Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ It's All Relative ❯ Chapter 28 ( Chapter 28 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: LilyMoonsAlias 
Anime/Manga: Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Psychological / Hentai | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 10.18.2006 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.6K | Visits: 576 | Status: Work In Progress
Anime/Manga: Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Psychological / Hentai | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 10.18.2006 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.6K | Visits: 576 | Status: Work In Progress
Home. Schuldig wanted to drop to his knees in the driveway and scrape up handfuls of asphalt to hug. He wanted to roll in the overgrown wet grass and scrub his face in the muddy flowerbeds. Then he wanted to somehow make it inside up the stairs to HIS bathroom and soak in HIS tub before flopping bonelessly on his back in HIS bed. He wanted Yohji to drop whatever he was doing and join him there and fuck him senseless so he wouldn't have to think about his teammate in the next room drugged to his eyeballs without even knowing he was waiting for a cell phone to ring.
Schuldig didn't want to think. He didn't want to hear anyone else's thoughts and he particularly didn't want to hear Aya's brain on repeat anymore. If Crawford didn't wake up Aya soon Schuldig was going to take the decision from him if only to preserve what was left of his own sanity. He KNEW, yes, he knew that this was only making the situation worse in Aya's mind. Trapping him in his own body. Schuldig knew because, despite all the damned drugs, some part of Aya's mind was aware and it was furious.
Schuldig remembered a book that Crawford had shoved into his hands years ago to shut up his whines of boredom on a long trip. It was a bizarre book and dealt with the future and humans breeding and crossbreeding to develop extraordinary mind powers to replace accursed machines. The book resonated for Schuldig in a way because all the normal humans who partook of the substances to enhance themselves either eventually went mad or destroyed themselves because they couldn't handle the TRUTH. But one line from that book circled his fevered brain during the stressful strip home. It was a young man's anguished howl that the sleeper had awakened.
Aya was their sleeper and Schuldig knew, without a doubt, that when he awakened there would be hell to pay. He tried to tell Crawford, but the Oracle acted as if he hadn't heard, so deep was he in trying to part the mists of the future. Because a cell phone still had not rung, Crawford was pushing, hell, he was using a battering ram, against his own gift in an effort to force a vision of the future. He was so focused on trying to see the future Schuldig couldn't make him see and understand the now. Yohji understood better and he had no supersensory gifts at all, at least nothing apparent.
So Schuldig kept his silence, let his leader and his lover think he was quiet for once from sheer fatigue. Crawford left him to his rest, and Yohji, sweet worried Yohji, gave him space but stayed within earshot. Schuldig waited until both men were occupied with other necessary tasks then he crept into Aya's room where the man lay in cognitive twilight, not asleep, but not quite conscious. The fear and fury Schuldig felt made his knees buckle but he climbed onto the bed overtop the other redhead and pulled him into his arms to press their foreheads together.
Schuldig was appalled. When he had wrestled Aya to the ground there hadn't been time to roam. Then it was strike fast, strike hard in a desperate situation to try and jolt Aya's memory. Now, with time at hand, for in the inner space of the mind time has no meaning, Schuldig could see and feel the destruction wrought by Pollock. The man had been a busy little fucker and probably hadn't slept either during the three days of Aya's confinement to have twisted so much. Where Aya's inner space had before been a tidy light gray area with some dark smudges representing old slights and pains and bright, glowing areas of good memories there was a thick, oily darkness that simmered and bubbled. The area where memories of Aya's sister should have been was completely empty. Schuldig guessed that was Aya's subconscious at work, trying to protect himself from suggestion that she might be dead.
Schuldig reached out to touch a swathe of red that he knew represented himself. He made the mistake of grasping tightly and jumped away holding his injured hand to his chest. That...thing that was Aya's impression of Schuldig now had both burnt him and cut him to the quick with razor edges. Schuldig wanted to stomp it out forever because it meant perceived betrayal, but he could just indiscriminately remove parts of Aya's memories. Aya would feel the loss and perhaps think of it as yet more betrayal and manipulation.
Further into the inner space Schuldig faced another swathe in his path, this one a cool green. It looked safe and comforting, but when he touched it the absolute coldness streaked up his arm to drive a spike of ice into his heart. Yohji, then, or to be more precise how Aya remembered Yohji in the desert compound. Schuldig hissed in pain and kept going. He had to know the full extent before Aya was fully free of the drugs. Deeper, closer to Aya's inner core was the darkest, blackest, most painful area. It surrounded and alternately burned and chilled. It was filled with the sound of barely audible high-pitched shrieking. Occasionally low moans of despair emanated from the morass, and Schuldig watched as another layer of ice grew in a thick coating to smother each time a moan tried to be heard. Gods, this had to be all that was left of Aya's memories of Crawford, this painful, pitiful, defeated collection of humiliated despair that was growing larger as it was being fed by and morphing into a boiling core of rage.
Schuldig started backing out of Aya's mind, terribly afraid that they were too late, that even if Aya's sister was found alive it would make no difference in Aya's desire for revenge. Most of Aya's time with Schwarz had been twisted into an illusion of duplicity and degradation, the truth brutally warped into crime. Before leaving Schuldig searched frantically for the bud of hope he had planted in the beginning. It was still there, almost unrecognizable, but still trying to exist. Schuldig focused all the positive energy, warmth and love as he could summon into it. It was all he could do at the moment. Perhaps it would be enough and when Aya awoke he might listen.
"What the fuck are you doing, Schuldig?!" Rough hands jerked him back into his body then shook him furiously.
Schuldig was tired, so damned tired, and not in the mood for Crawford's shit. Here he was doing what he could to gauge and look for ways to repair the damage to Aya's memory and Crawford was shaking him like a bad dog for getting on the bed. He got a grip on Crawford's wrists and with his own strength pried the man's hands from his shoulders. He saw Yohji hovering on the threshold of the doorway, unsure of who needed protecting. Schuldig smiled softly at him to let him know he was okay then he turned to where Crawford was still arrogantly waiting for an answer.
"You know what I was doing, Crawford. You, of all people, know what I can do. I took a trip down Aya's memory lane without even a fucking roadmap to show me what used to be there. Do you want to know what I found? I'll even let you feel it so you can know firsthand what your lover is going through, but first I'm going to tell you that you have to wake him up today. Not Tomorrow. Not when that phone rings. Because every hour you keep him trapped there is making it worse and it's already hellish." Schuldig flipped his hair to his back. "Will you wake Sleeping Beauty up and take the punches?'
"Yes," Crawford hissed, his face tight and controlled.
"Fine," With that Schuldig shoved the entire experience from his head to Crawford's. A pained and horrified sound that Schuldig had never heard before from the Oracle burst from the man's lips and Crawford fell to his knees with his face covered by both hands. His whole body tensed and writhed with pain and grief.
Drawing gasping breaths, Crawford ground out the words, "Get. Out. Now. Leave us and I'll do it."
"We'll be just outside," Schuldig said softly, sympathetically, and pushed Yohji ahead of him to close the door.
It was several minutes before Crawford could find the strength to stand and walk to the bed. He brushed trembling fingers over the pale face and silky hair. A light touch lingered briefly on the utter smoothness of Aya's cheek. Crawford wiped tears of reaction from his face and pulled a single syringe from this pocket. Schuldig was right. He had seen it and not wanted to acknowledge it. There was no physical reason to keep Aya asleep any longer.
Crawford disconnected the IV fluids and injected the drug reversal slowly into the access port. Within minutes Aya was stirring, murmuring and moving towards awareness. Crawford sat unmoving on the bed, waiting. Violet eyes cracked open and blinked a few times uncertainly before focusing on the man beside him. For a split second the corners of Aya's lips lifted, Crawford was sure, in a welcoming smile before that lovely face hardened, the eyes sharpened into glittering gems and Aya lurched up to grab Crawford by the collar.
"You!" Aya snarled.
Schuldig didn't want to think. He didn't want to hear anyone else's thoughts and he particularly didn't want to hear Aya's brain on repeat anymore. If Crawford didn't wake up Aya soon Schuldig was going to take the decision from him if only to preserve what was left of his own sanity. He KNEW, yes, he knew that this was only making the situation worse in Aya's mind. Trapping him in his own body. Schuldig knew because, despite all the damned drugs, some part of Aya's mind was aware and it was furious.
Schuldig remembered a book that Crawford had shoved into his hands years ago to shut up his whines of boredom on a long trip. It was a bizarre book and dealt with the future and humans breeding and crossbreeding to develop extraordinary mind powers to replace accursed machines. The book resonated for Schuldig in a way because all the normal humans who partook of the substances to enhance themselves either eventually went mad or destroyed themselves because they couldn't handle the TRUTH. But one line from that book circled his fevered brain during the stressful strip home. It was a young man's anguished howl that the sleeper had awakened.
Aya was their sleeper and Schuldig knew, without a doubt, that when he awakened there would be hell to pay. He tried to tell Crawford, but the Oracle acted as if he hadn't heard, so deep was he in trying to part the mists of the future. Because a cell phone still had not rung, Crawford was pushing, hell, he was using a battering ram, against his own gift in an effort to force a vision of the future. He was so focused on trying to see the future Schuldig couldn't make him see and understand the now. Yohji understood better and he had no supersensory gifts at all, at least nothing apparent.
So Schuldig kept his silence, let his leader and his lover think he was quiet for once from sheer fatigue. Crawford left him to his rest, and Yohji, sweet worried Yohji, gave him space but stayed within earshot. Schuldig waited until both men were occupied with other necessary tasks then he crept into Aya's room where the man lay in cognitive twilight, not asleep, but not quite conscious. The fear and fury Schuldig felt made his knees buckle but he climbed onto the bed overtop the other redhead and pulled him into his arms to press their foreheads together.
Schuldig was appalled. When he had wrestled Aya to the ground there hadn't been time to roam. Then it was strike fast, strike hard in a desperate situation to try and jolt Aya's memory. Now, with time at hand, for in the inner space of the mind time has no meaning, Schuldig could see and feel the destruction wrought by Pollock. The man had been a busy little fucker and probably hadn't slept either during the three days of Aya's confinement to have twisted so much. Where Aya's inner space had before been a tidy light gray area with some dark smudges representing old slights and pains and bright, glowing areas of good memories there was a thick, oily darkness that simmered and bubbled. The area where memories of Aya's sister should have been was completely empty. Schuldig guessed that was Aya's subconscious at work, trying to protect himself from suggestion that she might be dead.
Schuldig reached out to touch a swathe of red that he knew represented himself. He made the mistake of grasping tightly and jumped away holding his injured hand to his chest. That...thing that was Aya's impression of Schuldig now had both burnt him and cut him to the quick with razor edges. Schuldig wanted to stomp it out forever because it meant perceived betrayal, but he could just indiscriminately remove parts of Aya's memories. Aya would feel the loss and perhaps think of it as yet more betrayal and manipulation.
Further into the inner space Schuldig faced another swathe in his path, this one a cool green. It looked safe and comforting, but when he touched it the absolute coldness streaked up his arm to drive a spike of ice into his heart. Yohji, then, or to be more precise how Aya remembered Yohji in the desert compound. Schuldig hissed in pain and kept going. He had to know the full extent before Aya was fully free of the drugs. Deeper, closer to Aya's inner core was the darkest, blackest, most painful area. It surrounded and alternately burned and chilled. It was filled with the sound of barely audible high-pitched shrieking. Occasionally low moans of despair emanated from the morass, and Schuldig watched as another layer of ice grew in a thick coating to smother each time a moan tried to be heard. Gods, this had to be all that was left of Aya's memories of Crawford, this painful, pitiful, defeated collection of humiliated despair that was growing larger as it was being fed by and morphing into a boiling core of rage.
Schuldig started backing out of Aya's mind, terribly afraid that they were too late, that even if Aya's sister was found alive it would make no difference in Aya's desire for revenge. Most of Aya's time with Schwarz had been twisted into an illusion of duplicity and degradation, the truth brutally warped into crime. Before leaving Schuldig searched frantically for the bud of hope he had planted in the beginning. It was still there, almost unrecognizable, but still trying to exist. Schuldig focused all the positive energy, warmth and love as he could summon into it. It was all he could do at the moment. Perhaps it would be enough and when Aya awoke he might listen.
"What the fuck are you doing, Schuldig?!" Rough hands jerked him back into his body then shook him furiously.
Schuldig was tired, so damned tired, and not in the mood for Crawford's shit. Here he was doing what he could to gauge and look for ways to repair the damage to Aya's memory and Crawford was shaking him like a bad dog for getting on the bed. He got a grip on Crawford's wrists and with his own strength pried the man's hands from his shoulders. He saw Yohji hovering on the threshold of the doorway, unsure of who needed protecting. Schuldig smiled softly at him to let him know he was okay then he turned to where Crawford was still arrogantly waiting for an answer.
"You know what I was doing, Crawford. You, of all people, know what I can do. I took a trip down Aya's memory lane without even a fucking roadmap to show me what used to be there. Do you want to know what I found? I'll even let you feel it so you can know firsthand what your lover is going through, but first I'm going to tell you that you have to wake him up today. Not Tomorrow. Not when that phone rings. Because every hour you keep him trapped there is making it worse and it's already hellish." Schuldig flipped his hair to his back. "Will you wake Sleeping Beauty up and take the punches?'
"Yes," Crawford hissed, his face tight and controlled.
"Fine," With that Schuldig shoved the entire experience from his head to Crawford's. A pained and horrified sound that Schuldig had never heard before from the Oracle burst from the man's lips and Crawford fell to his knees with his face covered by both hands. His whole body tensed and writhed with pain and grief.
Drawing gasping breaths, Crawford ground out the words, "Get. Out. Now. Leave us and I'll do it."
"We'll be just outside," Schuldig said softly, sympathetically, and pushed Yohji ahead of him to close the door.
It was several minutes before Crawford could find the strength to stand and walk to the bed. He brushed trembling fingers over the pale face and silky hair. A light touch lingered briefly on the utter smoothness of Aya's cheek. Crawford wiped tears of reaction from his face and pulled a single syringe from this pocket. Schuldig was right. He had seen it and not wanted to acknowledge it. There was no physical reason to keep Aya asleep any longer.
Crawford disconnected the IV fluids and injected the drug reversal slowly into the access port. Within minutes Aya was stirring, murmuring and moving towards awareness. Crawford sat unmoving on the bed, waiting. Violet eyes cracked open and blinked a few times uncertainly before focusing on the man beside him. For a split second the corners of Aya's lips lifted, Crawford was sure, in a welcoming smile before that lovely face hardened, the eyes sharpened into glittering gems and Aya lurched up to grab Crawford by the collar.
"You!" Aya snarled.