Fic Archive: Nowhere Man, 8
May. 28th, 2009 01:08 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 8
Thanks to a quickly-placed phone call, Omi was waiting at the door for them when Yohji finally pulled his car into the parking area near the flower shop. The boy danced nervously from foot to foot as he held the door open and watched them. He reminded Yohji of a nervous little dog, and the sight of the boy made him chuckle in spite of the anxiety he felt over Aya's condition. He glanced over at the passenger side of the car as he came to a stop. Aya hadn't moved or made a sound since Yohji had knocked him unconscious to carry him to the car, and he hadn't given any signs of awakening any time soon. Yohji could see a large bruise discoloring the side of the redhead's face, marking the spot where his foot had struck the younger man. He gently brushed at the dark spot, as if he could wipe it away, and felt a new wave of guilt washing over him at the sight of it. He looked back toward Omi, who was still prancing nervously in the doorway, and tried to steel himself for the anger and retribution he knew he was going to face from the boy. Finally, he concluded he had stalled for as long as he could, and that he was never really going to be ready for what Omi would be dishing out.
"Well," he sighed, looking over at his unconscious companion, "Guess it's time to face the music, huh?" He stared at Aya for another moment before mumbling, "You know, you could wake up and help me out here." When he received no response, Yohji sighed and muttered "As always … you are such a shit."
He got out of the car, moving stiffly, and waved to the boy, who didn't move from his post at the doorway. Shrugging, Yohji moved to the passenger side and pulled Aya out of the car, shifting the redhead's weight so that Aya's head rested against his shoulder. He didn't bother looking up to face Omi, but he heard the door slam and the sound of running feet as the kid finally left the doorway and ran out to meet them.
"Hey!" Omi called as he reached Yohji. He frowned when he saw the still, limp figure in the tall blonde's arms. "What … what happened? He OK?" He placed a trembling hand against Aya's face and pulled it back involuntarily when he felt the heat from the redhead's skin. He glared at Yohji and snapped, "He's burning up!"
Yohji shrugged as well as he could, considering he currently had his arms full, and said, "Yeah. Can we get him inside, please? He doesn't look it, but he's damn heavy!" When Omi just stared angrily at him, he sighed and continued, "Look, we can argue when we get inside, OK? It's cold out here."
Omi continued to glare at Yohji for several moments, but he finally turned away to stalk silently to the building. He held the door open and snapped, "Watch his head" as Yohji carried Aya into the flower shop.
Omi managed to hold his tongue until they had settled Aya on his bed. As Yohji removed the redhead's coat and boots, Omi flipped on the bedside lamp, revealing the large bruise on the side of Aya's face. He leaned forward and gently brushed at the discolored skin, as if he thought it was dirt he could wipe away. Aya moaned and involuntarily moved away from Omi's hand at the painful contact.
"What the hell? Is that … that looks like a bruise," Omi said. He leaned forward and inspected Aya's face more closely. "It is a bruise," he stated flatly. He gave Yohji a suspicious look and asked again, "What the hell happened?"
Yohji finished removing Aya's boots and glanced around the room. It was fairly bare --- a testament to either the redhead's Spartan habits or his refusal to allow himself to become emotionally attached to things --- Yohji couldn't tell which. The only furnishings were the bed, a bedside table with a lamp and a clock, a desk, and a straight-backed desk chair. Although he did indulge himself with a desktop computer, which Yohji secretly suspected he used only to do mission research, and several dozen books, there weren't any other kinds of "personal touches" in the room --- no family photographs, no photographs of any kind, for that matter, no posters or pictures on the walls, no stereo equipment, no CDs or tapes. If a stranger had somehow managed to wander into the redhead's private sanctuary, they would probably believe this room was vacant. The tall blonde finished his quick survey of Aya's room and pulled the desk chair over so that it was next to the bed. Sighing, he sat down heavily in the chair, removed his sunglasses, and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.
"Doctor?" he asked, never taking his eyes from the figure lying on the bed.
"Already called. One of Kritiker's doctors is on the way," Omi replied, looking at his watch. "He was on call at the hospital where he works, but he should be here any time." Without another word, he turned and left the room. Within a few seconds, the sound of running water came from the bathroom.
Yohji ran his fingers through his hair and sighed again. "I don't like for him to have to wait," he called in a flat tone.
Omi returned carrying a bowl of water. He used his elbow to shove the lamp and clock out of the way so that he could place the bowl on the table beside the bed. As he sat down on the bed next to Aya, he removed a towel from the bowl and twisted it to remove the excess water. He gently placed the cool towel on Aya's forehead in an attempt to give him some relief from the fever. He was still extremely mad at Yohji, and refused to even look at the tall blonde sitting in the chair next to the bed.
"I don't like for him to have to wait," Yohji repeated, raising his voice slightly, as if he thought Omi hadn't heard him the first time.
"Hmm," Omi replied, still, without looking up at the older man. "Well, maybe you should have thought of that last night when you decided to go off on your little detour instead of meeting him at the mission location." He gently rested the cool towel against the large bruise on Aya's face. Finally, he turned and gave Yohji another angry glare. "What happened to his face?" he asked in an icy cold voice that probably would have made Aya proud, if he had been awake to hear it.
Yohji stared intently at the floor near his feet for a few moments, as he tried to decide on the best way to respond to the boy's question. 'Hell,' he finally thought, when he looked up to see the rage written so plainly on Omi's normally calm face, 'Doesn't matter what I tell him. I'm so up shit creek with this kid … nothing I do is gonna be OK.' He looked from Omi's icy stare to the redhead lying quietly on the bed and thought, 'And, I guess that's really the way it should be. You deserve this Kuduo.'
He sighed and turned his attention from Aya to stare directly into Omi's eyes and replied, "He kinda hit his head."
"Hit his head?" Omi echoed, frowning. "On what?"
"Um …," Yohji mumbled, looking down at his feet again, "My foot."
"What?!"
"Um … well," Yohji struggled to come up with a rational explanation, and then realized he would just have to go with the truth. "He … he couldn't make it back to the cars, and … it … it was the only way he would let me carry him. You know how damn stubborn he is." Even as the words came out of his mouth, Yohji cringed internally because the explanation sounded so lame, even to him.
Omi had been trying to hold back his anger, but, now, he seemed to explode with rage. Before he realized what he was doing, his hand snaked out to grab the nearest item, Aya's clock, and he threw it at Yohji, aiming for the older man's head. Yohji, who had been intently studying his shoes, heard the clock's alarm bell jangle slightly and looked up to see the impromptu missile streaking toward him. He ducked just in time, and the clock crashed into the wall behind his head and shattered with a loud clanging noise.
Yohji turned a shocked, surprised, wide-eyed stare on the boy. "What … what the hell are you doing?" he yelled. "You could have hit me with that!"
Omi jumped up from the bed and closed the distance between them with lightening quick speed. He grabbed a fistful of Aya's jacket, which Yohji was still wearing, and forcefully pulled the taller, heavier blonde slightly out of the chair so that their noses were almost touching. Yohji hadn't ever seen the boy like this. He and Aya were the high-strung ones in the group. Omi normally played the peacemaker and served as a buffer between them or between one of them and Ken, who seemed to serve as the team whipping boy whenever one of the oldest members was in a foul mood. Now, though, Yohji could see pure, unadulterated rage shining from the boy's eyes. He swallowed, hard, as he realized that, for possibly the first time since he had known Omi, he was really and truly afraid of the kid.
"You have some nerve," Omi snarled in a low voice through clenched teeth. "You … all you had to do was fucking show up!" He jerked his thumb over his shoulder before continuing, "He … he was going to do everything. All you had to do was be there in case he ran into trouble, and you couldn't even do that! You knew he was sick. You knew he was going in there alone, whether you were there or not, but do you show up? No! You're off getting shit-faced over some dead broad, and don't pretend like you weren't! Anytime you disappear like that, it's because of Asuka. Just when I don't think you can stoop any lower; just when I think you've actually reached the absolute lowest expectation anyone can have for you, you actually surprise me. She's dead, Yohji! Don't you understand? Dead. Shit! I'da thought it woulda sunk in by now!"
Yohji tried to fight the anger building within him. He knew Omi was upset because none of them had known Aya was this sick when he had agreed to the mission, because Aya was lying there in the bed right in front of them and neither of them could do a damn thing to help him. He knew Omi was furious with him for abandoning Aya, and he knew he deserved it. But, when he heard Omi talk that way about Asuka, he couldn't control his anger. He pushed the boy roughly, sending him stumbling backward. Omi yelped in anger and surprise as he struggled to regain his balance and ended up falling heavily on top of Aya. The redhead didn't even make a sound when Omi's weight suddenly came to rest on his chest and torso.
"Shit!" Yohji hissed through clenched teeth.
He jumped to his feet and grabbed the front of Omi's shirt to pull him off of their injured friend. The boy allowed Yohji to pull him off of the bed, but, as soon as he was back on his feet, he angrily shoved at the older blonde's hands, forcing Yohji to release him. Yohji immediately let go of Omi and leaned around the boy to check on Aya. The redhead's breathing was still labored, but fairly even, and it didn't look like his wounds had started to bleed again. Yohji glared at Omi and stalked the short distance back to his chair. He was still glaring at the boy as he lowered himself heavily back into his seat.
"I loved her," he said quietly. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and stared at the floor between his shoes. "I … I loved her."
Omi sighed, his anger broken by his sudden tumble onto Aya and by the sorrow he heard in the older man's voice. He sat down on the floor next to Yohji's chair and leaned against the older man's legs. "I know," he said quietly. "I know, but drowning yourself in liquor isn't going to change the fact that she's gone. It … it isn't going to change anything, Yohji." He looked toward the still figure lying on the bed and continued, "Aya's still alive, and he needed you. He's … you know, I know he can be such an asshole … but, in his own way … he … he's always looking out for all of us. Even if he's hurting … even if he's not feeling up to it … whatever. He … he never says anything about it if something's bothering him. He's always … you know, there, whenever we need him." The boy sighed again, and looked up at Yohji with wide, serious eyes. "How many times has he come out in the middle of the night to pick you up and drag your drunken ass home after a heavy night? He's the only one of us who will still do it, you know. Me and Ken … we've both had enough of your crap already. He needed you, Yohji. He needed you, and you couldn't even show up."
Yohji nodded and brushed Omi's hair in a gentle, affectionate gesture as he replied in a soft voice, "I know, kiddo. I know. I'll be spending a lot of time trying to make it up to him once he gets better."
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 8
Thanks to a quickly-placed phone call, Omi was waiting at the door for them when Yohji finally pulled his car into the parking area near the flower shop. The boy danced nervously from foot to foot as he held the door open and watched them. He reminded Yohji of a nervous little dog, and the sight of the boy made him chuckle in spite of the anxiety he felt over Aya's condition. He glanced over at the passenger side of the car as he came to a stop. Aya hadn't moved or made a sound since Yohji had knocked him unconscious to carry him to the car, and he hadn't given any signs of awakening any time soon. Yohji could see a large bruise discoloring the side of the redhead's face, marking the spot where his foot had struck the younger man. He gently brushed at the dark spot, as if he could wipe it away, and felt a new wave of guilt washing over him at the sight of it. He looked back toward Omi, who was still prancing nervously in the doorway, and tried to steel himself for the anger and retribution he knew he was going to face from the boy. Finally, he concluded he had stalled for as long as he could, and that he was never really going to be ready for what Omi would be dishing out.
"Well," he sighed, looking over at his unconscious companion, "Guess it's time to face the music, huh?" He stared at Aya for another moment before mumbling, "You know, you could wake up and help me out here." When he received no response, Yohji sighed and muttered "As always … you are such a shit."
He got out of the car, moving stiffly, and waved to the boy, who didn't move from his post at the doorway. Shrugging, Yohji moved to the passenger side and pulled Aya out of the car, shifting the redhead's weight so that Aya's head rested against his shoulder. He didn't bother looking up to face Omi, but he heard the door slam and the sound of running feet as the kid finally left the doorway and ran out to meet them.
"Hey!" Omi called as he reached Yohji. He frowned when he saw the still, limp figure in the tall blonde's arms. "What … what happened? He OK?" He placed a trembling hand against Aya's face and pulled it back involuntarily when he felt the heat from the redhead's skin. He glared at Yohji and snapped, "He's burning up!"
Yohji shrugged as well as he could, considering he currently had his arms full, and said, "Yeah. Can we get him inside, please? He doesn't look it, but he's damn heavy!" When Omi just stared angrily at him, he sighed and continued, "Look, we can argue when we get inside, OK? It's cold out here."
Omi continued to glare at Yohji for several moments, but he finally turned away to stalk silently to the building. He held the door open and snapped, "Watch his head" as Yohji carried Aya into the flower shop.
Omi managed to hold his tongue until they had settled Aya on his bed. As Yohji removed the redhead's coat and boots, Omi flipped on the bedside lamp, revealing the large bruise on the side of Aya's face. He leaned forward and gently brushed at the discolored skin, as if he thought it was dirt he could wipe away. Aya moaned and involuntarily moved away from Omi's hand at the painful contact.
"What the hell? Is that … that looks like a bruise," Omi said. He leaned forward and inspected Aya's face more closely. "It is a bruise," he stated flatly. He gave Yohji a suspicious look and asked again, "What the hell happened?"
Yohji finished removing Aya's boots and glanced around the room. It was fairly bare --- a testament to either the redhead's Spartan habits or his refusal to allow himself to become emotionally attached to things --- Yohji couldn't tell which. The only furnishings were the bed, a bedside table with a lamp and a clock, a desk, and a straight-backed desk chair. Although he did indulge himself with a desktop computer, which Yohji secretly suspected he used only to do mission research, and several dozen books, there weren't any other kinds of "personal touches" in the room --- no family photographs, no photographs of any kind, for that matter, no posters or pictures on the walls, no stereo equipment, no CDs or tapes. If a stranger had somehow managed to wander into the redhead's private sanctuary, they would probably believe this room was vacant. The tall blonde finished his quick survey of Aya's room and pulled the desk chair over so that it was next to the bed. Sighing, he sat down heavily in the chair, removed his sunglasses, and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.
"Doctor?" he asked, never taking his eyes from the figure lying on the bed.
"Already called. One of Kritiker's doctors is on the way," Omi replied, looking at his watch. "He was on call at the hospital where he works, but he should be here any time." Without another word, he turned and left the room. Within a few seconds, the sound of running water came from the bathroom.
Yohji ran his fingers through his hair and sighed again. "I don't like for him to have to wait," he called in a flat tone.
Omi returned carrying a bowl of water. He used his elbow to shove the lamp and clock out of the way so that he could place the bowl on the table beside the bed. As he sat down on the bed next to Aya, he removed a towel from the bowl and twisted it to remove the excess water. He gently placed the cool towel on Aya's forehead in an attempt to give him some relief from the fever. He was still extremely mad at Yohji, and refused to even look at the tall blonde sitting in the chair next to the bed.
"I don't like for him to have to wait," Yohji repeated, raising his voice slightly, as if he thought Omi hadn't heard him the first time.
"Hmm," Omi replied, still, without looking up at the older man. "Well, maybe you should have thought of that last night when you decided to go off on your little detour instead of meeting him at the mission location." He gently rested the cool towel against the large bruise on Aya's face. Finally, he turned and gave Yohji another angry glare. "What happened to his face?" he asked in an icy cold voice that probably would have made Aya proud, if he had been awake to hear it.
Yohji stared intently at the floor near his feet for a few moments, as he tried to decide on the best way to respond to the boy's question. 'Hell,' he finally thought, when he looked up to see the rage written so plainly on Omi's normally calm face, 'Doesn't matter what I tell him. I'm so up shit creek with this kid … nothing I do is gonna be OK.' He looked from Omi's icy stare to the redhead lying quietly on the bed and thought, 'And, I guess that's really the way it should be. You deserve this Kuduo.'
He sighed and turned his attention from Aya to stare directly into Omi's eyes and replied, "He kinda hit his head."
"Hit his head?" Omi echoed, frowning. "On what?"
"Um …," Yohji mumbled, looking down at his feet again, "My foot."
"What?!"
"Um … well," Yohji struggled to come up with a rational explanation, and then realized he would just have to go with the truth. "He … he couldn't make it back to the cars, and … it … it was the only way he would let me carry him. You know how damn stubborn he is." Even as the words came out of his mouth, Yohji cringed internally because the explanation sounded so lame, even to him.
Omi had been trying to hold back his anger, but, now, he seemed to explode with rage. Before he realized what he was doing, his hand snaked out to grab the nearest item, Aya's clock, and he threw it at Yohji, aiming for the older man's head. Yohji, who had been intently studying his shoes, heard the clock's alarm bell jangle slightly and looked up to see the impromptu missile streaking toward him. He ducked just in time, and the clock crashed into the wall behind his head and shattered with a loud clanging noise.
Yohji turned a shocked, surprised, wide-eyed stare on the boy. "What … what the hell are you doing?" he yelled. "You could have hit me with that!"
Omi jumped up from the bed and closed the distance between them with lightening quick speed. He grabbed a fistful of Aya's jacket, which Yohji was still wearing, and forcefully pulled the taller, heavier blonde slightly out of the chair so that their noses were almost touching. Yohji hadn't ever seen the boy like this. He and Aya were the high-strung ones in the group. Omi normally played the peacemaker and served as a buffer between them or between one of them and Ken, who seemed to serve as the team whipping boy whenever one of the oldest members was in a foul mood. Now, though, Yohji could see pure, unadulterated rage shining from the boy's eyes. He swallowed, hard, as he realized that, for possibly the first time since he had known Omi, he was really and truly afraid of the kid.
"You have some nerve," Omi snarled in a low voice through clenched teeth. "You … all you had to do was fucking show up!" He jerked his thumb over his shoulder before continuing, "He … he was going to do everything. All you had to do was be there in case he ran into trouble, and you couldn't even do that! You knew he was sick. You knew he was going in there alone, whether you were there or not, but do you show up? No! You're off getting shit-faced over some dead broad, and don't pretend like you weren't! Anytime you disappear like that, it's because of Asuka. Just when I don't think you can stoop any lower; just when I think you've actually reached the absolute lowest expectation anyone can have for you, you actually surprise me. She's dead, Yohji! Don't you understand? Dead. Shit! I'da thought it woulda sunk in by now!"
Yohji tried to fight the anger building within him. He knew Omi was upset because none of them had known Aya was this sick when he had agreed to the mission, because Aya was lying there in the bed right in front of them and neither of them could do a damn thing to help him. He knew Omi was furious with him for abandoning Aya, and he knew he deserved it. But, when he heard Omi talk that way about Asuka, he couldn't control his anger. He pushed the boy roughly, sending him stumbling backward. Omi yelped in anger and surprise as he struggled to regain his balance and ended up falling heavily on top of Aya. The redhead didn't even make a sound when Omi's weight suddenly came to rest on his chest and torso.
"Shit!" Yohji hissed through clenched teeth.
He jumped to his feet and grabbed the front of Omi's shirt to pull him off of their injured friend. The boy allowed Yohji to pull him off of the bed, but, as soon as he was back on his feet, he angrily shoved at the older blonde's hands, forcing Yohji to release him. Yohji immediately let go of Omi and leaned around the boy to check on Aya. The redhead's breathing was still labored, but fairly even, and it didn't look like his wounds had started to bleed again. Yohji glared at Omi and stalked the short distance back to his chair. He was still glaring at the boy as he lowered himself heavily back into his seat.
"I loved her," he said quietly. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and stared at the floor between his shoes. "I … I loved her."
Omi sighed, his anger broken by his sudden tumble onto Aya and by the sorrow he heard in the older man's voice. He sat down on the floor next to Yohji's chair and leaned against the older man's legs. "I know," he said quietly. "I know, but drowning yourself in liquor isn't going to change the fact that she's gone. It … it isn't going to change anything, Yohji." He looked toward the still figure lying on the bed and continued, "Aya's still alive, and he needed you. He's … you know, I know he can be such an asshole … but, in his own way … he … he's always looking out for all of us. Even if he's hurting … even if he's not feeling up to it … whatever. He … he never says anything about it if something's bothering him. He's always … you know, there, whenever we need him." The boy sighed again, and looked up at Yohji with wide, serious eyes. "How many times has he come out in the middle of the night to pick you up and drag your drunken ass home after a heavy night? He's the only one of us who will still do it, you know. Me and Ken … we've both had enough of your crap already. He needed you, Yohji. He needed you, and you couldn't even show up."
Yohji nodded and brushed Omi's hair in a gentle, affectionate gesture as he replied in a soft voice, "I know, kiddo. I know. I'll be spending a lot of time trying to make it up to him once he gets better."