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The Best Defense	By : jeisvenka Category: Weiß Kreuz > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 1576 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Weiß Kreuz, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Manx'
Proposition

He
was sick again. Sick for the third time in the past thirty minutes,
making for what would've been a very nasty sore throat, if he
could've felt it. After nearly puking up an organ an hour or so ago,
a doctor had come in to ask him a few questions, followed by a
policeman who asked an entirely new set of questions, followed by a
civil servant who asked him even more questions that thoroughly
cracked him up.

Had
he been raped? Not exactly, although it wasn't quite consensual. But
who was asking? "May I please dislocate your leg and rip through
your innards?" Well, that wasn't precisely on the tip of
Schuldig's tongue last night, although Farfarello didn't exactly
blame him. It took him several hours, but he finally remembered what
had set off the telepath in the first place.

It
was the wonder boy. The prodigy. Crawford's shining pupil, who had
finally found his way into Crawford's very thick, very hard heart,
which Crawford had expressed through another very thick, very
hard… well, he expressed himself clearly enough. Farfarello
chuckled.

But
still, it was strange that nobody had bothered to pick him up yet.
Not that he was worried about Schuldig. The man was more than capable
of drowning his sorrows at the nearest club and letting the rest of
the world rot. But Crawford? Surely he would've had a vision by now
that instructed him to send a lackey to the hospital. Farfarello
fidgeted with the white bed sheets, trying to get the ends to stuff
back under the mattress, where they belonged. He hated it when sheets
came up across his feet, especially when he didn't have enough
strength to reach over and tuck it in himself. And where was that
Ruben he ordered half an hour ago? He'd already vomited up the last
one, and now he was hungry again.

Just
as he was contemplating stripping off his IVs to get some attention,
the door burst open.

Unfortunately,
it was not his Ruben.

Nor
was it Schuldig, nor Crawford, nor Nagi, nor even some paycheck grunt
hired to pick him up. At least, he didn't think the curl-infested
redhead before him had been paid by Crawford. His eyes travelled of
their own accord down from the face to the intruder's more…
interesting features. Skirts like that should be banned.

Farfarello's
head rested back into his pillow as he used up the last of his energy
reserves.

"I
take it you haven't come to bring me flowers, aye lassie?" he
rasped, his throat closing with the added pressure after his recent
bouts of heaving.

The
woman sneered, staring down at him as one might stare at a cockroach,
"Not exactly."

"Then
you've come to kill me, I presume?" God, he was hungry. Where
was that damned sandwich?

"…Not
exactly." She closed the distance to the bed in two measured
steps, hauling a chair behind her, on which she perched next to his
bed. Strange. In Farfarello's experience, women usually avoided
cockroaches.

Farfarello
felt his skin crawl slightly and inched away as best he could. The
woman leaned forward in response, until she was only a matter of
inches away. He could feel her breath against his shoulder, her
breasts practically leaping towards him from their restrictions.

"If
you've come to seduce me, I'll have you know that I lean towards the
opposite sex," Farfarello said, his eye narrowing.

"Well,
that's a relief," she murmured, inching even closer, if
possible. Her perfume was suffocating.

"Opposite
of you, I mean," he grinned, and felt her falter. Success. Her
eyebrows raised a bit, although she didn't back away or break eye
contact. Strong woman. She was trying to tell if he was lying. Good
luck. Not even Schuldig had that ability.

She
held his gaze for a bit longer before sitting back in her
uncomfortable plastic hospital chair and turning her eyes toward the
window. Farfarello resisted the urge to sigh in relief, instead
settling back into his pillow. She didn't speak, and he didn't urge
it. It wasn't every day he was visited in the hospital by an
arch-enemy, and he wanted to relish the moment.

"I
read your file," Manx said suddenly, breaking the silence.
Farfarello wished she hadn't, although there was nothing that could
be done now.

"A
good read, uh? Full of plot twists and steaming character analysis?"

Her
eyebrows raised again, and she looked down at him, "You could
say that. Then again, you could also say that you have a lot of
enemies. Enemies that wouldn't think twice about raping and beating a
convicted sociopath to death."

Farfarello
flinched before he could stop himself, which she saw and continued,
"Of course, you could also say that your enemies don't have that
ability over you. Not even the members of Weiss could handle such a
load without losing an arm or leg in the process, since I presume you
wouldn't go down without a fight. So that leaves my question: how did
you end up in such a state?"

"How
did you find me here?" Farfarello returned, suddenly irked that
his peace had been interrupted for such probing questions. In the
world Schwarz had created within the walls of their apartment, such
questions didn't exist. There was no disgusting concept like "rape."
When the social servant had come to ask him questions about his
"attack," he'd laughed at her, unable to comprehend her
reality.

But
this time… this time was different. Manx's eyes were harsh.
Judging. Not only was he attacked, he was somehow shamed. Since he
had the strength, he should've stopped it.

He
looked up at the ceiling instead, unable to keep eye contact, but he
still caught the flicker of smugness tugging at the corners of the
woman's mouth. She was enjoying this, and why shouldn't she? It
wasn't like he wouldn't be enjoying it if she were in his place.

"Kritiker
has eyes and ears everywhere. It wasn't hard," she confessed,
indulging him. "Your turn."

He
narrowed his eye, "That's hardly a fair trade."

"Aren't
you supposed to be insane? How do you know what's fair?"

"Insane?
Ha!" he snapped, tracing the overlapping lines on the ceiling.
They reminded him of drizzled paint. Not even half as interesting as
the colorful wind ponies from the night before. "And what's your
excuse for coming into a psychopath's room unarmed without first
subduing him?"

She
grinned. He could see it from a mile away. "You seem pretty
subdued already, in my opinion. And who says I'm unarmed?"

Farfarello
let his sight wander over to her again, this time scanning her body
with a purpose. He had been so caught up in her… natural
attributes… that he'd completely missed the black gun hilt sticking
out of her handbag. Still, it was awfully trustworthy of her to just
march in here on a whim.

"Did
you really come just to see how I was healing up?" Farfarello
rasped, his piercing eye ghosting back up to hers. She grinned. He
thought not.

"Answer
my question first. Fair is fair, after all."

Farfarello
mused for a while, but he was nothing if not curious. And even if her
judgment was fierce, his lack of humility still stood stronger. He
smiled broadly, showing off a nice line of pearly whites.

"Schuldig."

Her
eyes widened, but she snapped a mask on instantly. So, she really
hadn't expected it? Darn. How disappointing. Farfarello thought she
at least had an idea, with all her talk of "enemies not having
ability over him" and such. Oh well, her surprise was equally
entertaining, if not more so.

The
ensuing silence was deafening, but Farfarello liked it that way. He
saw her shift uncomfortably, trying to find a sweet spot in a chair
not built for sitting.

"I
see," she said finally, abruptly. "Even the… you
know...?" So, even the impassable Manx had tact.

"No,
I was violently fucked first by a pack of rabid teenagers, and then
beaten to a pulp by my teammate. Or did I get that backwards?"
he cocked an eyebrow, relishing her reactions. Revulsion first, then…
was that pity? Oh, he wished she'd kept that one for longer, but no,
her mask was back in place, although void of whatever harsh humor
she'd first carried into the room. "And now, I do believe it's
your turn."

"Fair
is fair," she stammered with some difficulty, as if having
trouble controlling her own vocal chords. "One of our own has
gone missing, and we believe one of yours is the cause."

Farfarello
turned his gaze back to the ceiling, thinking aloud softly in
English, "Well, while the cats are away, the mice will play…"

Manx
furrowed her brow for a moment, then asked exasperatedly, "What does this have to do with mice?"

It's
a proverb, he mused silently. Apparently one that didn't transfer
across the language barrier. With Crawford and Nagi off on business,
he wouldn't put it past Schuldig to pull something like kidnapping.
Maybe the telepath figured that If he had a younger plaything as
well, Crawford would get jealous. Ha! He had a better chance of
making the youngest Weiss fall for him. Or any Weiss, for that
matter. Or a can of tomato sauce.

Farfarello's
stomach rumbled loudly, disrupting his thoughts. Well, if the Ruben
wouldn't come to him, he'd go to the Ruben, blood loss or no! He
pushed off the sheets, causing Manx to leap backwards and whip out
her gun in surprise. He pressed his feet forward onto the floor…
only to find himself abruptly sitting down once more. Only this time,
he sat on cold white tile instead of a nice, warm hospital bed. Manx
stood there, gun cocked, as if waiting for him to pounce, confusion
smeared on every crevice of her face.

Well,
he had the feeling he wouldn't be leaping anywhere anytime soon. He
hadn't noticed before, but his leg had a nifty white cast on it from
his knee to his upper thigh, and it wouldn't support even an ounce of
his weight, instead slipping ungracefully to the side.

Farfarello
chuckled lowly to himself before using Manx's plastic chair to heave
himself up. The effort made him dizzy, and he plopped back onto his
bed, out of energy, once again.

"Like
I said before, it's no use trying to attack me," Manx said,
measuring her words to sound less anxious. "Your body's out of
commission for at least a month, if not longer. You have a few broken
bones, not to mention internal injuries and some slight nerve
damage." She finally lowered her gun, as if she'd convinced
herself as well as him of his harmlessness. "Honestly, it's
amazing you survived."

Amazing
he survived? So, it seemed Schuldig really did lose control this
time… No wonder Manx was so shocked when he'd revealed his
attacker. Crawford wouldn't be happy. Last time Farfarello broke an
arm and couldn't fight, the man had nearly popped a vein.

The
door to the room slammed open with a whoosh, and Manx, already on
edge from Farfarello's imagined attack, once again jumped, swinging
the barrel of her gun towards the door.

The
shocked hospital attendant dropped the Ruben she was carrying and
fell backwards out the door, nearly wetting herself as she sprinted
back down the hallway. Manx rolled her eyes. "Shit," she
mumbled, shoving her gun back into her handbag and pulling out a cell
phone instead. After shouting a few orders over the receiver,
something about "covering up a mishap," and, "no, she
wasn't fond of pulling weapons on hospital employees," she
finally spotted the sandwich on the floor.

"Is
this yours?" she asked, pulling the accosted food item up to eye
level, its plastic container the only thing that saved it from the
supposedly sterile hospital floors.

He
didn't bother to nod, his stomach whining loudly instead. She smiled,
tossing the sandwich to his bed, and returned to her seat. He fell
back against the mattress once again, eagerly shoving the foodstuff
into his mouth.

"Well,
I must say, I am somewhat optimistic at the turn of events," she
said brightly. Farfarello slowed slightly, but didn't stop eating.
Optimistic? "Since you were attacked by Schuldig, and Omi was
probably kidnapped by him, seeing as the man seems to be a wee bit
more insane than we'd originally expected, then perhaps we can help
each other out? Closure or revenge or whatever the hell you want for
you, and a little shove in the right direction for us. Sound like a
deal?" Farfarello swallowed the bite mid-chew, and was about to
spout something like "fat chance," when she interrupted,
"And until you're willing to give us your assistance, I've
requested the support of the three remaining members of Weiss to help
babysit you."

Farfarello
felt his eye bug slightly at this most recent news.

"What?
You didn't think I'd be able to let you go, did you? And I'm
definitely not going to keep you at my place. I already have a pet
pissing up the floor; I don't need another."

He
was about to open his mouth to protest when he felt the bile rising
in his throat again. Shit... He reached for the nearest trashcan,
ignoring Manx's look of disgust. Another sandwich down the drain.

He
couldn't wait to see Crawford's face when he got the bill.

----

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The Best Defense