Fic Archive: Nowhere Man, 4
May. 28th, 2009 12:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
texchan(Written: 2004)
Warnings: Bad Language. Violence
Summary: A simple, in-and-out mission goes bad for Aya when Yohji fails to back him up. Now our favorite playboy is forced to go hunting for a missing teammate, and, in the process, help Aya find something he had thought lost forever -- friendship and a place to belong.
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 #1 in a trilogy. Story #2: Betrayal. Story #3: Redemption
Nowhere Man
Chapter 4
Yohji frowned and shook the redhead again, a little harder than before. Aya was soaking wet and shivering, both from the cold and from a fever. Yohji could feel the heat radiating off of his body, almost like it was coming off of him in waves. It reminded him of the way the air shimmers over a concrete sidewalk in the hottest part of the summer. He frowned again and brushed away the wet hair that was plastered to Aya's face. He couldn't get the redhead to wake up or respond, and Aya kept muttering. Most of it was fairly incoherent, but it sounded like he was calling out to someone. Yohji managed to catch a few words: "Aya", "Mom", and "Dad". Then, the redhead started to shake and sob, and muttered something that sounded like: "I don't want to be alone."
"Shit," Yohji muttered under his breath.
He leaned back on his heels and watched Aya worriedly. This was Aya, for crying out loud --- stone-cold, deadly, always-in-control Aya. He hadn't ever seen the redhead like this, and the fact that Aya was shaking and crying almost uncontrollably was really starting to frighten him. When Aya had agreed to this mission, he hadn't realized the swordsman was this sick. It was a good bet that Omi hadn't, either. Aya was almost obsessively private, preferring to keep a good, safe distance between himself and those around him. The redhead hated for others to worry about him and fuss over him. To Yohji, it always seemed as if the swordsman only wanted to blend in with the woodwork and pass through life with no connections to anyone or anything, unnoticed by the world around him. As a result, Aya was really good at hiding things. In fact, it took an effort approaching the Spanish Inquisition to worm any information out of the Weiss leader. But, appearances didn't lie, and the shaking, sobbing, un-Aya-like mess of a man in front of him told him that the redhead was, in fact, extremely sick. He desperately wanted to check his companion for additional injuries, but it was too dark in the alley, and the rain was coming down too hard.
"Shit!" he repeated. "You're burning up. Come on, Aya. Come on! Open your eyes and look at me!"
Finally, he was rewarded with a small groan, as the redhead tried to open his eyes. After a brief struggle, it seemed like Aya had given up, and he sank back against Yohji. The blonde shook him again, and urged, "Come on. Just try again. Please, Aya! Please. You're scaring me."
Aya groaned again, and his eyes slowly fluttered open. Yohji sighed in relief and smiled down at his friend. "Hey," he said softly, "welcome back."
For a moment, Aya stared up blankly, as if he didn't recognize Yohji, and the blonde started to panic.
After what seemed like an eternity, the redhead muttered hoarsely, "Yo … Yohji? Wh … what … what are you doing … here?" He swallowed painfully and started to push against Yohji, who was holding him, in a struggle to sit up.
"Shhh. Just be still, OK?" Yohji snapped. When Aya stopped struggling, he continued, "I … I came here to find you." He watched the swordsman quietly for a moment before saying, "Look, I need to get you out of this rain. You wait here, OK? I'm going to go see if we can make it back to the cars."
When Aya nodded weakly, Yohji gently leaned the redhead against the door behind him. He retrieved Aya's long coat, which the homeless man had dropped earlier, and pulled it over his shaking teammate. Like every other piece of clothing they had on, it was soaking wet, but he thought it could at least provide a small measure of warmth. Once he had settled Aya as comfortably as he could, he jogged down the alley toward the street.
It didn't take Yohji long to decide that they wouldn't be able to make it back to the cars, at least, not right now. He hadn't even reached the street when a floodlight lit up the alley, forcing him to duck behind a row of garbage cans. He barely managed to avoid being discovered. Just as he was about to emerge from his hiding place, another police car drove slowly by, shining yet another floodlight into the dark alley. The tall blonde shook his head irritably. There was no way they'd be able to make it to the cars without being spotted. It looked like he was going to have to carry Aya, and, considering the number of cops out and about in this area, that would draw too much attention. Yohji decided that they would just have to wait things out for a little while. He balanced on his heels in the dark shadows behind the garbage cans, considering what their next move should be, and finally decided that he would have to break into one of the buildings off of this alley. He had to get Aya out of the rain, and this seemed like the most viable option available to him. At the very least, it would provide them with shelter until morning. Maybe the police would have given up by then. He waited for a third police car to cruise by, and then left his hiding place to return to Aya.
He jogged back down the alley and skidded to a stop, falling to his knees next to the redhead. Aya was sitting exactly as he had left him, leaning back against the doorway, eyes closed. For a moment, Yohji panicked, thinking that Aya had passed out again, but he opened his eyes when Yohji touched him on the shoulder.
"Well," Yohji said, leaning back slightly to survey the alley around them, "there's no way we're getting to the cars. This whole damn place is crawling with cops."
He reached over and gently brushed the wet hair off of Aya's face, frowning when the younger man didn't even protest. Suddenly, Yohji chuckled slightly, earning a sharp glance from his companion.
In response to the unasked question in Aya's eyes, he replied, "Sorry. It's just … you look like shit warmed over, you know?" When Aya glared at him again and then shrugged in response, a gesture that was so familiar and so "Aya-like", Yohji actually felt a little relieved. The redhead was definitely sick, but he wasn't completely gone. He could still see the Aya he knew peeking out from the dazed, dull eyes.
"So," the blonde said, looking at the door behind them. "We need to get in out of the rain. You know what's inside here?"
Aya shook his head in response.
"Well," Yohji said. He pulled a small, black, leather case out of his inner coat pocket and selected one of the lock picks contained within it. He pushed Aya slightly out of the way so that he could get a closer look at the door, and gently began to work the pick into the lock. Within seconds, he was rewarded with the sound of a soft click.
He smiled down at Aya, and said, "Guess this place is as good as any for getting in out of the rain, right?"
He placed his arm around the redhead's waist and gently lifted him up, onto his feet, while, at the same time, pushing the door open with his free arm. "Come on. Let's get in out of the rain so I can call Omi. Last time I talked to him, he was pretty worried. It sounded like he was gonna have kittens. You know how he is."
His small joke was rewarded with a soft, strangled chuckle from Aya, which lifted Yohji's spirits briefly, until it dissolved into a rough, hacking cough that shook the redhead's body and almost sent him down to his knees.
"Careful," Yohji said, tightening his grip on his companion. "Just lean on me, OK? For such a skinny guy, you're damn heavy," Yohji grunted as he hauled Aya through the partially open door. When the redhead didn't respond, Yohji shook him roughly and asked, "Hey! You still with me?"
"Yeah," Aya replied. His voice was hollow, as if he was beyond exhaustion, and Yohji frowned at the sound of it.
"OK. Just checking," he said quietly.
Yohji sighed in satisfaction once they finally managed to get into the room; it was a huge relief to be out of the pounding rain and howling wind. He propped Aya up against the nearest wall, keeping one hand against the redhead's chest to prevent him from sliding down to the floor. With his free hand, he fished his lighter out of his pocket and flicked it on. Although the flame was pitifully small and barely penetrated the room's darkness, Yohji felt almost stupidly happy when it burst to life. He lifted the lighter slightly away from them and a little above his head in an effort to maximize its reach, and finally succeeded in finding a light switch. Without removing his hand from Aya, Yohji leaned forward and just managed to brush the switch with his fingertips, flooding the room with harsh, white light.
They were in a large, commercial kitchen. Yohji whistled softly at what looked like miles and miles of gleaming, stainless steel counters and spotless white linoleum floors, but a soft groan brought his attention away from their surroundings and back to his teammate. When he got his first good look at Aya, Yohji fought the urge to turn the lights off again. He knew it was irrational, but the redhead looked like walking death.
Aya was leaning weakly against the wall, still propped up by Yohji's hand against his chest. If it hadn't been for that support, the blonde knew that Aya wouldn't be able to stay on his feet. Even with Yohji's help, he swayed slightly back and forth, his head and shoulders slumped forward, and his eyes closed. In the harsh light, the older man could finally see what the darkness in the alley had hidden --- dark, red stains on the shoulder and side of the canvas jacket Aya wore.
"Shit, Aya! What the hell happened?" Yohji snapped, lowering his companion gently to the floor.
He positioned the redhead so that his back was leaning against the wall near the door and quickly jerked the jacket open to reveal two wounds --- one on Aya's shoulder and one in his side. They were still bleeding, and, from the looks of stains on the jacket, the swordsman had already lost a lot of blood. He cupped Aya's chin in his palm and tilted his head toward the light so that he could get a better look at his eyes. Yohji frowned at what he saw there. Aya's eyes were glazed over and dull, and it looked like he was barely able to keep them open. He blinked into the light, and Yohji could see him struggling to focus his vision.
"All right," the blonde said quietly, brushing Aya's bangs out of his eyes. "You stay here, OK? I'm going to find something to use for bandages and take a quick look around. We've gotta get that bleeding stopped." He paused and took another close look at his companion's eyes. "I'll be right back," he said softly, laying his hand gently on top of Aya's head. When the redhead looked at him, he smiled and said, "You stay awake, OK?" He paused, waiting for some response from his friend. When Aya finally nodded, Yohji stood up and left the kitchen to look over the rest of the restaurant.
The tall blonde made his way quickly to the front of the building. He was hoping that they'd get lucky and this was the kind of place that used cloth table linens. It didn't take more than a few moments for Yohji to cross the distance from the kitchen, across the small dining room, to the front door. There were blinds drawn across the large windows facing the street, and he pulled one of them aside to peer out of the window. Another police car cruised by slowly, forcing him to duck back inside before he was spotted, but, as soon as it had passed by, he again pulled the blind aside. A white rectangle caught his eye, and he pulled it out of the window. He didn't want to turn on the lights in the front of the restaurant, for fear of alerting the police to their presence, so he held it up to catch the dim illumination coming from the street lights. It was a sign, which read: "Closed for vacation. Will return in two weeks." It had yesterday's date on it.
'So,' Yohji thought as he returned the sign to its previous resting place, 'looks like we won't have any company for a while. Maybe we're finally starting to get lucky.'
He looked around at the room. The restaurant was small, but it was definitely the kind of place that used cloth linens. There was a bar at the back of the dining room, and, even in the dim light coming from the kitchen and sneaking through the closed blinds on the front window, its brass fixtures and granite top gleamed. There were crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, and rich-toned murals decorated every wall of the small room. Yohji couldn't be certain in the dim light, but the paintings looked like depictions of Paris street scenes. The chairs, the kind of straight-backed, plain, black lacquered chairs he had seen at several trendy bistros in town, were neatly stacked on top of the tables. But, best of all, each table was covered with a starched, pristinely-clean, white cloth. Yohji crossed the floor to follow a small hallway that seemed to lead to a storage room, which was where he thought he might find some extra table linens. He didn't want to disturb anything in the dining room. He didn't know how long it might take for the police to give up their search for Aya, so they might have to hide out here for a while. Just in case someone happened to see in through the window or door, he didn't want it to look like anyone had been there.
Within a few moments, Yohji had managed to pick the lock on the storeroom door. He entered the small room and pulled the door shut behind him, clicking on the overhead light at the same time. There were crates, which he guessed contained bottles of wine, stacked along two walls of the room. A third wall contained a large wine rack, which appeared to be where the restaurant stored its pricier vintages. There were sacks of potatoes, rice, and various spices stacked neatly on top of the wine crates. On either side of the door, there were shelves containing stacks and stacks of the same white linens that were on the tables outside, and, as an unexpected bonus, he spied two blankets tucked away under a pile of tablecloths.
"Jackpot," Yohji mumbled under his breath. As he fumbled through the linens, the tall blonde fished his cell phone out of his pocket and, with one hand, punched in the number for the flower shop.
"Yohji?" Omi's frightened, breathless voice came over the phone after the second ring.
"Yeah," Yohji replied.
"You find him?" Omi asked.
"Yeah," Yohji replied, again.
There was an uncomfortably long pause before Omi snapped, "So? Is he … is he all right?"
Yohji pulled out several of the largest table cloths, along with both the blankets, and then responded, "Um, well…"
"Well, what?" Omi snapped, interrupting. "Is he or isn't he?"
"Not … really," Yohji replied slowly. He winced when he heard Omi take in a sharp breath. When the boy didn't say anything more, he continued, "He's pretty sick, and …"
"And?" Omi prompted.
"I think … it looks like he's been shot."
"Bad?" Omi asked. His voice was quiet, barely a whisper, indicating that he was terrified of Yohji's answer.
"I … I don't know," Yohji responded. "Look, I … I need to get back to him. I found a place to get in out of the rain. We're in a restaurant, and it's closed for a while, so we'll be OK here. There are cops all over the place down here. I think they're still looking for him. He can't walk back to the cars, and I can't get him out of here tonight … not with all the police activity."
"So, what're you going to do?" Omi asked. "I … I can come down to get you."
"No," Yohji replied. He shook his head, even though logic told him that Omi couldn't see the gesture. "Stay put, kiddo. We're gonna ride it out here tonight. If we're lucky, the cops'll give up and I can get him out tomorrow night."
"But," Omi protested, "if he's sick and hurt … he … he needs a doctor."
"I know," Yohji answered. "But, this is the best we can do for now. Aya was hiding in an alley, disguised as a homeless guy … hiding out in plain view." He chuckled softly. "I'll bet those cops looked right at him and never guessed. You have to admit … that little shit has some balls. If he had thought he could get away clean, he would have gone back to the cars … or called on the comm. It's working. I checked. It was a minor miracle that I managed to avoid the police. If you come down here, or I try to carry him out now, it'll bring all hell down on our heads." He paused for a moment, thinking. "No," he announced, "this way … this is for the best."
Omi sighed. Yohji could tell that the boy didn't like this decision, but Omi announced his feelings, anyhow. "I don't like this," he stated flatly.
Yohji turned around and leaned back against the shelves of linens. He sighed heavily and ran his fingers through his hair, scattering tiny droplets of water around him. "Yeah, I know, kiddo. I … I don't like it, either." He paused, and then said, softly, "It's … this is all my fault. If I'd gone there to meet him like I was supposed to …" He sighed again, and said, "I'm … I'm sorry, Omi."
The boy paused for a long moment before responding in a hard voice, "If you're looking for absolution, Yohji, you're not gonna get it from me. Just take care of him." Omi severed the connection before Yohji could reply.
The tall blonde looked down at the silent phone he held in his hand, and muttered, "I will. I promise."
He didn't know why he hadn't gone to the meeting place for the mission, and he looked up at the single, overhead light bulb, as if it could tell him why he always did the exact wrong thing at the exact wrong time. If he had known things would turn out this way, he wouldn't have ever allowed himself to wander to that bar. What good was moping over Asuka going to do for anyone, anyhow? She was dead; nothing he could do, say, or think would ever change that fact. And, now, because of his selfishness, Aya was sick and hurt. It was obvious that the swordsman shouldn't have even been on this mission, in the first place. If any of them had had any sense, or had been paying any attention to him, they would have forced him to turn it down, no matter how angry it might have made him. Now, he understood why Omi had been so insistent about someone accompanying their leader.
"Why didn't I listen to him? Why don't I ever listen?" Yohji muttered. He pulled his sunglasses off of his face and wiped his hand over his eyes in an attempt to relieve the exhaustion he felt before quickly gathering up several of the white cloths and retracing his steps back to the kitchen, where he had left Aya.
Warnings: Bad Language. Violence
Summary: A simple, in-and-out mission goes bad for Aya when Yohji fails to back him up. Now our favorite playboy is forced to go hunting for a missing teammate, and, in the process, help Aya find something he had thought lost forever -- friendship and a place to belong.
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 #1 in a trilogy. Story #2: Betrayal. Story #3: Redemption
Chapter 4
Yohji frowned and shook the redhead again, a little harder than before. Aya was soaking wet and shivering, both from the cold and from a fever. Yohji could feel the heat radiating off of his body, almost like it was coming off of him in waves. It reminded him of the way the air shimmers over a concrete sidewalk in the hottest part of the summer. He frowned again and brushed away the wet hair that was plastered to Aya's face. He couldn't get the redhead to wake up or respond, and Aya kept muttering. Most of it was fairly incoherent, but it sounded like he was calling out to someone. Yohji managed to catch a few words: "Aya", "Mom", and "Dad". Then, the redhead started to shake and sob, and muttered something that sounded like: "I don't want to be alone."
"Shit," Yohji muttered under his breath.
He leaned back on his heels and watched Aya worriedly. This was Aya, for crying out loud --- stone-cold, deadly, always-in-control Aya. He hadn't ever seen the redhead like this, and the fact that Aya was shaking and crying almost uncontrollably was really starting to frighten him. When Aya had agreed to this mission, he hadn't realized the swordsman was this sick. It was a good bet that Omi hadn't, either. Aya was almost obsessively private, preferring to keep a good, safe distance between himself and those around him. The redhead hated for others to worry about him and fuss over him. To Yohji, it always seemed as if the swordsman only wanted to blend in with the woodwork and pass through life with no connections to anyone or anything, unnoticed by the world around him. As a result, Aya was really good at hiding things. In fact, it took an effort approaching the Spanish Inquisition to worm any information out of the Weiss leader. But, appearances didn't lie, and the shaking, sobbing, un-Aya-like mess of a man in front of him told him that the redhead was, in fact, extremely sick. He desperately wanted to check his companion for additional injuries, but it was too dark in the alley, and the rain was coming down too hard.
"Shit!" he repeated. "You're burning up. Come on, Aya. Come on! Open your eyes and look at me!"
Finally, he was rewarded with a small groan, as the redhead tried to open his eyes. After a brief struggle, it seemed like Aya had given up, and he sank back against Yohji. The blonde shook him again, and urged, "Come on. Just try again. Please, Aya! Please. You're scaring me."
Aya groaned again, and his eyes slowly fluttered open. Yohji sighed in relief and smiled down at his friend. "Hey," he said softly, "welcome back."
For a moment, Aya stared up blankly, as if he didn't recognize Yohji, and the blonde started to panic.
After what seemed like an eternity, the redhead muttered hoarsely, "Yo … Yohji? Wh … what … what are you doing … here?" He swallowed painfully and started to push against Yohji, who was holding him, in a struggle to sit up.
"Shhh. Just be still, OK?" Yohji snapped. When Aya stopped struggling, he continued, "I … I came here to find you." He watched the swordsman quietly for a moment before saying, "Look, I need to get you out of this rain. You wait here, OK? I'm going to go see if we can make it back to the cars."
When Aya nodded weakly, Yohji gently leaned the redhead against the door behind him. He retrieved Aya's long coat, which the homeless man had dropped earlier, and pulled it over his shaking teammate. Like every other piece of clothing they had on, it was soaking wet, but he thought it could at least provide a small measure of warmth. Once he had settled Aya as comfortably as he could, he jogged down the alley toward the street.
It didn't take Yohji long to decide that they wouldn't be able to make it back to the cars, at least, not right now. He hadn't even reached the street when a floodlight lit up the alley, forcing him to duck behind a row of garbage cans. He barely managed to avoid being discovered. Just as he was about to emerge from his hiding place, another police car drove slowly by, shining yet another floodlight into the dark alley. The tall blonde shook his head irritably. There was no way they'd be able to make it to the cars without being spotted. It looked like he was going to have to carry Aya, and, considering the number of cops out and about in this area, that would draw too much attention. Yohji decided that they would just have to wait things out for a little while. He balanced on his heels in the dark shadows behind the garbage cans, considering what their next move should be, and finally decided that he would have to break into one of the buildings off of this alley. He had to get Aya out of the rain, and this seemed like the most viable option available to him. At the very least, it would provide them with shelter until morning. Maybe the police would have given up by then. He waited for a third police car to cruise by, and then left his hiding place to return to Aya.
He jogged back down the alley and skidded to a stop, falling to his knees next to the redhead. Aya was sitting exactly as he had left him, leaning back against the doorway, eyes closed. For a moment, Yohji panicked, thinking that Aya had passed out again, but he opened his eyes when Yohji touched him on the shoulder.
"Well," Yohji said, leaning back slightly to survey the alley around them, "there's no way we're getting to the cars. This whole damn place is crawling with cops."
He reached over and gently brushed the wet hair off of Aya's face, frowning when the younger man didn't even protest. Suddenly, Yohji chuckled slightly, earning a sharp glance from his companion.
In response to the unasked question in Aya's eyes, he replied, "Sorry. It's just … you look like shit warmed over, you know?" When Aya glared at him again and then shrugged in response, a gesture that was so familiar and so "Aya-like", Yohji actually felt a little relieved. The redhead was definitely sick, but he wasn't completely gone. He could still see the Aya he knew peeking out from the dazed, dull eyes.
"So," the blonde said, looking at the door behind them. "We need to get in out of the rain. You know what's inside here?"
Aya shook his head in response.
"Well," Yohji said. He pulled a small, black, leather case out of his inner coat pocket and selected one of the lock picks contained within it. He pushed Aya slightly out of the way so that he could get a closer look at the door, and gently began to work the pick into the lock. Within seconds, he was rewarded with the sound of a soft click.
He smiled down at Aya, and said, "Guess this place is as good as any for getting in out of the rain, right?"
He placed his arm around the redhead's waist and gently lifted him up, onto his feet, while, at the same time, pushing the door open with his free arm. "Come on. Let's get in out of the rain so I can call Omi. Last time I talked to him, he was pretty worried. It sounded like he was gonna have kittens. You know how he is."
His small joke was rewarded with a soft, strangled chuckle from Aya, which lifted Yohji's spirits briefly, until it dissolved into a rough, hacking cough that shook the redhead's body and almost sent him down to his knees.
"Careful," Yohji said, tightening his grip on his companion. "Just lean on me, OK? For such a skinny guy, you're damn heavy," Yohji grunted as he hauled Aya through the partially open door. When the redhead didn't respond, Yohji shook him roughly and asked, "Hey! You still with me?"
"Yeah," Aya replied. His voice was hollow, as if he was beyond exhaustion, and Yohji frowned at the sound of it.
"OK. Just checking," he said quietly.
Yohji sighed in satisfaction once they finally managed to get into the room; it was a huge relief to be out of the pounding rain and howling wind. He propped Aya up against the nearest wall, keeping one hand against the redhead's chest to prevent him from sliding down to the floor. With his free hand, he fished his lighter out of his pocket and flicked it on. Although the flame was pitifully small and barely penetrated the room's darkness, Yohji felt almost stupidly happy when it burst to life. He lifted the lighter slightly away from them and a little above his head in an effort to maximize its reach, and finally succeeded in finding a light switch. Without removing his hand from Aya, Yohji leaned forward and just managed to brush the switch with his fingertips, flooding the room with harsh, white light.
They were in a large, commercial kitchen. Yohji whistled softly at what looked like miles and miles of gleaming, stainless steel counters and spotless white linoleum floors, but a soft groan brought his attention away from their surroundings and back to his teammate. When he got his first good look at Aya, Yohji fought the urge to turn the lights off again. He knew it was irrational, but the redhead looked like walking death.
Aya was leaning weakly against the wall, still propped up by Yohji's hand against his chest. If it hadn't been for that support, the blonde knew that Aya wouldn't be able to stay on his feet. Even with Yohji's help, he swayed slightly back and forth, his head and shoulders slumped forward, and his eyes closed. In the harsh light, the older man could finally see what the darkness in the alley had hidden --- dark, red stains on the shoulder and side of the canvas jacket Aya wore.
"Shit, Aya! What the hell happened?" Yohji snapped, lowering his companion gently to the floor.
He positioned the redhead so that his back was leaning against the wall near the door and quickly jerked the jacket open to reveal two wounds --- one on Aya's shoulder and one in his side. They were still bleeding, and, from the looks of stains on the jacket, the swordsman had already lost a lot of blood. He cupped Aya's chin in his palm and tilted his head toward the light so that he could get a better look at his eyes. Yohji frowned at what he saw there. Aya's eyes were glazed over and dull, and it looked like he was barely able to keep them open. He blinked into the light, and Yohji could see him struggling to focus his vision.
"All right," the blonde said quietly, brushing Aya's bangs out of his eyes. "You stay here, OK? I'm going to find something to use for bandages and take a quick look around. We've gotta get that bleeding stopped." He paused and took another close look at his companion's eyes. "I'll be right back," he said softly, laying his hand gently on top of Aya's head. When the redhead looked at him, he smiled and said, "You stay awake, OK?" He paused, waiting for some response from his friend. When Aya finally nodded, Yohji stood up and left the kitchen to look over the rest of the restaurant.
The tall blonde made his way quickly to the front of the building. He was hoping that they'd get lucky and this was the kind of place that used cloth table linens. It didn't take more than a few moments for Yohji to cross the distance from the kitchen, across the small dining room, to the front door. There were blinds drawn across the large windows facing the street, and he pulled one of them aside to peer out of the window. Another police car cruised by slowly, forcing him to duck back inside before he was spotted, but, as soon as it had passed by, he again pulled the blind aside. A white rectangle caught his eye, and he pulled it out of the window. He didn't want to turn on the lights in the front of the restaurant, for fear of alerting the police to their presence, so he held it up to catch the dim illumination coming from the street lights. It was a sign, which read: "Closed for vacation. Will return in two weeks." It had yesterday's date on it.
'So,' Yohji thought as he returned the sign to its previous resting place, 'looks like we won't have any company for a while. Maybe we're finally starting to get lucky.'
He looked around at the room. The restaurant was small, but it was definitely the kind of place that used cloth linens. There was a bar at the back of the dining room, and, even in the dim light coming from the kitchen and sneaking through the closed blinds on the front window, its brass fixtures and granite top gleamed. There were crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, and rich-toned murals decorated every wall of the small room. Yohji couldn't be certain in the dim light, but the paintings looked like depictions of Paris street scenes. The chairs, the kind of straight-backed, plain, black lacquered chairs he had seen at several trendy bistros in town, were neatly stacked on top of the tables. But, best of all, each table was covered with a starched, pristinely-clean, white cloth. Yohji crossed the floor to follow a small hallway that seemed to lead to a storage room, which was where he thought he might find some extra table linens. He didn't want to disturb anything in the dining room. He didn't know how long it might take for the police to give up their search for Aya, so they might have to hide out here for a while. Just in case someone happened to see in through the window or door, he didn't want it to look like anyone had been there.
Within a few moments, Yohji had managed to pick the lock on the storeroom door. He entered the small room and pulled the door shut behind him, clicking on the overhead light at the same time. There were crates, which he guessed contained bottles of wine, stacked along two walls of the room. A third wall contained a large wine rack, which appeared to be where the restaurant stored its pricier vintages. There were sacks of potatoes, rice, and various spices stacked neatly on top of the wine crates. On either side of the door, there were shelves containing stacks and stacks of the same white linens that were on the tables outside, and, as an unexpected bonus, he spied two blankets tucked away under a pile of tablecloths.
"Jackpot," Yohji mumbled under his breath. As he fumbled through the linens, the tall blonde fished his cell phone out of his pocket and, with one hand, punched in the number for the flower shop.
"Yohji?" Omi's frightened, breathless voice came over the phone after the second ring.
"Yeah," Yohji replied.
"You find him?" Omi asked.
"Yeah," Yohji replied, again.
There was an uncomfortably long pause before Omi snapped, "So? Is he … is he all right?"
Yohji pulled out several of the largest table cloths, along with both the blankets, and then responded, "Um, well…"
"Well, what?" Omi snapped, interrupting. "Is he or isn't he?"
"Not … really," Yohji replied slowly. He winced when he heard Omi take in a sharp breath. When the boy didn't say anything more, he continued, "He's pretty sick, and …"
"And?" Omi prompted.
"I think … it looks like he's been shot."
"Bad?" Omi asked. His voice was quiet, barely a whisper, indicating that he was terrified of Yohji's answer.
"I … I don't know," Yohji responded. "Look, I … I need to get back to him. I found a place to get in out of the rain. We're in a restaurant, and it's closed for a while, so we'll be OK here. There are cops all over the place down here. I think they're still looking for him. He can't walk back to the cars, and I can't get him out of here tonight … not with all the police activity."
"So, what're you going to do?" Omi asked. "I … I can come down to get you."
"No," Yohji replied. He shook his head, even though logic told him that Omi couldn't see the gesture. "Stay put, kiddo. We're gonna ride it out here tonight. If we're lucky, the cops'll give up and I can get him out tomorrow night."
"But," Omi protested, "if he's sick and hurt … he … he needs a doctor."
"I know," Yohji answered. "But, this is the best we can do for now. Aya was hiding in an alley, disguised as a homeless guy … hiding out in plain view." He chuckled softly. "I'll bet those cops looked right at him and never guessed. You have to admit … that little shit has some balls. If he had thought he could get away clean, he would have gone back to the cars … or called on the comm. It's working. I checked. It was a minor miracle that I managed to avoid the police. If you come down here, or I try to carry him out now, it'll bring all hell down on our heads." He paused for a moment, thinking. "No," he announced, "this way … this is for the best."
Omi sighed. Yohji could tell that the boy didn't like this decision, but Omi announced his feelings, anyhow. "I don't like this," he stated flatly.
Yohji turned around and leaned back against the shelves of linens. He sighed heavily and ran his fingers through his hair, scattering tiny droplets of water around him. "Yeah, I know, kiddo. I … I don't like it, either." He paused, and then said, softly, "It's … this is all my fault. If I'd gone there to meet him like I was supposed to …" He sighed again, and said, "I'm … I'm sorry, Omi."
The boy paused for a long moment before responding in a hard voice, "If you're looking for absolution, Yohji, you're not gonna get it from me. Just take care of him." Omi severed the connection before Yohji could reply.
The tall blonde looked down at the silent phone he held in his hand, and muttered, "I will. I promise."
He didn't know why he hadn't gone to the meeting place for the mission, and he looked up at the single, overhead light bulb, as if it could tell him why he always did the exact wrong thing at the exact wrong time. If he had known things would turn out this way, he wouldn't have ever allowed himself to wander to that bar. What good was moping over Asuka going to do for anyone, anyhow? She was dead; nothing he could do, say, or think would ever change that fact. And, now, because of his selfishness, Aya was sick and hurt. It was obvious that the swordsman shouldn't have even been on this mission, in the first place. If any of them had had any sense, or had been paying any attention to him, they would have forced him to turn it down, no matter how angry it might have made him. Now, he understood why Omi had been so insistent about someone accompanying their leader.
"Why didn't I listen to him? Why don't I ever listen?" Yohji muttered. He pulled his sunglasses off of his face and wiped his hand over his eyes in an attempt to relieve the exhaustion he felt before quickly gathering up several of the white cloths and retracing his steps back to the kitchen, where he had left Aya.