Fanfic Archive: Redemption, 2
May. 28th, 2009 02:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
texchan(Written: 2004)
Warnings: Bad Language. Violence. Shounen-ai (implied)
Summary: Yohji and a critically injured Aya find themselves drummed out of Weiss and on the run from Kritiker. Against this backdrop, they must locate and retrieve something very precious to the man who betrayed Aya ... a man Aya still calls his friend, despite all that has passed between them. When their options run out, the boys have no choice but to undertake a foolhardy mission that will end up putting Aya at Schuldich's mercy. Will our kittens be able to extract themselves from this mess and return to Weiss? Or will Schuldich get his revenge, after all?
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 #3 in the "Nowhere Man" trilogy. Story #1: Nowhere Man. Story #2: Betrayal
Redemption
Chapter 2
Hank returned from his on-shore supply run to find Yohji just where he had expected the tall blonde to be --- on deck, just beyond the boat's pilot house. They had been here for almost two weeks now, and, it seemed that Yohji was out here --- leaning against the rail, smoking, and staring at nothing --- whenever he wasn't with Aya. There was a strong wind coming off the ocean. It caused the boat to sway back and forth in the water and caught at Yohji's shoulder-length hair, sending it flying roughly about his face. Even so, the smoke from the tall man's cigarette seemed to hang around his head, almost like an ashy-gray halo. For a moment, Hank could almost believe it was a halo, marking the blonde for the fallen angel that he was. Despite the wet cold and stiff wind, the tall man wore no jacket, sought no protection from the elements. It was almost as if he couldn't feel the cold or the sting of the salt spray kicked up by the wind, which came as no surprise to Hank. Yohji had been through several kinds of hell in the past two weeks, and he was so physically and mentally exhausted that he had gone completely numb. As Hank watched from the pilot house, he found himself thinking that the blonde looked like a statue; the only movements the Texan could see were small ones when Yohji would lift the cigarette to his mouth, or briefly lift his hand to flick ashes into the water.
Hank sighed and sipped at his coffee, strangely comforted by the hot sting he felt as the liquid burned its way down his throat. He held the warm mug cupped in his left hand, helping his fingers fight off the constant chill that came off the water surrounding them. The Texan sighed again and ran his fingers through tangled, dark-brown hair streaked with gray --- an irritated, frustrated gesture. He had always worn his hair short, but, during the past couple of weeks, a hair cut had been the least of his worries. Now, the dark, grizzled tresses had grown out to almost shoulder-length, almost the same length as Yohji's, and Hank hated it. He couldn't wait until things settled down enough to allow him the mundane luxury of a visit to the barber shop. He had thought, more than once in the past few days, that, if he was going to continue hanging around with Yohji and Ran, he should probably get a buzz cut at the first opportunity. His hair seemed to grow by leaps and bounds, but these guys didn't seem able to spare the time or energy for normal, every-day necessities like getting their hair trimmed. No wonder they all had long, spiky hair.
His fingers located a particularly stubborn tangle, and, as they absently started to comb it out, he thought back over the events of the past few weeks. Everything was a big blur, almost like he'd been sucked up by one of the tornadoes that, in the spring, could come crashing down on his family's farm when he was a child. He found he was surprised at still being alive. He hadn't expected to survive even that first night, when Yohji had shown up at his door with a bleeding, half-dead Ran in his arms. After removing the bullet and patching Ran up as well as he could, Yohji had only remained at the apartment for a few days before announcing, one morning, that they needed to move on as quickly as possible, his apartment being too close to the flower shop for real comfort. At the time, Hank hadn't had a clue what had happened to Ran, or why he and Yohji were on the run. He still didn't, as Yohji only imparted the information he deemed necessary for Hank's assistance with their survival, which didn't amount to much. At any rate, the tall blonde had coldly insisted Hank was in this deal with them to the end, whether he liked it or not, and it was up to him to find them a suitable hiding place. Hank had maintained very friendly relations with some of the underworld characters who had employed him occasionally while he was living on the streets. He had contacted one man, a drug dealer who had had a particular liking for him, and asked for assistance, thereby acquiring the indefinite use of the large yacht on which they were currently residing. The arrangement had seemed to satisfy Yohji, especially since they were able to leave the harbor near the city and anchor in the ocean just beyond, which would make finding them much more difficult.
During the past two weeks, Hank had made several scavenging trips to different hospitals in the city, during which he stole the various medical supplies, drugs, and antibiotics Yohji demanded. At first, he had used his fear of Yohji to rationalize his new-found life of crime. After all, he had turned his life around, and, although he used to do less-than-savory things for less-than-savory people, all of that was over with --- in his past. He wasn't that person any more; he wasn't the kind of man who could steal without regret or guilt. The lies had been easy to believe, too, especially so because they weren't completely false. He had been desperately afraid of Yohji during those first few days. Instead of the friendly, joking, easy-going person he had come to know during his employment at the Koneko, he'd been faced with a Yohji who was angry, vengeful, and teetering on the brink of homicidal rage. He would have done anything to keep the blonde from killing him. But, after his initial shock over their situation had passed, Hank had been forced to admit he wanted to steal the things Yohji needed. He wanted to do it to help Ran. He owed Ran his life, and he would have done anything necessary to keep the redhead alive. He knew Yohji felt the same way, and that mutual feeling for their injured friend had managed to bring the two of them together again, drawing them back into a somewhat shaky friendship over the past few days. Not that he wasn't still afraid of Yohji. On the contrary, the tall blonde seemed just as dangerous and angry as ever, even more so because caring for Ran had him teetering on the verge of physical, mental, and emotional exhaustion. Hank didn't think Yohji would kill him this minute, but he didn't doubt the blonde was capable of it. And, if Ran died, Yohji probably would carry through with his initial promise to end Hank's life.
At the moment, the redhead's survival seemed less than certain. It definitely wasn't a strong enough possibility to guarantee Hank's safety. Although Yohji had managed to remove all of the bullet fragments and repair the internal damage that first night, Ran had lost a lot of blood. To make matters worse, the gunshot wound and the wounds on his back had gotten infected, and Ran had developed a high fever. The redhead had yet to regain consciousness, and they had come close to losing him several times. Just last night, Hank had heard, from his cabin just a few doors down from Ran's, Yohji screaming at the younger man to hang on, begging him not to die. He could still remember the sound of terror and desperation in the blonde's voice, and, even now, it made him shiver with fear. Yohji had hardly left Ran's side. The yacht was large, with several rooms, and they were the only three people on it. Despite that fact, Yohji was bunking on the floor of the cabin in which they had put Ran upon initially boarding the boat.
The fact that he no longer had to steal the necessary medical supplies offered Hank some small measure of comfort. Yohji had come up with a few contacts of his own. He had been a private detective at one time --- "in another life", was how he had put it when he had told Hank that small bit about his past. Hank hadn't known about Yohji's previous occupation, but he hadn't been very surprised to find out the blonde had a few secrets. He hadn't been around Ran for very long before realizing the redhead had plenty of them, and, when he had stopped to think it through, he had realized none of the guys at the flower shop ever talked about their pasts or their futures --- a sure sign of people with too many secrets that are too painful to tell. A few well-placed phone calls on Yohji's part had put the blonde back in touch with Smitty, a former contact who could get pretty much anything they needed, and was very willing to do so for Yohji, no questions asked, and without telling anyone about it --- as long as the blonde's money was the right color and kept flowing his way freely. So, for the past week, Smitty had been providing them with all the supplies they needed - a list of medical supplies drawn up by Yohji, and a list of food supplies provided by Hank. It was more expensive than stealing, but it was a lot easier, and, probably, a lot safer.
A whine, accompanied by a small nudge at the back of his legs tore Hank away from his thoughts. He looked behind him, only to find Bubba sitting there, wriggling in anticipation. The big dog hardly left Ran's side. Normally, he refused to budge from the unconscious redhead's bed, but Hank had made a point of bringing some kind of treat back for the dog whenever he went on a supply run. Consequently, on supply days, Bubba was almost always waiting for the Texan's return. Hank smiled and knelt down to give the dog's ears a scratch. Ever since Ran had been injured, Bubba had become a whiney, forlorn, pathetic shell of the aggressive, stubborn dog he'd once been. Hank knew it was worry over his master, and he hoped Bubba would recover whenever Ran did. He didn't even let himself dwell on the possibility that Ran wouldn't recover. That would mean the end to all of them, and it just couldn't happen. He told himself it couldn't happen.
"So, Bubba," he said softly, still scratching behind the dog's ears. "You think I brought 'ya a little something, huh?"
When the ear scratch was over, the big dog shook his head, clinking his dog tags together, and wagged his stubby little tail until his rear end wriggled across the floor and his whole body shook, prompting an amused smile from Hank. The Texan took another look at Yohji, and then turned to descend the stairs leading from the pilot house, which was at the top of the boat, to the galley and cabins below deck. Bubba followed him, whining expectantly.
Warnings: Bad Language. Violence. Shounen-ai (implied)
Summary: Yohji and a critically injured Aya find themselves drummed out of Weiss and on the run from Kritiker. Against this backdrop, they must locate and retrieve something very precious to the man who betrayed Aya ... a man Aya still calls his friend, despite all that has passed between them. When their options run out, the boys have no choice but to undertake a foolhardy mission that will end up putting Aya at Schuldich's mercy. Will our kittens be able to extract themselves from this mess and return to Weiss? Or will Schuldich get his revenge, after all?
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 #3 in the "Nowhere Man" trilogy. Story #1: Nowhere Man. Story #2: Betrayal
Chapter 2
Hank returned from his on-shore supply run to find Yohji just where he had expected the tall blonde to be --- on deck, just beyond the boat's pilot house. They had been here for almost two weeks now, and, it seemed that Yohji was out here --- leaning against the rail, smoking, and staring at nothing --- whenever he wasn't with Aya. There was a strong wind coming off the ocean. It caused the boat to sway back and forth in the water and caught at Yohji's shoulder-length hair, sending it flying roughly about his face. Even so, the smoke from the tall man's cigarette seemed to hang around his head, almost like an ashy-gray halo. For a moment, Hank could almost believe it was a halo, marking the blonde for the fallen angel that he was. Despite the wet cold and stiff wind, the tall man wore no jacket, sought no protection from the elements. It was almost as if he couldn't feel the cold or the sting of the salt spray kicked up by the wind, which came as no surprise to Hank. Yohji had been through several kinds of hell in the past two weeks, and he was so physically and mentally exhausted that he had gone completely numb. As Hank watched from the pilot house, he found himself thinking that the blonde looked like a statue; the only movements the Texan could see were small ones when Yohji would lift the cigarette to his mouth, or briefly lift his hand to flick ashes into the water.
Hank sighed and sipped at his coffee, strangely comforted by the hot sting he felt as the liquid burned its way down his throat. He held the warm mug cupped in his left hand, helping his fingers fight off the constant chill that came off the water surrounding them. The Texan sighed again and ran his fingers through tangled, dark-brown hair streaked with gray --- an irritated, frustrated gesture. He had always worn his hair short, but, during the past couple of weeks, a hair cut had been the least of his worries. Now, the dark, grizzled tresses had grown out to almost shoulder-length, almost the same length as Yohji's, and Hank hated it. He couldn't wait until things settled down enough to allow him the mundane luxury of a visit to the barber shop. He had thought, more than once in the past few days, that, if he was going to continue hanging around with Yohji and Ran, he should probably get a buzz cut at the first opportunity. His hair seemed to grow by leaps and bounds, but these guys didn't seem able to spare the time or energy for normal, every-day necessities like getting their hair trimmed. No wonder they all had long, spiky hair.
His fingers located a particularly stubborn tangle, and, as they absently started to comb it out, he thought back over the events of the past few weeks. Everything was a big blur, almost like he'd been sucked up by one of the tornadoes that, in the spring, could come crashing down on his family's farm when he was a child. He found he was surprised at still being alive. He hadn't expected to survive even that first night, when Yohji had shown up at his door with a bleeding, half-dead Ran in his arms. After removing the bullet and patching Ran up as well as he could, Yohji had only remained at the apartment for a few days before announcing, one morning, that they needed to move on as quickly as possible, his apartment being too close to the flower shop for real comfort. At the time, Hank hadn't had a clue what had happened to Ran, or why he and Yohji were on the run. He still didn't, as Yohji only imparted the information he deemed necessary for Hank's assistance with their survival, which didn't amount to much. At any rate, the tall blonde had coldly insisted Hank was in this deal with them to the end, whether he liked it or not, and it was up to him to find them a suitable hiding place. Hank had maintained very friendly relations with some of the underworld characters who had employed him occasionally while he was living on the streets. He had contacted one man, a drug dealer who had had a particular liking for him, and asked for assistance, thereby acquiring the indefinite use of the large yacht on which they were currently residing. The arrangement had seemed to satisfy Yohji, especially since they were able to leave the harbor near the city and anchor in the ocean just beyond, which would make finding them much more difficult.
During the past two weeks, Hank had made several scavenging trips to different hospitals in the city, during which he stole the various medical supplies, drugs, and antibiotics Yohji demanded. At first, he had used his fear of Yohji to rationalize his new-found life of crime. After all, he had turned his life around, and, although he used to do less-than-savory things for less-than-savory people, all of that was over with --- in his past. He wasn't that person any more; he wasn't the kind of man who could steal without regret or guilt. The lies had been easy to believe, too, especially so because they weren't completely false. He had been desperately afraid of Yohji during those first few days. Instead of the friendly, joking, easy-going person he had come to know during his employment at the Koneko, he'd been faced with a Yohji who was angry, vengeful, and teetering on the brink of homicidal rage. He would have done anything to keep the blonde from killing him. But, after his initial shock over their situation had passed, Hank had been forced to admit he wanted to steal the things Yohji needed. He wanted to do it to help Ran. He owed Ran his life, and he would have done anything necessary to keep the redhead alive. He knew Yohji felt the same way, and that mutual feeling for their injured friend had managed to bring the two of them together again, drawing them back into a somewhat shaky friendship over the past few days. Not that he wasn't still afraid of Yohji. On the contrary, the tall blonde seemed just as dangerous and angry as ever, even more so because caring for Ran had him teetering on the verge of physical, mental, and emotional exhaustion. Hank didn't think Yohji would kill him this minute, but he didn't doubt the blonde was capable of it. And, if Ran died, Yohji probably would carry through with his initial promise to end Hank's life.
At the moment, the redhead's survival seemed less than certain. It definitely wasn't a strong enough possibility to guarantee Hank's safety. Although Yohji had managed to remove all of the bullet fragments and repair the internal damage that first night, Ran had lost a lot of blood. To make matters worse, the gunshot wound and the wounds on his back had gotten infected, and Ran had developed a high fever. The redhead had yet to regain consciousness, and they had come close to losing him several times. Just last night, Hank had heard, from his cabin just a few doors down from Ran's, Yohji screaming at the younger man to hang on, begging him not to die. He could still remember the sound of terror and desperation in the blonde's voice, and, even now, it made him shiver with fear. Yohji had hardly left Ran's side. The yacht was large, with several rooms, and they were the only three people on it. Despite that fact, Yohji was bunking on the floor of the cabin in which they had put Ran upon initially boarding the boat.
The fact that he no longer had to steal the necessary medical supplies offered Hank some small measure of comfort. Yohji had come up with a few contacts of his own. He had been a private detective at one time --- "in another life", was how he had put it when he had told Hank that small bit about his past. Hank hadn't known about Yohji's previous occupation, but he hadn't been very surprised to find out the blonde had a few secrets. He hadn't been around Ran for very long before realizing the redhead had plenty of them, and, when he had stopped to think it through, he had realized none of the guys at the flower shop ever talked about their pasts or their futures --- a sure sign of people with too many secrets that are too painful to tell. A few well-placed phone calls on Yohji's part had put the blonde back in touch with Smitty, a former contact who could get pretty much anything they needed, and was very willing to do so for Yohji, no questions asked, and without telling anyone about it --- as long as the blonde's money was the right color and kept flowing his way freely. So, for the past week, Smitty had been providing them with all the supplies they needed - a list of medical supplies drawn up by Yohji, and a list of food supplies provided by Hank. It was more expensive than stealing, but it was a lot easier, and, probably, a lot safer.
A whine, accompanied by a small nudge at the back of his legs tore Hank away from his thoughts. He looked behind him, only to find Bubba sitting there, wriggling in anticipation. The big dog hardly left Ran's side. Normally, he refused to budge from the unconscious redhead's bed, but Hank had made a point of bringing some kind of treat back for the dog whenever he went on a supply run. Consequently, on supply days, Bubba was almost always waiting for the Texan's return. Hank smiled and knelt down to give the dog's ears a scratch. Ever since Ran had been injured, Bubba had become a whiney, forlorn, pathetic shell of the aggressive, stubborn dog he'd once been. Hank knew it was worry over his master, and he hoped Bubba would recover whenever Ran did. He didn't even let himself dwell on the possibility that Ran wouldn't recover. That would mean the end to all of them, and it just couldn't happen. He told himself it couldn't happen.
"So, Bubba," he said softly, still scratching behind the dog's ears. "You think I brought 'ya a little something, huh?"
When the ear scratch was over, the big dog shook his head, clinking his dog tags together, and wagged his stubby little tail until his rear end wriggled across the floor and his whole body shook, prompting an amused smile from Hank. The Texan took another look at Yohji, and then turned to descend the stairs leading from the pilot house, which was at the top of the boat, to the galley and cabins below deck. Bubba followed him, whining expectantly.