Forever or Never

BY : Yami Bakura
Category: WeiŖ Kreuz > General
Dragon prints: 681
Disclaimer: Weiss Kreuz and all affiliated characters, themes, and depictions do not belong to me. I make no money from the writing of this story.

(Notes: When we finished the last RP, neither of us could bear to let the story go [unless I'm making that up, and I forced her to continue... either of those are possible, but it's been several months since we worked on it; she was just too busy with school] so we continued it in this.)


Escape to the stars
Feeling so free
Just you and me
Escape to the stars
Chasing a dream
All that we need is to believe
Escape to the stars

--Cinema Bizarre - Escape to the Stars


It had been nearly two weeks since Omiís near fatal solo-mission that had caused Farfarello to move up from 'deadly enemy' to 'possible romantic interest'. He hadn't seen the Schwarz at all in the past few days, and figured that Farfarello had pushed him out of his mind and forgotten him.

After all, he was a reputed psychopath, and Kritiker techs had assured him that his mind wasn't functional in the same ways as a normal personís was, and that anything Omi had brought away from the experience was best forgotten as soon as possible.

That was, until he found himself out with Aya, separated from the sword-master, and wandering around the building lost. He hated being lost. It reeked of inability.

And he kept feeling eyes on him, but wherever he looked, there was nothing there. Still, the feeling persisted.


Upon hearing the news of the strange building, Crawford's reaction was ambivalent. Apparently Farfarello and Omi had already killed the largest threat he'd been aware of, the mutating child, and the precog now felt secure enough to forget about the situation entirely.

But Farfarello was feeling antsy again. It didn't help that every five minutes, the bored telepath, whom had just returned a few days ago from his trip, would pester him, prodding at his memories of the mission, which kept cropping up at the strangest times.


No, irritable was more the word.

Even more than before, he couldn't stand to be touched. Nagi had accidentally bumped him while making pancakes the other day, and Farfarello's knife had jumped to the boy's neck so quickly they both had to take a moment to recover from the shock.

The man who feels no pain is acting awfully sensitive, the telepath had laughed into his head after the kitchen incident. Farfarello said nothing.

Nothing, because he couldn't lie and deny it.

He didn't feel like himself.

Showers had become an entirely new experience, and he spent hours upon hours gently cutting his own skin, until the skin looked puffy beneath the faucet and Crawford was banging on the door, complaining about how the water bill would attract attention. Nobody used this much water in Japan, he fussed.

Farfarello didn't care. It was one of the few things that gave him pleasure nowadays.

"When are you getting rid of that filthy thing?" Schuldig snorted, prodding the heap of fabric at the end of his bed. Farfarello snarled, chasing him off with a glare, although his laughter rang loudly against the psychopath's bare walls.

You can't keep it forever, you know. Crawford is going to notice at some point that your room reeks of old blood.

His room always reeked of old blood.

Not this bad.

And he was right. But he couldn't wash it, and he couldn't bring himself to throw it away.

That only left... giving it back.

The idea thrilled him.

Brad isn't gonna let you out alone, he purred.

Brad would never agree to go. Nagi was revamping his computer, probably for the next several days.

So what say you?

He clenched his teeth, rolling out of bed and snatching the garment from its place across the bedpost. He had nothing to say.

Then it's decided. Hurry up, before we miss um.


Omi found a bench, and settled himself on it. They were here on a cleanup duty - some evil men running a drug cartel had taken to this mall to hide until the search died down. His hand had healed, as had the slight wound across his stomach, but while the bite had healed, it remained as a circle of white scars that still throbbed occasionally.

The rest of Weiss had bothered him endlessly about the wounds, and his clothes, and why he'd left them behind.

"What aren't you telling us?" Yohji had asked. Damn his perceptiveness. "What really went on in that building? Did you run into someone beside the creatures?"

Of course, Omi had given them the full report - minus Farfarello. Now if only he could erase the Irishman from his mind as easily as he'd been erased from the mission reports. I'm never going to see him again anyway, Omi decided. Before that mission, he'd never interacted with the berserker, and it wasn't likely that he would after it, either.


"What makes you think he's even gonna want it back? He threw it away, right?" Schuldig scoffed as they got out of his red car. He was asking this now, because now it was too late to turn around. And honestly, Farfarello felt weird, now that he mentioned it. He hadn't even considered the fact that the boy might not want it back.

"Man, you're so smart sometimes, and then other times, I feel like you have no grasp of other people."

This coming from a telepath, who could see everything.

"Where are we?" Farfarello asked, giving the aging mall a once-over.

"The mall, of course!" Schuldig cooed, holding the door open and making a dramatic sweep inside. The building looked ready to collapse in on itself. "Now, you go find your man. I'm gonna go have fun with mine~"


But the telepath was already gone, the door slamming shut behind him.


He looked back, wondering if he should wait in the car instead. The garment was heavy in his hand. He should've washed it first, but it smelled good... like blood... and...

Hn. Without a second thought, he crept through the door, letting it swing shut softly behind him, and disappeared into the darkness of the mall.


After several minutes of sitting there, Omi tried his radio again. "Abyssinian? This is Bombay, come in? Over."

Static. "Abyssinian, this Bombay. Come in, over."

Still nothing. Omi sighed, and flung himself at the back of the bench. Aya, where ARE you?

After a few moments of wandering aimlessly through the mall, tensing every time a half-dressed mannequin popped up suddenly from around a corner, Farfarello paused.

Yes, there it was again. That was definitely Omi's voice. He moved silently but quickly. If Omi was talking, that meant he wasn't alone.

When he got to the source of the voice, he stopped in confusion, looking around. Nothing. More mannequins, scattered along the floor, as though something had come along and knocked them in every direction.

And half-buried beneath a shirt... a radio communicator, turned up full blast. He fiddled with the settings, putting the tiny thing in his ear and grinning.

"Ohayou~" he purred, once the static had dissipated a bit.


Omi nearly fell straight over the back of the bench. That wasn't Aya!

"Who are you?" he demanded. "Where's Abyssinian?" He launched himself to his feet, and then crept along the wall, keeping his eyes peeled for other humans.

Kritiker had given him a replacement pair of goggles to replace the ones he'd lost on the last mission, and he utilized them now. Drawing them over his eyes, he pressed a button on the side. Immediately the room burst into white and green light. He turned the button slightly, adjusting it until he could see.

He wasn't sure how they'd managed to shrink the night-vision technology to the point that it would fit in a narrow pair of goggles, but it assured that the problems of the last mission - being unable to see in the darkness without his flash torch - were a thing of the past.

Farfarello put a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter. The boy was so much fun when he got like this.

No, but it wasn't good to keep him too on edge. Farfarello didn't want a dart in his back, or Schuldig's. Well, sometimes Schuldig's, but definitely not his own.

"Looks like Abyssinian ran into a bit of trouble," Farfarello said easily, moving through holes in the shop walls, to avoid having to step into the wide alley in the middle.

His heart raced. A cat and mouse game. He couldn't wait to find his mouse, and...

...His mind blanked. Do what? Give the boy his shirt back? That seemed very anticlimactic. Perhaps he'd steal a new one. He'd become very fond of the garment, and as much as he hated to admit it, it was becoming harder and harder to smell the owner's scent on the fibers. Or perhaps he'd just become numb to the scent. That idea left a bad taste in his mouth. He'd have to make sure.

There was a movement to his left.

Two figures. Blundering. Definitely not Weiss.

His hunting instinct kicked in, and he was off, already sidetracked. Black figures in black masks. Thieves stealing... what? Forgotten trinkets? No matter.

He came upon them like a whirlwind. Surprisingly, one actually managed to get off the first hint of a scream before the psychopath's knife found his neck. They drowned quickly in their own blood.

Farfarello looked down at himself. A few blood spatters on his black tank. Nothing serious. They would blend in easily as they dried.


He heard a sharp staccato noise that was echoed by a second in his ear. Whoever had the radio must have caused it, and by the sound, it was close. He turned a corner down another wing of the massive structure, and saw two figures on the ground. That was strange; they were clearly dead, but who had done it?

He knelt down beside the bodies, and noted the neat cuts in their bodies. Definitely the work of a blade, but it didn't look like Aya's. "Aya-kun?" he murmured, and then a flash of motion caught his attention. He whirled, looking for the source. "Who's there? Identify yourself." He commanded, two filled darts resting comfortably in his hand. His left hand snaked towards Farfarello's knife, which he had taken to carrying with him.

Farfarello cursed himself. Such a quick game...

He considered delaying the game's end, sinking back into the shadows, throwing a knife as a diversion...

But one look at the boy's face told him he couldn't.

Not that he didn't love playing with the young Weiss, but this was...

...His mind struggled for the word. What was it?


A shudder ran down his spine. Cruel. He knew it to be cruel. He'd slaughtered hundreds without a second thought, and he couldn't lead a trained assassin on for two more moments, because it was cruel. He would've laughed at the irony, had he not been so sickened by the strange shift inside himself.

And now, how to approach the boy, without getting shanked? He couldn't announce himself, if the other Weiss were here.

He sank into the shadows and moved in a wide circle, making sure nobody was in the immediate vicinity, then closed in silently from the rear.

Two darts in one hand, and he couldn't see the other. He'd just have to hope nothing was in that one. For the last two steps, he rushed, clamping a hand down on the kid's mouth with his left and snatching at the dart-filled hand with the other.

"Shh, only me," he said quickly, hoping it was quick enough to stop whatever sharp objects could possibly be heading toward his vital organs.

Omi let out an undignified squeak as he found himself assaulted from the back. Instincts kicking in before his brain caught up, he realized that whoever it was had prior knowledge of him; they'd gone for the darts first, effectively disabling him.

Me? Me who? His free hand went up to the hand that covered his mouth, feeling helpless. He'd set his feet to throw the intruder, but gradually, the voice pinged off his memories. He paused, relaxing against his attacker. Farfarello?

Breathing hard, he tilted his head back, looking up at his captor. Indeed it was Farfarello, though through the goggles his hair appeared green. He relaxed further, going almost limp in relief. He sighed heavily against the hand, trying to calm the rush of adrenaline that shot through him. "Led mm gmm," he mumbled, and contemplated biting. Farfarello had the advantage, however, and Omi still wasn't sure whether he was to be considered an enemy or an ally. If Aya could see him now, the redhead would blow a gasket!

Farfarello relaxed once he realized the boy hadn't put a knife in his stomach. He blinked as the goggles turned up in his direction. They made the Weiss look like some sort of giant, humanoid insect.

But this... this wasn't bad. As twitchy as he'd been about being touched the past week or so, he felt comfortable again now. He dropped the boy's wrist, instead hooking an arm around his midriff and pulling him closer. Warm. His little body fit so nicely, like a stuffed animal.

Omi murmured something that sounded quite a bit like a request to let him go, but since that went against the Irishman's wishes, he decided to play dumb. After all, he wasn't positive that was what the boy said.

"Tis awfully hard to understand you, little mouse," he smirked. "Cat got yer tongue?"

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