I'm not really satisfied with this chapter, but I couldn't change it into something I liked in the month I tried, so I figured I'd just post it anyway. Hope you like it better than I did.

That make's it sound terrible, and it's not, the end just...bothered me.

Have fun with the beginning though.

Schuldich threw himself at the mental wraith that was Aya's form in this misty landscape in hopes of keeping Yohji from getting his throat slit. The sudden appearance of the blade wielding assassin had startled Schu, but his reflexes had kicked in just in time to keep his new anchor for getting his mental throat cut open like a fish fillet. All it took was a simple push and Aya's skeletally thin form crashed onto the ground with a thud and lay still.

"Holy shit! What just happened!?" demanded Yohji from his protected position behind Schuldich's back. He had reached up his hand and was wiping the blood off his neck. He held his fingers up in front of his face and stared blankly at the viscous liquid. "We're in Aya's mind, how the hell did I get hurt?"

"You seen the Matrix?" asked Schuldich brusquely, annoyed at having to explain this to a non-psychic. All he wanted to do was wake Aya up and get out, before the red head's willful mind found a way to kill him.

"Of course I've seen the Matrix," replied Yohji. Schu felt a brief flash of annoyance and frustration from the blonde.

"Well, people's minds are sorta like the Matrix, you find one strong enough and their killing you in here kills you out there." Schu knelt down next to Aya and started wrapping a binding around his form. As long as Aya was held to this form it would be easier for them to figure out a way to wake him up.

"Aya wasn't trying to kill me."

Coulda fooled methought Schuldich. He finished the binding with a quick pull on his power.

"Anything could fool you Schuldich," said Yohji. He had walked over to where Aya lay and tentatively reached out to brush his fingers over the bruises on the man's neck.

Schuldich stared after Yohji, too shocked to speak. The man had heard Schuldich's thoughts, something that not even Bradley could do. Yohji'd just answered Schu's thoughts and hadn't even seemed to notice. Schu had lowered some of his shields to bind Aya, but Yohji didn't have the power to pick up his thoughts, and he hadn't been projecting.

Will it happen again? Let's see, you really suck, Yohji. And I mean it. You're such a fucking lollypop, going all sickly sweet whenever your precious Aya gets hurt. It's like watching a soap opera, too much drama and too little depth. That's what you are: shallow. A shallow bastard that just pretends to care for people because if you didn't thenthen… But… he really does care doesn't he Even about me, I can feel it…

"Schuldich!"

Schuldich looked up at Yohji, the issue of hearing other's thoughts completely forgotten over Schuldich's sudden realization of Yohji's pure goodness. He actually did care for Aya, and more astonishingly he cared about Schuldich too. It was something Schu hadn't felt before. Sure, Bradley cared, but he was so good at hiding his thoughts that Schuldich had never really felt it. With Yohji it was as plain as day, and somehow satisfied a craving Schuldich had never acknowledged as having.

"Schuldich, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," said Schuldich, unsure of his reaction to the sudden epiphany, but absolutely certain he didn't want to talk about it. And he had the perfect distraction to keep any talk on the subject from taking place.

"Well then, while we're here lets figure out what happened to Aya," said Schuldich in a painfully bright voice as he dropped the shielding keeping them out of Aya's nightmares.

Yuri knocked lightly on the solid wooden door. It was old oak, with highlights that shown in dark reds or gold in certain light. It was powerful without being imposing, magnificent and yet subtle. The running joke was that whoever had built the door had known the kind of person who would come to use it.

"Enter."

Yuri slowly pushed the door open—it had no handle or lock—and winced expectantly at the creak that didn't come. It led into a small office that seemed so much bigger with the high ceiling. There was a couch to the left and the soft yellow light from the lamps made it glow a deep maroon. There were no windows, but the light easily illuminated all the items inside, including an old desk made of the same wood as the door.

"Consort's Second, what can I do for you?" asked the man sitting at the desk. He had one of the darkest skin tones that Yuri had ever seen in someone not from African descent. He was what some would call a dark Irish, though only because he had Irish blood, dark, dark hair and emerald green eyes that changed shade with his mood. Now they were a light green, a good day.

"We are in need of a healer," said Yuri, following protocol and not asking the question directly. Healing was volunteer only. No healer could be coerced or forced into healing or their abilities would simply not work. In some cases even asking was seen as a demand and would block their abilities, hence dance around the request.

"I would be glad to help," the man replied. "I assume you need the assistance as soon as possible?"

"Yes."

The man stood up and escorted Yuri out of the room, flicking the lights off behind him, showing Yuri a glimpse of a dark, shadowed room before the door closed behind them. They began down the hall, Yuri leading by a half step.

"Yuri?" asked the man, dropping the earlier formality.

"Yes?"

"Who is it that needs to be healed?"

"A group of people coming to stand witness for the Consortium," replied Yuri. "You won't know anyone except Red."

"Red?"

Yuri sent him a questioning look. "Yeah, Rori, don't you remember Red?"

"Yes. Yes, of course. I remember Red." His dark lips curled up slightly in a smile.

"I still can't believe Rori's working for Phelan. I mean…"

Crawford groaned, holding himself very still in anticipation of the pain. His body throbbed, and any movement aggravated the sensation. The mumbled conversation continued around him, while he sat, trying to simply acclimate himself to the pain.

The vision hit him like a ton of bricks hidden inside a mactruck. One minute he was fine, in pain, but fine, and the next he felt his body go into convulsions as one of the strongest visions he had ever had hit him.

Schuldich lay crumpled on the floor, blood dripping out of his ear onto the dirty tile. One man fired a shotgun at the retreating back of another, hitting hard enough that the man fell to one knee. An old woman pulled a knife out of the chest of a younger. Farfarello picked up the limp body of Nagi. Someone screamed an order. Blood spattered on the wall. Abrupt violence. Pain. Screaming.

The wide eyes of Abyssinian crying blood.

"Crawford. Crawford!"

Crawford came out of the vision enough to feel the pain, then promptly passed out.

Yohji woke to the sound of someone crying. No, not really crying, but the breathing as if they wanted to. He followed the half-made sobs into a small room with stone walls and floor. There was something curled on the floor in the corner and Yohji's horror refused to let him acknowledge it.

But the sobbing was insistent and Yohji soon found himself moving toward the person, kneeling down in front of the redhead, taking his friend's bloody and bruised hand into his own.

"Aya."

It wasn't really Aya. The man was younger, flinching and vulnerable in a way that Aya never was. But the hair was the same, as were the bright amethyst eyes and the thin, tall body, no matter how pale and bruised it was.

"Aya, it's Yohji. Oh God, it's Yohji." The crying breaths continued to echo softly in the room.

"He can't recognize you."

"Schuldich," acknowledged Yohji tiredly.

"It's a memory, he doesn't know you yet. You can't help him."

"We need to get him out of here," insisted Yohji, feeling helpless in the face of this younger, different Aya.

"Not yet."

"Why not!" yelled Yohji, getting irrationally angry at his inability to help Aya. Yelling at Schu relieved the feeling only a little.

"Because we need to find out what happened. At least…we need to find out if what I think happened, did."

Yohji turned his head to look questioningly at Schuldich.

"I think…I think Aya's more like Schwartz than any of us realized. I think that he's a dormant, and that this guy, Phelan, figured it out."

"What?" asked Yohji. But Schuldich obviously wasn't hearing him anymore.

"He's always had amazing shields. And I've had so much trouble reading him. Even Bradley's powers fail around him sometimes. What if it isn't just a fluke? And if someone found out…they'd have to awaken his abilities. But they wouldn't want to do that while he had a will of his own…"

"Schuldich, what are you saying?" demanded Yohji.

Schuldich turned sad eyes to Yohji. "Watch as much as you can, I'll have to pull us out in a bit, but you need to know this to help him."

"Wha-"

They had him tied to a table. An IV was taped into the bend of this elbow and a nurse was empting syringe after syringe of drugs into the IV port. Aya moaned and open his eyes. The table was cold underneath him, like a huge slab of ice. The nerves in the tips of his fingers were tingling, and he could feel the drugs like heavy fire in his veins. A man stepped over him and started speaking, his voice was muffled, his features blurry. Blackness crept into his vision.

The guard walked him stiffly down the hall, reaching down to pull at the tight fabric over his crotch. Aya twisted, tying to pull away. The guard yanked open the door and shoved him into the room with a punch to the jaw. Aya landed hard, scraping his bare knees on the cold floor and slamming his head into the opposite wall. The ground reached up to smack him as he fell dizzily to the hard cement, reeling from the blow. Aya stared dazedly as the guard shut the door firmly behind him and began to walk on awkward legs further into the room.

A man held him against the wall, his fingers wrapped around Aya's throat. The bruise on his cheek was fading, a month's worth of healing, but the rest of his body was covered with bruises and his bones could be seen through his too pale skin. The man was repeating something, over and over again, a command of some sort. Soon enough Aya was nodding, a resigned, hopeless movement.

The door opened, a harsh slash of light in the dark recess. Footsteps walked steadily closer. Someone pulled Aya up off the floor, wrapped his naked body in an old coat, and helped him gently, carefully out the door.

Yohji woke to the hushed quiet reserved for ancient ruins and funerals.

"Fuck," mumbled Schuldich from somewhere over the edge of the bed. "I was right."

The soft curse broke the stillness of the room. Yohji was suddenly in motion, reaching out to comfort Aya who very obviously did not want comfort and was pushing himself off the bed just as fast as he could. Yohji saw the way his arms trembled and his knees almost buckled when his feet hit the floor.

"Aya, stop-"

"Get out, Yohji."

"Let me help-"

"Get out!" Aya's voice broke on the last syllable, but all his face showed was determination and anger.

Say 'Listen to me, sit down'.

Schuldich?

Just say it. Yohji felt a wave of bitter sadness over the connection.

"Listen to me, sit down," Yohji said tentatively, not really expecting a response. Or at least not a good one, no one ordered Aya around. They were most likely to get a sword in the gut if they tried.

Aya froze, turned a couple shades paler, and sat down right there on the floor.

What the hell?

Be careful what you say to him, sent Schuldich. He may have been able to ignore most of the conditioning before, but after running into his trainer and then reliving the nightmares he won't be able to resist them much.

What the hell is going on, Schuldich?

We don't have time for me to give an explanation, Blondie. Just get him to talk to you.

What do you expect me to talk to him about? That he was tortured? That…that I think he was r-raped!? Yohji stumbled over the last word, even in his mind. Aya and the concept had never went together, should never go together.

It doesn't matter, just don't order him to do something. He'll fight you just on principle if you do that. Show him that you're not a threat, that you're not part of the training. Don't order him to do anything, don't even phrase something like an order. He needs to shake as much of the training off as he can, and having someone he trusts around will help.

How the hell do you know this?

Silence. The sudden loss of Schuldich's thoughts in Yohji's mind was like a cold wind blowing through him.

Knowing he had said something wrong, and not sure if he wanted to know if his sudden, unwanted deduction about Schuldich was true, Yohji left Schuldich in peace and eased down in front of Aya. He was still sitting on the floor, legs folded under him and so pale you could see the blue of his veins through his skin. His eyes were focused on nothing in the room.

"Hey, Aya," said Yohji, at a loss of what to say that would actually help. How was he supposed to help? There was nothing he could do but sit here and try not to say the wrong thing, and that didn't seem like helping at all.

Aya's eyes focused on his face, but he didn't say anything.

"Well, I guess you'll never want to get near me again, now that I've held you while you slept," Yohji said nervously. It was a sad, pathetic joke even to his ears.

"Yohji," said Aya. Just that, one word, 'Yohji'. It was all Yohji could do to keep from laughing in relief, or crying from the memory of what Aya had gone through, only to come out of it and say his name.

The sat in silence for awhile, Yohji having no idea what to say and Aya visibly pulling himself back together. Every once in a while he trembled, a fine tremor running down his spine and when that happened Yohji wanted to do something, say something, but he never did, not sure what would help and what would harm the situation.

It seemed he had made the right choice, for soon enough Aya was back to his normal skin tone, his breathing calm and precise. The look of determination and will he sent Yohji way was pure Aya, the strong, capable leader he was used to.

"Where are the others?" he asked, a leader looking out for his team. Yohji nearly smiled, but didn't since he wasn't sure how Aya would take the action.

"There in the next room, perfectly fine under the circumstances." Yohji hesitated, then decided to go for it, "Aya, about what we saw-"

Aya didn't say a word, but Yohji still chocked himself off. Aya's whole posture said 'I don't want to talk about it' and was overlaid with so much pain that Yohji suddenly didn't care if not knowing would bother him, he would suffer anything not to harm Aya in this moment.

"Phelan," Aya surprised Yohji by saying, his voice small and vulnerable. "Phelan," he repeated, his voice strong and angry. "Is one of the enemies I left behind."

Encouraged by Aya's words Yohji asked the one question that was truly bothering him. They had all been tortured in one form or another at some point in their lives, Omi by his family, Ken by his old lover, Yohji on the few missions that he had been caught. It was still terrible, but it was something that they understood. If Aya…"That guard…Aya…were you-"

"He didn't touch me. That was the one thing Phelan couldn't stand for: no one got to touch me but him."

Does that mean he raped you himself Aya? Is that what you're hinting at?

"The others are in the other room?" asked Aya, obviously in a bid to change the subject.

Yohji decided he'd go along, this was enough soul bearing to last him a while. "Yeah, just you, me and Schuldich in here."

"Schuldich?"

Yohji looked back to motion Schuldich forward but the telepath wasn't paying him any attention. His head was cocked to the side and his eyes unfocused, like a teenager listening intently to his iPod. Yohji recognized the look from all the times Schuldich had talked to him mind to mind.

Something's going on in the other room.

Someone screamed.

Yohji jumped up off the floor and limped quickly toward the door, his leg wound stiff from the inactivity. He shoved the door open hard, banging it against the wall. He took another step forward and his leg crumpled underneath him. Schuldich caught him for a second, and then charged past him, heading towards the commotion.

A tall, lean man was holding Nagi's wrist, pinning him to the couch, as the boy flinched and cried out in pain.

Alright, no cliffhangers next chapter. They're starting to annoy me and I'm the one writing them!

The first time I wrote the section about Aya being a dormant, I accidently wrote doormat instead. I got very confused when I reread it (it was six in the morning at the time, so no brain cells to speak of) and said out loud "Aya's a doormat?" My friend (who had about the same brain cell count as I did) started laughing and saying "doormat, doormat!" over and over again. Needless to say I had to reread my reread the next day, since I didn't get much work done after that.

10/24/07

1:03 PM