Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ No Journey ❯ One-Shot

“No Journey”
By Viridian5
11/9/04

RATING: PG-13.
SPOILERS: “Mission 13: Bruch-- Rain of Revenge” and “Last Mission 13: Tomorrow.”
SUMMARY: Schuldig sets the scene.
ARCHIVAL/DISTRIBUTION: Anywhere, as long as you ask me first.
FEEDBACK: can be sent to Viridian5@aol.com.
DISCLAIMERS: All things Weiß Kreuz belong to Takehito Koyasu, Project Weiß, Polygram k.k., and Animate Film. No infringement intended.
NOTE: The dream referred to here is in “To Tourney.”

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“No Journey”
By Viridian5
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Schuldig grinned as he stepped out of the Fujimiya girl’s dream and into his own headspace, currently dressed up to look like a throne room fit for a Goblin King. His boot heels clicked against the marble floor.

It was cute how she trusted him and took his advice. What was up with these Fujimiya kids that all you had to do was dangle a sibling in front of them and they’d jump? Not that he was complaining, since it had worked well for him on several occasions.

Speaking of Fujimiyas.... There should have been one sitting, chained, to the throne, but instead the chain went over the arm with no Abyssinian in sight. “Oh dear,” Schuldig called loudly. “Wherever could he have gone? There you are.”

Sitting on the marble behind and to the side of the throne, Aya snarled at him and pulled the chain across the wood arm a few more times as if he could break it through a little light filing and sheer will. When Schuldig had yanked his mind in here, he’d been dazed and slow. The drugs the hospital had pumped into him for his stab wound must be wearing off now. Even dissociated from his body he’d feel some of the returning pain and get cranky. Though he tended to be cranky even at his best.

Interesting how Aya’s self had a hairstyle his body hadn’t had in years, the one with the mass of bangs and longer wisps near the ears. You could learn a lot about a person by how he imagined his self.

“What the hell were you doing with my sister?” Aya asked, demanding. “She knew you. She’d seen you before.”

“You visited her while she was in her coma. So did I,” Schuldig answered as a distraction and provocation.

As predicted, Aya threw himself at Schuldig but fell short as he hit the end of his chain. That had to hurt, especially since it connected to the steel collar around his neck as well as the heavy steel bracelets. Schuldig believed in making any telepathic space feel real and normal to the people he toyed with. If their reality didn’t feel real, some of them started to realize that the usual physical laws didn’t bind them here. From the choking noise Aya had made, he acknowledged physical laws completely.

“I don’t know what your problem is,” Schuldig said as he looked down at his prey lying on the stone floor. “I let you see your sister. Well, watch her in her little dreams. If you weren’t so stubborn, it could have been you getting hugs from her instead of an illusion.”

Aya’s purple eyes just about blazed with hatred. “You’d never allow that.”

True. He couldn’t trust Aya to stick with a script.

“I gave you a nice room and a cushioned seat. I even wore a longer coat so dear innocent little Aya didn’t get to see how my tight pants hug the really important bits.” Running his fingers down the green velvet lapel, Schuldig asked, “Do you wanna see?”

From a telepath, here, the look Aya directed at him could have been literally lethal. From a mundane, it was just amusing.

Aya suddenly started to fade, which prompted Schuldig to say, “It looks like your body is dying. It happens sometimes when your will to fight is taken out and kept elsewhere.” Watching Aya’s urge to live and urge to die fight one another as he thought about that provided a lot of entertainment.

A live toy provided more varieties of entertainment than a dead one. “I’m sending you back to your body. You can thank me or curse me.”

Aya mouthed something that probably amounted to “fuck you” as he disappeared completely. Ingrate. Schuldig felt after him and smiled as the doctors stabilized his body. Looked like he’d live.

Aware of his own body again, Schuldig opened his eyes and stretched, working out the kinks. Sitting in even a comfy chair with a footrest could mess a guy up over a few hours. His t-shirt, sweatpants, and bare feet were a far cry from his Goblin King outfit. He wiggled his toes.

Crawford didn’t look up from his newspaper as he asked, “Did you enjoy your night out?”

Schuldig was so misunderstood. “Night out? I was working, you cheap bastard.”

  ***********************THE END**********************