Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ It's All Relative ❯ Chapter 19 ( Chapter 19 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Damn, Yohji was gorgeous working with his wire. Fluid, graceful, sleek and sexy. Schuldig kept tabs on the rest of his team while watching his current obsession work his way through a band of thugs. Almost as an afterthought Schuldig aimed and shot at a couple that thought to take advantage of his distraction. Really, he thought, sneaking up on a telepath with a loaded weapon was just suicide. Yohji's wire sang past his head with a hiss to garrote someone behind him. Okay, maybe he was being just a tad under observant.

Schuldig stepped forward to let the body fall past him and grinned in appreciation at Yohji. Yohji frowned back at him, worried that Schuldig had let an enemy get so close. Shaking back his blazing mane, Schuldig shrugged at him and continued onwards to kick in their target's door. Shaking, fearful and all but pissing his pants, the man crept backwards to plaster himself against the far wall. Nowhere left to go. His bodyguards were all dead. In a last, instinctive effort to save himself the man jerkily fired his gun at the advancing telepath. Schuldig read his intent before the thought was even finished and dodged the bullet with ease. It only managed to sizzle a lock of hair in passing, but it was enough to enrage the hopelessly vain telepath.

"That was just plain stupid, Deckart." Schuldig's voice was low, menacing and bristling with anger. "You just ruined any chance you had of getting out of this alive."

"Fuck you, Schuldig!" Deckart snarled back in a lame attempt at defiance. "I already know I'm going to die. At least I get to die knowing you won't be far behind me on the way to hell."

"Really," Schuldig drawled sarcastically.

"Schwarz will pay for the ruin you made of Esset." Furious eyes flicked to Yohji. "Weiss also. How's the wife, Balinese?"

Yohji flinched perceptibly but maintained his pose of indolent unconcern. Only Schuldig could hear the howls of pain and rage behind the blond's cool expression.

"You're only making this more worth my while, bastard," Schuldig said and unloaded the gun in the man's belly then used his gift to paralyze the Esset flunky and stroke his pain to extreme heights.

An additional touch and Deckart no longer had the ability to scream. Schuldig and Yohji watched with similar degrees of satisfaction as the man writhed helplessly while his own stomach acids destroyed his insides. Deckart bled and died within minutes, his extended and horrifying death unintentionally providing a balm to the two men. Crawford and Aya entered the office shortly after the last spasm ceased.

Crawford took in the scene and holstered his own weapon. Aya followed silently and wiped his katana clean on the gaudy window dressings before sheathing the blade. The harsh, ringing scrape of the metal broke Yohji's trance and redirected Schuldig's attention. Schuldig assessed Yohji's mental state and stepped to his side in unspoken solidarity.

"Any useful information, Mastermind?"

"Not much," Schuldig shook his head. "Deckart was a very minor player, but he did confirm that both Schwarz and Weiss are being hunted specifically for the deaths of the elders."

"Weiss is no more, and we didn't have much of a hand in your coup," Aya protested angrily.

"Guilty by association if nothing else, Abyssinian, and you were instrumental in destroying Epitaph," Crawford replied. "Did you find out who he answered to?"

Schuldig hesitated then uttered with a tinge of uncharacteristic fear. "Pollock."

Crawford turned this information over in his head. Schuldig had every reason to worry if Pollock was still alive. A telepath on par with Schuldig, Pollock also had the ability to link with other psychically gifted people to expand his own power. As far as Schwarz knew the man had limitless capacity to siphon others' gifts. Because of this Pollock had been in the unique position of disciplinarian of any agent who dared to defy Esset. Schuldig had encountered the man more than a few times over the years for his defiance of authority and none of the times were pleasant. Crawford had been witness to every time Schuldig returned to Schwarz badly injured and nearly broken. If anyone could inspire fear in the irreverent telepath it was Cyril Pollock.

Since no one had spoken of the man except in hushed whispers, information concerning his survival had not yet reached Crawford. It was entirely possible Pollock was the one remaining in the shadows and working to draw together the scattered remains of Esset's regime. Crawford had no idea how many high level talents could be under Pollock's influence and the gap in information was unacceptable. Jager's laptop had yielded only Deckart's and a few other minor agents' locations. It wouldn't be long before word of Schwarz's continuing hunt reached the other agents. They would have to move quickly to secure their next targets.

To add insult to injury, they weren't being paid to eliminate a lot of these minions. The only payoff was personal satisfaction and continued security of the team. Crawford glared at the cooling corpse. Deckart's death wasn't satisfying at all to Crawford. The dead man's revelation of his superior's identity was more disturbing than helpful if Schuldig's fidgeting was any clue. Crawford hid his dissatisfaction behind his icy facade and turned around to leave the body to rot on its own. They needed to rest while he formulated a new plan before they flew to Arizona and their next target.

"Let's go," Crawford ordered and didn't bother to see if his team followed him. He knew they would.

In the car Schuldig sat in the back seat with Yohji and unsuccessfully tried to block the influx of memories caused by mention of Pollock. He shivered convulsively from time to time as a particularly painful event rose to the fore. Yohji kept watch over him from the corner of his eye and scooted closer.

/Schu?/ Yohji queried, his mental tone conveying his concern.

/Bad memories, Yotan. Bad, bad memories/ Schuldig sent back. /I'll be fine. One of the major drawbacks of my gift is a perfect memory. Pollock...hurt me many times./

Yohji didn't press for more when Schuldig didn't elaborate. Instead, he wrapped his arm around the telepath's shoulders. Schuldig exhaled a slow breath and leaned into the warmth of the blond's lean body. His still unformed plan to seduce Yohji took a back seat to accepting the comfort and friendship of the other assassin. He caught Crawford watching them in the rear view mirror and managed a tremulous smile. Schuldig had faith in his leader. Crawford knew what Pollock was capable of and would take the steps necessary to safeguard the team until the man could be killed.

"What's next, Crawford?" Aya asked, his weariness apparent. They had been working non-stop for over a week to find and take out Deckart.

Crawford's eyes softened. He knew Aya had to be really wiped to reveal any tiredness. Because the redhead never complained it was easy to forget that neither he nor Yohji had the endurance Crawford and Schuldig had. Even so, Crawford was worn himself. He had been pushing his gift relentlessly for some time.

"We rest for a couple of days then we fly to Phoenix," Crawford answered.

"Oh, joy," Schuldig joked. "The desert."

"Desert?" The idea intrigued both Yohji and Aya. Neither man had ever left Japan before the dissolution of Weiss. They were getting an involuntary education, but neither found it cumbersome.

Back at the house Aya waved off his teammates and slipped into his own room for the night. Crawford looked a little peeved before an unexpected yawn nearly cracked his own jaw. Perhaps Aya had the right idea. A night of rest was in order and, God knows, having Aya in his bed inspired much better activities than sleep.

Schuldig quietly entered his bedroom and leaned against the door. He felt miserable. Unless he could get the memories under control and back below the surface they would follow him into sleep and become horrendous nightmares. It was times like these that Schuldig hated his gift with a burning passion. He lifted his hands in front of his face and glared at the shaking evident. Schuldig clenched his fists and stalked to his decadent tub for a long soak in lavender scented water. Catching sight of the frayed lock of hair at the side of his face added another irritant. Fucking Deckart! He should have prolonged his death a bit more just on principle.

Yohji came awake with a start. Had he heard something? His nerves hummed with tension but his ears provided no answer. On impulse, he crept down the hallway to Schuldig's room. The telepath was awake, sitting with the French doors open to let in a cold breeze. Yohji shivered at the drop in temperature. Schuldig seemed oblivious, a cigarette dangling from his fingers and dropping ash on the hardwood floor.

"Schuldig?" Yohji spread his fingers over the man's bright head.

Schuldig jumped, dropping his cigarette to stare at Yohji with uncomprehending eyes. Yohji stubbed the butt in the forgotten ashtray and knelt in front of Schuldig to frame his face.

"Come back, Schu," Yohji coaxed. "Come back here to me where no one is hurting you."

Yohji had no idea if what he was doing would be any help at all, but instinct told him to keep trying. It pained him to see his normally loud and boisterous teammate looking so fragile and withdrawn. Somehow the slender man even appeared slighter and diminished. Blue eyes, dark with pain, roamed over Yohji's face without recognition and Schuldig tugged at Yohji's wrists, making animalistic sounds of desperation.

Yohji enfolded the redhead in an embrace, pressing the pale face against his neck and stroking soothing hands over the tense back. He murmured meaningless syllables of comfort in multiple languages. It wasn't long before he felt hot tears sliding down his neck. Schuldig still made no sound. It had been trained in him long ago not voice aloud his pain. In the past he wouldn't even have allowed the tears, but Yohji was here and not asking anything of him. Yohji was accepting and holding him and not looking to take advantage of the smallest weakness.

Schuldig leaned in when soft lips and delicate swipes of Yohji's tongue tasted his tears and swept away his grief. He came back to himself enough to raise his face to meet Yohji's eyes. Yohji drew in his breath at the blatant affection and desire reflected in their blue depths. Schuldig slowly raised his arms to encircle Yohji's shoulders, keeping his grasp loose to let Yohji know he still had the option to refuse.

Yohji stayed within the embrace and lifted his hand to cup the side of Schuldig's face, a face almost to beautiful to be male, the features delicate and alluring. He got the distinct feeling that Schuldig's garish clothes and mocking sneer were armor to protect a soft, soft heart.

Yohji had spent the week examining his relationships and dissecting the flaws in each, both with him and his partners. Except for the time he had spent with the original Asuka, every other relationship had been marred by the same fatal fact. Neither party had ever been totally honest with the other about their feelings or their past. Schuldig knew everything there was to know about Yohji. Schuldig said as much, having researched and thoroughly scanned the mind of his primary opponent back when Weiss and Schwarz were on opposite sides. After his initial irritated reaction Yohji had felt a consuming relief that at least one person in the world knew everything about him and still accepted him. His heart ached for such a connection with someone else, someone to love him unconditionally and totally.

The fascinated and adoring looks the telepath had been giving Yohji all week had let him know Schuldig's feelings about him. Would it really be so bad to succumb to the gorgeous man and allow himself to bask in his affection? Attraction was not a problem. Even when they had been enemies Yohji had thought the foreigner's exotic coloring and pixie like features alluring.

Yohji tightened his grip when he felt Schuldig withdrawing from him having taken Yohji's reflective contemplation as a subtle rejection. Schuldig had allowed Yohji the privacy of his thoughts and had no idea what the blond was thinking. Yohji smiled and tilted the fey face to a better angle. Internal argument over and decision made, Yohji skimmed his lips over the whisper soft skin of Schudig's cheekbone. He touched his tongue to the delicate hollow below the ear where the skin is very thin and sensitive. A soft sigh of pleasure rewarded his effort.

"Do you still want me, Schu?" Yohji murmured, his voice husky and sensual.

"I do," Schuldig rasped. "But I don't want a pity fuck you will regret later."

Yohji chuckled darkly, the warm sound raising goose bumps on Schuldig's skin.

"I don't do pity fucks."

Schudig tried to come up with a cocky smile. "Top or bottom?"

"Top," Yohji answered immediately, pulling their bodies flush together. "I want to see how your skin glows against those dark silk sheets of yours. I want to make love to you because I don't think anyone has ever taken the time to savor the treasure you are. I want to make you tremble in my arms and hold you when I bring you over the edge. I want to hear you whisper my name and I want to see if your eyes grow brighter with desire."

"Yohji," Schuldig whispered, completely wooed by the blond's words. "I want that, too."

In an extravagant show of gallantry, Yohji swept up the redhead into his arms and carried him to the large bed.