19-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 and German, 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 10: Pitfalls
Taking a deep breath, Omi stretched hugely and looked at Nagi, as silence fell on the stage. "What do you think about all this?"
"It's going to take a miracle," Nagi said, shaking his head. "I don't think they're going to fit. It might work long enough..."
Omi's expression sobered. "For...?"
"For.." Nagi hesitated, trying to put words to the best case he could see. "For both sides to convince them we aren't worth the effort to bring in. After that, it'll be easier to figure out where things will fall."
Omi listened. He considered the possibility soberly. "I'm not sure..." he said and didn't even finish the rest in his head. /We're assassins, that's what we do,/ he thought.
/So you're good at the attack. How much have you been trained in defense?/ Nagi asked, more curiosity than challenge in the question. If the whole affair with Abyssinian's sister was any indication, he figured he already had an idea, but he was hoping to be contradicted.
Omi glanced away. /We were expendable on every assignment. We've learned to defend each other. It's been more learned through necessity than trained./
/It could stay at just interest,/ Nagi offered, but there was enough doubt and tension from the smaller boy that just how likely he thought that was possible was painfully evident.
/I wanted to learn how you were trained,/ Omi sat down after snagging his backpack. /We need to learn more about these 'talents'./ "I found some stuff about it on the net but it all sounds pretty bogus and none of it agrees with any of the rest."
"I don't know a lot past the basics," the other said. "I'd learned control on my own, so they just worked on strength with me. Schuldig or Crawford would be better to ask about the fine stuff. From what I understand, there's really no set way anyway, you either fall into your balance or... you don't and usually end up taking care of yourself." Behind the words, Omi could feel an unconscious tightening of control icing over something.
"What is it?" Omi asked softly, watching the other boy with his chin propped on his knees.
Nagi returned the regard, a little warily. "My balance or my training?" he asked, fishing for some clarification.
Omi shook his head. "Nothing. Just felt something. It doesn't matter." /It probably does but it's okay, I won't push./ He smiled slightly. "You seem to be getting more back to like you were before a bit."
Nagi nodded and his defenses eased a little bit at the promise. "I'll need to be," he said. "This is who I am." /You knew that already./
Omi nodded. "I know." He smiled again and pulled the laptop out along with some packaged snacks. He tossed one to the other boy. "Here, spoil your dinner," he said, opening one with his teeth. /I'm here if you need me. And if I don't get it, just tell me./
The boy's fingers flinched in their careful unwrapping of the snack bar and resumed as if nothing had disturbed the process at all. /I can't see how that would benefit you./ "You really can't spoil dinner," he pointed out, out loud. "There's nothing that says it can't be saved for later."
Omi felt the flinch and echoed it unconsciously. /Benefit... me...?/ Reaching up, he rubbed his temples unconsciously. The other boy didn't seem to want the closer contact of before and he was trying to follow Nagi's lead. It was probably better anyway. He didn't know where this odd, empty-feeling headache was coming from. Slamming the snack, he tried to concentrate on the laptop and what he needed to do next but his focus wouldn't come together.
Nagi finished his own snack at a more sedate pace, picking at it piece by piece. /You're curious. But knowing about me isn't going to help you any more than it would help me. So there's no point./ He watched the other boy's reactions carefully, but his own mood hadn't taken so much of a downswing as it had leveled out entirely during some point in the earlier negotiations.
/How do you know what would help me? Or you - now?/ It wasn't so much a push or even an argument as a slightly plaintive complaint. The headache was settling in. He started groping through his bag for the remote possibility that he'd stuck some pain killers in there. He could feel his mood starting to drop. It wasn't a welcome feeling. When the cheerful boy crashed, he crashed major. He didn't have time for it. He gave up looking for aspirin and started looking for the pills Manx had given him a while back. He didn't like taking them, resisted it rather defiantly, so there ought to be some left.
/I don't./ The statement was too quiet to be meant to be heard, it only made it through the resumed contact as Nagi's finger's caught the hand that removed the small bottle from the backpack.
Omi froze, looking from his hand to Nagi. "What?"
Nagi withdrew immediately. "Just wanted to see," he apologized, turning a little bit away.
The momentary easing of the growing throb ended and the sensation resumed. Omi's eyes widened. He pushed the bottle into Nagi's hands. He swallowed. "It's supposed to help," he muttered. "Used to have..." /...I have mood swings sometimes.... bad..../
The name on the label was recognizable as one of the ones the Irishman had long discarded, even if the dosage on this was infinitesimally smaller. Nagi handed it back quietly. /You didn't seem drugged before./
Omi hesitated a moment longer and then gave up. He caught Nagi's hand as the boy handed the bottle back, clasping his fingers around Nagi's. Closing his eyes, he felt the sensations begin to edge back. /...oh..../ Eyes still closed, he said, "I stopped taking them a while back." /I thought they might be doing something else, maybe reinforcing the blocks or something,/ his thoughts started a bit unfocused and cleared rapidly.
"Aa," the agreement sounded a little unsteady. The other boy was just as still as the opposite seemed to happen, a scattering and resettling internally. A part of him noted the pain and relief in the blond with an almost clinical detachment before it was pushed aside and back. With another breath, Nagi managed to continued the thought he'd been on. "So.. they're from this 'Birman'?"
"No, someone else," Omi answered. He stared as his fingers around Nagi's hand. He noted that the other boy hadn't seemed surprised by the contact. /What's happening?/ it was a whisper, with not a little fear.
Nagi shook his head, this time, his eyes closed. /I don't know./ The admittance was louder, but delayed in coming. /You need?... now?/ The thought was disjointed but held more than a little surprise to it.
Omi used his other hand to take the bottle and toss it back at the bag. His hand loosened from Nagi's and he dropped both of them in his lap, feeling the swing of his mood reverse again, and the gnawing begin its slow build up again. He closed his eyes tightly for a moment, trying to find himself. It wasn't an effort that lasted very long.
/Yes.../ it was an humble, almost panicked near-cry. He held out his hands but did not touch the other boy, opening his eyes and looking up, offering him the opportunity for a reversal of their original positions.
Nagi's hand hesitated above Omi's before descending the rest of the way to complete the contact. /Just this way,/ the thought held its own edge to it as his hand tightened around the blond's. "Switching is uncomfortable."/Hurts./
There was some confusion from the blond but the sensation of easing was palpable. He was quiet for a while. Then a thought, almost a hiccup from the downward edge of the mood swing. /God, I'll drag you down this way.../ It left a little echo of pain. It was infinitely easier for Omi to give than to take. It was just the way he was put together.
The other boy shook his head, expression darkening a bit. /No, you were just following me./ Even as an impulse, once out the words clicked and settled with Nagi. /We can't... it's too late to separate now. It might have worked before./
Even the thought caused a little echo of panic, eased and blunted but still recognizable. Omi focused on the first thought instead. /That doesn't make sense... then why... does it get better when I can feel you?/ It wasn't really an argument, just him mind trying to grapple with the development. He shook his head. "I forgot you wouldn't understand," he said a little breathlessly. "Why I would want to know about you. Anything about you. It's okay, I just forgot."
The immediate response to Omi's first question was discarded as not making any sense at all. Nagi stared downwards, trying to ease the truth in Omi's words past his pride. "Nosey," he said, something of a smile accompanying the word this time. "Persistent too."
"Guilty," Omi smiled back, a little shaky but firming up. "Sumimasen... I've been retreating." Taking a deep breath, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to the other boy's mouth. It was gentle, sweet, just an offering, nothing more, but one which was chosen to leave him completely open.
A hand cupped the side of Omi's face as the other hesitantly returned it, an entirely different feel than the one shared just a few hours ago. /You don't want it. You already know what its like, you took some of it./
/I want you./ The blond leaned back just a little. "I know, you'll say, 'that's me, and you don't want it, so you don't want me'... Right?"
"And you'll ask me how I know that again," Nagi replied. The tension that was winding up inside of him leant itself to a wearier smile. "I'm getting a hang of this discussion."
/No, I won't,/ Omi reached up and brushed the other boy's hair lightly. He felt the tension and slowly, carefully directed warmth toward it. Whatever it was that allowed him to stand in the sun on a beautiful day and feel welcome in it, in spite of everything he was and had done, given along with a flow of energy, tuned carefully down but offering renewal nonetheless.
Nagi's eyes closed again, both in reaction to the gift and resignation to a decision. It would be better this way, even if it meant a withdrawal. /I'm sorry, but this way you may understand./ Before Omi could react to the statement one way or another, he relaxed some internal guard.
What resulted was overwhelming, not dulled with time but had the edge of something preserved. The memory was fragmented, disjointed by bursts of pain, weariness and a constant hunger and blurred further by lightheadedness, only vaguely understood as blood loss. There were shapes around Omi too close for comfort and too dark to distinguish one from another. One was supposed to have been on his side, but weren't acting like it, just like all the rest. There was an awareness of power overwhelming, spilling at the edges from too little use and too loose of a hold on it... the only thing keeping it in was a fear of those around.
With another burst, another insult, the perspective changed, one from the ground, but how he'd gotten there blurred, and became insignificant and something /inside/ cracked. Everything rearranged itself, fine tuning down to a cold, apathetic simplicity. The knowledge of being alone in this, that no one was going to help didn't remain, but it clicked with a new notion. He didn't care.
As he rose, the first assailant's neck snapped.
The environment disappeared, ripped back suddenly as some connection was closed off again. /Just once,/ the thought was tired, quiet and a little hesitant. /Don't ask again./
The recollection was so vivid that it took a moment for Nagi to realize that instead of holding hands, he was being held tightly, Omi's arms all around him, his chin on Nagi's shoulder. His arms trembled, in fact his whole body was shaking with little tremors. Nothing focused or coherent came from the other boy, the emotions were too primal for even mental verbalization. The empath had gone even deeper into the remembered experience than Nagi expected, drawn by a talent he could only half control. Nagi's purpose was served - Omi did indeed understand a great deal more, or would if/when he made it back.
"Omi?" Nagi tried, noticing the distance in the boy's eyes. He couldn't work his hands between the tight embrace by the shaking boy, so his hands curled around from behind to grip his shoulders. He gave the assassin a light shake, repeating the name louder. "Omi!" A little panic and quite a bit of regret completely clouded over the telekinetic's temporary satisfaction.
Omi's gaze was fixed, though water streamed from his eyes. Through the physical contact, the emotional bond was open, though there was a feeling that Omi had tried to pull a filter across it, open to receive but attempting to shield Nagi from anything coming back. It was an imperfect effort, done hastily and with no previous experience for such a need. Beyond it, the faintest hint of something, like the voice of a child far away.
Nagi sank into the embrace, feeling helpless. He was no empath, and his grand extent with telepathy had been with either Schuldig or recently with the boy in his arms. He couldn't bring himself to jar the blond harder, even like this he was still... was still... A passing wonder only added to the fear - of whether he looked like this when Bombay had pulled him out. He didn't have Omi's means to return the favor.
He grit his teeth and focused, ignoring the rattle of loose items around him, the power reacting to his disturbance, trying to find the voice in there. /Omi... I won't do it again.../ 'Just come back.'
As he followed the faint 'sound', he found himself moving through oddly familiar territory. It seemed to take a long time, but there were no obstacles, just the distance, the oppressive emptiness, and the cold. He wasn't sure how it happened, but after a time there was a image that went with the faint crying. A boy with honey-blond hair that seemed dimmed and dirty, but which nevertheless tried to collect light from nowhere... he was bent over, back hunched, folded in on himself. If the weeping were audible it would have cracked open a heart of stone, there was such sorrow in it, such despair and grief. But as Nagi moved 'closer' he realized suddenly that the broken child was holding something in his lap. Another boy... this one dark, with a sensitive face, now slack and unresponsive, midnight eyes looking up with indifference to the one who held him... the one who wept over him as if giving outlet to a pain the dark child couldn't even feel to express.
Nagi stopped just short of touching the golden child, staring at his own hands for a moment. It didn't take much to relate the darkness clinging to the edges of his 'skin' to the one that was trying to encroach on the child. His eyes only skimmed over the child's burden, hardening a bit at the source but little else.
/This isn't a place for you,/ Nagi said, not daring to approach the child any further, not wanting to enter his line of sight even. /Let go and come back./
The boy's back shook with a momentary hitch in his breathing.
/Won't! Won't leave him. Never. He expects me to... he's so certain... but I won't. Not until I'm strong enough... to bring him with me.../
/He's fine,/ There was an awkwardness in talking about yourself in the third person. /This is just how it is./ Nagi looked around, the hollowness of this void more than familiar, and beginning to settle in. /Tell me how to take this cold away from here, how to put it back where it belongs./ It was a gamble and an unfair tactic, but... He added, /It'll probably help him./
He felt the child's complete rejection of his first words, in fact he moved a little as if trying to shield the one in his arms even more. But that last part... it got the child's attention. /It would?/ There was uncertainty but a sudden flare of hope. With determination, the little one closed his eyes. He held up one hand. /I can't do it by myself... too tired. Help me.../ His fingers curled around Nagi's hand. At first the fingers were cold and a little shaky, but the grip was fiercely determined. He felt something... it wasn't clear what was happening, but suddenly he realized the child was starting to glow faintly, pulling the light from somewhere inside himself and pushing it out. It nibbled ineffectually at the darkness, but the hand in his began to warm. Then suddenly the warmth spread, and the glow pushed back the darkness. There was grass under his feet, under the child. It didn't push out very far, but in the sphere around them, the ghost of a summer afternoon was trying to form.
Nagi let himself be drawn in two directions, one lending strength, allowing the drain of energy through his fingertips, the other pulling away what was pushed back. It gave the environment enough time to stabilize, fixing itself under their feet and around them. There was something stunning about seeing what he had only felt before, a tactile lesson in the boy's influence.
/Don't let it get that close to you again./ He wondered at his own voice, how it could sound hoarse or so distant without vocal chords, and at the face of the child, who's features, just briefly, held the echo of his own concern. /I... he can stay, but don't let that happen again. It's important./
The golden haired child's attention caught the brief flicker of emotion on the face of the one in his arms an the warmth increased, the glow suddenly brighter. It had a sweet, pure flavor to it. It was happiness. /Thank you!/ The joy and gratitude were almost tangible things, butterfly ghosts that brushed against his cheek. /You were right! It did help, a little!/ The fingers around his hand squeezed for a moment. Then the golden haired child carefully lifted his charge and turned, gazing up at Nagi trustingly. /Maybe we could carry him out together?/
The teenager froze, a moment of hesitation drawing out longer. He had no idea what this would do to him, whether this was just a figment of Omi's subconscious or something more real. This wasn't a change he could just deal with by standing still or even just pushing through. It was apparent the child wouldn't leave otherwise.
/We can try./ Nagi reached forward with his free hand, wrapping around... the other child. Immediately a cold shock ran through him, leaving numbness in its wake. It wasn't that weight was a concern, the child was thin, so small as to almost be called delicate... about the right age to match the memory. It was the feeling of drowning again in something he kept locked down for a reason. /'S go.. now./
Other small hands reached up, pressing against his. The warmth wasn't hesitant this time, it was feirce, chasing the cold. With surprising strength the hands pulled his grip from the other child. /I'm sorry.../ but the feeling wasn't one of grief of regret, just more determination. /I see now.../
Carefully the gold-haired boy placed the dark child in the middle of the patch of light and warmth. /Stay here,/ it was a loving order, like an older child to a younger. /I'll keep this here for you. If you get lost, come back to it. I'll be back. I promise./
Then the child, who seemed a little older, took Nagi's hand firmly. /I didn't know you were lost too./ Sending the warmth along their clasped hands, he turned and began to lead the way back. He seemed to walk slowly but with each step, the light followed. Looking back, Nagi might have expected to see nothing but darkness behind but instead he saw a little bit of light remaining, around the child who waited.
The tug on his hand pulled him forward. In a while he couldn't see the little light behind but somehow he imagined that it might still be there. And the boy leading him seem to get older as they made their way back.
Suddenly the arms around his body tightened and Omi gasped. His eyes blinked.
The boy Omi was holding didn't break the silence or even move, caught in an irrational paranoia that something wrong would reverse all of it. He could feel Omi's consciousness return, but didn't do anything more than let the hands on the other boy's shoulder's drop to wrap around in an embrace. Internally he was wrestling with himself, the original urge just to cut off, to prevent this from happening again was set against the knowledge that it would cause just as much harm. It still wasn't understood, but it was getting easier to accept.
The blond's arms relaxed a little and then tightened briefly. He leaned back, his face still streaked with tears but the flow having stopped, and looked into Nagi's face, concern the over-riding expression, mirrored in the feelings coming from him.
"You... ok?" he asked softly, his voice roughed and a little hoarse but firm enough.
Nagi glanced away, a little uncomfortable in the concern there. In his opinion, it was misplaced anyway. "Of course," he said, trying to dismiss it with a shrug. "It was almost ten years ago. It doesn't matter now."
Omi stroked his face, and then leaned back.
"It matters," he said softly, the rock-bed conviction echoed again through his touch. "It matters. But I think I understand, maybe a little." /What happened to you matters - it matters to me./
Omi found himself pushed and held roughly at arms distance. Nagi's face held more emotion than he'd seen there since Tot's 'death' but all of it concern, confusion, anger and frustration. "You don't understand! That isn't nearly the worst and look what that did," he said, normally quiet voice rising. "You weren't supposed to react like this, you were supposed to pull away. I... Why are you staying?"
Omi sighed, and a small, lopsided smile appeared. "Because I love you," he said out loud. There was a combination of discovery, surprise, acceptance and a small joy. For a moment he let Nagi feel it all, then pulled it back just a bit, not wanting to push it on him, or overwhelm him with something so incomprehensible as it seemed to be to the dark boy. He shrugged sheepishly. /That's what *I* am, I guess./ His energy and expression became a little more sober. /Not the worst, huh? Okay, I'm warned. I won't push it too fast. I'll try not to take on anything I can't manage./
Nagi stared at Omi, slowly pulling his composure back together one breath at a time. All of it wasn't met with any words, just a slow acceptance as Omi was pulling back and somewhere, under it, the beginnings of comprehension.
/No, no more at all. You can have everything else./
Omi watched the other boy and simply left it alone. He didn't know how to explain that such a segregation wasn't truly possible in his mind. But he understood that the idea upset the other boy in some way. It wasn't that the experience he had just been through was something that he wanted to repeat. It was incredibly painful, tearing his heart into pieces until the strange organ began to reassemble as somehow it always seemed to. Parts of him... he knew there were now parts of him that were even colder for it, the part that could kill, for example. But those parts had been there even before sharing Nagi's torture. They were perhaps sharper, perhaps more calculating, but the other boy had not created them. They had been a part of him all the time. /Your choice,/ he acknowledged, reassuring as best he could. /There's going to come a time when you'll see parts of me... not the same, I know, not the same, but.../ he shook his head. /When you see, you'll know what I'm talking about. But it's not something that has to be dealt with right now./
Nagi nodded, the pressure on Omi's arms slackening as pale fingers released them and dropped into Nagi's lap. He glanced back up, a faint curl to the lips and a tinted sort of affection. /I don't think I could stand you if you didn't have them./
Omi grinned, wiping absently at the drying salt on his face. He stuck his tongue out at the other boy. /I think there might be an upside to all this.../ He moved back a few inches until they were not touching anywhere. Closing his eyes, he nodded. /The connection's gotten stronger. I don't need to touch to feel you. Long as you keep your side open. It might be the same for you too./
/This could be useful,/ Nagi agreed. There was still an urge to reach out, but it wasn't a compunction anymore. There was no longer any tinge of wonder or panic at the feeling of falling deeper. He couldn't quite remember when he stopped caring how far it went. A little bit of amusement tingled between them. /For one, we can stop scaring both our teams./
The amusement was returned with a twinkle of mischief. /Ohhh... whyyy?/
That earned a full smirk and something of a calculating expression. /Point./ The look he turned on Omi was almost worthy of Mastermind. /I wonder how they'd look if I laid you flat just as your Aya and Ken opened the door./ The thought was accompanied by an image of what the boy meant by 'laid flat.'
The effect was as satisfying as he could have perhaps hoped for. The blond blushed bright red, sensations shooting through his body that left him with his face buried in his hands, trying to smother a combination of semi-hysterical laugh and a gasp of quite another emotion. The boy's heartbeat had gone from calm to racing in seconds. It took more than a bit of effort for Omi to master the reaction, and success was far from total.
The situation was further compounded by either sheer dumb timing or just the universe's sense of humor, since as if on cue, the far doors opened with a cheerful call of, "Food!" from Ken.
Omi's already huge eyes appeared to swallow his face. He... squeaked, and jumped up, blushing and grinning from ear to ear. "Finally!" he exclaimed, throwing a covert glance back at Nagi and then quickly away, the hysterical laughter more internal than audible.
Nagi had one hand over his mouth, not so much to hide the expression but to keep it from turning into laughter. It didn't help that Siberian stopped in the doorframe, with a wide open expression before shaking his head and moving to let Aya pass him.
"I don't think I want to know," Ken asserted, holding out one of the plastic bags filled with compact little take out boxes towards Omi. "We got a little bit of everything, so just pick what you like."
Aya's expression remained neutral but internally he was marveling at the emotional vibe in the room, not just from Omi but from... now that was different... Without comment, he began taking out cartons, grabbing chopsticks and a box of beef chow mein for himself. He dropped the twelve pack of cold sodas on the counter as well, snagged one and retreated to the dressing room.
Ken took a little bit longer, picking out one marked sweet and sour and another of just plain rice, more out of curiosity than indecision. "Youji still around?" he asked, balancing both boxes, the chopsticks and soda with more than a little concentration. It was a safe enough question, knowing the playboy, even with Aya's instructions.
"Hai!" Omi said with an excess of energy. "Getting 'beauty sleep'." He ducked his head back stage. "YOUJI!"
The call was met by a muffled, "Geh!" Hardly the most graceful when first out of bed, it was obvious that the taller blond did manage to get at least comfortable before being interrupted, if tousled hair and a wide yawn was any indication of that condition. He gave a faint, "Mmm," of thanks to Omi before taking one of the cartons without looking at it.
Omi grabbed some food, chosen for calorie content over taste, chopsticks, and flopped on the stage floor next to his laptop, eating with almost frightening speed.
Nagi had paused somewhere in the middle of his own selection, then looked up to catch both of the other Weiss members as they retreated to their own rooms. "Crawford says he agrees. I'll let you know the place as soon as it is secured."
Youji's reaction was a slightly more aware nod, but not much. Ken nodded, a little offset by the 'communication.' "I'll let Aya know," he replied.
Nagi nodded in reply as the brunette disappeared in search of the redhead. He placed his own meal beside Omi's and settled in to watch over the other boy's shoulder, still finding some comfort in the proximity. There was a definite relief in completing his instructions, the rest was off his shoulders now. The only thing now was to make sure Weiss made it to the meeting point. It had been quiet enough so far.
TBC