A/N: Thanks to everyone who's been reviewing this story for me. I've been given a lot to think about as I develop the story. Just wanted to take some space to acknowledge specific things brought up in the reviews, and then on with the show :)
Hugin: I'm glad you're liking the story so far. Your enthusiasm is encouraging. As far as the quick updates go (and this applies to a few different reviewers)...that's kind of accidental. I had a pretty hefty draft of this started forever ago, so I just kind of posted what I had as I edited it. Now I'm into new territory, so the updates are going to be a little slower in coming (but hopefully still steady).
Axya: I'm being careful not to overdo it with the angst (I know, I know, it's a staple of the fanon, but I have a hard time writing too much of it). As you'll see in this new chapter, Yohji's not quite done breaking down, but every time he does so, something relevant has to happen. I don't want to show the same scene over and over again. That wouldn't be fun for anyone. Glad you're liking the details and thank you muchly for your comments.
Not Registered Reader 13: Sorry, the plan for this fic is to make it Crawford/Yohji. I'm normally a Schu/Yohji shipper (so check out my other fanfics if that's your cup of tea-the Malarkies fics are Schu/Yohji and my more serious arc is building to that), and this fic is a break. I think experimenting with different couples keeps my approach to characterizations fresh. That being said, I do want to put Schuldig in a relationship, but right now I'm struggling to pick someone out for him. Any thoughts...? And yeah, I know my characterization of Brad is a little cuddly. I see Schwarz as a substitute family unit. For some reason, I've gone with the idea that they've been working with each other in some way or form longer than the Weiss have (except Nagi, who's a little aloof and bitchy from the rest of them). Therefore, Brad's something like the big brother who has to take care of the rest of them, and he comes across a bit more nurturing in my fics than he normally does. I don't think it's really AGAINST canon, even if it's not the way most of us see him.
Vera-Sama: Glad to see you along for the ride again. Your reviews always make me happy :)
And hopefully I answered everyone who signed in with a review reply. If I didn't, feel free to give me hell.
Chapter Four:
Nagi was moody for the rest of the ride. Which is not to say that the teen wasn't usually quiet and a bit brooding, but there were degrees to these things. Brad suspected himself the target of teenage scorn.
"You know, the three days of downtime applies to you too. You don't have to stay at the house."
"Aren't you going to need me when Schuldig and Farfarello do something careless and make themselves targets for more Rosenkreuz attacks?" Nagi returned.
Brad scowled. So it was that then. "Nothing's going to happen. I would have Seen it, I assure you."
"You didn't See it the other night when Kudoh was attacked in the first place."
"I saw a variant on the attack, and if Schuldig had listened to me it wouldn't have happened at all. I think I've done a pretty good job keeping everyone safe all these years you know." Especially considering what a challenge the three of them made it. Nagi didn't engage in as much pointlessly risky behavior as the madman or the pseudo-nihilist, but he was a depressed, angsty teen prone to masochistic fits. Brad thought the fact that the four of them were alive and reasonably stable was an accomplishment.
Of course, Nagi tended to see how much better the situation could be.
Farfarello, for one, was capable of much more than his circumstances allowed. If he were allowed treatment and medication he'd probably be as sane as any of them. As it was, Esset thought he was more useful in a state of madness, and so he bore his shattered mind, while the rest of them hoped that after their mutiny there would be enough of him left to treat.
Schuldig acted out so much because he was fundamentally unhappy. He'd been the youngest telepath to emerge from Rosenkreuz training with his sanity in tact, but that distinction had come with a price. He was emotionally stunted, and the young man acted more like a fitful toddler in certain respects. It was hard to get him to focus on a goal if he didn't see any immediate benefit for himself, he was prone to boredom and thus to seeking out amusement, and he threw his tantrums.
Basically they all needed a lot of therapy, but clearly that wasn't an option. Maybe someday down the line, after the mutiny and once they'd secured their freedom. Maybe then Farfarello could get his stability and resolve his religious issues, and Schuldig could learn some empathy, Nagi could get over his depression (though that might clear itself up at the end of puberty) and Brad...
'Control issues, paranoia, superiority complex...yeah, I've got a few issues of my own to work on too.' Still though. He'd lived through fourteen years of enslavement and doing things that, when he'd been a withdrawn and somewhat sensitive teenager, had seemed abhorrent to him. Two more months and he'd finally have his life back from Esset.
"I'll be in my room for most of the night," Nagi said, once they'd gotten back to the house. "So if you need me-"
"Nagi, why are you so sure something's going to go wrong?" Brad snapped, getting annoyed.
Nagi eyed him quizzically. "Past experience. Doesn't it always go wrong somehow?"
Not always, but usually. Brad ceded him the point. And when he caught a quick vision that had come at entirely the wrong time to be useful, he kept it to himself. He waited until Nagi was brooding behind his locked bedroom door before running for his own room.
Yohji was curled up in a corner of the darkened bedroom hugging his knees to his chest with his head down. He had a razor clutched in one hand, and his bare arms and legs were littered with shallow scratches and deeper gouges. There was a lot of blood, enough to initially startle Brad, but then he had some experience with these sorts of situations, and a quick look told him that the self-inflicted injuries weren't as bad as they looked.
"Yohji?" Brad gently touched a trembling shoulder. Yohji gasped, but otherwise didn't move. Slowly, Brad moved his hand lightly down Yohji's arm, putting very little pressure into the touch, so that Yohji could shift away if he wanted to. When he got to the hand that was closed around (and thusly into) the razor, Brad gently pried it open, extracted the blade from Yohji's skin and then tossed it across the room.
Stupid! He should have expected this even without a vision and cleared the bathrooms at least of the razors (thanks to Farfarello, they were pretty good at hiding edged surfaces). Too late for that now, focus on the present.
Brad lifted Yohji into his arms and carried him into the master bathroom, where he'd blatantly been when he'd started cutting himself. The shower was still on, the curtain was half off its rings, and there were some toiletries laid out on top of a towel by the sink. Brad set Yohji down in front of the tub, turned the shower off and yanked the dangling shower curtain out of the way, then fetched the first aid kit and wordlessly began cleaning the cuts.
Yohji offered no resistance whatsoever. When Brad raised his arm to dab at a cut on his elbow, it was like moving a rag doll. Yohji's large green eyes were looking straight ahead, focusing on nothing. He'd checked out.
Brad bandaged the cuts that needed it, applied a few clear adhesive strips, and then helped him into pajamas and tucked him into bed.
Nagi was coming out of the kitchen with a bowl of fruit and a can of iced green tea when Brad left the bedroom. He stared at his teamleader with a petulant expression that was almost a gloat on his face.
"What?" Brad snapped. Nagi did not have those types of powers. He did not know.
"You've got blood on your shirt Brad. Kudoh's, I assume? Still convinced everything's fine?"
Brad stormed into the kitchen without answering.
"We've been closed for ten minutes now. Will you just leave?" Ken whined. The fangirls responded with the expected giggles and comments about how cute he looked when he was desperately unhappy like that. Ken leaned his head on his hands, which were clutched around a broom handle, and reminded himself that Kritiker probably frowned upon their agents attacking civilians with a broom, no matter the exact circumstances.
Then Aya walked in from the storage room and trained a glare that usually only dark beasts saw on the school girls. "Leave or there will be consequences."
"Ooo...Aya's being scary!" One of the girls trilled.
Then he sprayed her with a hose.
"Aya! Hey, you can't-they're customers!" Ken yelled, when he meant civilians.
"Leave!" Aya yelled, and the girls did.
"Come on, this place is no fun anymore. When's Yohji-kun getting back from vacation anyway?" One of the girls threw over her shoulder. Aya slammed the door in her face and locked it in a gesture of finality.
Against his better judgment, Ken hesitantly patted Aya's shoulder, since he'd been standing in front of the locked door for a worrying amount of time. "Hey, don't worry Aya. I'm sure Yohji's fine. Omi said Kritiker would have tried to replace him by now if he'd died."
"Then why can't we find him?" Aya snapped.
Ken chewed his lip. They'd been trying to answer that one since Yohji had gone missing.
They finished closing up the Koneko in a tense silence, then went down to the mission room where Omi was perched in front of the computer. There were crushed cans of Amp and Red Bull around his feet, and three dirty coffee cups on the table around him. He had shadows under his eyes and one of his legs was shaking in what appeared to be an involuntary manner, but he still smiled and cheerfully greeted them when they walked in. Ken smiled and nodded, while Aya glared and ever so slightly inclined his head.
"Find anything yet?" Aya asked.
"N-no, nothing conclusive yet," Omi faltered. "It's starting to look like Kritiker doesn't even know where Yohji-kun is. I've found a few conflicting memos and some restricted documents that all...well they all kind of act like someone else has the intel we want, and it's going in a big crazy circle. But I got an idea."
"What's the idea?" Ken pressed.
"A couple years ago one of the Crashers was sent on a secret mission. They didn't tell the rest of the team, or even most of the Kritiker agents. Maybe Yohji's doing something like that. At which point he's not dead! See? It-it works. And I can go to sleep and not even have to feel guilty."
Come to think of it, the kid did look strained. "Yeah Omi...I think that's...that's probably right," Ken said uneasily. Aya was about to say something (something crushing, no doubt), but Ken stepped on his foot. "Grab some rest. Me and Aya will see if we can confirm your theory."
"Oh good. I think I've got a worrying amount of gurana in my system, so I might not be able to sleep. I'll try though! Good night Ken-kun, Aya-kun."
Once Omi was upstairs Aya turned his expectant glare on Ken. Ken sighed. "Look, d'ya think Omi was actually being useful if he'd jumped to conspiracy theories? I think he needs the sleep."
"We don't have the training to hack Kritiker's files. Omi barely has the skill for it."
"True, but don't you think if there was something to find, he'd have done it by now?" Ken pressed. "Omi's the best there is at this shit. I don't think Kritiker knows where Yohji is either."
Privately, Aya agreed, though he hadn't wanted to admit it. Because if Kritiker didn't have the answer, where else could they look?
Scowling, Aya trudged upstairs to his room. Ken followed after him in some confusion.
"Aya, you okay? D'ya wanna...talk?"
Aya fixed him with a glare that plainly read 'you know better than that'.
"Kay, well I had to try. Wait, where are you going?" Ken asked, since Aya had grabbed a coat and his keys.
"If Kritiker doesn't know, then I'll have to find out another way. The last time any of us saw Yohji he was on his way out to 'relax'. To him that means getting smashed and finding a hookup."
"So what, you're just going to go to a bar at random and hope someone remembers Yohji?" Ken demanded.
"Do you have a better idea?"
"I'll...get my coat."
When Yohji woke up again it was nighttime. He was alone, which was good because he didn't want to face anyone, even the bizarrely well-intentioned Schwarz. He hugged a pillow to his face and focused on his breathing until the urge to hyperventilate subsided, and then carefully sat up, wincing at all the new little stings, and looked around.
The room wasn't completely dark, being dimly lit by a jar candle on the desk. There was a glass of ice water next to it, and a bowl of soup that was still hot. Yohji drank the water and devoured the soup, then got back in bed and waited.
Less than a minute later, Brad opened the door and cleared away the dishes. He came back and sat on the end of the bed.
"Glad you figured I could be trusted with a candle," Yohji said.
"I've been following you more closely with my visions since the episode. The desire to hurt yourself seems to have passed. Besides, I'm not sure how much harm you could have done with a jar candle."
"I could have singed my finger tips. Or lit the room on fire and really had some fun."
"Yohji...if you feel that way again, please tell me. I can help you."
There was something mesmerizing about the concerned amber eyes, and Yohji's mouth fell open to consent to Brad' request before he'd given it much thought. He shook himself, and opted to tell the truth instead. For whatever reason, the few days he'd spent in the quiet, somber man's company had endeared Brad to Yohji, and he wanted to be as open with him as he was able while still being an 'enemy'.
"I'm kinda feeling that way pretty constantly. You know, unless I distract myself. Those guys that...that attacked me, the, um...the mind games sucked. I know I'm not healthy...that the Weiss-that we aren't, any of us, but, well...I'd been better than I was. I stopped drinking myself into a stupor and I was kinda enjoying life again and...you know, letting people in, friendships. Whatever they did to my head, it's like all the worst stuff in my life happened an hour ago-like she..." Like Asuka had been shot down twenty minutes ago. "I...I don't think I'm strong enough to heal it all back up from the beginning."
Brad took a deep breath. "Alright. I'd thought most of the damage was physical. Even the psychic aspects of the attack, I'd figured they'd just played with your perception of pain. I didn't realize the attack was so intimate. I know it doesn't feel like it, but this is still an injury with a treatment. You'll be fine. Just give me some time to get this fixed."
Yohji nodded, trusting Brad and marvelling at the depth of that trust. They joked sometimes about how Ken was a bit too trusting and optimistic about people to be an assassin, that you needed to be suspicious if you were going to survive. But Yohji had listened to his intuition when he'd been a PI, and it generally worked well for him. His intuition had always said the Schwarz weren't quite the villains they'd postured as, and experience was proving him right. Schuldig was a pain in the ass, but he wasn't evil (whatever he tried to say), and Brad Crawford was...complicated.
When he stood to leave, Yohji reached out and grabbed his arm. He sat back down on the bed and regarded Yohji with a patient and questioning gaze.
"Uh...I mean, if you've gotta go make arrangments or do leader things, that's cool but um...m'not really...I, uh..."
"Don't want to be alone?" Brad asked.
"Yeah. Do you have anymore paperwork you need help with or anything?"
"Thankfully no. Snacks and a movie?"
"Sounds good."