11-Aug-2002
Breakdown: An Alternate Universe Weiss Kreutz Fanfic
by Nixerchan and bonnejeanne
Contact: nixerchan@aol.com and bonnejeanne@yahoo.com
Category: AU
Pairings: Various, or to put it another way, most of them ^__^;;
Warnings: LEMON this section. Weird premise, weird psychic powers, probably confusing plot, um, possibly some OOC, some violence, probably gratuitous use of pointless Japanese, what else... oh yeah, LEMON from time to time... poor Nixers, I'm such a corrupting influence... ^__~
Rating: NC-17
SUMMARY/PREMISE: What if the Weiss boys actually possessed psychic powers similar to Schwartz, which had been suppressed or erased from their memories?
AU TIMELINE: Picks up *almost* at the end of the OAV, just after the death of Gen. Norman Powell.
/something/ - may indicate thoughts, telepathy or other psychic contact.
'something' - indicates just thoughts.
Chapter 8: Landscapes
Birman finished another series of calls after Youji's had come through. She hadn't expected to be able to trace it, but the man's gliding over actual location was just another reinforcement. This was becoming more and more of a personal thorn. Everything Balinese had said to her checked out, which was even more annoying.
She wanted another try at Abyssinian, and this time she wouldn't be so easily entrapped or taken by surprise, and she had more than a good feeling that her 'contact' in the group wasn't anywhere near being up front. She'd personally take care of him as well.
Birman forced herself to focus, lining up her vision with an effort that aggravated her current migraine to whole new levels, just to put the phone on the table beside her chair. It would only last, at most, 24 more hours she'd been assured, but every minute of it was wearing further on her nerves.
"We can possibly assume that Balinese has never been released from Abyssinian's control," Birman said, focusing with another burst of willpower, on the red haired woman in the chair across from her. "If that's the case, he will need to be recovered as well."
Manx watched the other woman carefully. "I suppose just explaining the situation and asking for cooperation isn't an option," she said with a slight edge to her voice.
"I had already made an attempt," Birman replied easily. "They weren't reasonable then, and I doubt they will be now. They are men who strike before asking questions, they've been trained to be. As such, that only leaves very few safe alternatives to take."
"I think a second attempt should be considered. I'm willing to try if you aren't," Manx said. She already knew what the other woman thought of her usefulness. Perhaps she could work that in her favor.
The brunette's smile was a little eerie when her eyes didn't seem to be looking at anything at all. "I couldn't allow one of foremost of Kritiker's old regime put herself in such danger," she said. "Not after you'd returned to us just so recently."
"I returned to oversee the work with Weiss," she said quietly. "If they're lost, I don't see much point in staying out of retirement."
"Then you understand the urgency to this." Another unfocused smile. "If that is your will, might I accompany you? To observe your methods of course, and to act as something of a bodyguard in the case of danger."
"I don't need a bodyguard," Manx said. "Bombay is no danger. To me," she added.
"I wouldn't allow personal ties to cloud your judgment, Manx." Birman's hand reached up to rub unconsciously at the bridge of her nose, trying to relieve some of the pressure there. "If it's true that they are still separated, it's important to get the other two before they can pose a threat to your favorite anyway."
"Personal ties have nothing to do with it," Manx said coldly. "I've worked with him the longest. I set his blocks myself. I know what I can expect from him. With the right contact, he could help us in finding the other two. He has skills that go a great deal beyond his 'talents'."
"As you set Siberian's? I will take the blame for Abyssinian's collapse, but I feel it's more than fair to consider all of them unstable and furthermore unpredictable at the moment," Birman said, a little satisfaction uncurling. That was what she needed. Balinese was with Bombay, from Manx's assessment, they'd have found the other two already. Kudo would have been more than the 'right contact.'
"Siberian's blocks were never intended to hold up under the kind of stress they experienced during that mission," Manx said quietly. "You have no reason to suspect Balinese. His actions have been correct all the way down the line."
"I suspect the series of coincidences that have followed him," she replied, her expression hardening. The frustration of not being able to see was now being compounded, as she couldn't 'check' the other woman, not anytime soon. "The reports have placed the explosion as an outside influence, but it's most likely either an inside job or an attempt on their lives. The Rats have been dispersed beyond being a threat, there's been no activity from Schwartz to indicate that they've even surfaced from the fall of Estet, and they haven't had a truly dangerous mission besides last night in well over the span of weeks. That takes away one option."
"You obviously haven't been keeping up with current trends in underage gang violence," Manx said dryly. "It would not surprise me in the least if it were just what it appeared to be. The next time you have contact from Balinese, arrange a contact point. I will meet with them. They will find my presence more reassuring than yours anyway."
"Your benefit of the doubt is a generous force indeed," Birman said sweetly. "However, I see that I cannot dissuade you from your course." Her hand moved with a slow precision, curling around the cell phone and presenting it in Manx's direction. "He has been asked to resume contact tomorrow. I do hope you will take the proper precautions."
"You may be certain that I will take *every* precaution," Manx answered as she took the phone. /Shuichi, whatever you can do from where you are.... the boy needs all the help we can give... your son.../
As the tension in the stage area seemed to maintain at a rather high level, Aya suddenly turned to Youji. "We're going out for a couple of hours." Then he grabbed Ken by the arm, picking up his katana in his other hand. Heading back to their room, he hid the weapon, and told Ken to get his jacket.
The other assassin found the garment on the floor beside the table, and folded it over one arm, a little reservation rising about getting into full 'gear' unless weather forced him. Waiting for Aya by the door, he asked, "Any particular destination in mind?"
"Aa," the redhead answered without answering. He waited by the door with an impatient look until Ken followed him.
Once away from the theater, he led the other assassin through the city streets, finally stopping at a public sports arena. Without comment, he bought two tickets for the exhibition game between the local team and a team from Okinawa and led Ken into the seats.
As the surprise in Ken wore off, a comfort in the surroundings and a sort of relaxation seeped in. Places like this were easy to forget in. The stadium wasn't by any means full, not so early in the season, but there were enough for the slow building crowd to have the right affect. He gave Aya a look and an appreciative smile as they found their seats. "I either did something very right and don't know it yet, or you're buttering me up for something."
Leaning back, Aya relaxed just a bit in the seat. "It was this or start demolishing the theater. I figured this would be better."
The late falling snow had either been cleared away or had melted as the unpredictable season changed moods again. Either way, the field was clear as the two teams started to take their place on the diamond field to the encouragement of the spectators.
"You too huh?" Ken said, settling back into his seat. He hadn't followed the last season well enough to pick a favorite yet. He let out a bit of a sigh. "I don't know what to think yet. There hasn't been time, and there's not enough just to rely on reacting."
"If it weren't for the... blocks and that," Aya said, "I wouldn't have much trouble figuring out what to think about it. I don't like *any* of it," he said, the last three words slow with emphasis. "We're still at a disadvantage with... them. They know what they're doing. We don't."
"So we work on what we do know," Ken said. "Gotta admit it ain't much but... we keep ourselves from getting killed. That's old news, we just have a few things on our side that we didn't. We've been up against Estet long enough to have a little idea... And get your sister out of the way. Defense, then offence."
Aya's expression stilled at the mention of Aya-chan but he nodded. His eyes focused on the movement of the players on the field. "We need more intel. Omi knows that."
The crack of the bat and resulting outburst from the crowd drown out Ken's first attempt at a response. "...Said, I don't think Omi's withholding," he began again as the runner made it to first base. "I just don't think we got to everything."
Aya nodded neutrally. "So tonight we pump his little ass for everything else," he growled, then smiled slightly to remove the threat from the statement.
Ken shot a look across at Aya, a fond exasperation there. He settled in to watch the game unfold a little, the local team had fallen behind in the quick exchange of innings, making them his favorite to pull ahead. In a quieter lull, he asked, "Did it help any? What Prodigy said, I mean."
Aya glanced over at Ken. He shrugged. "I don't know. I'll have to try it later. But it gave me an idea for something else that did seem to." His eyes returned to the game and he winced as a timely catch cut off a tying run.
"I was getting worried about you anyway," Ken admitted, focusing back down on the game with a little more attention than it deserved. His "Cheap call!" blended in with the rest of the crowd's discontent over a close tag.
Aya didn't reply to the comment but his gaze on Ken softened imperceptibly. He watched the game, as well as watching the dark haired assassin. /I was worried about *you*./
//Omi was always taller in his dreamscape. There was no telling what subconscious projection this manifested, but it had always been that way. Even when there were towering monsters that dwarfed him, he was still taller than in real life.
The figure of the other boy seemed taller to him as well. Though they were standing within arm's reach, the boy stood in shadow, while Omi saw and felt the light falling on him.
For a while he simply wanted to look into those midnight deep eyes. He seemed to see everything and nothing in them, all at the same time. Even with his focus there, he could see things behind the other boy, see them clearly. Other figures, familiar and yet oddly distorted in ways difficult to pin down. Beyond them, a landscape with buildings, filled with dark shapes that looked like normal people but had nothing but darkness where their eyes should be. And even further beyond, he could see another landscape, but this one was so dark almost no detail was visible. There were things there... some moved and some didn't, but the details were all shrouded by shadows so thick that they seemed to cling like mist.
The boy in the shadows never met Omi's gaze, fascinated with what was beyond the blond boy. He watched a mirror of daily life with confusion and accusation. Too far was too bright, almost blinding, but at the same time it didn't seem right to try and shade his eyes, to figure out what was behind the light. "That's a lie," the boy said quietly, turning to stare up at Omi.
Omi glanced over his shoulder only superficially. "Oh that? Aa..." The tone was matter of fact. His smile was only a little sad. "But I like it." He shrugged almost apologetically.
There was no response from the other boy. Nagi disappeared a little as he sat down, drawing up his knees. "Which one of us is dreaming, I wonder." For a split second, the dark boy looked a little older as his expression set, trying to work out the possibilities of who and what.
Omi sat on his heels. "It's a dream, it's not supposed to make sense," he said, with a little grin. "I want to take you rollerblading. Or to the beach. Or an amusement park. I want to see you having fun..."
Nagi looked up at Omi, a suspicious expression lining his face. "You sound too coherent for someone who's not supposed to make any sense." He worried at his lower lip, there was no uniform expression to hide behind. He didn't want to take the step backwards, out of sight, yet. "There's no time for any of that."
The grin dimmed to a wistful expression. Suddenly Omi reached in his back pocket and pulled out a small picture wallet. "Wanna see my pictures?" He opened it and showed a picture of the flower shop. The picture was like a small, flat video - the pictured images moved. Ken was sweeping the front walkway. Aya walked out in a long apron carrying a potted plant. Youji was lounging against the doorframe.
Dark blue eyes focused for a long moment, watching the idyllic scene in played out in the small frame. "It's hard to believe it's that comfortable." Nagi's hand lifted a gesture to draw Omi's attention. Behind him it was easy to make out the familiar forms, wearing different expressions, different clothing. Their opponents were unseen but it was easy to make out the style of attack and defense, the caution used when normally faced with the rare times all of Schwartz faced them. The faint iron tang of blood, rage and adrenaline found Omi on a short breeze that stilled and dispersed not long after crossing some grey line to his 'side.'
Omi's expression was one of recognition. He sighed. "It's not that only one or the other can be true," he said softly. "They both are."
The wallet in his hand flipped over a page, on its own. The picture was one of a much younger Omi, perhaps ten or eleven. He was riding a ride at a Tokyo amusement park. A red-haired woman was smiling, her attitude that of an older sister or guardian.
Nagi's expression shuttered at the explanation, withholding his own comment. A little curiosity found a few cracks in the facade almost immediately at the next scene. "She doesn't look like a Takatori?"
The wallet slipped out of Omi's hand and fell on the ground. The boy turned around, not picking it up. His back hunched slightly.
When the wallet fell on the ground, another page turned over. This time, an even younger Omi and the same woman. The image was close up on their faces, the surroundings blurred or not visible. The pictures moved, and this time Nagi heard little voices that seemed to come out of the picture, like a broadcast from a radio with a tiny speaker.
"You are Tsukiyono Omi..." the woman's voice said, even as 'small' as the voice was, it's tone was low and commanding, almost hypnotic.
The child's voice answered her. "No... I'm Mamoru..."
Omi's hand shot out and closed the wallet, without turning around.
There was a sound of fabric moving, the crunch of shoes on gravel. Nagi slipped down only to pick up the small wallet, opening it to let the pages whisk by at their own pace. Already, the images were shifting, darkening to reflect his own life, but he let the small row booklet display itself until the last ghost of another life had disappeared.
"Your worst," Nagi's voice repeated the phrase, first with curiosity then amusement shaded with delight. A hand touched Omi's back, the gentleness of contact turning into a push. "Stay that way. Stop coming after me." The wallet dropped by Omi's side, immediate transforming back into the familiar material from a plain black leather in the light. The touch at his back withdrew and disappeared. "You haven't dimmed at all."
Omi looked up and over his shoulder, his expression reflecting confusion. "Stop... coming after you?" There was a flash in the wide blue eyes of panic.
"You're like she was, but she was broken a couple times, a couple different ways to get there," Nagi said. In the shadows it was hard to tell if he wore a smile or a smirk. "I don't know if I love you or hate you for it. I think they're the same, in a way."
There was a flash in Omi's eyes of something, a quick guess about who 'she' was. At the 'love or hate' part, he turned back around. Scraping his palms over his eyes he said softly, "If I kept some of your... maybe you can, maybe we can fix it so you keep enough of whatever my is. Then you could go." The panic and loss vied with determination in his voice.
"I can't keep it safe here. I need you for that," Nagi said, age and authority vanishing again.
"For that..." Omi repeated. Suddenly his determination cracked. Putting his head down in his arms, he gave in to the feelings building in his chest. It was a dream, and he had none of the defenses he'd worked so hard for. Accepting his failure, he wept.
Nagi stared, feeling awkward, knowing in some respect the fault of this lay at his feet. And he had no idea how it had gotten there. Arms distance was closed again, but he hesitated before breaking the mental taboo of touch again. He turned to sit down, facing his own version of the same city-scape, watching its denizens, close enough to feel the electricity of the other boy. "What do you want?" he asked. "Don't say 'nothing,' I've already given you that."
"To be good enough," Omi whispered to the dark little place inside himself.
Nagi nodded, knowing the gesture would be unseen. "It would make you happy," he said, considering. Little flashes of memory surfaced and submerged in the darkness, finding a disjointed way of reminders. "But you don't act like you want it."
Omi shook his head without raising it. "It would make *you* happy," he whispered with a logic only he could understand. "And then you'd love me. And if you loved me I could love you back without h-hurting."
It was a small child's logic. Why didn't he pay the ransom? Because I wasn't good enough. If I'd just been better.... Be good enough for Persia and Manx. Be good enough for Weiss. Be smarter, quicker, faster, a better killer...
"Not me," Nagi corrected neutrally. "My way of being happy doesn't work like that. Schuldig says that part's gone." He looked over his shoulder, watching Omi.
The other boy jumped to his feet and threw a handful of darts at the distant figure of the telepath. "Schuldig is a lying sick fuck!" he screamed. "If that were true, you wouldn't need me at all no matter what happened when I touched you."
Nagi watched the display, the figure disappearing as the darts struck home. He wrapped his arms around his knees and rested his chin on them. The concept was tempting, but... There was that whole bright area. It was hard, still to tell what was just a bright gloss. Had to tell himself that hope had nothing to do with the truth.
"I'll try to give it back," the statement was doubtful, but determined, making no sense but to the dark boy. "Your happiness feels better than mine."
Omi was still for a moment. Then he slowly sat back down next to the other boy. After a long moment of quiet, he said, "He's wrong. It may take a while, that's all. It took a while for me. It'll probably take a lot longer for you." He'd seated himself so he could face the other boy's landscape. "Sometimes I figure I have parts missing too, can you believe that? Or maybe I have parts I'm not supposed to have. There's a part that sits in a corner and watches all of this and... and just like you, reminds me every chance it gets that none of this is real. That it's all based on lies and always was. I started hearing from it a lot around the time I began working on my blocks. I didn't want to know what was behind them. But I had to. And it was like the picture wallet... for every good memory I have of Manx or Persia doing something nice... there was a hidden one of having my memories erased, my name taken away, discussion I overheard about what I was being trained for and why it was... appropriate. I think Persia figured I was the son of a killer, what else could he expect me to be..."
"You..." the boy sighed, back still to Omi. There were distinctions that the other boy couldn't see. "Killers are cold, methodical. It's an investment of work and sometimes art. Neither you, nor your family were that. Two different kind of hunters even then, one for pleasure, the other for survival... approval? Maybe." He glanced back over his shoulder, finding the wallet quickly where it had been discarded. "So it's like you said, it's not one or the other. You do it well."
Omi was quiet for a moment. He was thinking about the other boy, wishing he knew more about what made him. After a minute he sighed. "I didn't say Persia was right. I just said that's what the man who thought he was my uncle thought." If there was a hell, he had a sneaking suspicion he'd meet Persia there some day. He hoped the man had ended up on a different level than his brother.
Nagi turned just enough to catch sight of wide, light blue eyes out of the corner of his own, then closed them. He'd no skill in this and none of the waking advantage he'd gotten so used to so quickly. "If he couldn't figure out what he was to you, then I'm not surprised the rest was beyond him either."
Omi didn't answer that. There were things he could have said. He'd had time to figure it out, had time to pass through a few stages of shock and settle into a calm semblance of indifference most of the time about it.
Instead, he nodded at the dark landscape. "I don't blame you if you don't want to, but if you ever do, I'll go there with you."
Nagi's eyes opened wide, and he stiffened. He shook his head, speaking carefully. "No, there's nothing more than what you see. You don't need to go in."
"I figured you'd say that." Omi's tone was accepting. "If you ever try to go back in there without me I'll come after you."
The dark boy frowned. He knew he'd already told the blond not to come after him. It wasn't so much of an understanding as an acceptance that Omi wouldn't listen any more then than he was now to that. More than a little frustration subsided into a confusion. "Threats won't change your mind, will they?" Nagi asked. "I know it was guilt and pity that kept you here from the start. They won't take you far in there."
"Some guilt, yeah," Omi said, unruffled. His storm seemed to have passed. "Not pity. Felt like recognition. I don't understand all of it, maybe even most of it, but there's something in me that recognizes it. You're still in the tunnels. No one pulled you out. I'll go as far as you go, if it comes to that."
There was an unspoken final thought that didn't require contact. It seemed to be more in the air than in either of them. 'Even if I die there.'
"If it comes to that," Nagi began, a light emphasis on 'if,' "Nothing will touch you." He looked over to Omi again, the boy still managing to catch the sun this close to the shadows. "I won't let it."
Omi reached over and took Nagi's hand and turned it palm up, and kissed it. He knew this was a dream because he could never have done that without shyness or embarrassment had he been awake. Then he released it gently and simply gazed ahead of him, looking for nothing, waiting for nothing, finally, after all, needing nothing for the moment.//
The dream had drifted into a comfortable stillness, drifting for an indeterminate amount of time before the dreamscape jarred, warping violently as one of them woke up first. The insistent hard sound of knocking pulled Nagi awake before the blond boy. It took a moment to orient himself, remember even who he was, then where, and finally why the sound on the door sounded quite so... angry.
/Ahhh... forgot,/ there was less repentance in the thought than, perhaps, there should have been. He gave the other boy a small nudge in the ribs before pulling his influence from the door. He didn't bother to move. He was comfortable with Omi around him and if whoever it was had something as important as they thought, they could talk down to him for all he cared at the moment. "Just open it."
There was a slight pause before the direction was followed out, doorknob turned slowly enough to easily imagined wariness or skepticism. "Sorry guys, but this is the five minute warn..." Ken paused, half into the room. The uncomfortable feeling of being pinned by dark eyes rivaled the oddly easy sight of the two of them sharing the same cot, and obviously fresh from sleep. He tried again. "Five minute warning. You can have the rest of the night after this."
Omi yawned hugely, his jaw cracking with the extent of it. "Ok, thanks, Ken-kun," he managed, his tone sleepy but typically, one might almost say habitually cheerful. His brain hadn't caught up to the situation or he might have blushed, but he wasn't awake enough for it.
He received a half smile for his efforts before the older man disappeared to give the two some privacy to prepare for the 'meeting' Aya had called to plan.
A faint sigh came from Nagi, followed by a reluctant glance at the floor. Exhaustion had been beaten back into a simple weariness by the couple of stolen hours of sleep, but it was far from an anticipated situation.
Omi stretched like the cat that he was named for. "Well, here we go," he said, taking a minute to check Nagi, noting the remaining weariness, which he concurred with wholeheartedly. He wished that the caffeine fairy would leave them some cold drinks or at the least some coffee.
Sitting up, he grabbed for his shoes to put them back on.
"I should have asked last time," Nagi began, getting himself upright again and up to retrieve his shoes. The sting of temporarily lost contact brought him a little closer to awake. "Is there anything I need to know about them for the longer term?"
Omi tied his shoes quickly while the question ran through his mind. "Everything's so shaken up now," he said aloud. "Other than the obvious stuff that you can figure out for yourself..." He shook his head more as a means to try and shake his thought processes into gear than anything. "I'm not sure what you think of them *now*, " he said. "My advice would be to respect each of them. You aren't seeing any of us at our best right now, but... we're kind of at our best when we're not at our best, if you know what I mean. What that ends up coming out to... that can vary a lot. We wouldn't be having this meeting if it were all out of the question. They may want to ask questions. Tell them what you think you can. Beyond that," he shrugged. "I hope Crawford plans to play this straight for once."
"He wouldn't have given me as much trouble as he did if he was just going to turn around on me," Nagi said, a feeling of wariness betraying the fact that his confidence wasn't total on that assessment. "We'd have a little while anyway." He turned over the information, slipping his shoes on and returning to Omi's side. He gave another sigh, catching Omi's wrist. "Yours make mine seem easy."
Omi smiled slightly. "At first, probably. Once they establish a basis of acceptance, you may be surprised after that."
"Family again?" Nagi asked, remembering the term Omi had put to it in the odd exchanges that had passed before everything changed. This time he wasn't as sure their definitions were as close of a match as he'd originally presumed.
"That's my term, I guess," Omi acknowledged. "A weird family, maybe. It may not make any sense, but the mission we just had... that was a test beyond almost anything," /Up to this./ "The fact that what came after... was even weirder," he raised his shoulders helplessly. "It's being stretched way beyond the breaking point. But honestly, Aya sending us to take a nap instead of kicking both our butts out the door and bolting from the area, that's a pretty good sign I think."
"Waking up usually isn't easy for anyone," Nagi said. It never translated into a gesture, but the shrug was in the boy's voice. /So, you only *look* fragile./
Omi's mouth quirked in a half grin. He reached up with his free hand and brushed several strands of dark hair into place. "Like you'd know," he said teasingly. /You've never been asleep, have you?/ There was humor, recognition and even some affection in it.
The boy nodded, a faint lighter change was noticeable in his demeanor, reacting more to the emotions than to the actual question. /Probably,/ was the only 'audible' response. "Let's get this finished."
A quick nod answered as the two boys made their way from the room to the stage floor where the other three members of Weiss were waiting.
TBC