Fic Archive: Betrayal, 8
May. 28th, 2009 01:53 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
texchan(Written: 2004)
Warnings: Bad Language. Violence
Summary: Aya slowly begins to rediscover his humanity, only to face betrayal at the hands of someone he trusted. Decisions he's made with regard to Kritiker come back to haunt him, as the organization decides to retire him, leaving Aya cornered, badly injured, and, along with Yohji, on the run with nowhere to turn for help except the very man who betrayed him. Events start to tumble at breakneck speed toward a conclusion, following the twisted course Fate seems to have decreed. Can Aya stay alive long enough to untangle the sticky web in which he, Yohji, and his friend-turned-betrayer find themselves ensnared?
Legal Stuff: As always, this story is intended to express one fan's genuine appreciation of Weiss Kreuz and its characters. It is just for fun and not for profit. If you have any rights in the anime described here and find the posting of this fanfiction offensive or harmful, please contact me, and I will be happy to remove it.
Author's Note: Story #2 in the "Nowhere Man" Trilogy. Story #1: Nowhere Man. Story #3: Redemption
Betrayal
Chapter 8
Ken grumbled, running fingers through messy hair as he stumbled out of his room and down the stairs. As he slowly made his way down the hallway, struggling to collect his thoughts, he paused to look into the other rooms. As expected, Aya's room was still empty, since the redhead was recuperating in Yohji's room. He paused briefly at Omi's open doorway and smiled when he saw the youngest Weiss assassin, sprawled sideways on the bed, sound asleep. He remembered Yohji mentioning the boy was sick with the flu, and he was relieved to at least see that Omi seemed to be resting well. A little further down the hall, he paused at Yohji's door, which was only slightly ajar. Ken didn't want to disturb Yohji, Aya, or, even worse, Bubba, so he didn't push the door open any farther. Instead, he peeked in through the small crack, which only allowed him a view of part of the room. He could see Yohji, sleeping in the chair pulled next to the bed. He smiled and continued down the hall toward the stairs.
Ken tripped and stumbled halfway down the stairs before he caught his balance and managed to take the remaining steps two at a time. He paused in their kitchen, on the second level, long enough to grab a soda from the refrigerator, before continuing down the stairs. Once he reached the bottom step, he froze, his heart beating wildly against his ribs. He could hear noises coming from the front of the shop. He strained to hear the soft sounds as he silently debated over going back upstairs to retrieve his weapons. He didn't want to admit it, but Schuldich's attack on Aya had really frazzled his nerves. They had dangerous occupations; that was something they had all had to learn to live with, but they had all come to think of the shop and their apartment as a haven. The fact that their German enemy had been able to penetrate it so easily had shattered that notion and sense of security for all of them.
After listening for a few minutes, Ken decided he wasn't hearing the sounds of a struggle in progress, and it was probably safe to move forward without his weapons. He quietly moved away from the stairs and across the back room to stand in the doorway separating it from the front of the store, stopping short in surprise when he saw Aya.
The redhead was slowly moving around the front room, using a broom to push pieces of broken glass and pottery into little piles. Ken checked his watch, frowning as he realized it was barely eight thirty in the morning. He hadn't expected to find any of his housemates up and moving about, especially Aya. The redhead had been asleep for almost two days, thanks to Yohji's liberal use of the painkillers Aya's emergency room doctor had prescribed. It looked like all the rest had helped, though. Although he was moving slowly and stiffly, he was moving; considering how badly Aya had been hurt, that fact alone was a minor miracle.
Ken cleared his throat softly to alert Aya to his presence as he stepped into the room. Aya had his back to the inner doorway, and he jumped slightly and stiffened involuntarily at the small sound. He turned around slowly, his body tensed to fight or run, if necessary, but he relaxed when he realized it was only Ken.
"Hey," Ken said, smiling, as he walked into the room.
As he crossed the floor, he grabbed a large trashcan and dragged it into the middle of the room. Once he reached Aya, he crouched down to retrieve glass and pottery shards from the redhead's nearest pile. He tossed them into the trashcan, briefly glancing up at Aya before he reached for the next pile of debris. The redhead was staring at him --- not at him, really. It was more like Aya was staring through him. The vacant, slightly confused look in Aya's eyes gave Ken an uncomfortable, edgy feeling.
"Everything OK?" Ken asked.
He tried to keep the worry out of his voice, but he knew he had probably failed miserably. It was no wonder; Aya had pretty much been out of it for at least a couple of months now. He hadn't ever really gotten along with Aya, as he had always found the redhead to be too highly strung and moody for his own personal tastes, but even he had been worried about the man. Aya just hadn't been the compulsive, organized, asshole that he had grown accustomed to, and Ken couldn't help but wish that things would get back to normal, as quickly as possible.
"Um … yeah," Aya mumbled after a few moments. He shook his head slowly, as if he was trying to clear his mind, and continued, "I … I'm still kind of … struggling … with the … um … the painkillers."
Ken nodded, ducking down to retrieve more debris. He continued to drop pottery and glass into the trash can as he spoke. "Well, yeah, that's understandable. You were hurt pretty bad. I'm surprised to even see you down here. You've pretty much been asleep for two days, you know."
The surprised look on Aya's face told Ken that the redhead didn't know.
"Huh," Aya replied. "No. No, I didn't know." He shrugged, wincing in pain as the stitches and cuts in his back tightened and pulled. "That damn Yohji." He sighed. "But, much as I hate to admit it, he was probably right. I'm waiting for … someone … to come by and pick me up, so I thought I'd at least do a little of the cleaning, while I was down here. It's my fault this place is such a mess, after all."
Ken almost dropped the trash he was holding when he heard Aya's last statement. It was completely unlike the Aya he had come to know, and he couldn't believe he had actually heard those words come out of the redhead's mouth. He stared, open-mouthed, at the other man.
Aya laughed softly, "Surprised you, right? You look like you swallowed a goldfish."
Now it was Ken's turn to laugh. "Yeah," he said, ducking his head to hide the embarrassed blush spreading across his face. "Yeah, I guess I just never expected to hear you say something like that." As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized how they sounded, and he stammered, "I … I didn't mean it like that…"
Aya shook his head and turned away, muttering, "It's OK, even if you did mean it that way. I've come to realize in the last couple of months that I've allowed my motives and feelings to be somewhat … misunderstood." He sighed in frustration. For a moment, it seemed like he had more to say, but he simply turned away and continued to silently sweep up piles of trash.
Ken worked quietly for several minutes. He felt like he should say something, but he was unsure of how he should proceed. Finally, he decided to just let the matter drop, and changed the subject, instead. "Hey, thanks for the soccer tickets, by the way. And, the ball and cleats, too."
"You're welcome for the tickets," Aya replied softly. "As for the rest, … well, you really shouldn't thank me, considering my stupid dog ate them in the first place."
Ken shrugged, "It was still a great gift, and damn nice of you, too. You know, the first game on those season tickets is this Friday. You want to go?"
Aya stopped sweeping and stared at the ex-goalie. He seemed surprised that Ken would invite him to the game, and he said, softly, "Don't feel like you have to invite me, just because I bought the tickets. They were from all of us. It's not often we get to do things that are truly fun, that we truly love. You should invite someone you actually enjoy spending time with. Life's too short, otherwise."
Just as Ken was about to respond, the telephone rang, cutting his words off before they left his mouth. He watched as Aya slowly crossed the room to pick up the phone off the counter. The redhead didn't speak; he only listened for a few seconds, and then hung up the phone.
"It's not like that," Ken said, after Aya hung up. "I didn't … I didn't invite you because I felt like I had to. I wanted to. It'd be fun. You are allowed to have fun, right?"
Aya smiled, one of the few genuine smiles Ken had seen cross the silent redhead's face. "Thanks," he said. He pulled off his apron and handed it, along with his broom, to Ken as he moved toward the front door. As he pushed the metal doors covering the storefront upward, wincing in pain, he said, "It means a lot, that you would invite me. Unfortunately, I … I don't think I'll be able to … make it."
"Why?" Ken asked, suddenly angry. He felt insulted and embarrassed at extending a tentative offer of friendship, only to have it thrown back in his face, and he found himself thinking he had been right all along. Aya really was just a moody prick, no matter what Yohji said to the contrary. He stood and jabbed the straw end of the broom against the floor, creating a small splash, as he said, angrily, "What the fuck you gotta do, anyhow? Big plans or something?"
Aya didn't meet Ken's eyes as he replied, in a barely audible voice, "Yeah. Something like that. I'm … sorry, Ken. I really am. Look, I … I have to go. My ride's here."
He ducked under the half-open metal door, exiting the shop without even a backward glance. Ken crossed the room in time to see Aya stop on the sidewalk to talk briefly with two men wearing dark suits and sunglasses. After a moment, the two strange men pushed the redhead into the back seat of a large, black, four-door sedan. They got into the back with him, one entering on Aya's side, and the other sitting behind the driver. The sedan drove off into the deserted city street, and Ken lost sight of it as it turned a corner. The ex-goalie frowned. Something about that whole scene made him distinctly uncomfortable. It had looked like Aya knew the two men, and, the redhead had said that he was expecting them. But, he had looked uneasy and nervous, and the men had practically forced him into the car. On an impulse, Ken crossed the room and picked up the phone. He scrolled through the caller ID entries until he reached the latest call, and he frowned when he didn't recognize the number. On an impulse, the ex-goalie hit the "redial" button. As the phone dialed, Ken watched the numbers flash across the handset's display window, and, when the number finally came into view, he felt a surge of panic. He hung up the telephone before it could finalize the connection, and sprinted across the room toward the stairs. He was so panicked that his heart seemed to pound against his ribcage, and the blood seemed to rush through his ears in a loud roar.
"Shit," he snapped as he dashed up the stairs, taking the steps two, and, sometimes, three at a time. "That was Manx's cell number. Aya must have called her. What the fuck was he thinking?"
Warnings: Bad Language. Violence
Summary: Aya slowly begins to rediscover his humanity, only to face betrayal at the hands of someone he trusted. Decisions he's made with regard to Kritiker come back to haunt him, as the organization decides to retire him, leaving Aya cornered, badly injured, and, along with Yohji, on the run with nowhere to turn for help except the very man who betrayed him. Events start to tumble at breakneck speed toward a conclusion, following the twisted course Fate seems to have decreed. Can Aya stay alive long enough to untangle the sticky web in which he, Yohji, and his friend-turned-betrayer find themselves ensnared?
Legal Stuff: As always, this story is intended to express one fan's genuine appreciation of Weiss Kreuz and its characters. It is just for fun and not for profit. If you have any rights in the anime described here and find the posting of this fanfiction offensive or harmful, please contact me, and I will be happy to remove it.
Author's Note: Story #2 in the "Nowhere Man" Trilogy. Story #1: Nowhere Man. Story #3: Redemption
Chapter 8
Ken grumbled, running fingers through messy hair as he stumbled out of his room and down the stairs. As he slowly made his way down the hallway, struggling to collect his thoughts, he paused to look into the other rooms. As expected, Aya's room was still empty, since the redhead was recuperating in Yohji's room. He paused briefly at Omi's open doorway and smiled when he saw the youngest Weiss assassin, sprawled sideways on the bed, sound asleep. He remembered Yohji mentioning the boy was sick with the flu, and he was relieved to at least see that Omi seemed to be resting well. A little further down the hall, he paused at Yohji's door, which was only slightly ajar. Ken didn't want to disturb Yohji, Aya, or, even worse, Bubba, so he didn't push the door open any farther. Instead, he peeked in through the small crack, which only allowed him a view of part of the room. He could see Yohji, sleeping in the chair pulled next to the bed. He smiled and continued down the hall toward the stairs.
Ken tripped and stumbled halfway down the stairs before he caught his balance and managed to take the remaining steps two at a time. He paused in their kitchen, on the second level, long enough to grab a soda from the refrigerator, before continuing down the stairs. Once he reached the bottom step, he froze, his heart beating wildly against his ribs. He could hear noises coming from the front of the shop. He strained to hear the soft sounds as he silently debated over going back upstairs to retrieve his weapons. He didn't want to admit it, but Schuldich's attack on Aya had really frazzled his nerves. They had dangerous occupations; that was something they had all had to learn to live with, but they had all come to think of the shop and their apartment as a haven. The fact that their German enemy had been able to penetrate it so easily had shattered that notion and sense of security for all of them.
After listening for a few minutes, Ken decided he wasn't hearing the sounds of a struggle in progress, and it was probably safe to move forward without his weapons. He quietly moved away from the stairs and across the back room to stand in the doorway separating it from the front of the store, stopping short in surprise when he saw Aya.
The redhead was slowly moving around the front room, using a broom to push pieces of broken glass and pottery into little piles. Ken checked his watch, frowning as he realized it was barely eight thirty in the morning. He hadn't expected to find any of his housemates up and moving about, especially Aya. The redhead had been asleep for almost two days, thanks to Yohji's liberal use of the painkillers Aya's emergency room doctor had prescribed. It looked like all the rest had helped, though. Although he was moving slowly and stiffly, he was moving; considering how badly Aya had been hurt, that fact alone was a minor miracle.
Ken cleared his throat softly to alert Aya to his presence as he stepped into the room. Aya had his back to the inner doorway, and he jumped slightly and stiffened involuntarily at the small sound. He turned around slowly, his body tensed to fight or run, if necessary, but he relaxed when he realized it was only Ken.
"Hey," Ken said, smiling, as he walked into the room.
As he crossed the floor, he grabbed a large trashcan and dragged it into the middle of the room. Once he reached Aya, he crouched down to retrieve glass and pottery shards from the redhead's nearest pile. He tossed them into the trashcan, briefly glancing up at Aya before he reached for the next pile of debris. The redhead was staring at him --- not at him, really. It was more like Aya was staring through him. The vacant, slightly confused look in Aya's eyes gave Ken an uncomfortable, edgy feeling.
"Everything OK?" Ken asked.
He tried to keep the worry out of his voice, but he knew he had probably failed miserably. It was no wonder; Aya had pretty much been out of it for at least a couple of months now. He hadn't ever really gotten along with Aya, as he had always found the redhead to be too highly strung and moody for his own personal tastes, but even he had been worried about the man. Aya just hadn't been the compulsive, organized, asshole that he had grown accustomed to, and Ken couldn't help but wish that things would get back to normal, as quickly as possible.
"Um … yeah," Aya mumbled after a few moments. He shook his head slowly, as if he was trying to clear his mind, and continued, "I … I'm still kind of … struggling … with the … um … the painkillers."
Ken nodded, ducking down to retrieve more debris. He continued to drop pottery and glass into the trash can as he spoke. "Well, yeah, that's understandable. You were hurt pretty bad. I'm surprised to even see you down here. You've pretty much been asleep for two days, you know."
The surprised look on Aya's face told Ken that the redhead didn't know.
"Huh," Aya replied. "No. No, I didn't know." He shrugged, wincing in pain as the stitches and cuts in his back tightened and pulled. "That damn Yohji." He sighed. "But, much as I hate to admit it, he was probably right. I'm waiting for … someone … to come by and pick me up, so I thought I'd at least do a little of the cleaning, while I was down here. It's my fault this place is such a mess, after all."
Ken almost dropped the trash he was holding when he heard Aya's last statement. It was completely unlike the Aya he had come to know, and he couldn't believe he had actually heard those words come out of the redhead's mouth. He stared, open-mouthed, at the other man.
Aya laughed softly, "Surprised you, right? You look like you swallowed a goldfish."
Now it was Ken's turn to laugh. "Yeah," he said, ducking his head to hide the embarrassed blush spreading across his face. "Yeah, I guess I just never expected to hear you say something like that." As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized how they sounded, and he stammered, "I … I didn't mean it like that…"
Aya shook his head and turned away, muttering, "It's OK, even if you did mean it that way. I've come to realize in the last couple of months that I've allowed my motives and feelings to be somewhat … misunderstood." He sighed in frustration. For a moment, it seemed like he had more to say, but he simply turned away and continued to silently sweep up piles of trash.
Ken worked quietly for several minutes. He felt like he should say something, but he was unsure of how he should proceed. Finally, he decided to just let the matter drop, and changed the subject, instead. "Hey, thanks for the soccer tickets, by the way. And, the ball and cleats, too."
"You're welcome for the tickets," Aya replied softly. "As for the rest, … well, you really shouldn't thank me, considering my stupid dog ate them in the first place."
Ken shrugged, "It was still a great gift, and damn nice of you, too. You know, the first game on those season tickets is this Friday. You want to go?"
Aya stopped sweeping and stared at the ex-goalie. He seemed surprised that Ken would invite him to the game, and he said, softly, "Don't feel like you have to invite me, just because I bought the tickets. They were from all of us. It's not often we get to do things that are truly fun, that we truly love. You should invite someone you actually enjoy spending time with. Life's too short, otherwise."
Just as Ken was about to respond, the telephone rang, cutting his words off before they left his mouth. He watched as Aya slowly crossed the room to pick up the phone off the counter. The redhead didn't speak; he only listened for a few seconds, and then hung up the phone.
"It's not like that," Ken said, after Aya hung up. "I didn't … I didn't invite you because I felt like I had to. I wanted to. It'd be fun. You are allowed to have fun, right?"
Aya smiled, one of the few genuine smiles Ken had seen cross the silent redhead's face. "Thanks," he said. He pulled off his apron and handed it, along with his broom, to Ken as he moved toward the front door. As he pushed the metal doors covering the storefront upward, wincing in pain, he said, "It means a lot, that you would invite me. Unfortunately, I … I don't think I'll be able to … make it."
"Why?" Ken asked, suddenly angry. He felt insulted and embarrassed at extending a tentative offer of friendship, only to have it thrown back in his face, and he found himself thinking he had been right all along. Aya really was just a moody prick, no matter what Yohji said to the contrary. He stood and jabbed the straw end of the broom against the floor, creating a small splash, as he said, angrily, "What the fuck you gotta do, anyhow? Big plans or something?"
Aya didn't meet Ken's eyes as he replied, in a barely audible voice, "Yeah. Something like that. I'm … sorry, Ken. I really am. Look, I … I have to go. My ride's here."
He ducked under the half-open metal door, exiting the shop without even a backward glance. Ken crossed the room in time to see Aya stop on the sidewalk to talk briefly with two men wearing dark suits and sunglasses. After a moment, the two strange men pushed the redhead into the back seat of a large, black, four-door sedan. They got into the back with him, one entering on Aya's side, and the other sitting behind the driver. The sedan drove off into the deserted city street, and Ken lost sight of it as it turned a corner. The ex-goalie frowned. Something about that whole scene made him distinctly uncomfortable. It had looked like Aya knew the two men, and, the redhead had said that he was expecting them. But, he had looked uneasy and nervous, and the men had practically forced him into the car. On an impulse, Ken crossed the room and picked up the phone. He scrolled through the caller ID entries until he reached the latest call, and he frowned when he didn't recognize the number. On an impulse, the ex-goalie hit the "redial" button. As the phone dialed, Ken watched the numbers flash across the handset's display window, and, when the number finally came into view, he felt a surge of panic. He hung up the telephone before it could finalize the connection, and sprinted across the room toward the stairs. He was so panicked that his heart seemed to pound against his ribcage, and the blood seemed to rush through his ears in a loud roar.
"Shit," he snapped as he dashed up the stairs, taking the steps two, and, sometimes, three at a time. "That was Manx's cell number. Aya must have called her. What the fuck was he thinking?"