Fanfic Archive: Redemption, 3
May. 28th, 2009 02:56 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 3
The stairs led to a passageway running the length of the boat below deck. One end opened into the galley, which was at the front of the yacht. Opposite the galley were several cabins, all of which opened out onto this main passage. If he reached the bottom of the stairs and turned right, Hank would pass two empty cabins on the right side of the passage, before he came to the one Ran and Yohji shared. If he continued in that direction, he would eventually reach his cabin, the last one on the left side of the passage, at the very rear of the boat. The cabins were small, containing nothing more than a trundle bed, which was attached to the wall across from the doorway, a writing desk attached to the wall under the port hole, a straight-backed, wooden desk chair, and a small chest-of-drawers.
Instead of going toward the cabins, Hank turned to the left, and, within ten long strides, entered the galley. It was fairly small, but serviceable enough. The galley was long and narrow, like a tunnel, and, if you stood in its doorway, which opened into the passageway, you found yourself directly across from the small stove and refrigerator, which lined the far wall. There were upper and lower cabinets lining both sides of the small, skinny room. The upper cabinets were white, with glass doors, which made it easy to see and retrieve the dishes stored there, while the lower cabinets, which were also white, had solid doors. They had taken to storing food and medical supplies in those. A small table, similar to the kind you'd normally find at a picnic ground --- rectangular, with two benches attached along either side of it --- took up most of the room's floor space.
Hank paused long enough to retrieve the large bone he had gotten for Bubba and to make a cup of coffee for Yohji. It looked like the tall blonde had been up on deck for some time, and he figured the kid could use something warm. He decided to wait out the few minutes it would take for the coffee to finish, and sank down onto one of the benches. Bubba somehow managed to squeeze his sizeable bulk under the little table, and contentedly began licking and munching at his bone. The little room was strangely quiet, as was the rest of the yacht. The only sounds that punctuated the eerie, almost oppressive, silence were the whines and snorts of delight Bubba unleashed as he chewed at his prize, as well as the occasional grating of his teeth against bone as he tried to gnaw the last bit of meat off of it. Hank drummed his fingers nervously on the table top, and the small sound seemed to grow and expand to fill the silence, until, in his mind, it became an almost deafening roar. Eventually, even Bubba tore his attention away from the bone to look at Hank expectantly. He stopped the drumming in response to the questioning look Bubba gave him, and the big dog quickly resumed his chewing, without giving his companion a second glance, or, apparently, a second thought.
Within a few minutes, the coffee was ready. Hank retrieved a mug from one of the upper cabinets and filled it with the steaming-hot liquid. It was just the way he thought coffee should be --- thick, black, and strong. He smiled slightly as he pictured the look Yohji would give him upon receiving the cup. The tall blonde had remarked, more than once, that you practically needed to use a fork to drink Hank's coffee. Once the cup was full, Hank took it and exited the galley, traveling down the passageway toward the cabin where Yohji and Ran were staying. Bubba grabbed his bone and trotted along behind him, dog tags clinking with every stride he took.
Hank thought, perhaps, Yohji had tired of the cold weather above deck and returned, in which case he could give him the coffee without having to travel back upstairs. Or, if the blonde was still outside, he figured he could retrieve a jacket for him. After all, there was no sense in having two sick men on the boat. Besides, in the quiet of the galley, he had had a sudden urge to check in on Ran, almost as if he could assure himself of the redhead's improvement just by looking at him.
Five steps brought him to Ran's cabin, and he paused for a moment outside the closed door. As always, he was almost afraid of going in; he was afraid he would find his young friend dead, and it normally took him a few moments to talk himself out of that fear. Hank reached out and gently pushed at the door, hoping to soundlessly open it just enough to see inside, but Bubba dashed his plan by shoving past him and using his big, square head to push it completely open. The door slammed against the nearest wall with a loud smack. Hank jumped involuntarily at the sound, spilling hot coffee on his hand in the process. Bubba shouldered his way into the room, oblivious to Hank's injury and the noisy entrance he had just made. The dog had to turn sideways to avoid hitting the ends of the bone against the doorframe, but he succeeded in getting into the room with only a little more noise, and triumphantly jumped onto the bed to settle down next to Ran with a satisfied sigh.
Hank frowned and shifted the hot cup to his other hand. He put the burned one into his mouth and sucked at the minor injury. Despite the noise, the figure in the bed never moved. Ran remained just as he had been for the past two weeks --- flat on his back, unconscious, with no sign he was aware of anything going on around him. Hank entered the room, setting the coffee cup down on the small chest-of-drawers near the door, and sat in the chair Yohji had pulled up next to the bed. He watched the younger man for a few moments, listening to his breathing, which, although still shallow and strained, seemed a little more even than before. Ran never moved at all in his sleep, giving no indication that he even knew anyone was there with him. Hank supposed the kid probably didn't know what was happening around him, and he probably couldn't hear them talking to him. Still, he knew Yohji talked to the redhead; he always heard the blonde's voice from the other side of the door, when he hesitated for a split second in front of this cabin as he passed by on his way to the galley. On the few occasions he'd been alone with Ran, mostly times like this, when Yohji was on deck, smoking, or when the tall blonde had left to run some secret errand, he had also talked to the redhead, telling him he was sorry for everything that had happened, and asking him to return to them before Yohji snapped. It never did any good; Ran never gave any indication of hearing, but Hank knew he would continue doing it, even if he never got a reaction from Ran. He did it because it made him feel better; he supposed Yohji did it for the same reason … because it made them feel less alone and less at fault for what had happened.
"So, how 'ya feeling today, Ran?" he asked. He struggled to keep his voice light and cheerful, just in case the redhead could hear him, and he leaned forward slightly to brush away bangs that had become so long they virtually hid the younger man's eyes. He was relieved when he touched the redhead's skin and thought it seemed cooler than it had for the past two weeks. "So, maybe your fever broke, huh? You think you might wake up and talk back at us, soon? I know it'd make Yohji real happy; he's hardly left you ever since …" his voice trailed off, as he found himself reluctant to finish the sentence.
Hank sighed and rose from the chair. He moved to the chest-of-drawers, and fumbled around in one drawer after another, until he located a jacket he knew belonged to Yohji. He draped the coat over one arm and gathered up the hot cup of coffee in his free hand, as he turned back toward Ran and said, with a smile, "Well, guess I'll duck out now. Yohji's up on deck again, smokin' in the cold, so I'm taking him a jacket and coffee. He's such an idiot. Couldn't take care of himself if you paid him. Besides, you've gotta get your beauty sleep, right?" He paused for a moment, and, when he continued speaking, his voice had taken on a sad tone, "He … he needs you, Ran. He doesn't want to admit it, but he does. I get the feelin' neither of ya'll make friends that easy. You wouldn't … you wouldn't just die and turn your back on your friend, would you? That's not the man I know, so you hang on, OK?" He smiled over at Ran one last time, before exiting the room.
***********************************************
Hank paused for a moment in the pilot house doorway, watching Yohji as the blonde leaned on the rail and smoked, silently flicking ashes into the sea and staring off into the distance, yet seeing nothing in particular. He wasn't strictly afraid of the man any longer, at least not like he had been after Ran was first injured, but, Yohji's temper was still very volatile. Hank never knew exactly what might set him off, or when some innocent remark, or, even, just his presence would cause Yohji to fly into a dangerous rage. It had happened more than once during their time together. Hank didn't hold it against him; he knew it only happened because Yohji was worried and exhausted from taking care of Ran. Still, whenever the blonde brooded like this, Hank was reluctant to approach him.
Finally, he decided he had stalled long enough. He squared his shoulders and mentally steeled himself for a potential confrontation, before exiting the pilot house. As he walked across the deck toward Yohji, he called out, "Hey! What'cha doing out here? Freezin' your ass off or what?"
He couldn't help but feel a little relieved when the tall blonde turned around briefly and smiled a greeting at him. "Here," he said, holding out the coat when he reached the railing to stand next to Yohji. "Figured you could use this. It's colder 'n a witch's tit out here."
Yohji couldn't suppress a soft chuckle. "Thanks," he muttered around the cigarette, which he stuck in his mouth, as he shrugged into the jacket Hank offered him.
Once he had donned the coat, Hank held the coffee out to him, saying, "Nothin' like a good cupa joe to warm you up."
Yohji tossed his spent cigarette overboard and took the offered cup. He looked down at it briefly before giving Hank a questioning, one-eyebrow-cocked look that seemed to say "you gotta be kidding, right?". But, as he took a sip, all he said was, "Joe … is that some kind of American slang for black, muddy sludge?" He turned back toward the ocean, and sipped at the coffee, as Hank, who was laughing softly at Yohji's joke, moved in to lean against the rail beside him. "Supply run took a long time today," he commented, his voice taking on a hard, suspicious tone.
"Yeah," Hank replied, ignoring the suspicion and implied accusation in the blonde's tone. He was used to this kind of reaction from Yohji, and he supposed it was due him, considering he had been the one to betray Ran, in the first place. "I stopped off to do some laundry. I've been wearing the same shirt for four days, and it was starting to bother me. I washed your stuff, too. I left it in the galley, so you can get it whenever you want."
Yohji nodded. "Was everything there?"
"Yeah," Hank answered again, "Smitty had everything you requested, plus a little extra. He said he's going out of town for a few days, and he wanted you to be stocked up, in case you couldn't reach him."
"Hnh," Yohji snorted. He took another sip of coffee, grimacing slightly at the taste, and continued, "It's the least he can do, considering the money I'm paying him."
Hank silently watched the ocean for a few moments before saying, in a soft voice, "Stopped by to check on Ran when I got your coat. How … how's he doin'?" He wasn't sure if he really wanted a response. The sound of Yohji begging Ran not to die still rang uncomfortably in his ears, and he was almost afraid of what the blonde would say.
At first, Yohji didn't respond, but his free hand clenched the railing so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He brought the coffee cup to his lips, with a shaking hand, and took a long sip before saying, "Better, I think. I think he's really sleeping, now. Fever finally broke last night, but …" He let go of the railing and patted at the front of his shirt, searching for his pack of cigarettes in an absent-minded, almost involuntary manner. He finally located the package, only to hiss in frustration at finding it empty. He absently replaced the empty pack in his pocket and grasped the rail once more before continuing, "I thought … I thought he wasn't going to make it there for a while, even last night. Shit! If … when … he recovers, I'm gonna beat the shit outta him for making me worry like this. That little bastard." He paused again, shaking his head, and then said, with a sigh, "It looks like the worst might be over now, though. … I hope."
"Well, then," Hank said, keeping his voice cheerful and thumping Yohji on the back, "That's some damn good news, isn't it? Come on. Come in outta the cold. Besides, I bet you haven't eaten anything all day, right? I'll fix us up some lunch."
Yohji paused for a few seconds, before draining the coffee cup and saying, "Nah. Thanks anyways. I'm gonna go check on Aya again, and then, I have a couple of errands to run. I won't be back in time for dinner, either." He handed the empty cup to Hank, pointedly ignoring the surprised, questioning look in the dark-haired man's eyes, and, without another word or even a backward glance, crossed the deck to enter the pilot house.
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 3
The stairs led to a passageway running the length of the boat below deck. One end opened into the galley, which was at the front of the yacht. Opposite the galley were several cabins, all of which opened out onto this main passage. If he reached the bottom of the stairs and turned right, Hank would pass two empty cabins on the right side of the passage, before he came to the one Ran and Yohji shared. If he continued in that direction, he would eventually reach his cabin, the last one on the left side of the passage, at the very rear of the boat. The cabins were small, containing nothing more than a trundle bed, which was attached to the wall across from the doorway, a writing desk attached to the wall under the port hole, a straight-backed, wooden desk chair, and a small chest-of-drawers.
Instead of going toward the cabins, Hank turned to the left, and, within ten long strides, entered the galley. It was fairly small, but serviceable enough. The galley was long and narrow, like a tunnel, and, if you stood in its doorway, which opened into the passageway, you found yourself directly across from the small stove and refrigerator, which lined the far wall. There were upper and lower cabinets lining both sides of the small, skinny room. The upper cabinets were white, with glass doors, which made it easy to see and retrieve the dishes stored there, while the lower cabinets, which were also white, had solid doors. They had taken to storing food and medical supplies in those. A small table, similar to the kind you'd normally find at a picnic ground --- rectangular, with two benches attached along either side of it --- took up most of the room's floor space.
Hank paused long enough to retrieve the large bone he had gotten for Bubba and to make a cup of coffee for Yohji. It looked like the tall blonde had been up on deck for some time, and he figured the kid could use something warm. He decided to wait out the few minutes it would take for the coffee to finish, and sank down onto one of the benches. Bubba somehow managed to squeeze his sizeable bulk under the little table, and contentedly began licking and munching at his bone. The little room was strangely quiet, as was the rest of the yacht. The only sounds that punctuated the eerie, almost oppressive, silence were the whines and snorts of delight Bubba unleashed as he chewed at his prize, as well as the occasional grating of his teeth against bone as he tried to gnaw the last bit of meat off of it. Hank drummed his fingers nervously on the table top, and the small sound seemed to grow and expand to fill the silence, until, in his mind, it became an almost deafening roar. Eventually, even Bubba tore his attention away from the bone to look at Hank expectantly. He stopped the drumming in response to the questioning look Bubba gave him, and the big dog quickly resumed his chewing, without giving his companion a second glance, or, apparently, a second thought.
Within a few minutes, the coffee was ready. Hank retrieved a mug from one of the upper cabinets and filled it with the steaming-hot liquid. It was just the way he thought coffee should be --- thick, black, and strong. He smiled slightly as he pictured the look Yohji would give him upon receiving the cup. The tall blonde had remarked, more than once, that you practically needed to use a fork to drink Hank's coffee. Once the cup was full, Hank took it and exited the galley, traveling down the passageway toward the cabin where Yohji and Ran were staying. Bubba grabbed his bone and trotted along behind him, dog tags clinking with every stride he took.
Hank thought, perhaps, Yohji had tired of the cold weather above deck and returned, in which case he could give him the coffee without having to travel back upstairs. Or, if the blonde was still outside, he figured he could retrieve a jacket for him. After all, there was no sense in having two sick men on the boat. Besides, in the quiet of the galley, he had had a sudden urge to check in on Ran, almost as if he could assure himself of the redhead's improvement just by looking at him.
Five steps brought him to Ran's cabin, and he paused for a moment outside the closed door. As always, he was almost afraid of going in; he was afraid he would find his young friend dead, and it normally took him a few moments to talk himself out of that fear. Hank reached out and gently pushed at the door, hoping to soundlessly open it just enough to see inside, but Bubba dashed his plan by shoving past him and using his big, square head to push it completely open. The door slammed against the nearest wall with a loud smack. Hank jumped involuntarily at the sound, spilling hot coffee on his hand in the process. Bubba shouldered his way into the room, oblivious to Hank's injury and the noisy entrance he had just made. The dog had to turn sideways to avoid hitting the ends of the bone against the doorframe, but he succeeded in getting into the room with only a little more noise, and triumphantly jumped onto the bed to settle down next to Ran with a satisfied sigh.
Hank frowned and shifted the hot cup to his other hand. He put the burned one into his mouth and sucked at the minor injury. Despite the noise, the figure in the bed never moved. Ran remained just as he had been for the past two weeks --- flat on his back, unconscious, with no sign he was aware of anything going on around him. Hank entered the room, setting the coffee cup down on the small chest-of-drawers near the door, and sat in the chair Yohji had pulled up next to the bed. He watched the younger man for a few moments, listening to his breathing, which, although still shallow and strained, seemed a little more even than before. Ran never moved at all in his sleep, giving no indication that he even knew anyone was there with him. Hank supposed the kid probably didn't know what was happening around him, and he probably couldn't hear them talking to him. Still, he knew Yohji talked to the redhead; he always heard the blonde's voice from the other side of the door, when he hesitated for a split second in front of this cabin as he passed by on his way to the galley. On the few occasions he'd been alone with Ran, mostly times like this, when Yohji was on deck, smoking, or when the tall blonde had left to run some secret errand, he had also talked to the redhead, telling him he was sorry for everything that had happened, and asking him to return to them before Yohji snapped. It never did any good; Ran never gave any indication of hearing, but Hank knew he would continue doing it, even if he never got a reaction from Ran. He did it because it made him feel better; he supposed Yohji did it for the same reason … because it made them feel less alone and less at fault for what had happened.
"So, how 'ya feeling today, Ran?" he asked. He struggled to keep his voice light and cheerful, just in case the redhead could hear him, and he leaned forward slightly to brush away bangs that had become so long they virtually hid the younger man's eyes. He was relieved when he touched the redhead's skin and thought it seemed cooler than it had for the past two weeks. "So, maybe your fever broke, huh? You think you might wake up and talk back at us, soon? I know it'd make Yohji real happy; he's hardly left you ever since …" his voice trailed off, as he found himself reluctant to finish the sentence.
Hank sighed and rose from the chair. He moved to the chest-of-drawers, and fumbled around in one drawer after another, until he located a jacket he knew belonged to Yohji. He draped the coat over one arm and gathered up the hot cup of coffee in his free hand, as he turned back toward Ran and said, with a smile, "Well, guess I'll duck out now. Yohji's up on deck again, smokin' in the cold, so I'm taking him a jacket and coffee. He's such an idiot. Couldn't take care of himself if you paid him. Besides, you've gotta get your beauty sleep, right?" He paused for a moment, and, when he continued speaking, his voice had taken on a sad tone, "He … he needs you, Ran. He doesn't want to admit it, but he does. I get the feelin' neither of ya'll make friends that easy. You wouldn't … you wouldn't just die and turn your back on your friend, would you? That's not the man I know, so you hang on, OK?" He smiled over at Ran one last time, before exiting the room.
***********************************************
Hank paused for a moment in the pilot house doorway, watching Yohji as the blonde leaned on the rail and smoked, silently flicking ashes into the sea and staring off into the distance, yet seeing nothing in particular. He wasn't strictly afraid of the man any longer, at least not like he had been after Ran was first injured, but, Yohji's temper was still very volatile. Hank never knew exactly what might set him off, or when some innocent remark, or, even, just his presence would cause Yohji to fly into a dangerous rage. It had happened more than once during their time together. Hank didn't hold it against him; he knew it only happened because Yohji was worried and exhausted from taking care of Ran. Still, whenever the blonde brooded like this, Hank was reluctant to approach him.
Finally, he decided he had stalled long enough. He squared his shoulders and mentally steeled himself for a potential confrontation, before exiting the pilot house. As he walked across the deck toward Yohji, he called out, "Hey! What'cha doing out here? Freezin' your ass off or what?"
He couldn't help but feel a little relieved when the tall blonde turned around briefly and smiled a greeting at him. "Here," he said, holding out the coat when he reached the railing to stand next to Yohji. "Figured you could use this. It's colder 'n a witch's tit out here."
Yohji couldn't suppress a soft chuckle. "Thanks," he muttered around the cigarette, which he stuck in his mouth, as he shrugged into the jacket Hank offered him.
Once he had donned the coat, Hank held the coffee out to him, saying, "Nothin' like a good cupa joe to warm you up."
Yohji tossed his spent cigarette overboard and took the offered cup. He looked down at it briefly before giving Hank a questioning, one-eyebrow-cocked look that seemed to say "you gotta be kidding, right?". But, as he took a sip, all he said was, "Joe … is that some kind of American slang for black, muddy sludge?" He turned back toward the ocean, and sipped at the coffee, as Hank, who was laughing softly at Yohji's joke, moved in to lean against the rail beside him. "Supply run took a long time today," he commented, his voice taking on a hard, suspicious tone.
"Yeah," Hank replied, ignoring the suspicion and implied accusation in the blonde's tone. He was used to this kind of reaction from Yohji, and he supposed it was due him, considering he had been the one to betray Ran, in the first place. "I stopped off to do some laundry. I've been wearing the same shirt for four days, and it was starting to bother me. I washed your stuff, too. I left it in the galley, so you can get it whenever you want."
Yohji nodded. "Was everything there?"
"Yeah," Hank answered again, "Smitty had everything you requested, plus a little extra. He said he's going out of town for a few days, and he wanted you to be stocked up, in case you couldn't reach him."
"Hnh," Yohji snorted. He took another sip of coffee, grimacing slightly at the taste, and continued, "It's the least he can do, considering the money I'm paying him."
Hank silently watched the ocean for a few moments before saying, in a soft voice, "Stopped by to check on Ran when I got your coat. How … how's he doin'?" He wasn't sure if he really wanted a response. The sound of Yohji begging Ran not to die still rang uncomfortably in his ears, and he was almost afraid of what the blonde would say.
At first, Yohji didn't respond, but his free hand clenched the railing so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He brought the coffee cup to his lips, with a shaking hand, and took a long sip before saying, "Better, I think. I think he's really sleeping, now. Fever finally broke last night, but …" He let go of the railing and patted at the front of his shirt, searching for his pack of cigarettes in an absent-minded, almost involuntary manner. He finally located the package, only to hiss in frustration at finding it empty. He absently replaced the empty pack in his pocket and grasped the rail once more before continuing, "I thought … I thought he wasn't going to make it there for a while, even last night. Shit! If … when … he recovers, I'm gonna beat the shit outta him for making me worry like this. That little bastard." He paused again, shaking his head, and then said, with a sigh, "It looks like the worst might be over now, though. … I hope."
"Well, then," Hank said, keeping his voice cheerful and thumping Yohji on the back, "That's some damn good news, isn't it? Come on. Come in outta the cold. Besides, I bet you haven't eaten anything all day, right? I'll fix us up some lunch."
Yohji paused for a few seconds, before draining the coffee cup and saying, "Nah. Thanks anyways. I'm gonna go check on Aya again, and then, I have a couple of errands to run. I won't be back in time for dinner, either." He handed the empty cup to Hank, pointedly ignoring the surprised, questioning look in the dark-haired man's eyes, and, without another word or even a backward glance, crossed the deck to enter the pilot house.