Fic Archive: Betrayal, 11
May. 28th, 2009 01:58 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 11
Aya tripped and almost fell as he came up the steps leading to the kitchen's back door. He barely managed to stay on his feet by grabbing hold of the stair rail, but it cost him. He winced and struggled to catch his breath as he jerked to a stop and felt the wound in his side pull open and start to bleed. It had started raining again, a fine, cold drizzle, and the steps were slick. He fumbled with his keys for a few seconds, swearing under his breath as he struggled to force his cold-numbed fingers to work properly. Finally, when the key slid home into the lock and he heard the bolt click open, he sighed in relief.
He entered their shared kitchen, one floor above the shop and one floor below their sleeping quarters, and leaned against the wall to catch his breath. Aya slid slowly to the floor, thinking he would rest here for a few seconds before tackling the stairs leading up to his room. He leaned against the wall near the door, his back wedged into the little corner created where the wall met the door jamb. He knew he was being silly, but being wedged into the small space made him feel safe. Still, no matter how much he wanted to, he couldn't linger here for very long. The flower shop and apartment would be the first place Kritiker's agents looked for him, and he didn't want to involve the other guys, if he didn't have to.
Aya leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. Although it didn't feel that way right now, he knew he had been very lucky to manage to get away from the Kritiker agents assigned to execute him. He could still remember how his mind had raced from one possibility to another on the long ride from Persia's base to the dumping ground selected by Manx for his disposal, but, no matter how hard he had thought on it, he hadn't been able to figure a way out --- not considering that it would be a two-against-one fight, and he was unarmed, handcuffed, and injured. He thought now that he probably should have been flattered Persia felt he was enough of a threat to require two executioners, despite being unarmed and bound, but, at the time, he really hadn't felt that way. It had seemed, though, that the two Kritiker agents knew him and Weiss, if only by reputation. They had both been nervous and jumpy around him, as if they expected him to attack them at any moment, and that had caused them to hesitate a fraction of a second. It hadn't been much time, but it had been enough. Aya had managed to dodge the first shot, which had creased the side of his head. His vision had blacked out momentarily, but he had, somehow, managed to stay on his feet long enough to take out the first Kritiker agent. The second guy, though, had managed to get off a shot that was aimed well enough to hit him in the side, before Aya had managed to take him out. The wound burned and ached, and he had a sinking feeling the bullet was still in there, probably lodged against a rib; it was almost as if he could feel it there, burning away at his flesh. He didn't really remember what had happened after that, and he figured he must have blacked out. He had awakened in the vacant field to the unpleasant sensation of cold wetness working its way through his clothing to chill his skin. The two Kritiker agents weren't dead, but they were still out cold, so Aya had helped himself to their car, which he had driven in a fairly circuitous route around the city before finally returning to the flower shop, just in case anyone was following him. His head wound ached, probably compounded by the concussion he had suffered during Schuldich's attack, but he knew it wasn't that deep or that serious. The wound in his side, though, really worried him. It had already bled a lot. His t-shirt, sweatshirt, and jacket were all heavy with blood. He had managed to stop the bleeding, but his near tumble down the stairs had caused it to start again. He wasn't sure how much farther he could go with this kind of injury, but he knew he couldn't stop here for aid, even though the guys would help him without question. If he allowed Kritiker to catch him here, they would kill everyone in the team, and that was something Aya couldn't live with.
Even though he was feeling bruised, battered, and, over all, generally crappy, Aya decided he'd rested long enough. He pushed himself up into a standing position by bracing his hands against the wall next to him, grimacing in pain when he felt the hot sting of the bullet wound in his side. He stood there for a moment, swaying on his feet, as he willed the black clouds that seemed intent on gathering at the fringes of his vision to clear.
'Not now. I can't pass out now. Not here,' he thought as he walked unsteadily toward the stairs and pulled himself up them toward his room.
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Yohji rolled over and stretched as he struggled to come fully awake. His room was dimly illuminated by the light seeping in around his closed door from the hallway, and he stared at the ceiling over his bed, marveling at how it almost seemed to glow in the dim light, except for the long crack directly above him, which almost looked like a dark canyon or river snaking its way across the room. He couldn't even count the number of times he'd lain up here, unable to sleep after a night of killing, a night of drinking, or a night of sex, and imagined that the crack was a highway or a river that could take him somewhere else, where he could be free of this life that had been forced on him, free of this unending, vicious cycle he knew he'd never escape. Sighing, Yohji sat up in bed and ran the fingers of one hand through his hair as he grabbed up the clock off his bedside table with the other one.
The clock read 1:45 A.M. Yohji hissed in frustration and tossed the timepiece onto the foot of his bed. He had spent the entire day and most of the night pacing circles around his room, worrying over Aya. About thirty minutes ago, when there was still no sign of the redhead and no word from Manx despite repeated calls to her cell number, he had finally worn himself out and dropped into bed and into a fitful, restless sleep. He held his breath for a moment to listen for sounds indicating that anyone else was awake. He couldn't hear anything except the soft noises of a house sleeping. He figured that Omi, sick as he still was, had probably gone to sleep hours ago, and Ken was probably either asleep, too, or still out searching for Aya.
A scraping sound brought Yohji's attention toward the door. Bubba had been whiney and forlorn ever since Aya's departure the previous morning, and he had followed Yohji all day, never straying more than a few inches from the tall blonde's side. He had climbed onto the foot of Yohji's bed to sleep, but, now, the big dog was at the door, whining, scratching, and pushing against the wood until it creaked and groaned under his weight. Yohji got out of bed and cautiously made his way to the door. He walked carefully, so the old floorboards wouldn't creak under his weight. Something or someone was clearly upsetting Bubba, and Yohji didn't want to take any chances on alerting an intruder to his presence. He grabbed Bubba's collar and pulled the dog away from the door so that he could put his ear against it to listen. Yohji held his breath and strained to catch the smallest sound. After a few seconds, he heard muffled sounds from down the hall. It sounded like the soft thumping of someone wearing heavy boots walking around, followed by the squeaking sound of drawers sliding open and closed, and it sounded as if it was coming from Aya's room, at the end of the hall.
Yohji frowned and turned away from the door to fumble briefly with the various items littering the top of his chest-of-drawers. His fingers blindly felt their way through the lighters, packages of cigarettes, loose change, and small pieces of paper containing various women's phone numbers, until they finally found his watches. Yohji grinned, the small, evil, twisted, little smile he typically wore when out on a mission, as he strapped the weapons into place on his wrists. He wasn't going to be caught off-guard again, as he had been by Schuldich's attack. He used his leg and hip to roughly shove Bubba, who was whining and trying to get out of the door ahead of him, backward, and slipped out of the room. He pulled the door closed behind him to shut the dog in. It wasn't like he had any love lost for the stupid beast, but it was Aya's dog, and the redhead had specifically asked him to take care of the mutt.
Yohji moved quietly through the hallway, hugging the shadows along the wall. Behind him, he could hear Bubba whining and scratching at the door, but he ignored the sounds and continued to move forward, toward Aya's room. As he came closer, he could see the door was slightly ajar, but there wasn't any light coming from the room. The noises were a bit louder, though, confirming the tall blonde's initial suspicion that there was an intruder there. Yohji slid into position against the wall next to Aya's open door. From this vantage point, he could just manage to see a shadowy figure moving slowly about the room, opening and closing drawers and moving to and from the closet. It looked as if the person was placing items into a large duffel bag, but, in the darkness, Yohji couldn't see the intruder's face or tell who it was. Whoever it was, though, was going through Aya's things, and, considering how private the redhead was, that was something Yohji couldn't tolerate.
He frowned and, moving slowly and holding his breath so as to not alert his target, pushed the door open just a little more, to give himself room to attack. Yohji set his feet into an attack stance and launched his wires toward the intruder. They clicked out of his watches and flew through the air without any noise. Yohji's aim was true, and, before the intruder could dodge or react, the wires had encircled him, pinning his arms and legs. Yohji didn't want to take a chance on killing this guy before he was able to ask him a few questions; after all, he could be a Kritiker agent who could give them some information on Aya's whereabouts. Yohji gave the wires a savage jerk, smiling when the intruder toppled to the ground with a cry of pain, which was stifled when he hit his head on the corner of Aya's chest-of-drawers. The man landed heavily on his side and lay there without moving, obviously dazed from Yohji's attack and from hitting his head. Before the other man could regain his wits enough to fight back, Yohji darted in with an assassin's cat-like grace and, with a snarl, fisted his hands in the front of the other man's sweat shirt to haul him to his feet and toward the doorway, where the light from the hall would reveal his identity.
The other man hung, limp and unresisting, in his grasp, and Yohji slammed him against the wall near the doorway, as he snarled, "All right, you bastard. You're gonna tell me everything I want to know. If you do, then, just maybe, I'll kill you quick, instead of making you suffer." He gave the man a vicious shake and shoved him more toward the doorway, so that the hallway light fell across his face, revealing half-open, dazed blue-violet eyes and red hair.
"Oh, shit!" Yohji hissed, releasing his hold on the younger man. "Aya! I'm … I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Are … are you all right?"
As Aya began to slide down the wall, Yohji jumped forward to catch him. Aya's knees seemed to completely give out on him, and the tall blonde supported his weight and gently sat the redhead down on the floor, leaning against the wall. He knelt down in front of Aya and watched him worriedly. The redhead didn't say anything. He just sat quietly, slightly slumped forward and staring at the floor with dazed, out-of-focus eyes. Yohji released the wires from Aya's torso and legs, allowing them to fall to the floor around the younger man.
"Aya … Aya, are you okay?" Yohji asked. He leaned forward to gently brush Aya's bangs out of his face.
That small gesture seemed to jolt the redhead out of his daze. Aya gave Yohji a half-hearted glare and swiped at the older man's hand, hissing in irritation. "Yo … Yohji," he said slowly, "What … what the hell are you doing?"
Yohji shrugged and sat back on his heels, watching Aya closely. "Sorry," he said, chuckling softly. "I thought you were an intruder." He paused and watched as Aya slowly made it back to his feet and returned to stuffing items into the large duffel bag he had dropped during the attack. The tall blonde frowned. Aya was moving too slowly and erratically. He couldn't tell in the darkened room, but he was sure that something was wrong with the redhead.
When Aya continued quietly packing without so much as turning to acknowledge his presence, Yohji cleared his throat and said, "Where have you been all day? I was worried shitless over you, and then you just come waltzing in without telling anyone … like nothing at all is wrong? What happened, anyhow?"
He wasn't able to keep the irritation out of his voice. It seemed like the exhaustion from an entire day's worth of worrying had just slammed down right on top of him, and Yohji felt like someone had pulled the plug on him. He could almost feel the tiredness creeping in over him, and, now that he had seen Aya, now that he knew the redhead was alive, relief was quickly giving way to irritation and anger.
Aya paused in his packing to stare at Yohji for a moment with a blank, slightly unfocussed look. After a couple of seconds, he shrugged slightly and returned to rifling through his drawers and closet as he said, quietly, "Nothing. Nothing happened."
"Bullshit!" Yohji snapped. He struggled to keep his voice quiet. They had been lucky in avoiding awakening Omi so far, and Yohji didn't want to disturb the boy, or Ken, if the ex-goalie was even at home. He grabbed at Aya's shoulder and whirled the younger man around to face him as he hissed, "That's total bullshit, and you know it! We've been calling and e-mailing Manx and Persia all day for information on you, and nothing --- total shut down. Omi even tried hacking into Kritiker's systems. What the fuck happened?"
Aya lost his equilibrium when Yohji whirled him around, and he closed his eyes to catch his balance and swayed on his feet, dangerously close to falling. Yohji frowned and reached out quickly to steady him. His hand brushed against something sticky and wet at Aya's side, causing Yohji to pull it away as if it had been burned, and he looked at Aya in alarm. The redhead had gone almost ghostly white, and he seemed unable to get his balance or keep his feet under him. Yohji felt Aya sag heavily against him, and he propped the younger man up as he reached for the light switch.
"Stop," Aya said softly. He regained his balance enough to catch Yohji's hand and prevent him from turning on the light. "Stop. I … I don't want to wake up Omi or Ken. I … I don't have time for this, Yohji. I have to get out of here before they come."
"What are you talking about?" Yohji asked, fearful of the answer. Aya was acting downright squirrelly, and Yohji felt the little hairs on the back of his neck starting to stand up as he gently shook the younger man and said, "Dammit, Aya! Stop packing or whatever and talk to me! Who's coming? What happened?"
Aya sighed and leaned back against the wall to stare at the ceiling. He felt steady enough on his feet now that he didn't need Yohji's assistance, and he brushed the other man's hands off his shoulders as he replied, in a quiet, slightly shaking voice, "Kritiker. Things … things didn't go well when I met with Manx today." He sighed and ran his hand over his face before continuing, "Things … haven't been okay … for a while, really. Since that mission a couple months ago … the one where I got stuck out in the rain and then got sick …"
Yohji nodded. "Yeah, I know," he replied, cutting Aya's story short. "I … I found your note. It … it scared the shit out of me. It sounded like you weren't planning on coming back."
"I …," Aya started, and then sighed in frustration, as if he was having trouble finding the right words to explain what had happened. Finally, he decided to just plunge ahead, and the hell with it if he sounded like an idiot. "I didn't think I would be back. I shouldn't be back, really. Persia … Kritiker … they decided, really a while back, that I wasn't of any use any longer. They … have been making threats for a while … threatening to "retire" me … you know, if I didn't get my act together. The attack by Schuldich was just the last straw. I'm … they think I'm too much of a security risk, so they decided to go through with their original plan. I got away." He paused for a moment and fumbled with something on his wrist. Only after hearing a metallic click followed by the hollow thunk of something falling to the floor between them did Yohji realize Aya was picking the lock on a set of handcuffs. As the tall blonde bent down to pick up the metal bracelets, Aya finished, "It wasn't easy, though. I've got to get out of here. I have to stay on the run long enough to straighten a few things out. Then, I can turn myself in to them … to Kritiker. I didn't want to involve any of you any more than I already had, but I … I needed a few things so that I could hide out for a while … some clothes … some food, and I have some money stashed here, too. But, I know they'll come here looking for me, and I need to be gone before they get here. Otherwise, they'll think you were hiding me, and they'll kill all of you, too. I can't … I can't let that happen."
Yohji stared at Aya with an open mouth and a shocked expression in his eyes. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. He knew he was often on thin ice with Persia and Kritiker because he was rather lazy and had a tendency to goof off or blow off missions, as he had done a few months ago with Aya, and also because he often changed mission plans at the last minute, without telling the rest of the team, which had, more than once, resulted in an almost-failed outing for the four assassins. But, the redhead had always been almost a model assassin, if such a thing existed. Aya always took every mission offered, without question, and he always succeeded in carrying out his orders. Since he had begun leading the group, Weiss' success rate had increased drastically, and their injury rate had dramatically decreased. It had always been obvious to the rest of the team that Aya was Kritiker's "golden boy", and Yohji knew the redhead had often used that position to shield the rest of them when things went wrong during missions, or the few times that they had failed. He couldn't believe Persia and Kritiker would turn their backs on Aya now, but that was definitely what the redhead was saying. To make matters worse, it almost sounded like Aya had acquiesced in their decision, or had resigned himself to the fate Kritiker had picked for him. Yohji knew they had all, long ago, figured out they didn't have any control over their lives, but, to hear Aya actually voice it out loud almost broke Yohji's heart. None of them were free, by any stretch of the imagination, but Aya had always seemed so confident and so in control. For some reason, he couldn't stand the feeling that the redhead had broken, that he'd finally given in and put himself completely at Kritiker's mercy.
He stepped forward slightly and put his hands on Aya's shoulders, forcefully pulling the redhead from his packing. He forced Aya to turn around, so that they were eye-to-eye. "What … what the hell are you saying?" he asked. His voice was getting louder, and he softened it when Aya gestured with his hand and shot a panicked look toward the door. He didn't want to wake up any other occupants of their house, either, if at all avoidable. "What are you saying?" he asked again, in more of a hissed whisper this time. "Why? Why would they "retire" you? You haven't done anything wrong. That last mission, and all the stuff after … none of that was your fault. If anything, I was the one who…"
"Stop it," Aya stated flatly. "What are you going to do? Go to Persia and tell him that you were the one who fucked up that last mission? That I had to go alone because you decided not to show up?"
'All right,' Yohji thought, 'that stung, but … not entirely undeserved.' He cleared his throat and replied, "Well, yeah … maybe. Why not? It was my fault, after all."
Aya sighed, "It's … it's not just that. It is, but, it's also the time before that, when the target got away and it took us two tries to take him out … and the time before that, when Ken took a bullet in the leg, and we almost got caught by the police … or the time before that, even, when we tripped the alarm when we were breaking into the target's office building, and we had to fight our way back out again." He sighed again, and shook his head, shrugging off Yohji's hands with a pained, narrow-eyed look. "It's … it's a lot of things … that all add up to me standing behind the eight ball." He started to turn back to packing his duffel bag, but Yohji stopped him again.
"Aya … Aya, just … just stop for a damn minute. Look … none of those times; none of them were your fault. That last mission, where you got sick was my fault. The time before that was because I tripped an alarm and then Ken missed the extra guards when we did the first sweep of the building. The time before that, it was Omi who tripped the alarm while he was hacking into the security system. We wouldn't have even gotten out of there if it hadn't been for you hearing the extra guards coming and warning the rest of us. Kritiker knows that."
"They don't. As far as they're concerned, it's all my doing, all my fault, and that's the way I wanted it," Aya snapped. "Look … at that time, as far as Kritiker and Persia were concerned, I was valuable … too valuable, so they were willing to let things slide … a lot of things, I guess. I don't know. I just … they wouldn't have been so kindly disposed toward the rest of you. If … if I had given them the information they wanted today, they'd have let me off, again, too." He was growing impatient and irritated with Yohji's constant questioning, and he jerked his arm angrily out of the tall blonde's grasp, wincing as he felt the wound in his side pull from the motion. "Yohji … please. I … I don't have time for this. Once they figure out those two agents are missing, this is the first place they'll come. I can't be here. Please." He looked at Yohji with pleading eyes, "Please."
"No," Yohji said, squeezing Aya's arm hard enough to make the redhead wince. He loosened his grip slightly, but didn't let Aya go, as he repeated, "No. Not until you tell me what the fuck is really going on. This isn't a joke, man. They say "retire", but you know that's a damn lie. What information? About Schuldich's attack?"
Aya dropped his eyes to the floor and said, in a soft voice, "Yeah." He sighed before continuing, "Yeah. About … Schuldich. They … they found out about Hank. Not about him, really. They … don't know who he is or where he is, but they know someone's been working here … at the shop. They don't … really know, but they think he was the one who let Schuldich into the shop that day."
Yohji swallowed. "And … what do you think? Do you think it was him?"
Aya paused, and, then, slowly, nodded. "Yeah," he said, quietly, "it was him. I know it was. No one else could have locked the dog up like that, and he was the only one besides you guys who knew the security codes. I don't want it to be true, but … I know it was him. I know … he … he had a good reason. I know he did."
"Aya, stop it! Stop this shit now. It's gone too far. How … how can you defend him like that?"
"It's … it's not that easy," Aya said. His voice was barely audible, and he refused to look into Yohji's face.
"Like hell!" Yohji snapped, shaking Aya slightly. "It is for me. If it's a question of you or him, then it's him, no problem. Hell, I'll kill the fucker myself."
"And his daughter?" Aya asked. "What about her? Would you kill her, too … an innocent child, who has nothing at all to do with Kritiker or Weiss or Schwarz? Nothing at all to do with me or Schuldich or you?"
"What … what are you saying?" Yohji asked. He was starting to feel like a man desperately trying to play catch up, and failing miserably, and it was beginning to irritate the ever-loving shit out of him. He had always hated feeling dense, but it couldn't be helped. It was obvious Aya was already light years ahead of him in this particular game, but he was determined the redhead wasn't going to play it out alone.
"His daughter. Schwarz has his daughter. Schuldich told me; he told me the whole thing … they forced him to give them information by threatening his little girl. Hank … he … he doesn't even know anything about Schwarz; he doesn't know why Schuldich wanted the information. He doesn't know anything about what we really do for a living. He was just trying to save his daughter."
"How do you know Schuldich wasn't lying?" Yohji asked.
Aya looked up in response to that question, his eyes giving Yohji a sarcastic, questioning look that clearly said, "Come on".
Yohji sighed, "Yeah … I know. Stupid question."
Aya once again shrugged off Yohji's restraining grip, and turned back to his packing. "Please, Yohji", he begged, "please. I'm out of time."
"All right," Yohji replied. He stepped forward and grabbed the few items remaining on the floor, stuffing them into the duffel before securing it by pulling and tying off the drawstring at its top. He paused for a minute and watched as Aya struggled painfully into a heavy, olive-drab colored, canvas coat --- the same coat he had stolen from Hank the first time the two of them met. Somehow, Omi had performed a minor miracle and restored it to life. Once Aya was finished, Yohji continued, "Give me a minute to grab my shit and get that damn dog. There's no way in hell I'm letting you go alone." When Aya started to protest, he cut the redhead off before he could even get the words out by finishing, "Besides, that fucking dog is driving me crazy!"
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 11
Aya tripped and almost fell as he came up the steps leading to the kitchen's back door. He barely managed to stay on his feet by grabbing hold of the stair rail, but it cost him. He winced and struggled to catch his breath as he jerked to a stop and felt the wound in his side pull open and start to bleed. It had started raining again, a fine, cold drizzle, and the steps were slick. He fumbled with his keys for a few seconds, swearing under his breath as he struggled to force his cold-numbed fingers to work properly. Finally, when the key slid home into the lock and he heard the bolt click open, he sighed in relief.
He entered their shared kitchen, one floor above the shop and one floor below their sleeping quarters, and leaned against the wall to catch his breath. Aya slid slowly to the floor, thinking he would rest here for a few seconds before tackling the stairs leading up to his room. He leaned against the wall near the door, his back wedged into the little corner created where the wall met the door jamb. He knew he was being silly, but being wedged into the small space made him feel safe. Still, no matter how much he wanted to, he couldn't linger here for very long. The flower shop and apartment would be the first place Kritiker's agents looked for him, and he didn't want to involve the other guys, if he didn't have to.
Aya leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. Although it didn't feel that way right now, he knew he had been very lucky to manage to get away from the Kritiker agents assigned to execute him. He could still remember how his mind had raced from one possibility to another on the long ride from Persia's base to the dumping ground selected by Manx for his disposal, but, no matter how hard he had thought on it, he hadn't been able to figure a way out --- not considering that it would be a two-against-one fight, and he was unarmed, handcuffed, and injured. He thought now that he probably should have been flattered Persia felt he was enough of a threat to require two executioners, despite being unarmed and bound, but, at the time, he really hadn't felt that way. It had seemed, though, that the two Kritiker agents knew him and Weiss, if only by reputation. They had both been nervous and jumpy around him, as if they expected him to attack them at any moment, and that had caused them to hesitate a fraction of a second. It hadn't been much time, but it had been enough. Aya had managed to dodge the first shot, which had creased the side of his head. His vision had blacked out momentarily, but he had, somehow, managed to stay on his feet long enough to take out the first Kritiker agent. The second guy, though, had managed to get off a shot that was aimed well enough to hit him in the side, before Aya had managed to take him out. The wound burned and ached, and he had a sinking feeling the bullet was still in there, probably lodged against a rib; it was almost as if he could feel it there, burning away at his flesh. He didn't really remember what had happened after that, and he figured he must have blacked out. He had awakened in the vacant field to the unpleasant sensation of cold wetness working its way through his clothing to chill his skin. The two Kritiker agents weren't dead, but they were still out cold, so Aya had helped himself to their car, which he had driven in a fairly circuitous route around the city before finally returning to the flower shop, just in case anyone was following him. His head wound ached, probably compounded by the concussion he had suffered during Schuldich's attack, but he knew it wasn't that deep or that serious. The wound in his side, though, really worried him. It had already bled a lot. His t-shirt, sweatshirt, and jacket were all heavy with blood. He had managed to stop the bleeding, but his near tumble down the stairs had caused it to start again. He wasn't sure how much farther he could go with this kind of injury, but he knew he couldn't stop here for aid, even though the guys would help him without question. If he allowed Kritiker to catch him here, they would kill everyone in the team, and that was something Aya couldn't live with.
Even though he was feeling bruised, battered, and, over all, generally crappy, Aya decided he'd rested long enough. He pushed himself up into a standing position by bracing his hands against the wall next to him, grimacing in pain when he felt the hot sting of the bullet wound in his side. He stood there for a moment, swaying on his feet, as he willed the black clouds that seemed intent on gathering at the fringes of his vision to clear.
'Not now. I can't pass out now. Not here,' he thought as he walked unsteadily toward the stairs and pulled himself up them toward his room.
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Yohji rolled over and stretched as he struggled to come fully awake. His room was dimly illuminated by the light seeping in around his closed door from the hallway, and he stared at the ceiling over his bed, marveling at how it almost seemed to glow in the dim light, except for the long crack directly above him, which almost looked like a dark canyon or river snaking its way across the room. He couldn't even count the number of times he'd lain up here, unable to sleep after a night of killing, a night of drinking, or a night of sex, and imagined that the crack was a highway or a river that could take him somewhere else, where he could be free of this life that had been forced on him, free of this unending, vicious cycle he knew he'd never escape. Sighing, Yohji sat up in bed and ran the fingers of one hand through his hair as he grabbed up the clock off his bedside table with the other one.
The clock read 1:45 A.M. Yohji hissed in frustration and tossed the timepiece onto the foot of his bed. He had spent the entire day and most of the night pacing circles around his room, worrying over Aya. About thirty minutes ago, when there was still no sign of the redhead and no word from Manx despite repeated calls to her cell number, he had finally worn himself out and dropped into bed and into a fitful, restless sleep. He held his breath for a moment to listen for sounds indicating that anyone else was awake. He couldn't hear anything except the soft noises of a house sleeping. He figured that Omi, sick as he still was, had probably gone to sleep hours ago, and Ken was probably either asleep, too, or still out searching for Aya.
A scraping sound brought Yohji's attention toward the door. Bubba had been whiney and forlorn ever since Aya's departure the previous morning, and he had followed Yohji all day, never straying more than a few inches from the tall blonde's side. He had climbed onto the foot of Yohji's bed to sleep, but, now, the big dog was at the door, whining, scratching, and pushing against the wood until it creaked and groaned under his weight. Yohji got out of bed and cautiously made his way to the door. He walked carefully, so the old floorboards wouldn't creak under his weight. Something or someone was clearly upsetting Bubba, and Yohji didn't want to take any chances on alerting an intruder to his presence. He grabbed Bubba's collar and pulled the dog away from the door so that he could put his ear against it to listen. Yohji held his breath and strained to catch the smallest sound. After a few seconds, he heard muffled sounds from down the hall. It sounded like the soft thumping of someone wearing heavy boots walking around, followed by the squeaking sound of drawers sliding open and closed, and it sounded as if it was coming from Aya's room, at the end of the hall.
Yohji frowned and turned away from the door to fumble briefly with the various items littering the top of his chest-of-drawers. His fingers blindly felt their way through the lighters, packages of cigarettes, loose change, and small pieces of paper containing various women's phone numbers, until they finally found his watches. Yohji grinned, the small, evil, twisted, little smile he typically wore when out on a mission, as he strapped the weapons into place on his wrists. He wasn't going to be caught off-guard again, as he had been by Schuldich's attack. He used his leg and hip to roughly shove Bubba, who was whining and trying to get out of the door ahead of him, backward, and slipped out of the room. He pulled the door closed behind him to shut the dog in. It wasn't like he had any love lost for the stupid beast, but it was Aya's dog, and the redhead had specifically asked him to take care of the mutt.
Yohji moved quietly through the hallway, hugging the shadows along the wall. Behind him, he could hear Bubba whining and scratching at the door, but he ignored the sounds and continued to move forward, toward Aya's room. As he came closer, he could see the door was slightly ajar, but there wasn't any light coming from the room. The noises were a bit louder, though, confirming the tall blonde's initial suspicion that there was an intruder there. Yohji slid into position against the wall next to Aya's open door. From this vantage point, he could just manage to see a shadowy figure moving slowly about the room, opening and closing drawers and moving to and from the closet. It looked as if the person was placing items into a large duffel bag, but, in the darkness, Yohji couldn't see the intruder's face or tell who it was. Whoever it was, though, was going through Aya's things, and, considering how private the redhead was, that was something Yohji couldn't tolerate.
He frowned and, moving slowly and holding his breath so as to not alert his target, pushed the door open just a little more, to give himself room to attack. Yohji set his feet into an attack stance and launched his wires toward the intruder. They clicked out of his watches and flew through the air without any noise. Yohji's aim was true, and, before the intruder could dodge or react, the wires had encircled him, pinning his arms and legs. Yohji didn't want to take a chance on killing this guy before he was able to ask him a few questions; after all, he could be a Kritiker agent who could give them some information on Aya's whereabouts. Yohji gave the wires a savage jerk, smiling when the intruder toppled to the ground with a cry of pain, which was stifled when he hit his head on the corner of Aya's chest-of-drawers. The man landed heavily on his side and lay there without moving, obviously dazed from Yohji's attack and from hitting his head. Before the other man could regain his wits enough to fight back, Yohji darted in with an assassin's cat-like grace and, with a snarl, fisted his hands in the front of the other man's sweat shirt to haul him to his feet and toward the doorway, where the light from the hall would reveal his identity.
The other man hung, limp and unresisting, in his grasp, and Yohji slammed him against the wall near the doorway, as he snarled, "All right, you bastard. You're gonna tell me everything I want to know. If you do, then, just maybe, I'll kill you quick, instead of making you suffer." He gave the man a vicious shake and shoved him more toward the doorway, so that the hallway light fell across his face, revealing half-open, dazed blue-violet eyes and red hair.
"Oh, shit!" Yohji hissed, releasing his hold on the younger man. "Aya! I'm … I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Are … are you all right?"
As Aya began to slide down the wall, Yohji jumped forward to catch him. Aya's knees seemed to completely give out on him, and the tall blonde supported his weight and gently sat the redhead down on the floor, leaning against the wall. He knelt down in front of Aya and watched him worriedly. The redhead didn't say anything. He just sat quietly, slightly slumped forward and staring at the floor with dazed, out-of-focus eyes. Yohji released the wires from Aya's torso and legs, allowing them to fall to the floor around the younger man.
"Aya … Aya, are you okay?" Yohji asked. He leaned forward to gently brush Aya's bangs out of his face.
That small gesture seemed to jolt the redhead out of his daze. Aya gave Yohji a half-hearted glare and swiped at the older man's hand, hissing in irritation. "Yo … Yohji," he said slowly, "What … what the hell are you doing?"
Yohji shrugged and sat back on his heels, watching Aya closely. "Sorry," he said, chuckling softly. "I thought you were an intruder." He paused and watched as Aya slowly made it back to his feet and returned to stuffing items into the large duffel bag he had dropped during the attack. The tall blonde frowned. Aya was moving too slowly and erratically. He couldn't tell in the darkened room, but he was sure that something was wrong with the redhead.
When Aya continued quietly packing without so much as turning to acknowledge his presence, Yohji cleared his throat and said, "Where have you been all day? I was worried shitless over you, and then you just come waltzing in without telling anyone … like nothing at all is wrong? What happened, anyhow?"
He wasn't able to keep the irritation out of his voice. It seemed like the exhaustion from an entire day's worth of worrying had just slammed down right on top of him, and Yohji felt like someone had pulled the plug on him. He could almost feel the tiredness creeping in over him, and, now that he had seen Aya, now that he knew the redhead was alive, relief was quickly giving way to irritation and anger.
Aya paused in his packing to stare at Yohji for a moment with a blank, slightly unfocussed look. After a couple of seconds, he shrugged slightly and returned to rifling through his drawers and closet as he said, quietly, "Nothing. Nothing happened."
"Bullshit!" Yohji snapped. He struggled to keep his voice quiet. They had been lucky in avoiding awakening Omi so far, and Yohji didn't want to disturb the boy, or Ken, if the ex-goalie was even at home. He grabbed at Aya's shoulder and whirled the younger man around to face him as he hissed, "That's total bullshit, and you know it! We've been calling and e-mailing Manx and Persia all day for information on you, and nothing --- total shut down. Omi even tried hacking into Kritiker's systems. What the fuck happened?"
Aya lost his equilibrium when Yohji whirled him around, and he closed his eyes to catch his balance and swayed on his feet, dangerously close to falling. Yohji frowned and reached out quickly to steady him. His hand brushed against something sticky and wet at Aya's side, causing Yohji to pull it away as if it had been burned, and he looked at Aya in alarm. The redhead had gone almost ghostly white, and he seemed unable to get his balance or keep his feet under him. Yohji felt Aya sag heavily against him, and he propped the younger man up as he reached for the light switch.
"Stop," Aya said softly. He regained his balance enough to catch Yohji's hand and prevent him from turning on the light. "Stop. I … I don't want to wake up Omi or Ken. I … I don't have time for this, Yohji. I have to get out of here before they come."
"What are you talking about?" Yohji asked, fearful of the answer. Aya was acting downright squirrelly, and Yohji felt the little hairs on the back of his neck starting to stand up as he gently shook the younger man and said, "Dammit, Aya! Stop packing or whatever and talk to me! Who's coming? What happened?"
Aya sighed and leaned back against the wall to stare at the ceiling. He felt steady enough on his feet now that he didn't need Yohji's assistance, and he brushed the other man's hands off his shoulders as he replied, in a quiet, slightly shaking voice, "Kritiker. Things … things didn't go well when I met with Manx today." He sighed and ran his hand over his face before continuing, "Things … haven't been okay … for a while, really. Since that mission a couple months ago … the one where I got stuck out in the rain and then got sick …"
Yohji nodded. "Yeah, I know," he replied, cutting Aya's story short. "I … I found your note. It … it scared the shit out of me. It sounded like you weren't planning on coming back."
"I …," Aya started, and then sighed in frustration, as if he was having trouble finding the right words to explain what had happened. Finally, he decided to just plunge ahead, and the hell with it if he sounded like an idiot. "I didn't think I would be back. I shouldn't be back, really. Persia … Kritiker … they decided, really a while back, that I wasn't of any use any longer. They … have been making threats for a while … threatening to "retire" me … you know, if I didn't get my act together. The attack by Schuldich was just the last straw. I'm … they think I'm too much of a security risk, so they decided to go through with their original plan. I got away." He paused for a moment and fumbled with something on his wrist. Only after hearing a metallic click followed by the hollow thunk of something falling to the floor between them did Yohji realize Aya was picking the lock on a set of handcuffs. As the tall blonde bent down to pick up the metal bracelets, Aya finished, "It wasn't easy, though. I've got to get out of here. I have to stay on the run long enough to straighten a few things out. Then, I can turn myself in to them … to Kritiker. I didn't want to involve any of you any more than I already had, but I … I needed a few things so that I could hide out for a while … some clothes … some food, and I have some money stashed here, too. But, I know they'll come here looking for me, and I need to be gone before they get here. Otherwise, they'll think you were hiding me, and they'll kill all of you, too. I can't … I can't let that happen."
Yohji stared at Aya with an open mouth and a shocked expression in his eyes. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. He knew he was often on thin ice with Persia and Kritiker because he was rather lazy and had a tendency to goof off or blow off missions, as he had done a few months ago with Aya, and also because he often changed mission plans at the last minute, without telling the rest of the team, which had, more than once, resulted in an almost-failed outing for the four assassins. But, the redhead had always been almost a model assassin, if such a thing existed. Aya always took every mission offered, without question, and he always succeeded in carrying out his orders. Since he had begun leading the group, Weiss' success rate had increased drastically, and their injury rate had dramatically decreased. It had always been obvious to the rest of the team that Aya was Kritiker's "golden boy", and Yohji knew the redhead had often used that position to shield the rest of them when things went wrong during missions, or the few times that they had failed. He couldn't believe Persia and Kritiker would turn their backs on Aya now, but that was definitely what the redhead was saying. To make matters worse, it almost sounded like Aya had acquiesced in their decision, or had resigned himself to the fate Kritiker had picked for him. Yohji knew they had all, long ago, figured out they didn't have any control over their lives, but, to hear Aya actually voice it out loud almost broke Yohji's heart. None of them were free, by any stretch of the imagination, but Aya had always seemed so confident and so in control. For some reason, he couldn't stand the feeling that the redhead had broken, that he'd finally given in and put himself completely at Kritiker's mercy.
He stepped forward slightly and put his hands on Aya's shoulders, forcefully pulling the redhead from his packing. He forced Aya to turn around, so that they were eye-to-eye. "What … what the hell are you saying?" he asked. His voice was getting louder, and he softened it when Aya gestured with his hand and shot a panicked look toward the door. He didn't want to wake up any other occupants of their house, either, if at all avoidable. "What are you saying?" he asked again, in more of a hissed whisper this time. "Why? Why would they "retire" you? You haven't done anything wrong. That last mission, and all the stuff after … none of that was your fault. If anything, I was the one who…"
"Stop it," Aya stated flatly. "What are you going to do? Go to Persia and tell him that you were the one who fucked up that last mission? That I had to go alone because you decided not to show up?"
'All right,' Yohji thought, 'that stung, but … not entirely undeserved.' He cleared his throat and replied, "Well, yeah … maybe. Why not? It was my fault, after all."
Aya sighed, "It's … it's not just that. It is, but, it's also the time before that, when the target got away and it took us two tries to take him out … and the time before that, when Ken took a bullet in the leg, and we almost got caught by the police … or the time before that, even, when we tripped the alarm when we were breaking into the target's office building, and we had to fight our way back out again." He sighed again, and shook his head, shrugging off Yohji's hands with a pained, narrow-eyed look. "It's … it's a lot of things … that all add up to me standing behind the eight ball." He started to turn back to packing his duffel bag, but Yohji stopped him again.
"Aya … Aya, just … just stop for a damn minute. Look … none of those times; none of them were your fault. That last mission, where you got sick was my fault. The time before that was because I tripped an alarm and then Ken missed the extra guards when we did the first sweep of the building. The time before that, it was Omi who tripped the alarm while he was hacking into the security system. We wouldn't have even gotten out of there if it hadn't been for you hearing the extra guards coming and warning the rest of us. Kritiker knows that."
"They don't. As far as they're concerned, it's all my doing, all my fault, and that's the way I wanted it," Aya snapped. "Look … at that time, as far as Kritiker and Persia were concerned, I was valuable … too valuable, so they were willing to let things slide … a lot of things, I guess. I don't know. I just … they wouldn't have been so kindly disposed toward the rest of you. If … if I had given them the information they wanted today, they'd have let me off, again, too." He was growing impatient and irritated with Yohji's constant questioning, and he jerked his arm angrily out of the tall blonde's grasp, wincing as he felt the wound in his side pull from the motion. "Yohji … please. I … I don't have time for this. Once they figure out those two agents are missing, this is the first place they'll come. I can't be here. Please." He looked at Yohji with pleading eyes, "Please."
"No," Yohji said, squeezing Aya's arm hard enough to make the redhead wince. He loosened his grip slightly, but didn't let Aya go, as he repeated, "No. Not until you tell me what the fuck is really going on. This isn't a joke, man. They say "retire", but you know that's a damn lie. What information? About Schuldich's attack?"
Aya dropped his eyes to the floor and said, in a soft voice, "Yeah." He sighed before continuing, "Yeah. About … Schuldich. They … they found out about Hank. Not about him, really. They … don't know who he is or where he is, but they know someone's been working here … at the shop. They don't … really know, but they think he was the one who let Schuldich into the shop that day."
Yohji swallowed. "And … what do you think? Do you think it was him?"
Aya paused, and, then, slowly, nodded. "Yeah," he said, quietly, "it was him. I know it was. No one else could have locked the dog up like that, and he was the only one besides you guys who knew the security codes. I don't want it to be true, but … I know it was him. I know … he … he had a good reason. I know he did."
"Aya, stop it! Stop this shit now. It's gone too far. How … how can you defend him like that?"
"It's … it's not that easy," Aya said. His voice was barely audible, and he refused to look into Yohji's face.
"Like hell!" Yohji snapped, shaking Aya slightly. "It is for me. If it's a question of you or him, then it's him, no problem. Hell, I'll kill the fucker myself."
"And his daughter?" Aya asked. "What about her? Would you kill her, too … an innocent child, who has nothing at all to do with Kritiker or Weiss or Schwarz? Nothing at all to do with me or Schuldich or you?"
"What … what are you saying?" Yohji asked. He was starting to feel like a man desperately trying to play catch up, and failing miserably, and it was beginning to irritate the ever-loving shit out of him. He had always hated feeling dense, but it couldn't be helped. It was obvious Aya was already light years ahead of him in this particular game, but he was determined the redhead wasn't going to play it out alone.
"His daughter. Schwarz has his daughter. Schuldich told me; he told me the whole thing … they forced him to give them information by threatening his little girl. Hank … he … he doesn't even know anything about Schwarz; he doesn't know why Schuldich wanted the information. He doesn't know anything about what we really do for a living. He was just trying to save his daughter."
"How do you know Schuldich wasn't lying?" Yohji asked.
Aya looked up in response to that question, his eyes giving Yohji a sarcastic, questioning look that clearly said, "Come on".
Yohji sighed, "Yeah … I know. Stupid question."
Aya once again shrugged off Yohji's restraining grip, and turned back to his packing. "Please, Yohji", he begged, "please. I'm out of time."
"All right," Yohji replied. He stepped forward and grabbed the few items remaining on the floor, stuffing them into the duffel before securing it by pulling and tying off the drawstring at its top. He paused for a minute and watched as Aya struggled painfully into a heavy, olive-drab colored, canvas coat --- the same coat he had stolen from Hank the first time the two of them met. Somehow, Omi had performed a minor miracle and restored it to life. Once Aya was finished, Yohji continued, "Give me a minute to grab my shit and get that damn dog. There's no way in hell I'm letting you go alone." When Aya started to protest, he cut the redhead off before he could even get the words out by finishing, "Besides, that fucking dog is driving me crazy!"