11-July-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 4: Pairing (the Second Breakdown)

Omi slipped out of the theater and made his way through the night streets of the city as if he were a natural part of them, which by this time he probably was. It took half an hour to get to the underground transit station where he'd stashed one of his extra laptops and a few other useful items. Stuffing them into a backpack, he looked at the pair of inline skates he'd stuck in the locker once, the corners of his mouth turning up. He couldn't remember what he'd been thinking at the time, but why not. Pulling off his shoes, and tying them by the laces to the outside of the backpack, he stuck his feet into the skates once he'd made it out of the underground and up to street level. At this time of night there wasn't enough foot traffic to impede a decent run and for a little while he just enjoyed the feel of speed and his muscles getting good and tired. Stopping in the park, he found a bench and switched back to his shoes. Opening the laptop, he booted it up and quickly checked the files and programs he'd loaded on it months ago.

Sitting on the bench with his attention focused on the keyboard, he decided it would be a good idea to check Kritiker communications for the most recent messages. There would be something about the RV explosion and they're absence, probably. Be good to know what the first reaction was.

Without thinking about it, he opened the hacking program and did a search for the network he knew was the most likely to have recent reports still cached.

The streetlamp a few feet away flickered oddly but it didn't catch his attention, his mind already deep into the virtual world where he spent so much of his time.

Crouched comfortably, another pair of eyes watched the flow of information over the screen with a mixture of ill-sitting confusion and respect from a safe position. Knowing more than his fair share, there should have been no possible way that the computer on the boy's lap, apparently off of a battery, could have accessed any of the information without a hard line or antenna of some sort.

Midnight eyes narrowed, some of the frustration of the watcher melting away as the difficult task of finding the Weiss boy was rewarded unexpectedly. He wouldn't apologize to either of the others though, not after he'd been made the Irishman's keeper for the past few weeks while Crawford followed a headache.

So it was probably this one, Nagi decided, watching with distinct curiosity, gazing down from his perch. He couldn't move until the other boy left, he decided, so it was only reasonable to gather what he could. The information scrolling there, after all, he decided with the faintest of smiles, was so very useful.

Omi stopped suddenly, and closed the laptop, the feeling of being watched suddenly intruding strongly into his concentration. The instinct to protect Kritiker's information from others was too ingrained to ignore the sensation. Looking around, he frowned. He didn't *think* anyone could have approached, but the feeling had been so....

Realizing there wasn't any reason not to, he closed his eyes, lowering his blocks cautiously.

There was immediately another presence, one drawn so tight it was almost non-existent. The touch of something familiar, then a faint surprise and curiosity drifting across his senses before it disappeared entirely. But not before it registered the one direction Omi hadn't checked - up.

Slowly Omi pushed the laptop back into the backpack. He didn't turn his head towards the brief contact, simply sat there for a moment, looking the other direction.

"Nagi?" he said quietly.

The silence was heavy from above as the other boy weighed his options. Something decided, there was the faint sound of a sigh, and louder sound above and behind him of footsteps along the delicate and thin metal of the streetlight. They stopped only to resume a few seconds later on the concrete behind the bench. "Pull a dart and I'll crush you," a soft, dead voice promised.

Slowly, Omi lifted the hand that had a palmed a dart, showing it, then letting it drop.

The traces of amusement and grudging respect were so quick and insubstantial, Omi might have imagined them. There was another moment, another distinct feeling of a decision on the air. "You make a habit of tapping your own organization?" It didn't sound so much of a question as it did a consideration.

Omi slowly turned around, wanting to see the other boy. He looked up, wide blue eyes guarded but not without a trace of humor. "Don't you?"

"Of course," Nagi said, matter of factly. Leaving a more typical barb unspoken, the darker boy regarded Omi, searching those blue eyes. "Two talents," he stated, a little impressed. "Was it you?"

Omi thought about the question. His eyebrows raised slightly. "No?"

The uncertain answer caused almost a mirroring expression in the telekinetic's face. 'A waste of time after all?' He raised a single hand, finger's spread in a familiar gesture, but no power behind it yet. "Then who, yesterday night?"

The blond watched the dark boy carefully. "Don't," he said, opening the block up again, sending a careful determination, no threat but no fear, and an intangible offer. "Sit down here. Try... talking, instead of interrogation."

"And you'd just answer?" The boy's smile didn't reach his eyes.

"Maybe... I was thinking more about a trade, actually," Omi kept his tone light and casual. He thought for a brief moment about the possibility of dying here. That would certainly happen before he'd betray any useful knowledge to the young telekinetic. But it was such a familiar possibility that it hardly caused a flicker of interest. 'No, I'm not, because they need me.'

The other boy lost what little expression he had. "Close up," Nagi said. He moved slowly to the other side of the bench, but neither sat nor got closer than he could safely stop a weapon.

Omi's blocks went up immediately. The first thing he thought of was the likelihood that the boy was not alone. Fuck. Still, he wasn't ready to give up on this yet. "We should talk," he asserted softly. "Before someone starts pulling string again and there's no time."

Blue eyes narrowed slightly, picking up the implication and putting it together with the observation. "Here is fine," the boy responded just as quietly. Nagi reacessed the boy quickly, 'No not this one, too controlled.'

"You know something about what happened," Omi stated, watching Nagi closely. "You... one of you... felt it or something?" He didn't wait for an answer, not expecting one. "Think about it. Why put a team together with some extra stuff, and some not? Heck, why keep throwing us against you? We were all blocked." Almost all, he amended, but details were less important to what he wanted to convey. "Blocks... don't always hold. Is that what you wanted to know?"

Nagi nodded slightly. Wasn't quite, but enough to reinforce what he needed. Then turned, gathering a latent strength in a silent barrier between the two of them, and started to walk away.

"What's it like?" Omi said, raising his voice slightly to reach the distance.

Nagi turned and looked over his shoulder, something reflecting in his eyes for just a brief second. "Run," Nagi suggested, turning back around. "You aren't a match for them."

"Are you?" Omi called. "What if... they kept us enemies for a reason?"

"We'll... talk about that tomorrow," Nagi said, voice barely carrying far enough to be heard, before slipping out of the lamp's range.

Omi pressed his lips together. The next comment was softly muttered, as he gave in to frustration over the dark boy's being is such a darn hurry. "It would be better to keep it between you and me for a while." He knew instinctively that Aya was not ready for even the thought of such a conversation. Ken would cover Aya, and he doubted Youji would have a lot of patience for the idea either.

Grabbing his backpack, he hesitated just a moment or two, knowing he'd have to be careful when leaving. There really was no guarantee one of the others wasn't around somewhere.

"Of course," the phrase was repeated in the same matter of fact tones as it was to answer Omi's half-jest, though a little louder and more comfortable when out of the easy view of light. "You don't want to deal with mine any more than I want to deal with yours."

Omi's head turned to the sound. Tilting it to one side, he said, in the same quiet tone. "Fine, that works. By the way, you're doing wonderful things for my ego... I never imagined you'd be so nervous around just me. And why the hurry to leave?"

"Your type is nosey," Nagi replied guardedly. "Why are you so interested in staying?"

Omi laughed. "My type - *I'm* nosey! I spend most of my time hacking, what do you expect? Why..." His eyes scanned the darkness. "I'm curious."

There was the soft sound of laughter. "Curious? Saa, good enough," the voice seemed for a moment, genuinely amused. "Keep it at that and we might get along."

Omi shook his head, a smile tugging at his mouth. So many orders, he thought. He kept the image of the dark haired boy in his mind. It was just as well he had his blocks up. Wouldn't do to let him know some of the *aspects* of his curiosity. Or that his appearance on this particular night, when Omi'd had certain feelings rather deeply stirred was causing an odd and interesting ache. He couldn't imagine what kind of reaction that would provoke from the other. Probably, he'd just kill me for even thinking about it, Omi thought philosophically.

Another odd thought crossed his mind and he unclipped the inline skates from his backpack and dropped them beside the bench. "You probably have some of these, but if you don't..." he shrugged and grinned, and then turned to leave in the opposite direction, on high alert for any kind of trap. He wouldn't be going back to the theatre anyway. Not till he could be sure he wasn't being followed, if that was possible. So it was going to be another long night holed up somewhere, trying to watch his back while digging through the net.

Still, on an odd backwards glance, the area beside the bench was empty once again.

Omi tracked around the city, having already decided not to go back to the theater until the next morning. Seeking a convenient place to settle for a while, he passed and returned to an ultra-modern office building, all shut down for the night, selecting one that had no human guards, just a state of the art security system which he could get in without really breaking a sweat. Once in the building, he found a large executive lounge, outfitted with plush furnishings and a stocked kitchen. Raiding it for a snack, he settled in on a wide, low couch, munching and drinking out of a cold can. Opening the laptop, he started to resume his research, then changed his mind. Instead of checking Kritiker communications, he found himself reviewing the files on Schwartz. Particularly the one on Prodigy. It didn't hold any new information. Most of what was there he'd entered himself after previous encounters, as he entered most of the reports on all the members of Schwartz, after interviewing the other members of Weiss for their input.

After a few moments sitting still at the laptop, he felt the presence, with an accompanying touch of cold satisfaction to it, fade from his sense... so light he didn't register it was there until it began to leave.

It was a reflex to check the security system and another to lock it down. Jumping up, he padded silently to the outer lobby, not expecting to see anything. There were too many places someone Nagi's size could hide.

Looking around anyway, he took a breath and said, "Oh it's just you. Use the northwest exit." Then a slight grin curved his lips. "Or you could come up and have a Sweat[1] or something. There's plenty of snacks. You eaten?"

At that moment Nagi was cursing his orders for no major disturbance. Being spotted was one thing, a simple explanation would clear how that couldn't have been avoided, but blowing out the steel panels that had shut in front of the doors would have been a whole different conversation. A spark of spite made every camera in the lobby implode on itself anyway. In the brief hail of parts, the telekinetic stepped out with all the confidence and dignity as if he'd meant to be spotted.

"Not yet," Nagi replied, no evidence of the same temper that littered the ground in his voice.

"Tch, tch," Omi clicked softly, glancing at a camera. Eyes on the boy who stepped out, he took a deep breath and /reached/ for the security server, pulling the steel doors back up. The automatic call to local police had never been made. "I can make you a decent sandwich. You like squid? They have some gourmet stuff in the fridge."

Staring at Omi warily, then back at the doors, he shrugged, "Whatever's there's fine." He moved only after Omi had, keeping the boy in sight. Until Nagi knew the extend of the boy's mechanical control... The doors had moved too fast for him to stop already once before.

Taking a deep breath, Omi walked casually back to the escalator and up to the level of the lounge. It took a certain amount of effort to turn his back on the other boy, but he was also more than a little excited by the fact that he'd actually gotten him to show himself again, and apparently come up for a snack! It might be progress....

Strolling into the kitchen, he quickly fixed up a very appetizing looking plate and grabbed a couple of different cold cans of drink, setting them down on a table and going back to the couch he'd been relaxing on.

Nagi finally settled on a chair across from the archer, discreetly watching for further peripheral movement. The boy reached forward and took a can of juice, opening it with just a brief look back up at Omi.

The blond finished eating his own snack, giving the other boy plenty of space from scrutiny, or obvious scrutiny anyway. After a few minutes, he said, "They have some decent video games in here. You wouldn't expect a bunch of high paid execs to spend their time on Final Fantasy while a work, would you?"

Nagi snorted lightly, more than enough memory of whom they played bodyguard for at times, and much more extravagant expenditures on company grounds. With another quick glance up at Omi, he pulled a plate closer to himself to take its contents at leisure. "They're good at wasting time," he said, a disdainful glance around at the obvious extravagance.

Omi grinned. "Makes it convenient for us though," he mentioned. "I like buildings like this. It's like hanging out in a four star hotel, without the annoyance of having to deal with the staff. And without needing to pay for it," he added.

"This type would be at your whim," Nagi hazarded, watching the other boy discreetly as he picked up a sandwich and began tearing bits off a piece at a time to eat.

"You're big on 'types', aren't you?" Omi returned, without any hint of criticism. "Not sure what you mean by whim though."

"Nothing," Nagi replied, seeming to relax a little. He still didn't make any move to leave his spot until finished with the task at hand.

Omi relaxed back against the couch. "I'm not going back tonight," he said, deciding to be frank. "You understand. I'm sorry if I've wasted your time." Then he glanced away and back. "But on the other hand... I'm not... actually."

The telekinetic paused, for just a moment, taking a sip of juice to wash down the food. "How so?" There was no sarcasm in the soft voice, just a flat curiosity in it.

"The more I get to know about you the better," Omi said simply. "Especially when you're not throwing a half ton of concrete at me, and I'm not worried about throwing anything myself. That kind of hampers observation capabilities," he finished and grinned.

The faintly sour look Nagi sent Omi, against didn't quite match another spark of interest in dark blue eyes. "Nosey," Nagi declared again, and carefully picked up the second half of the sandwich. "I don't understand you either."

The grin toned down to a slight smile. "Guilty," he said to the 'nosey' remark. "So ask me something. I might not answer, but I probably won't lie."

Nagi seemed to consider the option carefully, continuing the meticulous disassembly of the food in front of him. "Why do you bother staying with them?" he finally asked.

Omi blinked, the question about as unexpected as possible. Not sure which "them" he was talking about, he pondered. Taking a deep breath, he said, "Weiss is my family." Then added something he knew was telling more than he probably should. "Just... Weiss."

Then he added his own, "Why do you?"

"Protection," Nagi said, still turning over Omi's response. "Habit. An agreement of convenience and philosophy." The last was added with the same air of an afterthought as Omi's additions. He set one puzzle aside internally, deciding they were talking about the same thing.

Omi nodded, considering the different wording. He knew the other boy wasn't entirely as cold as he liked to appear. He'd - they'd all seen that on one particular occasion. But that event on its own could explain the inflexible facade. Not that he didn't think the boy had many reasons for it.

"Anything else you want to know? Aside from, you know, business stuff."

"You don't act like someone who's just broken a block," Nagi stated, letting the question rest in the contradiction.

Omi's expression sobered. He considered the pros and cons of answering the question and decided to take yet another risk. "No," he agreed. "Been working on them for a while. Since..." he paused, trying to think how to say it without compromising himself. "Since we had a change of... administration." Then, he took a deep breath. "Since I figured out all my memory losses weren't... trauma."

"Trauma starts it, won't stop it," Nagi said, a slight nod proceeding the words. Another point for the boy across from him, not many should have been able to do that.. without help. A slight part of himself admitted this was becoming interesting, if not engaging, letting a little more relax. It didn't stop him from filing the tidbits gleaned from the other boy already, and the knowledge that his... opponent was doing the same.

"I imagined they didn't block you..." Omi said slowly. "Maybe they... couldn't? Did you learn about what you could do on your own, or did someone help you?"

The question was weighed for harm and the answer for information in it. "By the time they got me, they couldn't, I already used it on instinct." Nagi paused quite a bit longer this time before continuing carefully on the second question, "I lived alone."

Omi blinked. Considering how young he must have been... He took a deep breath and nodded. "Anything else you wanna know?"

Starting to get the hang of the nature of the trade, he shook his head. He'd need more time to consider the questions to ask, to anticipate what he'd be asked in return. "No, for now,' he said, then a trace of a faint smile again. "A little unfair excluding business... everything's business in one way or another."

Omi nodded thoughtfully. "How about this... you can ask, but if I think it's too risky for the others, I'm gonna pass." He deliberately left out the risk to himself, figuring he was already way out on a limb anyway. He didn't want to think about what the reactions were going to be when the other guys found out what he'd been doing, but at the same time, he figured given the situation they were in, it might just end up being a long shot gamble that could pay off.

Nagi looked a little surprised before it faded into neutrality again. "I can't decide whether you're foolishly confident or just that intimidated."

Omi stared back steadily. "Foolish maybe. But in certain situations, risks make the best payoffs. I don't have a real safe place to stand right now. I'm gambling."

The telekinetic returned the gaze evenly, trying to assess just what the other was waiting for him to let slip and to what advantage. He came back with nothing clearer than what he'd started with. "Why did you leave the skates?"

Omi grinned. "I thought you might enjoy them," he said simply. He realized he had begun to sense more and more of the other boy's feelings as he had become more relaxed. "I'm not waiting for you to slip and reveal some secret. I couldn't do anything with it right now if you did. The gamble I was talking about was something different. It seems suddenly like we have a lot more in common that we thought. I don't want to have to fight on two fronts right now."

"We're in it for ourselves," Nagi said, a strong discomfort and paranoia over privacy causing him to stiffen. He filed the discovery away and the unpleasant means that it happened under. "There no gain to either side yet."

Normally this was true, but gain and sides were usually chosen on more observations than the mundane ones, and yesterday had sent Crawford reeling. It was too much of a disruption in a system that /worked,/ to be ignored.

Omi was quiet, pondering. He recognized the boy's reaction and his slip immediately, but knew there wasn't anything he could do about it.

"Are you really that independent?" he murmured out loud, a little enviously, not really expecting an answer.

The dark boy finished the last of his juice and carefully placed the can on an empty part of his plate instead of the tabletop. "Are you really that bound?" he asked, more than a little audible curiosity. "I'm assuming you've had the means to play them for a while now."

Omi took a moment before answering. His expression was serious, but not closed. Thinking it over, he said slowly, "Not today," in answer to the first question, choosing the words deliberately. The second was harder. After another moment of consideration, he said, "There didn't seem to be many desirable alternatives at the time."

Nagi nodded, deliberately closing himself off further for the time it took to start piecing together a vague idea of what happened the night before. Someone broke, probably a countermeasure didn't take, and a split. Laid out, the gamble was making more sense. "They're not taking jobs," Nagi said, deliberately not using the we. There was a challenge both in his set and voice, /What can you offer me?/ "Right now, anyway."

Omi continued to regard the other boy soberly. He was gauging the weight of the waters he sensed over his head. He shook his head slowly, a little regretfully. "There are so many ways this thing could go," he said out loud. "I've been thinking about you... but I wasn't expecting you. So I'm not... prepared." Not prepared with anything to offer, basically. "I'm not even sure what constitutes value at this point," he added, with a slight quirk at one side of his mouth. Omi sighed, feeling the likelihood that this was going to slip out of his hands without being able to do anything with it. It just seemed so... appropriate? Connected? Meant, if such a thing were possible.

He fell silent, but continued to kick his brain for something useful.

Nagi's fingers tapped the top of his knee, considering as well. The benefit of a technological adept would be a hundredfold in their goals, and his secondary talent seemed to be limited to perception, not enough to worry about. It was more than enough value... as long as the Weiss boy remained desperate enough not to betray them. "Just... an agreement of convenience," Nagi offered, something of a quiet finality in his voice. "Just between the two of us."

Omi smiled. "All offers subject to change without notice, see fine print for special details, contradictions and considerations," he said in a radio-announcer voice. Yet another reckless thought entered his head and swirled around. "Care to shake on it?"

The dark boy looked Omi up and down carefully, and found nothing but what could be expected, a touch of nervousness and anticipation, only half covered by the boy's manic delivery. Still, a paranoid urge pulled up every mental barrier he'd developed around Schuldig, to keep a touch from taking anything he wanted. A delicate hand lifted and held itself over the table, waiting.

Omi had to stand and cross a short distance, wondering with every step if this was going to be the way he went out, but too caught up in the gambling impulse to take the more prudent route. His slightly blunter but clever fingers curled around the other boy's hand, a shiver of something purely physical running down his spine - he was actually being allowed to touch Nagi, how about that? The discussion about offers was still circling in his head so he made one. From the contact, a gentle, spreading energy that did not push or pull, the possibility of friendship with someone closer to his own age and situation than otherwise existed, a taste of the excitement of the moment without the fear, heady and magnetic, and a sense of a special flower, dark in color, petals velvet, root impossible to destroy, chemistry potentially deadly but only if mishandled.

The energy met no resistance at all as it simply slid past fortifications built entirely wrong. At the first sign, Nagi had half stood, a short burst of panicked energy sending the impediment of the chair back away from him, and with every intention of wresting free. Seconds before he could, the offer struck the right chord and wound there, freezing the petite boy utterly, dilated eyes not seeing Omi anymore.

Each layer, each further enticement on top of the original offer, only seemed to dive it in deeper, anywhere it touched, showing how absolutely ...empty everything was without it. Nagi's fingers slipped out of Omi's as the telekinetic's knees hit the carpeted floor.

Eyes widening in shock, trying to understand the unexpected reaction desperately, Omi moved without thinking or hesitation, on his knees as well, arms closing around the dark haired boy instinctively, pouring comfort and reassurance, at first in a flood and then flailing for control, pulling back to something he hoped the other boy could manage. "I'm sorry!" he whispered, trying to keep his sudden flare of guilt away from the other boy with instincts to care that nothing which had been done to him in all his short, strange life had managed to remove. Realizing one thing he could do, Omi braced himself as best he could and simply opened to the emptiness, taking it in, sharing it. It beat at him in a way that drove him back to the tunnels under the city and the realization that all the love he had ever known had been a lie, that he was alone and worthless to anyone, but he struggled to keep the pain to himself and take on what he could feel from Nagi as well.

The other boy's arms wrapped desperately around Omi, and the empath could feel the almost violent trembling in the slight frame. Within, there was an almost tactile snap as each barrier Prodigy had formed shattered under his own will, allowing the assassin to take as well. Some part, the last of which wasn't drowning in the ecstasy of relief, was trying to pull it back, close it up desperately, but was almost closed off by the rest of the boy's mind.

/STOP!/ Nagi's/not-Nagi's voice screamed at him.

/I can't!/ Omi thought/felt as much in the grip of his talent as the other boy by this time. Still there was a brilliance in him that took a back seat to the emotional drive, but never ceased to function. It quickly divided, part of it going after the source of the scream, to analyze and assess. Was it the boy's own protective instincts or something from outside/inside/another agenda. The second part of this aspect of his mind began creating experimental controls and functions where none had existed. Slowly and carefully, he began to pull back, conscious of the possible pain *that* could cause and answering that with the only thing he had left. For every 'step' he withdrew, he dropped more and more of his own protection, in a very narrow, very specific direction, for Nagi only.

The first aspect only got a fleeting brush with the source, as it recoiled violently from him the moment they touched, leaving only a faint burst of dark memories and impulses - a need for overwhelming control in the face of an explosive talent/a vulnerability that had to be protected/intense sensation of privacy/a loneliness that had become a control all in itself/a paralyzing fear that it was all fraying now. /Stop,/ it repeated again, the fury and desperation not as apparent as it felt Omi's retreat.

The rest of the boy was /listening,/ the force of attentiveness and intelligence behind it focused with the same tight control and drive as what used to be redirected inwardly. Nagi's body shuddered, translating emotion directly into the physical at the withdrawal.

Omi was curled around the other boy's body protectively, and his hands moved, stroking lightly. He was unconscious of the tears that streamed down his cheeks, blinding him physically. It seemed unimportant in the midst of everything else. He continued to carefully withdraw, not wanting to, not wanting to *ever*, in fact, but doing the best he could to amend the house of cards collapse he'd blundered into. He ignored the little voice in the recesses of his own mind that was starting to systematically hammer him with self-negation /stupidstupidstupidstupid.../, because it wasn't important right now. The only thing that mattered was Nagi.

Taking the last few steps back, he waited, sparing not a single impulse for self-protection. It wasn't any misplaced desire to martyr. It was a choice. There were things he didn't want to leave with on his conscience. Destroying this boy - no. In a fair fight, or as fair as they'd ever had, that was one thing. But this way? By his ignorance? Emotionally? No. Price unacceptable.

Nagi was slow in resurfacing, noticing the now-saline dampened shirt he'd buried his face into, or the stiffness in his joints from being curled too long into the back of the same garment. There was confusion, a little more of an ache, a strange memory of tied hands and cotton biting the edges of his mouth, fear of abandonment conflicting violently with the ingrained knowledge that he'd always been, and always would be alone. Something else fought and twisted, opening his eyes as another part disagreed, for a moment... alone was a lie.

Omi felt long fingers shift to clutch his arms with a desperate strength, being pushed back just enough to see a frantic need and vulnerability in dark blue eyes that seemed so out of place against what the reserved boy normally portrayed. "Please," the plead hardly registered as a whisper, before Omi was pulled back against Nagi, "Do it again."

Omi blinked rapidly, to clear his eyes, which continued to leak slowly like a facet with a bad washer. He looked into the other boy's eyes, his arms steady around him, hands still stroking soothingly. "Are you... okay? Are you... sure?" he asked, his voice as soft as Nagi's, not withholding, just trying not to make another terrible mistake.

"No." The answer was hoarse and seemed forced out, but which question it was for, the boy didn't seem inclined to explain. "I don't... don't..." The boy took a shuddering breath. "Why did you stop?"

Omi reached up and stroked a few strands of dark hair back. "Part of you... told me to," he said. "I didn't want to." The slow leak of tears increased for a couple of moments and he blinked impatiently. "I thought I'd destroyed you," he whispered, unable to control the terror in his voice.

Nagi didn't answer, but each soothing gesture seemed to help the constant trembling subside, now restricted to almost random fits. Nagi's eye's squeezed shut, biting the inside of his lip until he tasted the tang of blood. The pain helped, kept him from begging. "Why... not?" though grit teeth.

Omi felt the bite almost as if it were in his mouth, and his eyes widened. "No!" he cried softly, arms tightening. He was trying so hard, but it wasn't working somehow. Losing a little control for a moment, he found himself pressing his lips to Nagi's trying frantically to keep it measured, keep it from being too much, but compelled by needs, his own and some not his own, sending the lightest touch he could manage of reassurance/warmth/ and suddenly /love/. There wasn't any point in trying to figure out where it came from. It came from the emptiness he'd shared in those few seconds of eternity. There wasn't any stopping it now, no logic in the world had that kind of power.

Something under the surface eased and relaxed, accepting. As the kiss was returned, with passion if no skill, there was a backwash of gratitude, longing, possessiveness, and oddly enough, empathy/understanding. The shared pain eased as the boy let go a bit hesitantly.

Something inside Omi which he hadn't even allowed himself to feel, not under the urgency of the moment, started to relax as well. He continued the kiss a little longer, then slowly eased them both back. He kept the contact open, and kept a little flow of reassurance/warmth/new love still evolving, not a flood, just a little steady warmth, as he leaned back, opening his eyes to look at the other boy's face. "I was totally stupid," he said softly. "I'm sorry..." and then the last few words whispered, "But I'm not... I didn't mean to hurt you, but, it's *wrong* for anyone to have to be so alone."

"I can't let you go now," Nagi said. He was pulling himself back together, slowly, but becoming aware as well. The possibility of a return to where he was, was unacceptable... everything in him reminding him that the only reason he could think at all was the feeling of a secondary presence, the only reason he /wanted/ to. The boy braced, but didn't close off, "Whatever you want is yours, but you can't leave."

Omi's breath caught in his chest. He understood exactly what Nagi was saying. Without hesitation, he nodded immediately, his hands tightening reassuringly. "I won't leave you," he said simply. "We'll figure out how..." the enormity of it was beyond daunting but his commitment was made. "I can't leave my family... and I won't ask you to leave yours... so we have some work to do."

Nagi nodded, already setting his mind down the possibilities. Farfarello wouldn't care, it was amazing what he could grip if you caught him at a lucid moment - and there were more of those than his teammates expected. Crawford was rattled enough he could be convinced. "Schuldig's still pissed at you," Nagi stated, the only real roadblock he saw. An abstract picture translated across the connection, of Reiji Takatori with a set of golf clubs and the infamous red-head in bandages.

Completely open to the other boy - as he perhaps always would be now - Nagi could feel a shiver of something hot and cold, bearable because it wasn't directed at him nor did it affect Omi's feelings towards him. A sound half hysterical laugh and half sob caught in Omi's throat. "I'm... still pissed at him," he admitted. /Oka../ the thought was pure, mingled love and pain so raw it was like it just happened. Normally he kept such things buried but in this new conjunction he hadn't managed to settle the internal barriers yet.

A touch of foreign comfort, skittish and extremely awkward, but was offered nonetheless. He'd never actually seen the man's daughter, his place at that point was still in the shadows, reserving himself for the planned break from AZ. Still, there was enough in description to invoke a familiarity. "I heard she had blue hair too," he said, knowing the non-sequitor would be understood.

Omi took a deep breath as he felt the other's offering, accepting it gratefully. He sighed and leaned his chin on Nagi's shoulder for a moment. "He can take a loss on that one. A beating versus a g-girl's life..." Leaning back he regarded Nagi soberly. "Schuldig... and Aya..." he shook his head. "Aya and anybody. I can protect you," he said, although he didn't hide from the other boy that protection just might end up meaning the two of them would have to flee from both groups if he couldn't reach the swordsman with something he'd accept. "I just have to make sure he understands this isn't a betrayal. Getting him to deal with the rest of Schwartz is another story." He grinned slightly, choosing humor in the face of the sheer magnitude of the task. "He barely works with *us*... no, that's not fair. He needs us. Especially now."

"They'll understand business," Nagi said, "Find a corporation you don't like and dump some funds. Aya... we've always handled him before." A doubt and second connection was made, a slight deflation, "Don't tell me, he's the wild card." A thread of dark irony was tangible.

Omi simply nodded. "One of them. Probably the wildest, if what I've been told is true. I don't think anyone's going to be 'handling' Aya any more," he said carefully.

Nagi's eyes widened slightly, both at the implication of more than one and the confirmation of who. Possibly all three, he mused, keeping the thought internal more out of habit than secrecy. The information was eroding some of the concrete confidence the boy was using.

Omi sent a little wave of reassurance instinctively. "How long can you stay away without causing concern?"

"Three days," Nagi said, considering. "Maybe a week if I have access to a computer."

Nagi could feel the little bloom of Omi being impressed. "Wow." He laughed. "That's way more than I've got, especially now. Things are waaay up in the air. Okay, how well can you cover yourself with the others?" It was mostly a formality. He was going to have to take the other boy into full confidence, there wasn't any way not to now.

"They know I can take care of myself. I can normally tap Schuldig the moment I'm in trouble anyway," Nagi said, slipping back into a more familiar appearance. "Shouldn't be a problem, they know better than to surprise me. The rest," he shrugged, "Depends on if Crawford's gotten himself balanced again. Otherwise, they're used to me taking off."

Omi smiled at the 'surprise me' remark. "I should think," he said, not concealing his admiration for the other boy's strength. "I'm going to tell you what is going on. Try and keep it to yourself, okay? We might need some of the information to bargain with or something."

Shifting to settle himself a little more comfortably on the floor, and showing no desire to move away from Nagi at all, he thought for a moment and then said, "We had a very bad one going down. Internal infiltration. Figured out what was going on but had to play along rather far. Got the perp, but Ken had a... a stress fracture," Omi said, using the term in a rather unconventional context. "Somehow, Aya went next. I... I got shuffled off. Didn't get what was going on because there's someone who can damp me. Turned out they didn't want us unblocked, see, so Aya and Ken had to run. We met them later but we're... all AWOL at the moment. Youji says it's memory wipe or death at this point."

The other boy was taking in the information quietly, trying to fill in the blanks and sort them into use. The last comment caused an absent nod from the telekinetic. "They'd be stupid not to, from a business point of view. How stable are they? And is it physical or mental manifestation?" Nagi asked just the bare minimum of what he needed to know, if he was going to deal with them. No use pressing further than that. It was still an awkward feeling, he was to used to demanding and receiving out of threat.. but in a moment that balance of advantage had completely resettled.

"Well given the situation, pretty stable," Omi said thoughtfully. "And about half and half. Ken physical, Aya mental. Youji..." he smiled and fished the spoon out of his pocket and twirled it. "As for me, they know about the empathy... that's what Youji called it. But not the other stuff."

Only one to be really wary of then, Nagi decided... Aya, again. He settled, then rebuilt his walls around Omi, if the question of how long was any indication, he'd been dealing with them soon. Another question sprung to mind, as frivolous as the one about the skates. He slid a glance at Omi. "What flower was that?"

Omi look at Nagi and for the first time a little color entered his fair cheeks. "One I dreamed about once," he mumbled. "I haven't.. hadn't found it yet." He didn't want to try and shield, but the small throb of quite a different kind of ache felt painfully exposed just then.

"Aa.." Nagi said, glancing aside. A shiver of something deep passed along the connection, too quick to be identified, before a sort of humbled gratitude took its place. "What do you want me to do first," Nagi asked, the sort of patience in it of someone who was quite used to receiving orders.

Pressing his lips together - it did no good to feel angry about the past, it was not even *his* past, but it was hard not to feel it anyway - Omi summoned his own resources and spent a moment thinking through the situation up to that second. "I need to dig up some information," he said. "Hang out with me for a little while longer. You can probably even help. I'm not going to try and hide anything from you, Nagi, not ever again. We don't have any choice, we have to trust each other now. I need to find out the scope of things in Kritiker that has to do with controlling or trying to control Weiss. Need to find out what they've been doing while we were doing the run and hide thing. It might be boring..." he said almost apologetically.

"It's no problem, I do this a lot. Just get me in and I'll be fine," Nagi said almost automatically, eyes scanning the room for another terminal already. Another part of him had already mentally separated taking in what Omi said. No choice now. The terror, the apology was real, he didn't think it could be faked but... "What were you setting me up to do when you offered to shake on it? .... This... seems accidental, but..."

The blush now was a bit darker, embarrassment and confusion too genuine to miss. "I wasn't setting you up... I just... you seemed to want me to make an offer. I thought I'd try to make one. I should have been more careful, but I haven't let myself use it very much since I wasn't supposed to know about it. I just wanted to let you feel... some things I was feeling..." /I didn't know.../ the pulse of empathy and sorrow for something past and unchangeable was pure. He'd been through too much in his own short life, and the sensitivity was too much a part of who he was to be able to ignore or be cold to what he'd found in touching the other boy.

The sentiment was almost unfathomable to the dark haired boy, and he didn't have the luxury of simply dismissing it as a lie or a stupidity. The idea that the boy could care at all without knowing him was so far out of his ken that he had trouble twisting any emotion to fit it. "I sent my first trainer through the wall when she decided I'd make a cute pet," he said. /I don't know why this is different, but it is,/ the second part stayed unverbalized from sheer confusion and a little frustration.

Omi's expression darkened protectively. "Good idea," he said simply. Shaking his head, he murmured, "There are going to be a lot of things that won't make sense to you. Not given where you've been. I wasn't always sure it was better to have things and then have them taken away, than not to have them at all... but I think I know now." Leaning close, he placed a soft, chaste kiss on Nagi's cheek. /I'm not going to leave you./ "I want to make this work, as impossible as it seems. But if I can't manage to make it work with Weiss..." /I won't let you be alone./ It would be a terrible price but if it had to be, he would stand by this. /Youji would understand... if no one else does./

"Then it will work," Nagi said, an irrevocable determination settling in, as well as a reassurance. /I'll do what needs to be done./ It was what wasn't spoken, almost felt more than heard, that seemed to remove a lot of the doubts if even the confusion stayed. It didn't make sense now either, but he was centering himself again, something internal rebuilding and allowing him to shake it off as unimportant. He'd have no hesitations about leaving Schwartz if he had to... though the thought came reluctantly.

He stood finally breaking physical contact with an internal wince and moved towards a monitor and tower set up at the far side of the lounge, probably intended for recreation rather than work. "I'll go through my own sources first for any affiliations or outward observations."

Omi stood up too, the loss of contact causing a pang he felt clearly. But Nagi was independent. He'd probably go nuts with the arrangement Omi had been thinking of - Nagi on the couch, Omi sitting in front of him, resting his back against the other boy's chest so they could both watch the screen. With a nod and a barely suppressed sigh, he grabbed a chair and pulled it over to where Nagi was sitting down, turning the chair back to back with the other boy's chair. He grabbed his laptop and a hassock and planted himself, leaning so that he was back to back with the dark haired boy, shoulders touching. "We can probably stay here for another hour or two before the early shift start coming in. Let's see how far we can get."

The other boy didn't respond other than a short nod and a subtle undertone of relief when Omi had followed him. As the computer booted up, one of Nagi's hands settled on Omi's leg, not moving even when the prompts appeared. The boy simply lifted his other hand over the keyboard and some control, 'typing' just a fraction below the limits of what the keyboard would register, inputting his own memorized programs into the computer for use.

Omi's eyes widened and he grinned. "Sugoi!" he commented softly. Then he relaxed back into a slouch, fingers moving quickly to restart the searches he started earlier. There was a barely perceptible flicker of the room lights as his laptop made a network connection that shouldn't have been possible. While he typed, he thought in one corner of his mind about why he actually needed to do that, use the keyboard, and realized he really didn't... it was just a comfortable habit that helped him think.

After a moment, Omi heard a laugh and an echo of appreciation. "An army base?" Nagi looked over at the other boy. "You guys took out an army base?"

Omi's answering smile was a bit more sober, but not without a touch of pride. "An American army base," he corrected softly. "You know our M.O. We go after untouchables. It was... bad though. They tried to set us up to fight each other."

"So you played in to catch the target off guard," Nagi guessed, picking up just enough for a hunch. The knowledge hardly tempered the reaction. His eyes never actually left the screen, but the hand above Omi's knee squeezed once, lightly in a reaction to sooth a disturbance perceived in the blond boy.

Omi sighed and relaxed a little as a direct result of the touch. He didn't comment on it, just had a little smile hovering around his face that never quite went away. Forced out of necessity, the contact with the other boy was nevertheless answering a need of his own, one that he was used to ignoring, or had been until that evening with Youji. It cleared his mind and made it easier to focus on the task at hand. He began collecting Kritiker reports and skimming them rapidly. Good. The school gang he'd made a deal with had spray painted the RV heavily with gang graffiti, before the explosion, and had spread the story that it was their accomplishment. The reports through local police and school officials had made it through to Kritiker. They were searching for all four Weiss operatives but the orders on the search were not full retrieval on Youji and Omi, not yet. If they got in contact by the next day they might be able to stave that off for a short time. It would keep the trail confused at the very least.

Nagi made the connection through fast enough, forgoing email to a direct connection. Just from content it was easy enough to tell who it was on the other side of the line. Triggering his own protocol, he forced a messaging program to load.

And settled to wait for a response from their leader.

It took a few moments longer than he expected.

Nagi sighed and resisted the urge to rub his forehead. He should have anticipated that.

There was a pause and then before Nagi could answer...

Nagi paused choosing carefully.

This pause was briefer, and Nagi could almost imagine Crawford's reaction. Either of the two he could send were pretty much guaranteed to introduce still more instability into anything. There was a reason Nagi got these kinds of jobs.

A surge of actual fear and anxiousness spiked up before Nagi could bury it at the news, as well as a keen, /And I'm right in the middle of it./ Knowing a pause, even so much as that which could be excused as manual typing would draw more attention than he wanted, he pulled himself back on task almost the moment he veered off of it.

Nagi shut down the program without responding, pulling out of the system and covering his tracks with an extra amount of care this time. There was no need to say anything, there was always that assumption that the telekinetic would follow orders.

"What's the Old School?" Omi asked without turning around.

"Very bad news," Nagi said, "New plans. From now on, you'll need everyone to close up and lay low for a while. Kritiker isn't as big of a concern. Reinstitute the blocks if you have to."

Omi stopped what he was doing and turned around. "Why?" he said. It wasn't a challenge, but if it was that serious he had to know more.

"They're the group that made us," Nagi said, voice tight. "Your organization is either extremely gentle, or it doesn't have the same interests in efficiency. They'd be more than interested in an already combat trained group, who're for all intents and purposes still new to their ability. Without any connections or affiliations, there's no infringement on simply taking you now, there's the added bonus of being non-personalities." He shook his head, "The only benefit you *might* have is them holding off because it sounds too good to be true."

Omi's eyes widened and then Nagi felt something that was almost like a super high speed drive engaging as Omi's mind and intuition focused on the information. "They made you..." he repeated. His expression was questioning. "But they don't... run you?"

"No. All of us had made it to a certain final list... intractable for different reasons. Once that was common knowledge amongst the four of us, we... left."

Omi was careful not to express any skepticism. "And they... let you?"

"We didn't give them a choice," Nagi said, "Farfarello was our key in it... kind of a null zone. He doesn't care how much you hurt him, scrambles any telepath stupid enough to try for his mind, and is erratic enough that no clairvoyant can get a grip on him. The rest of us were just force, guidance and persuasion. We've just managed to make it so that we are too much of a bother to recapture most of the time, and the rest of the time too hard to find."

Omi fell silent, realizing he was getting a glimpse of one possible future for Weiss, and a more positive one at that. The only problem was that they had a liability that Schwartz apparently had never had.

"The problem with laying low is that it isn't really an option right now," he said slowly. "Not when we have a weakness that is so well known. Leaving Aya-chan without protection isn't something any of us can do." His mind was working over the problem, part of it wishing that things would quit piling up on the wrong side any time now, please.

"The thing that has been confusing the heck out of me is that Kritiker has never appeared to have any interest in what do you call 'em, 'talents'. It doesn't seem to make sense why they would put us together and then keep us half incapable. I've been trying to figure out if there isn't something else going on inside the organization under another level..."

"Leaving the brother is out of the question isn't it?" Nagi asked, not anticipating any other answer than no. He shrugged, "It's possible that the blocks weren't put for your protection, but to keep you from outside detection. Either way, get me the names of those who you suspect in the upper levels of the administration and I can have them checked." As he spoke he turned back to his computer, already reopening a tentative line.

Omi nodded and pulled up Birman's file. Manx he wasn't ready to give up, and he had his own intuition about the red-haired operative's motives. Scooting his chair around he showed the screen to Nagi, pointing out code name and real name as well as what data he'd been able to compile on the woman.

Nagi didn't recognize her, but that wasn't any surprise to him. He didn't care much for the others in the program and never bothered with the politics, only the other three kept his attention. A search on the name was also as fruitless, but expectedly so.

He inputted the instant that he managed to get the connection reestablished.

The screen froze. There was a rather long pause.

He sent the names and a synopsis taken from his scan of the information Omi had shown him. In it a mention of her direct affiliation with Weiss was included, but he decided that the first establishments would be necessary.

Nagi tensed, waiting, just the delay in his response was enough time for Crawford to get suspicious. The fact that he replied at all, and in direct conflict with orders was unprecedented.

The response was also delayed.

There was another fractional pause and then additional text.

Then he paused, an unvocalized worry and a loyalty he wouldn't acknowledge, spurring the next message.

The pause after that was long enough that Nagi might have assumed the session was ended on the other side. Then the program window flickered again.

Nagi glanced over at Omi, a slight half shrug, knowing that the other knew already what he'd sent. "Might as well get it over with. By now, he probably knows anyway."

Omi nodded slowly, his wide blue eyes just a little wider. Courting Nagi alone in the middle of the night was one thing. Facing Crawford and maybe the rest of Schwartz, alone... he swallowed but did not demur, having already accepted that he would be by the dark boy's side when the order for a meeting had come across the screen.

"Just means we have to work faster," he shrugged. Then a grin. "Sleep is over rated," he mentioned, something that had the ring of a long time mantra.

TBC

[1] Pocari Sweat is a Japanese sports drink

Breakdown: Part 8

Love & Gundams