29-Jan-2003
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 17: Misses and Hits
"Hospital. Now!" Youji only barely turned to Farfarello for a moment. His face was tensed, the typical masks down, and to Omi at least, a sort of fatalistic terror and underlying sense of deja vu was transparent. "Then tell me as soon as we get you fixed up, you can wait that long right?"
She tried to force a smile, but the sense of urgency carried through. "Hospitals are exposed," she panted. "Too exposed for you... The telepath... is he with you?"
"No, but I can get his attention," Nagi said, voice hinting at an understanding of the woman's intentions. "You'll need to close down more."
"We'll deal with it... Omi can't you do something about the bleeding?" The question was almost pleaded as Youji picked up Manx's hand in both of his.
Omi answered Youji's words by pulling a bandana from a pocket and pressing it against the wound in her lower back, causing the woman to wince. Panting, she nodded. "Get him, and tell me when. Not before.. not before... too many..."
The pause was far too long in Youji's opinion. "Now." /Something's not right there either./ Nagi gave the rest of the borrowed energy back to Omi with the thought, somewhat recovered enough now that they were moving out of the attacker's range.
At the drop, the telepath's presence was hurried and more than a little strained by the distance. She could feel something on the edge of delivery, an insult or a taunt, then a recoil, not quite out, but silent. /..../
Opening fully to the touch, she pushed bundle of information, memories, trying to keep the emotion from bleeding in, defeated a little by her failing strength. It was too much for Schuldig to process, all he could do was take it for assimilation later. The last was less encapsulated, a series of about ten faces including Birman's, identified as plants within Kritiker from a group Manx considered unknown. Then the contact was cut.
The car took a corner and stopped abruptly at the back of an unfamiliar building. It looked like some kind of medical facility, not one of the larger hospitals.
Picking himself up from the too quick stop, Youji gave the Irishman a quick clasp on the arm and a hoarse, "Thanks," before pushing out of the car, following only a second after the door's swing. Whenever he'd gotten to the back and forced open the door had blurred, as the next thing he remembered doing was gathering her up, his hand taking the place of Omi's to staunch the wound as he lifted her. "Hang on, just hang on..."
Farfarello jumped out of the car and opened the double doors, stopping inside to give a piercing whistle.
By the time Youji got to the door, men and women in medical clothing met him, producing a stretcher and bombarding him with questions. The person who seemed to be a doctor in charge looked over him at the white-haired boy. "Not yourself this time?"
"Nah, another stray... no calling the pound, now!" Farfarello answered smugly.
Her eyebrows shot up but she nodded, and the team hustled their new patient into a curtained alcove and went to work, eventually pushing Youji out of the way so they could do so.
Youji simply sat down along the wall, his vision narrowed down to the blood that had run down the front of his overcoat.
A hand touched Youji's shoulder hesitantly as Omi sat beside him.
He didn't look up, the flash of clothes in the corner of his eye was more than enough to identify the boy even if he did have the energy. "How is she?" the question sounded automatic.
Omi was quiet for a moment. "Unconscious... but still here." /You are not a jinx./
"Don't even try..." Youji's warning had lost a lot of its intended potency at the hesitant touch of hope at the news. He lifted his head a little bit, watching the bustle of nurses around and occasionally into the alcove.
Omi settled for stroking his shoulder. His eyes found Nagi, anchoring himself to that. About Manx he felt... blank.
Farfarello leaned against the wall next to the Japanese boy. "They do know how to have a good time," he mentioned. "At least for a while."
"You're being rather nice to him," Nagi said, glancing down the hallway at the sitting blond. The statement didn't have the note of accusation that Farfarello's did when observing Nagi, but the tone was about the same.
"Always wanted a pet," the Irishman said mildly. Then he grinned.
It was a little longer before the woman doctor came out. "She's got a good likelihood of recovery," she said. "The lung was perforated but we've patched it for now. I want to keep her. I can, can't I?"
Youji looked up sharply at that, the play of emotions settling finally into wariness. He glanced down the hall, searching then finding the man who'd brought them here. "Safe?" the single question was mouthed. If there wouldn't be a report, Manx's innate talent would keep her hidden from other forms of search.
The single gold eye looked back impassively.
"He wouldn't have brought you here if it wasn't," the doctor said. "I don't know what you're running from, I don't care. Your friend and his friends helped me out. I'll take care of your lady. I do charity work at a nursing home, I'll keep her there until she's ambulatory. Get in touch with me tomorrow, or he can take you there."
Green eyes closed for a moment, and Youji seemed to let a good deal of the tension out with a single nod and released breath. "I will," he promised, using the wall to push himself up. "My thanks."
She smiled slightly. "Want to see her before you go? Better make it quick." She turned and led him past the curtain. Manx was there, on a respirator and IV but otherwise she looked like she was sleeping, a slight frown between her brows. The doctor placed a plastic-wrapped bundle in his hands. "Her clothes and purse - I don't want to keep them. As long as I have nothing I can claim her a Jane Doe."
He took them with a nod and a faint smile of acknowledgement. Tuning out the presence of the woman doctor, he ran his finger's down the side of Manx's face, brushing back the curls of deep red hair. "Not the way I planned things," he murmured, apology and guilt mingling. "Take your time, lovely, you'll be safer here."
Youji straightened, his finger's curling as they left her skin. He gave a wan smile to the female doctor and nodded. "Take care of her please."
"I will," she said. Pulling the curtain back around the area after he stepped out, she nodded to the white-haired boy and then moved away, talking to some of her staff about transporting the patient in a few hours.
Farfarello unleaned from the wall and walked over to Youji, the other two behind him. Giving the tall assassin a slight nudge in the direction of the door with his shoulder, he said, "Car. Home. And more whiskey."
"Aa," the reply was distant as he followed in the pale man's wake. Sounded like a normal pattern for these occasions.
It should have been simple. For one thing, they knew every possible way to approach the location, knew every place to check for traps or surveillance. And the purpose of the visit was simply to check on the inhabitants' well-being and assess the situation. Extraction of noncombatants only if optimal. And at first, it looked like everything was going to go that way.
The flower shop, from the street, looked absolutely normal. A closed sign dangled in the window, but that wasn't unusual for the time of day, since without extra help, Momoe had often closed the shop early complaining jokingly about age and the dwindling customers. A female figure worked within, the slight sway as she moved the broom spoke of some music that didn't carry through the windows.
From a spot on top of a building across the road, carefully chosen for both its high western facade for cover and position behind the sinking sun, Ken watched the scene with something of relief. The idyllic scene would mean an all clear to Aya on ground level, and a break from the uncomfortable presence of the telepath beside him. He lifted his radio to give Ran the single when a sharp movement from Schuldig stopped him.
"Look closer, Brennen Sie," the German drawled, finding a better spot himself as Siberian obligingly sought some closer surveillance.
The girl in the wide display window turned slightly, as if listening to something. She set aside her broom and gave a slight bow before moving out of the main range of the window. It took a whole different angle to watch Aya-chan retrieve a pot from the back stove and pour another cup of tea for a very familiar brunette.
"Target confirmed with noncombatant," Ken relayed, mentally running down a rather long list of obscenities. "No obvious hostility."
Hearing the report, Aya froze in the shadows. Birman's presence just about guaranteed the presence of others whether they could see them or not. She never went into the field alone, and her experience with Schwartz during the affair with Estet had only confirmed this habit. Going in now would not only be suicidal, it would endanger Aya-chan.
Changing the direction of his attention, he worked his way back around the building and began a silent climb to the roof.
When he had gotten to the top of the fire escape, the scene at the top of the building hadn't changed much. Ken had ducked back down to sit with his back against the concrete rise, dismantling and putting away some of the auxiliary equipment. The telepath had taken the high powered lens and now sat casually on the side of the building looking down.
He threw a grin back to Aya. "Interesting, your little old lady's gone too."
"Gone?" Aya frowned. Then, "I'm more interested in the locations of the target's escort."
"We've got visual confirmation of two, one below, and one inside," Ken said, already discreetly checking his weapon, getting a vague look of interest from Schuldig. "He says there is one more on this side, and two behind, all of them close to entrances."
Aya glanced at the other redhead. "Any 'talent' in the area besides the target?"
"One," Schuldig replied, shrugging. "An empath with orders to distract you with whatever he can." He smirked. "He's now convinced that using it on a streetwalker will get him a lower price tonight."
Aya looked back at Ken. "We'll have to be fast. The two behind and one side are yours. We move together."
Ken flashed a grin and got to his feet. "Give me ten to get into position," he said. He brushed passed the redhead, using the proximity as both the excuse for contact and a quite, "Careful, it's you she's waiting for."
The answer was chill. "I'm looking forward to it. But Aya-chan comes first."
"As fun as it is watching you scurry like this," Schuldig said, watching the dark haired assassin make his way down the same path Aya had taken and disappear into the shadows. "Wouldn't it be a little easier just to tell her to make an excuse and leave?" /I would let you get to her. Birman wouldn't be a problem./
"She doesn't know I'm alive," the swordsman answered shortly. "Any message would cause shock, which would alert those watching her. Birman is too close. It's possible she's done something already."
Schuldig snorted, contempt written over his face. "Not *that* kind of tell."
"You could have suggested this earlier." Ken was already moving, and Aya knew better than to wait. He followed the other assassin over the edge of the roof and down.
/Do I have to tell you to draw your sword, too,/ the voice was mocking and direct as the other didn't bother to rise from his position. He figured the view would be better to watch it all play out.
/I don't have time for this. Birman would be suspicious of any such message, any such attempt by her to leave. She knows we're coming, there's no point in attempting a deception that will fail./ The thoughts were projected, then the swordsman's earlier 'quiet' returned with a snap as his concentration tuned Schuldig out and focused on the work.
Feeling the sensation of Ran fading partially from his mind, Schuldig frowned, shaking his head. "Idiot," he said, and refocused on another.
Ken had been forced to take a bit wider of a route than he would have liked, by the fact that Kritiker agents already knew their techniques of stealth, they were the ones who trained them in it. Granted they'd all picked up a few more. It was by virtue of that fact that the first agent on the side fell quite a bit early.
A precise thrust of blades between the ribs in the man's back kept more than a choked wheeze from coming out before the assassin managed to gouge a similar mark across his neck. Lowered to the ground carefully without a sound, Ken let a bit of anticipation burble up as he slipped back into the shadows to stalk the two more difficult ones before the ten minutes were up.
Making his approach silent and swift, Aya took the outside guard down, leaving the body against the wall. It was the inside one, and Birman, who were the hard targets. Stepping close to the window they had been using to observe the interior, he moved just enough out of the shadow to allow a partial outline of his body and face to be visible. The slight movement caught the agent's attention, turning his head for a closer look.
It was too easy. Locking eyes with the man, Aya reached. /Freeze./
A second later he went through the window, katana thrusting into the unmoving figure.
As the man went down, his fall uncovered a woman standing in the doorway to the back room. Birman smiled unpleasantly at Aya. /Stop./
The swordsman felt his muscles lock in place. He'd more than half expected something like this, and was almost pleased she'd chosen to do it this way. His fear had been that she would focus her attention on Aya-chan instead. Knowing Ken was coming, he threw his concentration into fighting the will gripping him.
Birman walked up to Aya slowly, never breaking eye contact, and removed the katana from his hands, backing off again. "What a coincidence... you dropping in for a visit at the same time," she said, as if it were easy conversation. "Don't worry, she will stay in the other room, as long as you behave." /Are you alone?/ The question had force behind it, tightening around his mind.
The answer was not immediate, however. She could feel a resistance, not panicked, not frantic, but a controlled, focused resistance of a kind she'd never felt before. And it was building. But it was not enough - yet.
"No," his voice was flat, mechanical, but the sound of it was a little odd, somehow he'd managed to avoid replying mind to mind.
The katana shifted in Birman's grip nervously, recognizable as preparing for a blunt strike. The sensation of danger in this was rising steadily. The first strike in a headwar was usually the last... what he was doing shouldn't be possible. /Who else?/ She focused all of her will into the command, intending it to be the last, if more important question.
"Ss.." The flat tone was harsher, grappling with her, knowing that even if he failed, he was buying time. "Siberian." The release of the word came with a slight give to her, but it was a feint, allowing her to feel a moment of victory before he took hold of the connection between them and began forcing his way along it.
Birman's panic added the strength that Aya hadn't needed, stalling him midway. Her arm rose intending to bring the hilt down hard against his skull.
The sound of a faint scuffle in the other room caused her to waver a little, but her attention completely snapped at the sound of Siberian's voice. "Sa... Sakura-chan?"
"What!?" She managed to get the surprised exclamation out before Aya's control slammed into her. The sword fell harmlessly from her nerveless fingers.
The overheard exclamation wasn't allowed to register until the struggle was over. /Don't move, don't think, don't breathe./
Then the words replayed. "Ken!"
In the far room, Ken was arranging the girl in question on an overstuffed chair that Momoe-san usually had occupied. She must have wandered back for some reason, because he hadn't expected to see anyone until he got to the flower shop itself. At first sight of him, she'd gone pale in shock and passed out with a murmured, "Ken... kun..."
The back he had checked thoroughly, looking for the possibility of a hidden agent on his way in, and his confusion grew as he moved the rest of the way into the main room, a little cautious at the sight of Birman and Aya in a strange deadlock. "She's not here?" he asked/stated.
"Search - upstairs, down. Quick." The order was clipped out as Aya's muscles returned to his control and he quickly looked into the room, confirming for himself that it was Sakura and not his sister. He returned to Birman.
/Breathe./
She responded instantly, taking huge gulps of air at a time, and the dark color that had begun to flush her face receded. He could feel her struggling feebly, but even that was crippled by the commands against it and sheer lack of oxygen.
/Where is Aya Fujiama?/
For lack of strength, she apparently wasn't ready to give in entirely. /In front of me./
The chill in his expression was so cold it burned. /Stop breathing./
He waited sixty seconds, watching her.
The terror was clear to see, even if it hadn't surged up along the connection with the beginnings of a renewed ache.
/Breathe. Where is my sister?/
This time, the renewed rise and fall of her chest wasn't as deep, her breathing becoming thin and panicked. He could feel her recoil and wince, even before the second flare of defiance. /Not here./
Nearly in tandem, the other assassin reappeared, shaking his head. "Nothing, her clothing is gone too."
Nodding sharply, Aya never turned his eyes from Birman. "Does Kritiker have her?" /Answer./
"I... don't know," Birman's response came in kind, just a whisper.
/Who do you work for?/
Birman's eyes went unnaturally wide, pupils shrinking to nothing. Something in her mind slammed shut, built deeper than the consciousness. Aya's only answer was a faint mewling sound.
The reaction was enough to cause an instinctive recoil. Then the sound of approaching sirens brought the heads of both assassins around.
"Extract," Aya hissed. But he darted for the next room where Sakura lay on the couch.
Kneeling beside her, he shook her. "Sakura!"
The girl's violet eyes opened slowly, blinking a few times before finding any focus at all. "Ran?" her voice was uncertain, but daring to hope. Her hand reached up to meet the side of his face.
"Where is Aya-chan, Sakura? I need to know, now."
"Momoe-san said she wanted a vacation... so she took Aya with her," Sakura's face took on a confused cast, the sound of sirens sinking in. Her fingers found his overcoat and clutched the fabric. "We've had an awful lot of visitors since then... is she alright?" The concern and dawning realization were genuine.
"I don't know but I'll find her," Ran's answer was cold but determined. "I have to go. Sakura..."
Looking into her eyes, he tried to make his contact gentle.
/Forget you saw me./
/Sleep./
/No, don't die again.. Ran.../ the thought faded as her eyes took on a blank cast, settling quietly into forgetfulness, then closed.
He barely had time to make it out the window Ken had entered through, the police swarming in through the front at the same time. A left turn down the alley brought him to Ken, waiting silently in the shadows. "The police call was too quick. We have to get out now."
The other assassin nodded sharply, pushing the hilt of the katana that he'd recovered back into Aya's hands. "Mastermind has transport ready, but said the cops are up to us." Ken said, already taking off on a preestablished route, the window would be small depending on how far the police decided to circle the building. He only paused briefly to check the corners. "Then something foreign and that you 'get to drive.'"
"Hn," the soft grunt was a bare acknowledgement of the information. Aya shadowed Ken, following the other assassin easily, the environment so familiar it barely required any attention.
One look at the telepath and Aya simply pushed the other redhead over on the seat and took the wheel of the vehicle. Once on the road, he glanced over. "What happened to you?"
Schuldig snarled a little. "Nagi gave me a grade A distraction," he growled, his fingers pressed hard against his temple. It was an irrational hope that the mild pain would help the confusion sort itself out quicker, but one he held to anyway. "I still don't know exactly what that woman hit me with."
"Relax," Aya said in a neutral voice. "They're ok?"
/Easy for you to say./ Schuldig shrugged, "I only touched two of them, one's okay and is going to get it for not warning me." There was a dire promise in that. "The other's convinced she's dying."
Aya glanced back at Ken. "Manx."
The shock and disbelief on the other's face was bleeding into a self contained anger. "Yeah," the admittance was quiet. This run had been almost too easy, despite the setbacks and the odd fight between Aya and Birman.
The thought was picked up on a stray chance, making it through the disorder the telepath was working through. He gave Aya a narrow look and a smirk. "Killed 'Birman' already?" he asked.
"Not enough time," Aya answered shortly. "She had some kind of... reaction. To a question of who she worked for."
It wasn't much, probably would have even been detectable if he wasn't still hypersensitive from Birman's attack, but a curious touch slid around the corner of Aya's mind, incredibly fast and dexterous.
The swordsman shot the redhead a forbidding look. "What do you want?"
"To see the reaction, I might be able to recognize it," Schuldig said, not deterred in the least by the look. It wasn't the only motivation, but it was the best one to try with.
Another quick look, still chilled, but...
/All right, go ahead./ The thought was well formulated, the partial "quiet" block he'd learned dissolving slightly.
The touch went back a little bit farther than intended, starting with the surprise attack and being surprised in return. By the time he withdrew, the telepath was laughing softly, leaving a lingering trace of respect and pleasure. "Oh... you're *beautiful*. I'm sorry I missed that."
"What?" Ken's voice was on the edge of a threat, unsettled by the German's reaction even further.
Schuldig smirked, sending the reply directly. /Your lover could have a career in torture if the assassin business falls out... no wait, it already has, hasn't it?/ It was interesting to him that the worst shock he picked up from Siberian wasn't from the information about Aya, but what Abyssinian had been called. The anger at the implication was fresher, hotter than anything he'd pried out of the swordsman yet.. it might be worth investigating.
"Was a block, deep but simple. She will probably snap right out of it, but you wouldn't get to what it was protecting without tearing her apart.. and the info with it," Schuldig shrugged. Between the faces and their own acquaintances... "It's alright. There's not much doubt who she's with."
"Understood." Aya kept most of his attention on the road. He was still open enough that Schuldig picked up the thought that he'd asked in part for the information, but just as much to see what kind of reaction would occur. He also sensed the brief, cold regret that he hadn't had time to kill her.
Aya felt a 'smile' from the telepath, even though the man himself had returned to leaning against the window with every sign of a pained exhaustion. /Sharpen that, and I'll show you some real skills./ There was promise and anticipation in the message.
For a brief moment the telepath felt a response, acceptance/anticipation. Then the quiet barrier went up again. When he spoke, it was to Ken. "Sakura said she left with Momoe. And Birman... I think Birman was surprised - thought she had Aya-chan."
"They must not have talked much..." Ken said, "... She wouldn't have just gone out to the country house?"
"We'll have to check. Have Omi bounce the call. Kritiker... will go there next."
When the group that had been to the Koneko made it back, it was easy enough to tell that they were the first to return. It wasn't entirely as surprise, since they had left significantly before the others had. Schuldig broke off immediately, leaving any report to Crawford, if Weiss felt like making one, to Aya and Ken. He had another thing to do.
Waiting directly outside of the line of sight of where the others would be returning, his mood got darker and more tense the further it went along. Though Manx had kept the information tight.. there was so much, and it was unwinding in his mind against his will in an almost constant pattern... He normally had a hard enough time distinguishing between his own memories and the ones he touched, but the effort had gone far beyond migraine to keep them separate. Granted much of it was useful, particularly if the woman died, but that didn't excuse the attachments that were settling in either.
He *knew* he didn't care about Omi.. or Mamoru.. or whoever. Didn't even give a damn.
Separating the contradiction from himself was putting him in more than a foul mood by the time the hours had passed and the two typically appeared with each other. Pushing away from the wall that he'd slouched against, he approached Omi and Nagi, very carefully putting Omi out of his mind. "I'm borrowing him," he growled to the blond, catching Prodigy by the arm.
"Don't. Touch," the words were flat, contradicted by a flare of anger in the deep blue eyes and a rise of power. Schuldig smirked - that was all he needed, a threat.
He didn't attack directly, merely slid himself between Omi and Nagi, both physically and mentally. He didn't release his grip even at the flare of pain in the boy, or the feeling of tightening around himself. The boy wouldn't kill him, and he had enough control over his own mind to stop the pain until he could get a better mental grip on the boy. /Never! Do that to me again. I KNOW you had some idea before you pushed me over. I'd LIKE the option to refuse./
/There wasn't enough time and I wasn't thinking./ The pressure around the telepath increased with almost desperate force, stilling him before he managed to drag the two of them out of sight entirely. "Get out of the way," the command was edging on cold. "I can break every bone you have without killing you."
"I can shove you back a decade without laying a bruise on that pretty skin. Just try me."
But it had been a mistake to put Bombay out of his mind. How much he did not realize until he felt a light touch, fingertips reaching up to rest at the base of his neck. Before he could react, something seemed to spread from that touch into his mind. It wasn't thoughts, wasn't a telepathic attack... it felt like a pair of hands gently closing around his brain *inside* his skull. And from them came a cold emptiness so profound he had never imagined anything close. In his life of constant noise, there had never been such a silence. It slowly moved around him, and seemed to rise, or perhaps he was sinking... everything else getting fainter and fainter...
He didn't feel Nagi yanking his arm free of his grip, or even the spike of pain at the last vengeful squeeze he was given before being released entirely. He shivered, not sure if the sensation was mental or physical. He reached hard and fast reflexively, searching for anything, any sound, even his own thoughts or the ones that had intruded. Alone was something his mind violently rebelled against, couldn't even understand why he was fighting so hard or what against.
He barely heard a voice that was quite distinct and audible in the tight quarters. The voice seemed familiar.
"Bombay, stop."
There was a moment that passed and then the silence faded, the cold dispelled. A very low voice behind him said, "Don't touch him like that again."
Turning to Crawford, Omi looked up, his eyes flatter than they'd ever been. It reminded the precog of someone else. "He said there were rules. If *he* doesn't have to obey them, I won't either." Then he turned, grabbing Nagi's hand and pulling the dark haired boy with him, until they were behind the door of their cabin. Then Omi quietly slipped to his knees.
There was a touch, then an arm around him as Nagi settled hesitantly beside the boy, pulling him close deliberately. "I broke them first.. You didn't need to get involved." The embrace was closed, a little tightly.
"I was afraid you were going to say that," Omi whispered. /I can't... I can't.../ He shook his head. "So what do I do now? Beg forgiveness or something?"
"No," Nagi said, firmly. Then something wavered, an uncertainty. "I don't know... It's always just been... settled." It had always been a matter of who was more willing to carry out their threat, who gave away first. He had been about to just ask the telepath what he wanted. /What... did you do?/
/I gave him a taste of it./ Omi felt the reaction he'd had when the telepath had separated them, deliberately making it both physical and mental. "So you would have handled it. So it was wrong. Internal Schwartz stuff and I'm supposed to stay out of it. But I can't... it affects me... I... am I really..." Shaking his head again, the gesture was an unconscious attempt to clarify thoughts that weren't thoughts, they were simply instincts.
"If he'd meant to affect you, he wouldn't have pulled me away," Nagi said. The thought and explanation received some shock, a lot of lingering numbness and an odd sense of satisfaction at what the other boy had done. "He may just avoid you from now on..." He hadn't been sure of what to think at the older Schwartz's collapse when Omi had removed his hands, and it was even more blank knowing that he was, if indirectly, the weapon used. /You're not wrong. If he hurt you, you have the right to retaliate./
A strange resignation spread through Omi. "You always made it seem like the worst thing was to show him what weaknesses are. So maybe he didn't know."
Nagi sighed. "He probably knew, just knows better," he said. "If that makes any sense. The first empath who tried to read me, also tried to kill me. She said the only thing she could find was herself." It was off hand, offered only as an explanation.
/That was all she was looking for./ The protective instinct was even fiercer for the nearness of the recently perceived threat. "I had a feeling the silence would break his concentration. I was right." He shuddered slightly. The fact that he'd caused it didn't make him immune to the telepath's reactions, they were now a part of him as well.
Nagi was silent a moment. "You hate him, right?"
It would have been an easy answer only a short time ago. Now it was... fuzzy. Clouded. Fraying a little. /Yes.../ But the emotions weren't so pure as even the last time Nagi had felt them. /Stay here... I'll go apologize./ He stood up.
/If you do, let the rest of us worry about him./ The counter was rational enough, but he didn't get up to either stop Omi or go with him in spite of the request.
A hand brushed the side of Nagi's face as Omi opened the door quietly and went out.
TBC