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Dragon Cycle	By : RubyRoh Category: Weiß Kreuz > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 6229 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own WeiÃŸ Kreuz, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Dragon Cycle ï¿½ Pt 24 - Riddles

Disclaimer: I do not own Weiï¿½ Kreuz, the series, or any of the characters that appear in that series. I do, however, borrow them so I can have some fun with them. I write for pleasure not profit.

Author's Notes: Continuing thanks to Iron Dog for her ongoing efforts to beta this fic for me.

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Farfarello had showered and was taking a nap. Nagi had gone to his room immediately after theyï¿½d arrived back at the house, closing his door behind him. Prodigy wasnï¿½t scheduled for the party tonight, but heï¿½d remain in contact with Crawford in case he was needed. What Nagi was doing now was anyoneï¿½s guess. Schuldig doubted the kid was napping but honestly didnï¿½t care enough to enquire.

What he did care about was that while Crawford was currently in a meeting, when he came back, theyï¿½d be the only ones around. That would allow Schuldig the time he wanted to tackle his illustrious leader with a few questions that had come to mind since the excitement of the past hour faded.

Takatori demanded the meeting to discuss the recent shooting. Also attending the hastily convened get-together was Pattel, the leader of the second team of bodyguards. Some selective eavesdropping allowed Schuldig to witness Crawfordï¿½s clinical account of what happened and his assurance to Takatori that everything was once again under control.

Takatori questioned Pattel as to his teamï¿½s whereabouts during the incident. Expecting such a question, the manï¿½s thoughts were calm and ordered as heï¿½d explained that theyï¿½d come at a run when theyï¿½d heard the first shot, but backed off as soon as theyï¿½d realized Takatoriï¿½s other team had things in hand. No point, heï¿½d explained, in two teams, unaccustomed to working together, attempting to do so for the first time in a life-threatening situation. *Weï¿½d probably end up shooting each other* heï¿½d added to himself, choosing not to speak the thought aloud. Takatori was a pompous windbag but Pattel seemed to have a working brain cell, thank god.

Takatori accepted the explanation, spouted off about paying good money for his bodyguards to be more diligent, mulled over a few unrelated matters, then proceeded to move onto the next topic under discussion ï¿½ tonightï¿½s party.

Schuldig found the whole party conversation dull in the extreme and bailed on it. Some days he was just so fucking glad that Crawford took care of all the bullshit that went with the job. It was bad enough that he had to attend the damned party. Spending time sitting around listening to it being discussed when he didnï¿½t have too would just be salt into the wound.

He was, of course, extremely partial to parties, but Takatoriï¿½s were duller-than-dishwater affairs attended by his stuffed-shirt business cronies, boring political associates and their equally uninteresting wives. The men would spend the night talking politics and business and the women would smile, engage in some social chit-chat with each other and try to look interested when their husbands were discussing business. Schuldig was not looking forward to tonight. A lot of standing around looking intriguingly foreign, suitably protective and being alert ï¿½ which meant no drinking and no dancing. Because Crawford would be well aware of his telepathï¿½s boredom heï¿½d be keeping a close eye on him, which meant no little mind tweaking or sneaking off for a quickie either.

No sex, no drugs, no wine, no women, no fun, no sin, no you,*

ï¿½No nothing,ï¿½ Schuldig concluded in a disgruntled tone.

He shoved the song that had snuck into his head and its annoying catchiness aside. With a sigh, he turned the television on, trying to occupy himself until Crawford returned. Within minutes heï¿½d lost interest in the mindless programming and decided on an early shower instead, certain that by the time he was done, Crawford would be back.

His assumption proved correct so Schuldig, freshly showered and changed and with his hair still damp, invited himself into Crawfordï¿½s makeshift study.

ï¿½How did the meeting go?ï¿½ he enquired conversationally as he took a seat opposite his leader. Not that he really cared or didnï¿½t already know the outcome.

ï¿½Takatori is reassured weï¿½ve got things well in hand and heï¿½s looking forward to a trouble-free party tonight,ï¿½ the precog replied, his gaze taking in Schuldigï¿½s freshly-showered state. ï¿½You appear unusually eager about this eveningï¿½s function,ï¿½ he commented.

Schuldig gave a lazy shrug. ï¿½I was bored,ï¿½ he answered. ï¿½The party tonight will be the same as all of Takatoriï¿½s parties ï¿½ dull, boring, and way too fucking long.ï¿½

ï¿½Are you here now because youï¿½re bored?ï¿½ Crawford enquired. ï¿½If you are, I donï¿½t have time for it. I have a report to submit to Eszett.ï¿½

ï¿½About Stein?ï¿½ Schuldig could feel his anger fire up at just the thought of that bastard.

ï¿½The report will include him, yes,ï¿½ Crawford replied without infliction.

ï¿½You should let me shoot him. We can blame the drug lordï¿½s minions, saying they were so pissed they were shooting at anyone even remotely connected to Takatori,ï¿½ Schuldig suggested with a thoughtful look. The more he thought about it, the more the idea had appeal.

ï¿½Youï¿½re not shooting him, Schuldig, so let it drop,ï¿½ Crawford said without looking up from the file he was looking at.

ï¿½Consider it dropped,ï¿½ Schuldig conceded after short pause. He still liked the idea. He relaxed back in the chair, making himself more comfortable. ï¿½But while weï¿½re on the subject of drug lordï¿½s minions, a warning would have been nice, expected even ï¿½ or is that what the vests were meant to be?ï¿½ he chided.

He knew well enough that his expression, his gaze, his whole demeanor conveyed a casual air, but beneath it he watched the precog closely, looking for a reaction. He knew heï¿½d have to be sharp to catch it, Crawfordï¿½s reactions being notoriously subtle - almost to the point of non-existence.

What he got was equivocation, a very un-Crawford-like reaction.

ï¿½The vests did the job they were meant to do,ï¿½ the precog replied after a moment of silence.

ï¿½Eventually,ï¿½ Schuldig said.

Crawford looked across at him, raising dark eyebrows in query. ï¿½Your point?ï¿½

ï¿½Iï¿½ll spell it out if I have to,ï¿½ Schuldig replied easily, ï¿½but why donï¿½t you save us both some time and aggravation and tell me what the fuck is going on?ï¿½

ï¿½Nothing is going on,ï¿½ Crawford answered as he straightened his notes. He absolutely oozed confidence but something wasnï¿½t right and Schuldig knew it. ï¿½You know how my Talent works. I canï¿½t always be precise as to when events will happen.ï¿½

Schuldig snorted inelegantly. He knew this was more than just the inability to be precise. He also knew he shouldnï¿½t feel stung by the reply but somewhere deep within himself he did. He knew there were some things Crawford would never say aloud ï¿½ one of those being that his Talent was, in some way, faulty. But hell, after all theyï¿½d been through and all theyï¿½d shared, Schuldig had thought the man might trust him enough to confide in him. Heï¿½d usually push the point, but this time couldnï¿½t find the will to wheedle and annoy. He wondered briefly if he was going soft to allow himself to be bothered by this.

ï¿½Whatever you say,ï¿½ he brushed aside the precogï¿½s response. He stood up, not willing to continue the conversation. ï¿½You wonï¿½t let me shoot that bastard Stein even though he deserves it and everythingï¿½s just fucking rosy with you. Thatï¿½s all I need to know.ï¿½

He knew Crawford wasnï¿½t going to call him back. No one forced anything out of the American ï¿½ ever. Well, to hell with him, Schuldig thought as he opened the door. So long as this lapse in regards to the precogï¿½s Talent didnï¿½t get any of them killed, he could keep as many fucking secrets as he wanted to.

Stepping through the door, Schuldig slammed it with a bang, knowing Crawford would view the action as immature, but not caring. He made his way back to the den and fell down on the sofa with a disgruntled sigh. He was pissed at Crawford and he was pissed at himself. He couldnï¿½t understand why this was bothering him so much.

No, he corrected. Take that back. I do know.

This was almost a repeat of the time heï¿½d learned the truth about Farfarello. Looking back, he knew heï¿½d over-reacted. Hell, heï¿½d known it at the time ï¿½ just wouldnï¿½t admit it. He was over-reacting now ï¿½ and it had to be an after-affect of the stasis. After all, he reminded himself, it was less than a week since heï¿½d woken up. He still felt out-of-sorts.

He knew that Crawford had worked far too hard at assembling the team he wanted to ever put that team at unnecessary risk. Just as he knew that it wasnï¿½t the close call with the gunman that was bothering him but, rather, Crawfordï¿½s refusal to admit to him that his Talent wasnï¿½t functioning properly. Which was stupid. What should have bothered him was Crawford pretending there was nothing wrong with his Talent, preferring to make excuses and have his team wear Kevlar vests.

Sighing deeply, Schuldig tried to push the thoughts out of his mind. He didnï¿½t want to dwell on this. He didnï¿½t brood ï¿½ there was no point to it. Brooding was Nagiï¿½s territory anyway, with all that teenage emo angst shit. Crawford would deal with things the way he best saw fit. Theyï¿½d trusted him to do that for the last couple of years and heï¿½d never let them down. Yeah, sure, there was a first time for everything, but Schuldig didnï¿½t think that logic applied to Brad Crawford.

Letting out another sigh of annoyance, Schuldig tried to find something on television to distract him before he started thinking in circles. That was a waste of time, and Schuldig hated wasting his time ï¿½ which was why he hated this stupid fucking huge waste-of-a-time holiday so much.

Television was another waste of time, Schuldig thought as he relentlessly channel-surfed looking for something ï¿½ anything ï¿½ worth his time. It was too bad Farfarello was sleeping. After his recent close call, Schuldig wasnï¿½t fool enough to wake the Irishman when he was coming down from a kill. Shame, Schuldig thought philosophically.

He stopped mashing the remote with a little sigh and sought distraction elsewhere. It continued to bother him that heï¿½d been chased out of Steinï¿½s mind by the peculiar sensation heï¿½d experienced when heï¿½d last trespassed there. He decided it was time to give it another shot. After all, Crawford only said he couldnï¿½t shot the asshole Austrian. He never said Schuldig couldnï¿½t go on a little fishing expedition in Steinï¿½s head.

Schuldig took a couple of deep breaths before closing his eyes and stealthily going in search of the familiarity that was Steinï¿½s mind. Minutes later, he opened his eyes, frowning. Something wasnï¿½t right. Still frowning, he tried again. The result was the same ï¿½ which was ridiculous. Stein wasnï¿½t invisible. Schuldig had been in the manï¿½s mind before, but right now, that mind was nowhere to be found. After trying one final time, and getting the same result, Schuldig reached for Clara. If anything was wrong, sheï¿½d be reacting to it.

She was as easy to find as always. Her surface thoughts were all about the program she was watching. Delving deeper, Schuldig found nothing to suggest she was the least bit alarmed, as she would have been had anything been amiss with Stein. Which didnï¿½t make any sense. A teamï¿½s telepath always kept subtle mental tabs on their team mates for problems or intrusion by other psychics. Either Clara was doing a sloppy job as her teamï¿½s telepath or she didnï¿½t find anything wrong about Steinï¿½s mind suddenly going AWOL. Schuldig took his time searching Claraï¿½s mind, looking for any clue as to what was going on, but found nothing that gave him even the smallest hint.

Drawing a blank on Clara, he tried Jerry next. He was, apparently, watching the same show as Clara and proved as useless as his telepathic team mate in providing information as to what was happening with Stein. All Schuldig learned was that Steinï¿½s mind was missing in action and half of Team Stï¿½rke either hadnï¿½t noticed or, at least, hadnï¿½t noticed anything out of the ordinary.

What the fuck was going on?

This was something Crawford should know about, Schuldig decided. ï¿½But not just yet,ï¿½ he added quietly to himself.

Closing his eyes again, he went in search of Stein once more, his whole being focused on finding the missing mind. After several minutes that seemed like hours, he gave up the task with a frustrated noise.

ï¿½Itï¿½s not possible,ï¿½ he muttered. ï¿½His mind canï¿½t just wink out of existence.ï¿½

Knowing it was an exercise in futility, the telepath tried one more time. As anyone who knew him well could attest to, Schuldig was nothing if not dogged when he was being thwarted.

As he continued to search, Schuldig became aware of the faint sound of white noise. He honed in on it, guessing it was Verena he was picking up on. He knew heï¿½d get nothing from her in regards to Stein but tracked the noise all the same. Within seconds heï¿½d come up against her formidable shields. As heï¿½d gotten closer, the white noise had become louder almost to the point of physical pain but heï¿½d persisted. Now, up as close as he could get, it felt like the noise was going to overwhelm him and swallow him up whole so he might never find himself again. Schuldig beat a slightly panicked and hasty retreat. He came back to his surroundings with a start, his head pounding and nausea roiling in his gut.

What the bloody fucking hell?

He let his head fall back on the sofa, and took some steadying breaths, waiting for his heart to find its usual even-paced rhythm. He kept his eyes closed and only opened them when the pounding in his head eased off, his heart was beating normally and he was sure he wasnï¿½t going to be sick.

Damn it all, he muttered under his breath.

Schuldig was used to being in close proximity to Talents with strong shields. Crawford had a prime set that easily kept the German on the outside of the pre-cogï¿½s mind, as annoying as that was. Schuldig was also accustomed to being around Shields when they were strengthening their defenses. Heï¿½d gotten very used to it during his time at Rosenkreuz, where telepaths and Shields squared off against each other as a matter of course, testing one anotherï¿½s limits with exercises of skill and strength. But heï¿½d never experienced anything like what heï¿½d encountered with Verena ï¿½ ever. Beneath the white noise, Verenaï¿½s shields had been emitting a high-pitched screech; the sound of shields being pushed to their limits and beyond.

It could well be that Verena was simply working on strengthening her shields. It was something Shield Talents did on a regular basis, after all. However, given his other concerns, Schuldig thought someone needed to find out what was going on. He toyed briefly with the idea of contacting Clara then changed his mind. His head was already aching, and he didnï¿½t want to exacerbate the problem, especially as Crawford would view any talk of a headache as an attempt to get out of party duty later. And, since he was the reason Schuldig couldnï¿½t allow his headache to get any worse, Crawford would have to do the investigating.

Rising from the sofa, Schuldig went back to Crawfordï¿½s study. Without knocking, he went on in, invited himself to a seat and explained why he was there. Not five minutes after heï¿½d entered the room, Crawford had the phone in his hand. When heï¿½d finished the call, Crawford hung up and looked across at Schuldig.

ï¿½According to Jerry, he and Clara are watching television, Stein is sleeping and Verena is working on strengthening her shields.ï¿½

That pretty much fitted in with what Schuldig found when heï¿½d gone looking. That didnï¿½t mean it was what was actually going on. It also didnï¿½t mean that Team Stï¿½rke was telling the truth. They could be lying. Schuldig had no idea why theyï¿½d lie but he wouldnï¿½t put anything past them.

ï¿½Everything fits except Stein. No oneï¿½s mind ceases to exist just because theyï¿½re asleep,ï¿½ he pointed out. ï¿½Crawford, Stein isnï¿½t there. I know. I looked.ï¿½

ï¿½Iï¿½m simply telling you what Jerry told me,ï¿½ Crawford replied.

Schuldig gave his head a shake. ï¿½Not possible,ï¿½ he said again. ï¿½Not even shielded minds are totally invisible; I can still sense them. Thereï¿½s always white noise or background chatter orï¿½ something. This wasnï¿½t a shielded mind, this wasnï¿½t a sleeping mind. This was a mind that didnï¿½t exist.ï¿½

Crawford said nothing, but his look invited verification of what theyï¿½d been told.

Schuldig made a disgruntled sound and, keeping his gaze fixed on the American, began his own investigations. Clara and Jerry were easy to find, and were as focused on the television as they had been last time heï¿½d found them. Verena had finished her practice and her shields were emitting no more than a low humï¿½

ï¿½and there was Stein. Schuldig hesitated momentarily before cautiously moving deeper into the manï¿½s sleeping mind. As a rule, Schuldig didnï¿½t invade minds when the owners were asleep. Sleeping minds obeyed no rules and observed no boundaries. There was no telling what might be found there; no telling what monstrosities, what nightmarish scenarios the sleeping mind might concoct. They were a continually shifting landscape, where logic and common sense had no place. Sleeping minds could ensnare and entrap the unwary telepath so Schuldig always exercised maximum caution when venturing into one.

He stayed only long enough to determine there was nothing out of the ordinary going on in Steinï¿½s head. Heï¿½d found nothing to clue him in as to why heï¿½d been unable to find the manï¿½s mind less than ten minutes ago. Something was seriously wrong with this scenario. He blinked back to his present surroundings, focusing on Crawford, who was sitting across from him, waiting quietly and patiently.

ï¿½Yeah, heï¿½s there - now,ï¿½ Schuldig responded to the silent enquiry in those honey-brown eyes. ï¿½That doesnï¿½t change the fact he wasnï¿½t there before, and Iï¿½d stake anything youï¿½d care to name on that.ï¿½

ï¿½Any ideas?ï¿½ Crawford asked him.

ï¿½Not at the moment,ï¿½ Schuldig answered. ï¿½The only reason minds should be invisible to me is that theyï¿½re no longer functioning on any level ï¿½ dead, in other words. Clearly, Stein isnï¿½t dead, despite wishing it otherwise. So, no, I canï¿½t explain what happened.ï¿½

For several moments Crawford said nothing, nor did his expression give away anything of what he was thinking. Nothing unusual in that, Schuldig thought. But he doubted the pre-cog was going to come up with an explanation for what had happened no matter how long he thought about it.

ï¿½Maybe this was just an aberration,ï¿½ Crawford said eventually. ï¿½If not, I want to know, so keep tabs on him.ï¿½ Schuldig gave a nod and got to his feet. ï¿½That isnï¿½t an invitation for you to invade his mind whenever you feel like it,ï¿½ Crawford added a warning.

Schuldig snorted. ï¿½Believe me, his mind isnï¿½t that interesting. I wonï¿½t be spending any more time there than I need to.ï¿½

Crawford directed his attention back at his laptop. Schuldig, accustomed to his leaderï¿½s ways and figuring there was nothing more to say anyway, took his leave.

*ï¿½Turning Japaneseï¿½ ï¿½ Dave Fenton/The Vapors

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Dragon Cycle