It was simply the time to spice it up a little. In the worst case, they would still be dealing a blow to those Weiß idiots.
" Well, in a few days, we'll-"
" Tomorrow, Schuldig. Tomorrow."
" Really? That soon?" Schuldig was a little surprised. It usually took those cats a few days to coordinate themselves. "What makes you so sure? Besides the fact that you probably already foresaw it? he added sarcastically to himself.
" Check Nagi's computer if you don't believe me." came the voice behind the newspaper. Schuldig glared at the barrier of black and white print, and did precisely that.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Omi was looking out at the moon over the city, his eyes pleading for a respite from hell. The stars echoed a metallic song only he could hear, a cold song of silent oblivion. His tears flowed anew, mingling with the dried remains still on his cheeks. He held his arms out to the unfeeling sky. They were torn and bloodied; he hadn't taken the time to wash the red away from them.
The boy fell to his knees, and he let out a silent scream. Anguish held every line of his body in its grip. The moonbeams washed his pale skin silver, turned his blood to mercury on his body. Like a statue of pain covered in ice he remained on the floor, soundlessly begging mercy from a spiteful Father.
Suddenly he broke the petrified stillness with a single sobbing breath. With that one issue of despair everything seemed to break, and he collapsed fully on the floor. Only the silence looked on, and cast pitiless shadows over him. Omi regained his calm, and sat against the wall facing his window. He closed his eyes, and began to lick his arms clean.
Oh Kami-sama how am I going to last?
Still wondering what's up with Omitchi? You'll find out...sometime...