Forever or Never

Omi scowled, narrow eyes hidden behind the goggles. He was trying desperately to ignore the way he fit against Farfarello's body, as though they'd been made to stand this way. He didn't even have the excuse of a mission any more; for whatever reason, Farfarello had taken care of the men he'd been sent to find.

You jerk, you know perfectly well what I said, Omi thought, but the idea of being separated was insidiously disturbing. He was comfortable here, but the idea wasn't to be comfortable - it was to get in, complete the mission, and get home. And I'm not a mouse! To prove his point, he bit the palm of the hand still covering his mouth. He knew it wouldn't be painful, but maybe it would be startling enough that the Irishman freed him.

Not that he wanted to be freed, his mind rejected. But it was important to keep up appearances in case Aya came back.

Aya-kun! I've got to find out what happened to him!

Farfarello blinked.

Did Bombay... bite him...?

His grin cracked even wider, and he complied with the demand, removing his hand from the boy's mouth.

"Nippy little mouse," he huffed in amusement, staring down at his palm, where white teeth marks indented his skin.

His fingers tightened around the Weiss's stomach as he was overcome with the desire to steal him away. Kidnap him. Take him home to be the Irishman's pet.

But even as he wished it, he knew he couldn't. Caged felines led much shorter lives than their wild counterparts. And being wild was what made their counterparts so dangerously glorious.

Sighing in frustration, he let go, stepping back a foot with a scowl plastered across his face.

"Did ye' come to hunt?" he asked hopefully.

Omi felt his breath stolen away by the slight squeeze against his midriff. It wasn't painful, but it implied tenderness, something he hadn't been aware Farfarello was capable of.

Brushing off the moment, he whirled angrily. "I'm not a mouse," he hissed, and gave the two dead bodies a perfunctory glance. "I was," he shrugged absently. "You seem to have done my job for me." Unwilling to remain long in the Irishman's company while these strange emotions were whirling through him with alarming alacrity, he took another step away. "Now I'm going to go as soon as I find Abyssinian."

"Noisy little mouse~" he chirped, and then looked bemusedly at the bodies. "Two of you for those two? They were nothing." But he didn't push for more information. He didn't want any. Weiss's missions weren't of Schwarz's concern.

Even though Omi was of Farfarello's concern.

The psychopath's eyes narrowed playfully, but his tone was flat and serious, "So this means, I should make Abyssinian difficult to find?" He took a step backwards, mirroring Bombay's subtle movements. A few steps further, and he might get to the redhead first. A fun game.

Omi growled under his breath at the mouse comment, but let it pass without comment. "We didn't want a repeat of that lab disaster last week," he commented, slowly edging his way away from the Irishman. "And Abyssinian's going to be hard enough to track down without your interference," he muttered - the redhead had clearly lost his radio at some point, if Farfarello had it, and without that, he was effectively trapped alone - again.

He shifted a quick glance over to the Irishman, wondering if he were to suddenly take off running, would it spur the man into an automatic attack? Or would he chase? And catch? Suddenly Omi's mind was flooded with images of Farfarello running him down, pinning him to the ground, and then ---

His mind blanked out, refusing to entertain those thoughts while the Schwarz blademaster was so at odds with him.

"What disaster?" Farfarello cooed, remembering the incident fondly. He wondered briefly whatever became of the beast-child's body.

"Hard to track down, not impossible. And if you can't find him, you don't have to go, right?"

Schuldig.

Nothing.

SCHULDIG.

-WHAT?! snarled the telepath, already having picked up the fact that Farfarello wasn't going to stop pestering him until he answered.

Where's Abyssinian?

Oh, wouldn't you like to know~ he purred sensuously, and Farfarello's mind was filled with his low chuckles.

Yes, I would, he snapped back, frustrated by the redhead's coyness.

Blockhead, do I have to spell it out for you? The sensuality was gone now, replaced by a flood of feelings that made Farfarello feel dirty. Get it?

Yes, he did. He toed the ground, cheeks flaming.

Neither of them would be finding Abyssinian anytime soon.

This was... interesting. Omi hadn't known the Irishman was capable of blushing. It looked strange through his green-tinted goggles, but it wasn't to be mistaken for anything but what it was. A red flush staining his cheeks. Now what could he possibly be thinking about to cause that reaction?

"I'm going to find him, and then leave," Omi asserted. His arm started tingling, at the same time he felt something other than Farfarello watching him. He whirled around, the world jumping crazily as the goggles light-sensitivity tried to adjust rapidly to his constant motion. He caught just a glimpse of something disappearing around a corner, too far away to be caught easily - by the time he made it to the corner, whatever it was would be long gone.

Omi rubbed at his arm through his double-layer of jackets, shivering in a sudden cold. He was wearing the scrub pants again, rather than his usual shorts, but they weren't much better for protection.

On the verge of saying, Perhaps that isn't such a good idea, Farfarello paused, following Omi's line of vision.

He hadn't seen anything, but then again, he wasn't wearing gigantic bug goggles.

There wasn't a way in the world he could have missed the boy's shivering, however. The room, even for a normal person's standards, was most definitely luke-warm. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

"Are you sick?"

"No, I'm not sick," Omi replied dismissively, and then turned to take a closer look at him. After a few moments of silence, he hesitatingly began, "I'm not sick, but something's been following me. I think it came out of that lab we explored; it didn't show up until I went back, but since then, I haven't been able to get rid of it."

He turned to look into the vast dark spaces of the abandoned mall. Most of the shops were closed up behind bars and wire fences, but there were some that were still open; anything could be hiding in a mall this size, and it was going to take Omi forever to find Aya.

There was a muffled shout, coming from the opposite direction he'd seen ... whatever it was ... and Omi whirled, took one look at Farfarello, and then gasped. "That's Aya-kun!" he said, surprised, and then jogged at a quick clip down the long darkened halls.

The Irishman's eye narrowed down to a slit.

"You went back?"

That's the absolute last thing he'd wanted to hear. That and, 'something's been following me.' His lip rolled back in a silent snarl, thinking of the boy there alone. Not that Bombay couldn't take care of himself, he reasoned. It just rubbed him the wrong way.

And he was highly interested in this thing following his little mouse.

The scream touched his senses. Human. A human not in trouble.

So when Omi took off toward Abyssinian, Farfarello hung back. If something was following the boy, it would have to pass by here, as well.

Hey! No! I was counting on you keeping the boy busy, Farf!

Even Schuldig's mental voice was out of breath. It was none of the Irishman's concern, anyway. Although... he was starting to feel concerned. He was starting to feel very concerned. He was also starting to feel attracted to redheads. And nipple piercings.

...Nipple piercings?

To each his own, man. Just go grab your boy before he crashes the party! ...Or maybe I can convince him to join in?

His feet were moving now, following after the boy's scent. Damn telepath. Soon, the boy's light locks were dodging in and out of sight.

Omi flicked the switch on the radio, figuring Farfarello still had it. "Yeah, I went back," he said into it. "I had to make sure that kid was dead. That's as far as I went. You made a good hit," he added. "It must have been painful, but he was gone." By gone, he meant dead, but it occurred to him a moment later that it could be construed as the body was missing. "Dead," he clarified.

He was so focused on speaking to the Irishman that he didn't see the railing that separated the splitting path; two flights of stairs went down a level on either side - he hit the railing, and tumbled over, catching himself with a speed born of instinct.

He looked down, trying to judge whether or not he could drop. It was only about ten feet or so; he'd fallen farther before, but he didn't want to risk an injury, not with Schwarz so close, and Aya possibly in trouble. He swung himself like a pendulum until he could grab the rail with his other hand, and then swung again until he got his foot back up on the floor. He climbed over it, and then turned towards the stairs, intending to find Aya. He could see something faintly at the far end of what used to be a food court; it was either Aya, or whatever had been following him. Either way was good.

Farfarello was about thirty feet away when he saw Omi simply... topple over the railing. He screeched to a stop. Surely... surely... he meant to do that.

The Irishman waited a moment before rushing forward, but by that time, the boy had already managed to pull himself up again, and the Irishman was upon him. He snatched the Weiss around the middle. He could see splashes of different shades of red by the McDonald's signs, gorging themselves on something other than hamburgers.

He hauled them both backwards, making sure the boy couldn't get a foothold. There was no way he was allowing Schuldig to pull him into... whatever they'd decided to do. The carrottop had strange tastes.

"Hey... HEY!" Omi struggled against the grip that held him, realizing for the first time that Farfarello was stronger than he was. "Put me down! I have to get Aya-kun!"

He was ready to drive his elbow into the Irishman's midsection when he suddenly felt the eyes on him again. Bracing himself against Farfarello's legs with his own, he curled over the arm that held him and turned to look behind them. Nothing. "Damn," he swore under his breath, and then realized he was still being held. "Are you going to put me down or are you going to carry me everywhere?" he demanded, and then immediately regretted it. The white-haired teen was clearly ready to do anything to keep Omi from getting over there - where Aya was - and he didn't need an invitation. He started wiggling, trying to loosen the Irishman's grip on him. "Let. Me. Go," he demanded, pulling at the solid arm that held him.

"I don't think Aya-kun wants to be gotten," Farfarello retorted, frowning.

When they got home, he was going to kill Schuldig. He even knew exactly how he was going to do it. Slowly. With a spoon.

Every few moments, in between whatever hell they were doing down there (and Farfarello had seen more than he cared to remember), Schuldig sent him mental images of what the situation would've been like had Omi simply hopped down from the railing.

Farfarello assured him there would be much, much more blood.

"Yes, everywhere," the Irishman agreed. What a fantastic idea. He was surprised he hadn't thought of it himself.

A new image, this time with Omi sandwiched...

Farfarello snarled, trying to force the image out of his head. Problem was, the forcing wasn't working. Red crept back into his cheeks, warmth radiating from where the Weiss was pushed up against his side. And now he was wiggling around...

Schuldig, stop it! he swore.

There was a long silence, followed by a mental gasp. Stop what, hn? Mmmmnevermind, busyrightnow...

Perhaps it was better to let the boy down, after all...

He placed the Weiss on his feet, staring hard at the ground.

"What the hell does that mean?" Omi retorted, taking advantage of his position on the floor to move a few steps away, out of immediate grabbing range should the Irishman decide to reach for him again. "What's wrong with you? Are you... okay?"

He was still seeing everything through the greenish-white tint of the goggles, but even with the strange hue, he could tell the other man was flushed again. "Are you sick?" he asked, putting his gloved hand up against Farfarello's forehead, the same he would have done for any of Weiss. Since the Irishman was clearly not going to let him go for Aya just yet, he decided to follow up the other lead; clearly, whatever had been trailing him was here. It was just a matter of finding it, and finding out why he was being followed.

"Yes, horribly sick," Farfarello agreed, deciding to disregard all other questions. Because even though he couldn't remember feeling sick other than his childhood colds, he imagined that this was what sick would feel like.

And the boy's hand on his forehead wasn't helping. He pulled it away somewhat roughly, trying to put space between himself and the Weiss. Ironic, because that's exactly what the majority of his mind was telling him not to do.

But at least now, Schuldig wasn't sticking any more repulsive (because surely, they were repulsive...) images in his head.

Omi frowned, utterly flummoxed at the Irishman's behavior. He took a few steps past him, scanning the green-tinted shadows for hints of his stalker, and then looked mournfully back towards the food court. "Are you sure?" he asked, torn between two allies. "Maybe you should leave, if you're not feeling well. I'll go get Aya-kun, and we can look for whatever it is on our own." He cradled the hand Farfarello had pushed away against his chest, the skin warm beneath the gloves.

He's being weirder than normal. Maybe it's not safe for Aya and I to be here. I should go and get him...

It repeated in his mind like a mantra; get Aya and just leave - the work could be completed another day, one with less chance of Farfarello suddenly flying into orbit and sticking a knife through him. Despite all his troubled thoughts, he couldn't bring himself to get any closer to the stairs, the white-haired man's warning that Aya might not want to be retrieved at war with the compulsion to rescue his team-mate from whatever horrid fate had befallen him.

Farfarello's jaw twitched as his teeth clenched hard. Leave?

Completely disregarding his own behavior and the oddness of the entire situation, Farfarello focused on that phrase.

Leave. Is that what the boy wanted? His chest clenched hard as he warred against what he wanted, what he should do, and what the boy apparently desired. He should leave. The boy desired his departure.

"Fine," he snapped darkly, turning on his heel, feeling rage and something else bubble up below his skin, fingers itching to grab a blade and carve into.. what? Omi? No, not necessarily. Himself, perhaps. Release the anger that was stinging his flesh. Or perhaps...

We can look for whatever it is on our own.

Aya.

Jealousy... unfounded, he knew. Schuldig had Aya. Aya wanted Schuldig. He could practically taste the pheromones from their earlier location. But still, it left a bitter taste in his mouth. He fingered his knife, toying with the idea.

Don't even think about it, hissed a voice into his mind. A calm voice. Satiated.

That was quick.

It's called -passion-. Passion doesn't need to be drawn out. Schuldig's mental voice was irked, and Farfarello realized that Omi really could go back to Aya now. They could leave.

Omi flinched as Farfarello turned away sharply, and regretted the words. Make up your damn mind, boy, do you want him to go or not? he admonished himself. He sighed heavily, and then sat down where he stood, burying his fingers in the hair that was free of the cap on his head. I don't know what I want. Why am I so confused?

*

Pansy, purred the voice in his head, and Farfarello ground his teeth homicidally. Not for the first time, he wished he had Crawford's natural psychic barrier.

Oh? And what would you do? He asked me to leave, Farfarello snapped back mentally, jamming a knife into a mannequin's nose as he passed.

"Why am I so confused?"

The psychopath froze, words echoing through the air around him.

"Don't... ever... do that again," Farfarello snarled aloud, muscles shaking with anger. His demand was met with silence, but the damage had been done. Omi's voice... Schuldig was toying with him, as always.

He chewed his lip, thinking. Besides, if he went back now, he would look like an idiot.

Farfarello's eyes flicked up. Farfarello? Worried about appearances? Ridiculous.

He looked back through the darkness, considering.

Go, whispered a voice, and his feet started of their own accord, retracing their steps in a sort of sluggish, dream-like movement.

Omi sat for a few minutes longer, listening to Farfarello's footfalls grow fainter. I didn't really want him to go, he thought miserably. I just wanted him to stop acting so weird.

A hand came out of the darkness, falling heavily on his shoulder, and Omi yelped in surprise, whirling to defend himself. Aya stood there, his coat buttoned awkwardly, a somewhat sheepish expression on his face. "It's just me," he said softly. "I'm ... er... done checking out the food court. There's nothing there." An uncharacteristic blush spread across his face, turning the skin an odd shade of white through Omi's goggles.

"Aya-kun," he breathed, relieved, and hugged the other man suddenly. "I was worried about you." Something was tugging at the edge of his senses, and he released the other man, ignoring the voice in the back of his mind telling him that Ran felt remarkably like Farfarello in his arms that way.

"I've got to... use the restroom," Aya muttered, not meeting Omi's eyes. "I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere." He vanished back into the shadows he'd come from, and Omi leaned against the railing, shoving his goggles back on top of his head and digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. So much was wrong with his life; he'd rather have had Farfarello's company than his own team-mates.

***

to be continued...