Fic Archive: Betrayal, 12
May. 28th, 2009 01:59 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 12
The night was still dark, although there were only a few hours left until dawn. As they stepped from the flower shop's back door into the pre-dawn chill, Yohji shivered and squinted up into the street light just above them. It had been a fair day, sunny with miles and miles of cloudless, blue sky, but, now, he could see a fine drizzle misting through the light's yellow glow. As he pulled the door closed behind him with a soft click, Yohji took the opportunity to steal a glance toward Aya.
When he had caught the younger man earlier, preventing him from falling, Yohji's hand had brushed against something sticky and wet; he would have sworn it felt just like drying blood. But, when he had returned to his own room to gather a few things and release Bubba from captivity, he had checked and found nothing on his hand. Yohji had tried to dismiss it as a simple mistake in a darkened room. Still, he couldn't shake the nagging feeling something was wrong with the redhead. His attempt at getting a close enough look at Aya to determine exactly what was the matter with the younger man was foiled, though, when Aya glared briefly at him and then moved quickly out of the circle of light and onto the darkened sidewalk, pulling his coat tighter around his body and its collar up to shield his face and ears from the cold, drizzling rain.
Yohji sighed and finished locking the door as he said, "So? Where to now?"
Aya didn't reply, not that Yohji had really expected him to. He had been around the redhead long enough to know better. Besides, as much as Aya had talked to him tonight, he almost expected the younger man might not say anything else for at least a year. He must have used up at least that much conversational energy. As Aya turned, without a word, and headed off into the darkness, away from the shop, Yohji sighed again and looked up at the sky, as if he was asking, "Why me?" Now that he was actually out here in the dark, and the cold, and the rain, coming with Aya didn't seem like the best idea he'd ever had, and Yohji thought fondly of his big, overstuffed, mattress and the down comforter covering his bed. In there, his life still wasn't his own, but at least he knew the rules; he killed on Kritiker's command, and they left him the hell alone. There had to be at least a small measure of safety in that --- in knowing the rules. Besides, it was warm and comfortable in there, and he could probably talk Ken into making pancakes for breakfast. The ex-goalie was pretty much a total and complete failure in the kitchen, but he could make the best damn pancakes.
Just when he had almost made up his mind to turn around and return to the warmth and safety of his own room, Yohji looked up and realized Aya had almost completely disappeared from view. He could barely make out the shape of the redhead's figure in the misty, pre-dawn blackness. Even if he hadn't been able to see the younger man, he would have known Aya was just ahead of him, because he could hear the metallic clinking of Bubba's collar and tags as the big dog jumped and nipped happily at Aya's fingers and the hem of his coat. The stupid dog had been so happy to see Aya that he had practically been running circles around the redhead ever since their reunion.
Yohji sighed and flipped his coat collar up, echoing Aya's previous gesture. "Stupid little shit," he muttered as he grabbed his duffel bag, swung it over his shoulder, and stepped off the security of the flower shop steps and into the great unknown. "And, I'm just as much of an idiot for following him." He sighed and broke into a jogging run, hoping to catch up to Aya before the younger man disappeared from view completely.
**************************************************************
They had been walking in silence for about five minutes, the nighttime quiet broken only by the clinking of Bubba's collar and tags and his excited little barks as the big dog scampered ahead of them, chasing at leaves and stray bits of paper that blew across his path, when Aya suddenly ducked into an alley. Yohji, who had been trailing slightly behind the redhead, followed him, and the blonde felt his curiosity quickly give way to fear and dread when he found Aya slumped against a pile of garbage cans near the alleyway entrance. It almost looked as if the redhead had collapsed there, lacking the strength to walk any further.
Aya was sitting with his back against a garbage can, his shoulders slumped forward, and he was staring at the ground. As Yohji paused in the alley's mouth to look at him, he had the uneasy feeling that Aya wasn't really seeing anything; it was almost as if he was staring through the ground, instead of at it. The redhead looked as if someone had just turned his power switch to "off", confirming Yohji's initial suspicion that something was terribly wrong with the younger man, although he still had no idea exactly what that was.
"Hey, Aya?" Yohji asked as he knelt down in front of his companion. When Aya didn't reply or give any indication he was even aware of Yohji's presence, the blonde leaned forward and ducked down to look into his friend's face. With a shaking hand, Yohji reached forward and gently brushed at the hair hanging over Aya's eyes as he repeated, in a soft voice, "Aya? You stopping here for the night or what? It's not very far from the shop … don't you think we should, maybe, move on a little further? Kritiker is sure to search this area." He paused, waiting for some response, some sign Aya had heard him. When there was nothing, Yohji gripped the redhead's shoulder and shook him gently. "Ay … Aya?" he asked in a shaking voice, "Aya? Are you OK? Aya? Aya, can you hear me? Please … just … just say something. You're starting to really scare me, man."
There was a sudden, loud, crashing sound to their right, as Bubba, who had been snuffling around in the alley's darker shadows, knocked over a garbage can. Yohji tensed at the sound and turned his attention away from Aya long enough to watch one of the cans, along with its lid, roll out of the shadows and past them out onto the sidewalk. He squinted into the shadows, and managed to just make out the big dog's shape. Bubba had moved on to the next can in the stack he was investigating, and he was on his hind legs, front paws thrown over the lip of the can, head buried in its contents. Yohji could see his stubby tail wagging as Bubba snuffled happily through the garbage, and he wrinkled his nose in distaste as he thought about how bad the dog was going to smell by the time they finally made it out of this alley. After several minutes, Bubba finally succeeded in overturning the second can, too, sending it rolling past the two Weiss assassins, and onto the sidewalk, as well, with a loud crash.
The second crash seemed to break Aya out of his daze somewhat. The redhead jumped, and then tried to get to his feet, only to come crashing heavily back to his seated position. Yohji just barely managed to catch him in time to keep Aya from hurting himself as he hit the ground. The blonde frowned over at the dog, which had moved on to yet another stack of cans. Yohji kept one hand on Aya, to keep the redhead from falling over, while he used the other hand to blindly feel the ground behind him. When he located one of the cans' lids, he gripped it and tossed it toward the dark end of the alley. He couldn't help smiling when he heard a solid thunk followed by a loud, surprised yelp as it connected with some part of the big, black dog. Within a few moments, Bubba loped over to them and flopped down at Aya's side, whining and licking at the redhead's hand.
Aya's fingers automatically reached out to fondle the big dog's soft, drooping ears, and he said, in a barely audible voice, "Yo … Yohji. I … I don't think I can go any farther. Just … just leave me here and go back to the shop. Kritiker doesn't have to know about you leaving."
Yohji shook his head as he said, "Nope. Sorry. I'm in this for the long haul. Are you all right? What's wrong?"
With Yohji's help, Aya shifted slightly and scooted toward the circle of light cast by an overhead bulb outside one of the restaurants backing this particular alley. He pulled his coat aside to reveal a dark, red stain discoloring almost one whole side of his sweat shirt.
"Oh … fuck … me," Yohji whispered in a shaking voice as he reached out to tentatively brush his fingers against the stain.
It looked as if Aya's shirt had been discolored by blood that had dried, only to be covered by a new wave of the sticky, red liquid, which, at first glance indicated that the wound had bled heavily and was continuing to do so. Still, Yohji found himself holding his breath, hoping against hope that he was wrong, and that the wound wasn't bleeding any longer. Unfortunately, he was right. Yohji groaned mentally as his fingers brushed against warm, wet, stickiness.
Aya jumped and hissed in pain as the blonde's hand brushed against the wound, prompting Yohji to grip his shoulder to still him. "S … sorry," the blonde murmured. "Sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. Aya, what … what happened?"
Aya leaned back against the garbage cans behind him and closed his eyes. He was ghostly pale, even for him, and, in the light cast from the overhead bulb, Yohji could see the fine pain lines around the redhead's mouth and eyes.
"Kritiker," Aya whispered. "I … I told you it wasn't easy getting away, right?"
It took Yohji about five seconds to catch on to what Aya was saying. "They shot you? Is that what happened? The fuckers shot you?" He paused, but, when Aya nodded in response, he asked, "Where … and … how bad is it?"
Aya couldn't control the tremor in his voice, and Yohji had to lean forward just to hear the words as the redhead mumbled, "Side … bad. Bullet … I think the bullet is still … in there. Hurts … like hell. I just can't go any farther." He let out a low hiss as a wave of pain hit him, and, when Yohji looked away from the wound and to Aya's face, he was surprised and shocked to see tears shining from the redhead's eyes. "Yohji … I … I'm sorry," Aya gasped out, his voice finally breaking on a muffled sob. He took a shallow breath and continued, "I … I never thought… Shit. I never thought I'd die like this … in a fucking pile of garbage. Guess it's no more than …than I should expect, really. Probably … probably more than I even deserve." As he gasped out the final few words, Aya finally lost his battle with unconsciousness, and he slumped forward into Yohji's arms.
Yohji caught Aya as he fell forward. He could still see tears shining on Aya's cheeks and seeping out of his closed eyes. He didn't know if Aya was crying from the stress of the past few months and the events of this day, from the pain of his injuries, or because of a feeling of sadness, sorrow, or regret. But, he did know that Aya, who had always seemed invincible, like some kind of superman, had finally broken. Yohji wasn't sure, but that fact might have been more upsetting than what the redhead had just said.
He felt tears stinging his own eyes as he shook his unconscious friend gently, hissing, "Aya! Aya, stop it!"
He fumbled briefly with Aya's wrist, searching for a pulse, and, when he didn't feel one, he grabbed at the redhead's throat in a panic. Yohji held his breath, praying that he would feel something, some sign of life, and he let the breath out with a long, low sigh of relief when he finally felt Aya's pulse. It was slow, but it was there, under his fingers, proof that Aya was still with him, that the redhead was still present in this world.
He gathered Aya closer to him in a gentle hug as he muttered, "It's not going to end like that. You are not going to fucking die here! You hear me, you little son-of-a-bitch. You are not leaving me like this." He rocked back and forth, his friend cradled in his arms and continued muttering, "You are not going to fucking die here. You are not going to fucking die here."
After a few moments, Yohji managed to recover from his initial shock, and he looked up to realize they weren't very far from Hank's apartment. He hadn't ever been there, but Ken and Omi had told him where Hank lived, and Yohji was certain it was only two or three blocks from their current location. He didn't trust Hank, especially now that he had betrayed Aya, and he didn't particularly share the redhead's belief that Hank didn't know anything about Weiss or Schwarz. As far as Yohji was concerned, the jury was still out on the question of whether or not Hank was a Schwarz operative. But, Aya needed help, now, and Yohji knew he couldn't do anything for him in this dark, rain-drenched alley. Besides, they both needed to get out of the rain and the cold, and he knew Kritiker didn't know anything about Hank --- Aya had confirmed that much during their earlier conversation --- which meant that the organization wouldn't ever look for them at Hank's apartment. Yohji didn't like it, but it seemed he didn't have any other choice. He would have to trust in Aya's judgment and believe that Hank wouldn't betray them further.
"Shit," he muttered under his breath as he staggered to his feet with Aya in his arms. "I hate … I mean, I fucking hate making these kinds of decisions. Why do you always make me do this? When you wake up, I'm so gonna beat the ever-loving shit out of you, you little prick." Still muttering, he exited the alley and walked through the misty drizzle toward Hank's apartment. Bubba jogged and frisked along, running circles around Yohji and Aya, as if he didn't have a care in the world. Yohji glared at the animal and hissed, "Stupid dog."
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 12
The night was still dark, although there were only a few hours left until dawn. As they stepped from the flower shop's back door into the pre-dawn chill, Yohji shivered and squinted up into the street light just above them. It had been a fair day, sunny with miles and miles of cloudless, blue sky, but, now, he could see a fine drizzle misting through the light's yellow glow. As he pulled the door closed behind him with a soft click, Yohji took the opportunity to steal a glance toward Aya.
When he had caught the younger man earlier, preventing him from falling, Yohji's hand had brushed against something sticky and wet; he would have sworn it felt just like drying blood. But, when he had returned to his own room to gather a few things and release Bubba from captivity, he had checked and found nothing on his hand. Yohji had tried to dismiss it as a simple mistake in a darkened room. Still, he couldn't shake the nagging feeling something was wrong with the redhead. His attempt at getting a close enough look at Aya to determine exactly what was the matter with the younger man was foiled, though, when Aya glared briefly at him and then moved quickly out of the circle of light and onto the darkened sidewalk, pulling his coat tighter around his body and its collar up to shield his face and ears from the cold, drizzling rain.
Yohji sighed and finished locking the door as he said, "So? Where to now?"
Aya didn't reply, not that Yohji had really expected him to. He had been around the redhead long enough to know better. Besides, as much as Aya had talked to him tonight, he almost expected the younger man might not say anything else for at least a year. He must have used up at least that much conversational energy. As Aya turned, without a word, and headed off into the darkness, away from the shop, Yohji sighed again and looked up at the sky, as if he was asking, "Why me?" Now that he was actually out here in the dark, and the cold, and the rain, coming with Aya didn't seem like the best idea he'd ever had, and Yohji thought fondly of his big, overstuffed, mattress and the down comforter covering his bed. In there, his life still wasn't his own, but at least he knew the rules; he killed on Kritiker's command, and they left him the hell alone. There had to be at least a small measure of safety in that --- in knowing the rules. Besides, it was warm and comfortable in there, and he could probably talk Ken into making pancakes for breakfast. The ex-goalie was pretty much a total and complete failure in the kitchen, but he could make the best damn pancakes.
Just when he had almost made up his mind to turn around and return to the warmth and safety of his own room, Yohji looked up and realized Aya had almost completely disappeared from view. He could barely make out the shape of the redhead's figure in the misty, pre-dawn blackness. Even if he hadn't been able to see the younger man, he would have known Aya was just ahead of him, because he could hear the metallic clinking of Bubba's collar and tags as the big dog jumped and nipped happily at Aya's fingers and the hem of his coat. The stupid dog had been so happy to see Aya that he had practically been running circles around the redhead ever since their reunion.
Yohji sighed and flipped his coat collar up, echoing Aya's previous gesture. "Stupid little shit," he muttered as he grabbed his duffel bag, swung it over his shoulder, and stepped off the security of the flower shop steps and into the great unknown. "And, I'm just as much of an idiot for following him." He sighed and broke into a jogging run, hoping to catch up to Aya before the younger man disappeared from view completely.
**************************************************************
They had been walking in silence for about five minutes, the nighttime quiet broken only by the clinking of Bubba's collar and tags and his excited little barks as the big dog scampered ahead of them, chasing at leaves and stray bits of paper that blew across his path, when Aya suddenly ducked into an alley. Yohji, who had been trailing slightly behind the redhead, followed him, and the blonde felt his curiosity quickly give way to fear and dread when he found Aya slumped against a pile of garbage cans near the alleyway entrance. It almost looked as if the redhead had collapsed there, lacking the strength to walk any further.
Aya was sitting with his back against a garbage can, his shoulders slumped forward, and he was staring at the ground. As Yohji paused in the alley's mouth to look at him, he had the uneasy feeling that Aya wasn't really seeing anything; it was almost as if he was staring through the ground, instead of at it. The redhead looked as if someone had just turned his power switch to "off", confirming Yohji's initial suspicion that something was terribly wrong with the younger man, although he still had no idea exactly what that was.
"Hey, Aya?" Yohji asked as he knelt down in front of his companion. When Aya didn't reply or give any indication he was even aware of Yohji's presence, the blonde leaned forward and ducked down to look into his friend's face. With a shaking hand, Yohji reached forward and gently brushed at the hair hanging over Aya's eyes as he repeated, in a soft voice, "Aya? You stopping here for the night or what? It's not very far from the shop … don't you think we should, maybe, move on a little further? Kritiker is sure to search this area." He paused, waiting for some response, some sign Aya had heard him. When there was nothing, Yohji gripped the redhead's shoulder and shook him gently. "Ay … Aya?" he asked in a shaking voice, "Aya? Are you OK? Aya? Aya, can you hear me? Please … just … just say something. You're starting to really scare me, man."
There was a sudden, loud, crashing sound to their right, as Bubba, who had been snuffling around in the alley's darker shadows, knocked over a garbage can. Yohji tensed at the sound and turned his attention away from Aya long enough to watch one of the cans, along with its lid, roll out of the shadows and past them out onto the sidewalk. He squinted into the shadows, and managed to just make out the big dog's shape. Bubba had moved on to the next can in the stack he was investigating, and he was on his hind legs, front paws thrown over the lip of the can, head buried in its contents. Yohji could see his stubby tail wagging as Bubba snuffled happily through the garbage, and he wrinkled his nose in distaste as he thought about how bad the dog was going to smell by the time they finally made it out of this alley. After several minutes, Bubba finally succeeded in overturning the second can, too, sending it rolling past the two Weiss assassins, and onto the sidewalk, as well, with a loud crash.
The second crash seemed to break Aya out of his daze somewhat. The redhead jumped, and then tried to get to his feet, only to come crashing heavily back to his seated position. Yohji just barely managed to catch him in time to keep Aya from hurting himself as he hit the ground. The blonde frowned over at the dog, which had moved on to yet another stack of cans. Yohji kept one hand on Aya, to keep the redhead from falling over, while he used the other hand to blindly feel the ground behind him. When he located one of the cans' lids, he gripped it and tossed it toward the dark end of the alley. He couldn't help smiling when he heard a solid thunk followed by a loud, surprised yelp as it connected with some part of the big, black dog. Within a few moments, Bubba loped over to them and flopped down at Aya's side, whining and licking at the redhead's hand.
Aya's fingers automatically reached out to fondle the big dog's soft, drooping ears, and he said, in a barely audible voice, "Yo … Yohji. I … I don't think I can go any farther. Just … just leave me here and go back to the shop. Kritiker doesn't have to know about you leaving."
Yohji shook his head as he said, "Nope. Sorry. I'm in this for the long haul. Are you all right? What's wrong?"
With Yohji's help, Aya shifted slightly and scooted toward the circle of light cast by an overhead bulb outside one of the restaurants backing this particular alley. He pulled his coat aside to reveal a dark, red stain discoloring almost one whole side of his sweat shirt.
"Oh … fuck … me," Yohji whispered in a shaking voice as he reached out to tentatively brush his fingers against the stain.
It looked as if Aya's shirt had been discolored by blood that had dried, only to be covered by a new wave of the sticky, red liquid, which, at first glance indicated that the wound had bled heavily and was continuing to do so. Still, Yohji found himself holding his breath, hoping against hope that he was wrong, and that the wound wasn't bleeding any longer. Unfortunately, he was right. Yohji groaned mentally as his fingers brushed against warm, wet, stickiness.
Aya jumped and hissed in pain as the blonde's hand brushed against the wound, prompting Yohji to grip his shoulder to still him. "S … sorry," the blonde murmured. "Sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. Aya, what … what happened?"
Aya leaned back against the garbage cans behind him and closed his eyes. He was ghostly pale, even for him, and, in the light cast from the overhead bulb, Yohji could see the fine pain lines around the redhead's mouth and eyes.
"Kritiker," Aya whispered. "I … I told you it wasn't easy getting away, right?"
It took Yohji about five seconds to catch on to what Aya was saying. "They shot you? Is that what happened? The fuckers shot you?" He paused, but, when Aya nodded in response, he asked, "Where … and … how bad is it?"
Aya couldn't control the tremor in his voice, and Yohji had to lean forward just to hear the words as the redhead mumbled, "Side … bad. Bullet … I think the bullet is still … in there. Hurts … like hell. I just can't go any farther." He let out a low hiss as a wave of pain hit him, and, when Yohji looked away from the wound and to Aya's face, he was surprised and shocked to see tears shining from the redhead's eyes. "Yohji … I … I'm sorry," Aya gasped out, his voice finally breaking on a muffled sob. He took a shallow breath and continued, "I … I never thought… Shit. I never thought I'd die like this … in a fucking pile of garbage. Guess it's no more than …than I should expect, really. Probably … probably more than I even deserve." As he gasped out the final few words, Aya finally lost his battle with unconsciousness, and he slumped forward into Yohji's arms.
Yohji caught Aya as he fell forward. He could still see tears shining on Aya's cheeks and seeping out of his closed eyes. He didn't know if Aya was crying from the stress of the past few months and the events of this day, from the pain of his injuries, or because of a feeling of sadness, sorrow, or regret. But, he did know that Aya, who had always seemed invincible, like some kind of superman, had finally broken. Yohji wasn't sure, but that fact might have been more upsetting than what the redhead had just said.
He felt tears stinging his own eyes as he shook his unconscious friend gently, hissing, "Aya! Aya, stop it!"
He fumbled briefly with Aya's wrist, searching for a pulse, and, when he didn't feel one, he grabbed at the redhead's throat in a panic. Yohji held his breath, praying that he would feel something, some sign of life, and he let the breath out with a long, low sigh of relief when he finally felt Aya's pulse. It was slow, but it was there, under his fingers, proof that Aya was still with him, that the redhead was still present in this world.
He gathered Aya closer to him in a gentle hug as he muttered, "It's not going to end like that. You are not going to fucking die here! You hear me, you little son-of-a-bitch. You are not leaving me like this." He rocked back and forth, his friend cradled in his arms and continued muttering, "You are not going to fucking die here. You are not going to fucking die here."
After a few moments, Yohji managed to recover from his initial shock, and he looked up to realize they weren't very far from Hank's apartment. He hadn't ever been there, but Ken and Omi had told him where Hank lived, and Yohji was certain it was only two or three blocks from their current location. He didn't trust Hank, especially now that he had betrayed Aya, and he didn't particularly share the redhead's belief that Hank didn't know anything about Weiss or Schwarz. As far as Yohji was concerned, the jury was still out on the question of whether or not Hank was a Schwarz operative. But, Aya needed help, now, and Yohji knew he couldn't do anything for him in this dark, rain-drenched alley. Besides, they both needed to get out of the rain and the cold, and he knew Kritiker didn't know anything about Hank --- Aya had confirmed that much during their earlier conversation --- which meant that the organization wouldn't ever look for them at Hank's apartment. Yohji didn't like it, but it seemed he didn't have any other choice. He would have to trust in Aya's judgment and believe that Hank wouldn't betray them further.
"Shit," he muttered under his breath as he staggered to his feet with Aya in his arms. "I hate … I mean, I fucking hate making these kinds of decisions. Why do you always make me do this? When you wake up, I'm so gonna beat the ever-loving shit out of you, you little prick." Still muttering, he exited the alley and walked through the misty drizzle toward Hank's apartment. Bubba jogged and frisked along, running circles around Yohji and Aya, as if he didn't have a care in the world. Yohji glared at the animal and hissed, "Stupid dog."