Main Pairings: Nagi/Omi, Schuldig/Yohji

Timeline: Set a year or so after Gluhen

Disclaimer: I do not own Weiss Kreuz.

Author: I -

Schuldig: Spare us. We know what you're going to say. Quit apologizing.

Author: ._.

Yohji: Aww, poor thing. Has life been tough? (hugs author)

Schuldig: Aw hell. Group hug!

Chapter Eleven

Crawford's lids felt like lead as he struggled to escape from unconsciousness. It didn't help that his glasses were nowhere to be found, evidence of the blurry vision as he tried to survey his whereabouts which was not much. He did recognize that he was contained in a very small room with two chairs, one opposite him from across a wooden table. A fluorescent light hung precariously from its wire above him.

He did however, find it interesting that he was free to move around, hands and feet unbound. Nevertheless, he highly doubted that the door to his far right was unlocked, so he didn't waste any effort to stand and find out for himself.

After a while, his vision improved, again, not that it was much help. The small room did not have any windows, save for a small exhaust fan attached to the wall to behind him. It was pretty obvious that this was the questioning area, which he found very amusing having seen rooms similar to this one in numerous movies he have watched.

It's been ages since he'd been in a cinema.

Instead he tried to think back on what had happened before he managed to get into this mess - one he sincerely wanted to avoid. If he remembered clearly, he had warned the German not to get involved, and yet the fool pushed forward, without a care about whatever consequences that might befall them.

One such consequence is involving the innocent.

Mainly him.

The door opened with a soft creek and light footfalls tapped rhythmically across the nearly empty room. The shadow made a move for the chair opposite him and once the light touched the man's features, it took Crawford a while to take in the man's face.

For one, he had long, silver-white hair; straight locks framed and partially hid his face. He wore a dark suit, similar to a traditional kimono. His movements were graceful as he took his seat and folded his hands neatly within his long sleeves.

The fluorescent swayed slowly towards the man.

"Hello, Oracle."

Nagi abruptly stood and gripped the metal bars as the guards left the vicinity laughing. It had been almost an hour since, and yet he couldn't find himself to believe what he have heard.

It had to be a mistake.

The epic battle of Schwarz versus Weiss came to mind. As heavy boulders fell around them and punched holes on the cement floor, water began to seep through, and within minutes, the whole vicinity was sinking with them in it. It felt like forever when Nagi finally reached the surface and found only Crawford.

Schuldig and Farfarello were nowhere to be found.

"We all made it." Crawford had said and left it at that. Nagi didn't find it hard to believe; Schuldig returned around a week after, but Farfarello never bothered to show up. Crawford thought it best that he didn't, since by then he was planning to disband Schwarz as they no longer served any purpose for Estet. Splitting up proved far better for him to hide from their previous employer, as he was sure the former had placed a fairly decent amount on each of their heads if they were to be found.

Schuldig didn't seem to care; he took freelance jobs here and there and stayed in touch with Crawford with regards to financial matters.

Crawford have always had the best hand in business matters, and took up consulting for firms, some legal, some not.

Nagi didn't have anywhere else to go, and while he had a hand at freelancing for a while, he soon found himself in the service of their former enemies. When he thought he could no longer live the life of a heartless assassin, he was retrieved from the streets before he could die from hunger or from being killed. He owed his life to Weiss' Bombay, Omi Tsukiyono, now Mamoru Takatori, sole heir of one of the founding members of Kritiker.

He found he could live his life beside him as his stead forever; not until this very day when he thought he would never hear the name again.

To Schwarz, the resident psychopath has always been Farfarello. But that hasn't always been his name.

"What gave me away?" slender, white hands were removed from their sleeves and place on the table clasped together, long fingernails looked very well cared for. A slim silver band wound across his left ring finger, and soon he found that ring attached to a chain with a silver pocket watch. The man had his attention solely on said watch for a few seconds before returning it to his pocket.

Crawford's eyes scanned and slightly marveled at the changes that have occurred for the past few years.

So different from the man he once knew. Yet the manic, golden glint in his eyes stayed the same.

Suddenly, Crawford didn't find his code name very fitting anymore.

The man's lips widened into a tight-lipped smile. "Seeing you again brings back memories."

Crawford watched the man's movements though minimal, the drop of his gaze to his hands, the slow demeanor of looking back up to Crawford - all these actions just with those eyes. It never failed to amuse him how they would still shine the same hue even with the white fluorescent glaringly bright above them.

"Some things seem the same, no?" He continued. "You have always been the critical thinker. Fitting of a leader of one of the most dangerous assassin groups in the prefecture. However, Oracle, I have no plans of finishing you off, so please relax."

"What do you want, Jei?" Crawford finally spoke, though unmoving in his seat.

"What did you want, Crawford? Do you remember?" Jei asked. "When we were still Schwarz, we had one goal in mind; we had to play the underdogs, but underneath all that, we had a dream."

Crawford remained silent. Again, so different from the insane Irish teammate he once shared a roof under his head.

"Please don't tell me you've forgotten."

"Schwarz has been disbanded years ago."

"Yes, apparently."

"You never came back." Crawford said. "Which was better off anyway, Esset offered a reward to whoever can capture us, dead or alive."

"Doesn't it anger you?" Jei asked. "We've served them for years. We fought to the very end, and what do we get?" Jei smiled bitterly. "God knows I wanted to go back; but I realized, I wouldn't have done things as differently as now if I did. I'd have blended into the sea of a crowd...I'd have been the same as you guys are now."

Crawford didn't find anything wrong with using his talent on other means other than the underground, in fact, he found it a relief that out of the four, it was him who found a sense of normalcy in the world he'd come to know only as violent, unfair and cruel. He could never have dinned publicly outside unguarded and for the first time safe. He rather liked this new life of his; of course save for a few illegalities here and there, but he wouldn't have it any other way.

Jei tilted his head. "Are you satisfied?"

Crawford let his eyes speak for himself.

"I never wavered from that dream." Jei said, his voice strong. "You were to lead us to that dream, to conquer the underworld. Be feared and respected. I must say, I never expected you to give up, hide, change. We almost had it, Crawford. We could have picked up where we left off." Jei stood and sighed.

"I want to show you something." He proceeded towards the door and opened it, but paused to look back at Crawford.

Crawford stood and cautiously moved towards him.

"What I want to show you," Jei opened the door wider for them both, "is what you would have done as the leader of Schwarz."