I had a few days off due to weather, so this is earlier then usual.

Schuldich opened his eyes to swirling, dizzying color and jarring pain. He tried to pull in enough air to scream and couldn't. There was no air. His whole mind contracted in panic as the ever-present terror rose up from the recesses of his mind and tried to suffocate him. The silvery threads that kept him safe, kept his power as something he could control, were gone. All that was left was a nauseating swirl of technicolor. Again he tried desperately to scream out the pain, and again there was no air.

Something touched him. Tepid, grayish threads tried to wrap around that power and to bind it, but the threads were ripped to shreds. Scraps of the stuff whirled like broken leaves, torn and lost, caught in power too great for them to survive. More threads came and Schuldich tried again to scream. He tried to pull away from those tendrils of power, sure beyond reason that something bad would happen if he touched them.

Suddenly Schuldich opened his eyes to see the inside of what looked like a train compartment. The two images were interposed in his eyesight. For an instant the technicolor glory of his power was all he could see, and then it was the inside of the compartment with its dim fluorescent lights and people.

Either way Schuldich still couldn't breath. He dug his hand into the carpet under his fingers and pulled his knees up to his chest, desperately trying to suck in air through parted, dry lips. Mein Gott, it hurt.

"Schuldich," someone was yelling at him. "Schuldich!"

Schuldich tried to speak. He tried to find the oxygen to answer that young, terrified voice. But again he couldn't. He could find any air, he couldn't breathe, and the bands of pain were constricting tighter and tighter around his chest. He could barely think through the pain. Then the room dissolved and he was again looking at the molten swirl of color.

The grayish threads were gone but others had appeared. There was an iridescent blue that looked like spun glass. It kept hesitantly coming forward, and then jerking back, never touching his power. Deep, blood red strands charged for his power with no hesitation and no regard for any of the commotion around them. These metallic strands seemed firm, steady but where they touched the colors it burned and the colors went dark.

"What the hell is going on!?" yelled someone and Schuldich felt his whole body jerk at the sudden noise. Something snapped in his chest, a grinding pop that flooded his body with pain and reminded him forcibly, as he tried to scream, that he couldn't breathe. The pain dulled for a second, only to be followed by another spine-tingling crack as something else broke.

Warm green light began to twist its way through Schuldich's power. Unlike the others this wasn't thread, but thick, smooth wire. The warm metal wove its way through Schuldich's power, soothing and binding where it went. Schuldich felt a little like Goldie Locks from that American fairy tale, "too hot, too cold, and just right". And the green wire was just right. With every coil more of the stuff his panic began to fade.

He could breathe again. He did so in huge, gasping gulps of air that racked his entire body. Each breath brought a small flash of pain in his chest, but Schuldich didn't care. He could breath, and each lungful of air was like cool water to a man who was dying of heat.

Schuldich felt his body slump where he lay, and concentrated on taking as many deep, oxygen filled breaths as he could.

Yohji stared down at the man in his arms feeling stuck somewhere complete astonishment and absolute shock. He knew he should be repulsed by the man, by the Schwartz, but he wasn't. The only emotion he felt was the relief that it, whatever it was, was over.

It had started with convulsions. Yohji had been sitting with Ken, eating the food that Aya and—he still couldn't see Berserker cooking—had made when a noise caused him look up from his plate. It took him a second to come to terms with what he was seeing. Schuldich had fallen off of the couch and lay on the floor, jerking and twisting in pain.

Nagi was the first one to reach him. He placed his hands on Schuldich's temples and started yelling his name in increasing volume. It was only one minuet, as everyone else was rushing forward, before Nagi let out a cry of his own and collapsed.

Ken rushed immediately to the kid's side, Omi close behind. As Ken picked Nagi up and began to carry him away Omi's attention flickered between the two Schwartz until he caught Yohji's eye, nodded to himself, and followed Ken.

Yohji stumbled on his way over, catching himself on a low table and nearly collapsing to the floor himself. As he collected his scattered wits he was able to see Aya reach down to touch Schuldich's arm. Schuldich recoiled from the touch like it was a lump of burning coal.

"What the hell is going on," Yohji breathed as he began to stumble forward again.

He was nearly touching Schuldich when he heard it. That sickeningly wet snap of a bone breaking. Schuldich opened his mouth in a silent scream, and again something broke. Yohji nearly pulled away, then and there, but he didn't. He knelt down, one hand reaching out for Schuldich's forehead, the other touched his arm.

Yohji didn't really remember what happened after that. The next thing he remembered he was sitting, his back against the couch, with Schuldich curled in his lap sucking in ragged breaths. He felt lightheaded and tired, as if he had just lost a certain amount of blood. Not in shock, but almost.

Berserker knelt down in front of them, staring with his too intense eyes at Schuldich. Yohji tightened his arms around the man in his arms and pulled him closer, then realized what he was doing and stopped. He had the sudden urge to shove Schuldich on the floor, to get up and run as far away as possible from this whole thing. He wanted to get away. He wanted to forget the flash of concern he had had for the man. He wanted to erase the fact that he was holding a member of Schwartz in his arms, that he wanted to protect that man.

But something told him not to.

Yohji was suddenly blinking into Berserker's eyes. The madman watched him with an intent, focused silence that unnerved Yohji.

"Anchor," he said. Then he abruptly stood up and started walking away. He paused in front of Aya and just stood there.

Aya watched him for at least a full minuet then gave his 'I have gone over everything you've said and can't find anything wrong with it, though I wish I had' slow nod. Then Berserker walked out the compartment door and Aya came over to Yohji.

Aya crouched down in front of them and reached forward to touch Schuldich. Yohji had to fight the urge to yank Schuldich out of Aya's grasp and Aya must have sensed it, for he stopped just short of touching Schuldich.

"Yohji? Is he better now?" asked Ken. He stood a little to the left of Aya and kept shifting in agitation.

"I think so," said Yohji, surprised when his voice came out hoarse and scratchy.

"You okay?" asked Ken.

"Yeah," Yohji replied absently. "Yeah, I'm fine." Yohji shook his head, flinging his hair out like a wet dog, and tried to realign his thoughts. "Is Nagi okay?" he asked.

"Omi thinks it's mostly exhaustion triggered by…whatever Schuldich was doing. I'm going to go back and check on them." Ken walked quickly out of the room, leaving Yohji alone with Aya and Schuldich.

"Um…Aya? What's up with you?" inquired Yohji. Aya had been staring at the two of them the entire time and it was staring to make Yohji uncomfortable.

"Hn," Aya hummed at him. Then he, too, got up and left the compartment.

Yohji looked down at the man still in his arms and frowned. Something was wrong. Schuldich's body was tense and he was no longer breathing like his life depended on it. Actually, he was almost breathing not at all.

"Schul-"

Schuldich exploded into action. He pushed Yohji to the floor and loomed over him, blocking out the glow from the lights overhead. One of his hands slapped down next to Yohji's head, startling him with the sudden noise and violence. The speed of the movement shocked Yohji, so much so that he froze and forgot to fight against the attack. Yohji looked up into Schuldich's eyes to see them too wide, the pupils pinpricks of shock.

Yohji was jerking his hand up, finally overcoming his previous paralysis, getting ready to shove Schuldich off him, when he felt a hand close around his throat and start to squeeze.

"Why, Crawfish, you actually got captured. I'm shocked."

Crawford opened his eyes to a dark room, the only light coming from a small barred window. His body ached slightly as he moved his head, but that was more from the stiffness of the hospital bed that he lay on than from any sustained injury. He had a headache, but it was mild and easily ignorable.

The person standing at the foot of his bed was a slight woman. She had stringy, dirty blonde hair that disappeared beyond her shoulders. Her cheekbones were clearly visible under pale, grayish skin and deep, black circles adorned the hollows of her eyes. Her collarbones stuck out of her neck and shoulders like deformities and her hands resting on the bed railing were mere skin and bones.

Crawford would not have recognized Sybil if not for the voice. That rusty, broken voice, aged beyond its years from screams and disuse. The cruel and angry young woman he remembered from his years at the consortium no longer stood before him. Instead, he was faced with a cruel, broken woman who watched him with a cold madness reflecting in her eyes.

"I thought it would be harder to capture you," she said with a gentle, deceiving smile. "But all I had to do was tell them you needed to be captured, to ensure the future, and a successful mission of course, and they did it."

"You are still using the reputation of your power to lie and get what you want, Sybil," replied Crawford.

"Ah, but it's so easy. They're just so gullible."

"And since you don't have to power to truly see the future anymore lying is all you have," said Crawford, knowing it was a mistake even while he said it.

With a cry of rage Sybil suddenly stood at the side of his bed and gripped his hand with a strength too powerful for her frail looking hands. Crawford tried to pull his hand away, but instead found a metal circlet around his wrist chaining him to the bed. She grabbed his pinky finger with her free hand and began to pull it back. Crawford continued to struggle but his movements were futile. Sybil broke his finger with a jerk and a grin.

Crawford chocked back a cry at the pain that flashed through his hand. He would have found something to say, some snide comment just to spite her, but she broke another finger and he was again forced to expend all his concentration to avoid giving her the satisfaction of his scream.

"Did you really think you could upstage me?" Sybil hissed. "That you could mock me because you think your power is greater? My master said that I could do what I want with you, as long as it ended in your death." She pulled out a gun and pointed it at Crawford's leg. "That bitch, Sora, is going to have one less pet after this."

The resounding shot echoed throughout the confines of the small room.

Two cliffhangers, bad Zarame!

Well, I have to resolve both cliffhangers in the next chapter, but it does really matter which gets resolved first. So, what do you think? Who do you want to hear about first?

Review and Return.

01/02/07

1:27 PM