The Vain Struggle

Warnings- Gah, nothing. Except that Bradykins and Aya-kun are a little... OOC. Little...ha, lot. Stress does funny things to a being.

Ch.3

\"Happy he who finds a friend; without that second self one lives but half a life.\"

Sunlight, clear, bright and fresh, rained down upon the street. For six in the morning, the day was beautiful. The early morning sunlight broke through clouds and splashed across concrete and asphalt. Few shadows broke the opulent shine. Every now and then a dark patch, reaching out from an object, interrupted the flow of light. Water spilt across the ground by a child of about three, who sat on the crook of her mother\'s arm bouncing in glee, shone brightly like so many isolated stars. The light caught by the orbs of water bounced back from the ground, sending smalls dots across Crawford\'s glasses when he passed by.
He was out, enjoying the e mor morning by taking a walk. Letting his thoughts wander restlessly, he crossed the street, heading for the park. He wanted to see the people at the park, observe them for some common link. People, he found, were interesting to watch. If he looked at them long enough, he could detect patterns in behavior within a few minutes.
From where he was, Crawford could see the entrance to the park over the tops of the slowly thickening crowd. The entrance to the park was free of children. Considering it was a school day, he wasn\'t too surprised. Children, including Nagi and Omi, would be in school, staring at their teachers and books. It was times like these, clear, bright days, that he was glad he didn\'t have to go to school anymore. The thought amused him, and his brow quirked with humor.
Despite all he had to not look forward too, Crawford had found something, someone, he looked forward to seeing with a light heart. He had become friends with the last person he thought he would have. They shared a situation, this unexpected friend and he, otherwise they probably would never had started talking to each other. For his unexpected but highly appreciated friend, Crawford carried a book with him. In his left hand he held the book close to his body. He didn\'t feel like he had to hide the book, considering the one person he was worried about was probably still asleep, but he kept the dark colored volume close against his tan slacks anyway.
The beginnings of the crowd started to thicken, and Crawford blended into it with his business-like attire. He slipped around adults scurrying to work, dodged the very few stray teenagers running late to school, avoided stepping off the sidewalk and into the street, and finally was able to get inside the park. The park was nearly empty, something he didn\'t get to see very often, and the eeriness of the silence stretched over him. Nature was alive and moving. Without the crowding of human flesh to make it appear still, the motion of his surroundings took Crawford by surprise. There were some things people just didn\'t notice, like who was sitting on the bench beside them. That\'s how he had met this new friend he was out to see.
He had been sitting on the park bench by the fish pond, oblivious to his surroundings, when he had suddenly realized someone was sitting beside him, and that the person beside him was staring at him. They had looked at each other, eye to eye, muscles tensed, minds buzzing with activity. The violet and blue didn\'t fight for control, the wary colors skirted each other, refusing to fight or blend. Frozen at a standstill, the two assassins had looked upach ach other with caution. Crawford had been the first to relax, turning away from the icy, penetrating violet stare. The other assassin had been confused by his lack of hostility, but had turned back to look at the pond as well. Together they had stared at the fish pond, neither realizing they had started a conversation. Their conversation lasted for almost three hours, a record time for how long the two had been in the same area and not tried to kill each other.
Crawford paused inside of the park and cast a wary glance around him. Schuldig was probably asleep, but he was taking no chances. It had become a habit, looking around wherever he was, since he had first broken up with the redhead. The redhead he was looking for was standing by the bench, beside the pond, hands in his pant\'s pockets, fire colored hair tousled by the light wind. Instead of calling out to let Fujimiya know he had arrived, Crawford walked to him and stood beside him quietly.
\"Hey,\" said the pale man, his mouth barely moving.
\"Mm,\" Crawford acknowledged softly. \"How was your day?\"
\"Tiring.\"
\"Balinese?\"
\"Mhm.\" A sigh. \"You still having problems with Mastermind?\"
\"Of course.\"
\"We\'re a sorry pair, us two.\"
\"I know.\" Crawford sighed quietly and looked at what his new friend was staring at in the middle of the pond. A frog, speckled black and green, jumped from the edge, landing soundly in the middle to throw up a round spray of water. Colorful fish darted for cover at the sudden change in motion, searching for security in their suddenly disturbed world.
\"By now one of us should have solved our problem.\"
Crawford looked at Aya, a humorous smile on his lips. \"It\'s not that simple,\" he said, mimicing the words that had been spoken to him at their first meeting.
\"I know,\" the pale assassin sighed, looking over at his strange new friend. A smile lifted one corner of his mouth in a gesture of well-being.
\"I have it slightly easier than you do, I\'m afraid. You\'re still stuck with yours, while I have severed mine from me, though he doesn\'t seem to realize...\"
The wind picked up suddenly, blowing hair, both midnight dark and flame-licked red, in their faces. Aya waited until the wind was gentle once again to speak. \"I know...\"
\"Still feeling the smothering?\"
\"Mhm. You?\"
\"Stiflingly.\"
\"We really are a sorry pair,\" Aya sighed again, looking back to the pond ans aqs aquatic inhabitants.
They stared at the pond in silence for a moment. The water was soothing to them both, its calm atmosphere that teemed with life below the surface. Crawford passed the bookhad had transported, a black stiffly-bound volume of slim size and weight, to the other man. The contrast of pale skin against black was noted by the American in the idle way a musician notices the fine sheen of a neighboring instrumentalist\'s violin.
\"Voltaire?\" asked the redhead, looking from the small book with its gold traced title, to him curiously.
\"The first true American.\"
\"...but he wasn\'t an American.\"
\"No, his ideas were. All men are created equal and so on and so forth. Such ideas are supposed to be a true standard for us Americans,\" Crawford supplied, a smile on his face.
\"Really?\" a question Aya asked as he flipped through the book. \"O Unfortunates who sin without pleasure! in your errors be more reasonable-\"
\"Be, at least, fortunate sinners. Since you must damned, be damned for amiable faults [1],\" Crawford finished for him, their voices blending together in a gently melding harmony, contrast playing with contrast until a pleasurable pitch was reached.
\"I appreciate this, it looks very interesting. Where did you find it?\"
\"It was in my private library. Just something I had around. I thought you might enjoy it.\"
\"Thanks... Crawford.\"
\"Anytime Fujimiya.\" They shareotheother smile, a complacent bond of knowledge and of stress and desperation-induced trust. They wouldn\'t trust each other if they were armed, but away from their respective groups they could let their caution and hostility go, and be friendly. The friendship was certainly worth it. \"Are we still on for breakfast?\"
\"Of course.\" With that the pair left the bench and the fish pond, a steady, slow flow of conversation passing between them.

\"The Devil and Love are but one.\" Voltaire

*~*~*

[1] \"O unfortunates who sin without pleasure! in your errors be more reasonable; be, at least, fortunate sinners. Since you must be damned, be damned for amiable faults.\" Voltaire (one of my favs!!)