Alternatives

Memories and Misgivings


A restless night for Aya was followed by a complete nightmare of a morning. Not only was he rudely awakened by an electronic thing being stuck on his finger to measure his pulse and temperature, but then some idiot with a floor polisher kept banging it into his bed. He gave up all pretence of trying to sleep and instead lay helpless and fuming while he waited for the doctor to condescend to see him.

This gave him plenty of time to worry about the possibility of Yohji coming back before he was out of the hospital and safely hidden away again. The last thing he needed was Yohji remembering his past, just because of him. He had enough guilt on his conscience as it was.

A man’s tread in the hall made him tense up, but it was simply an orderly with a tray of food for him. He helped Aya into a sitting position before pushing the extendible side table across his lap. \"Breakfast. Enjoy.\" With a cheery wave he was gone again.

Aya lifted the cover to find a plate of carbonised bacon and eggs scrambled to the consistency of rubber. He grimaced, replaced the cover and pushed the side table away after snagging the coffee.

Finally, a doctor, reminiscent of Hel, entered his room. She murmured a greeting, read his chart and notes, and checked the monitors before saying anything further. Aya sighed but said nothing.

\"Ah yes, knife wound to the upper abdomen,\" the doctor said breezily. Aya gritted his teeth especially when she turned to smile brightly, but without any real warmth at him. \"Well, you’ll be pleased to know that we can dispense with the drip and monitors.\" She spotted the untouched breakfast and frowned. \"As long as you eat, that is.\"

\"Give me something edible and I might.\"

She ignored that completely and turned off the machines before removing all the little tabs that wired Aya up to them. Then she removed the needle from his arm, covering the crater-sized hole with a dressing.

\"If it bleeds too much, let a nurse know. Well, I think we can let you go by tomorrow, Mr Suzuki.\"

\"Tomorrow? Why not now?\"

\"I want to be certain that there is no secondary infection. Besides, you’ll feel rather weak for the next day or two. Better to do that where you can rest.\"

Aya remembered his dreadful morning. \"Rest? You have got to be joking! I’d get more rest in an airport!\"

The doctor had the ability, seemingly inherent in her profession, to ignore fractious remarks made by her patients and merely gave him another bright, cold smile before replacing the chart at the end of his bed.

\"I’m leaving today.\"

\"No, Mr Suzuki, you are not. You will leave when I am certain you will be able to walk more than fifty yards without collapsing. Now rest, and I will see you again tomorrow.\"

\"No. I want to discharge myself. Now.\"

\"Mr Suzuki, neither I, nor the hospital, can be held responsible for any relapse, should you discharge yourself.\"

\"That’s fine.\"

\"You’ll need someone to bring you some clean clothes. What you were wearing was covered in blood and we had to cut the pants away as they’d stuck to your skin.\"

\"What? There isn’t anyone who can bring me my clothes. I’m travelling alone.\"

\"Then I’m afraid you’ll have to stay here until we can arrange for someone to pick some up from your hotel. I assume you are staying at an hotel?\"

Aya nodded morosely. He was stuck in this damned hospital until someone found the time to collect his clothes. And the hotel would have no knowledge of a Mr Suzuki as he was checked in under his own name. On top of all that there was still the nagging thought that Yohji would come back before he could make good his escape.

The doctor smiled again, this time with a hint of genuine, if rather smug, amusement. \"I’ll
see you tomorrow, then, Mr Suzuki.\"

Aya sighed and lay back on his pillows. The argument had sapped what little strength he had and he felt exhausted. Sleep claimed him finally and for once without nightmares.

He was woken by the same orderly with a lunch tray. The pot roast was at least edible, if not particularly tasty. He had some ice cream for dessert and felt the strength beginning to return to his muscles.

Just after lunch was visiting hour and he tensed up again, wondering if Yohji would be back. Then he remembered that he was now a stranger to Yohji and relaxed again. The man had no reason to check up on him just because he’d saved his life.

Boredom set in and the arrival of the tea tray did very little to alleviate it. Aya decided he might as well sleep through the rest of the evening. He very obviously wouldn’t be able to sleep in the morning.

He settled himself more comfortably and closed his eyes just as the evening visitors started to arrive. He had just begun to doze off when he realised he was no longer alone. Coming fully awake, he turned his head to see who was there. If it was the damned orderly with another tray, he would throw it at him. He looked up into green eyes and groaned softly. Yohji was standing by his bed.

* * * * * * *

After leaving the hospital, Yohji had returned to his hotel and opened his case. There, at the bottom, was a beautiful, though well-used, katana. He lifted it out and gazed at it, trying to remember more of that fire-lit rooftop scene he’d caught a glimpse of in the barrage of memory snippets. Was it the same sword that the redhead in his vision had wielded? And was the redhead really the same man as the one laying in the hospital? He could find no answer in the sheathed blade across his lap, so he replaced it in his case and thought about what he should do.

A part of Yohji’s mind was convinced that Ran, or Aya, or whatever his name really was, had been hiding something. He was itching to be rid of me as soon as he saw me and actually focused. Why? Were they enemies? Somehow Yohji thought not. There had been a flash of something in those cold eyes before Aya/Ran had looked away so very quickly. And he had called out the name Yohji in his sleep before coming to and recognising him as Yohji.

\"So I guess my name might just be Yohji,\" he said aloud. It seemed comfortable somehow. More his than the name he’d been presented with by his unknown benefactor.

He locked the case and put it away in the closet before going in search of something to eat, pondering the glimpses of the past he’d had and wondering if he should visit the hospital again. A good meal and a couple of beers later, he had decided that he would indeed be visiting again. He would go in the evening. That should give Aya enough time to regain some strength and feel some security in the idea that he wouldn’t return. Yohji knew, without knowing exactly how, that he would have to keep Aya off balance if he was to learn anything at all. One thing he was absolutely certain of was that he couldn’t continue like this, with his past just one huge, gaping, blank hole. Decision made, Yohji returned to his hotel room to sleep.

He awoke, sweating in the middle of the night, and realised that he had been dreaming. This was unusual in itself. His subconscious mind seemed to be as blank as his conscious mind most nights. He sat up, drawing his knees up to his chest and hugging them as he remembered the dream.

He had been surrounded by flowers but, as he looked more closely at them, they had turned into mocking, female faces. Only one flower, a red rose, had been different. This had turned into a delicate featured male face with high cheekbones and creamy skin. The face of the man in the hospital. It was not mocking him like the female faces were but instead there was a sad expression in a pair of the loveliest eyes Yohji had ever seen. Just as he began to feel comfortable around this flower or face, the other, female flower faces had come between him and the rose, pushing and pulling him further and further away, surrounding and binding him in their stems and tendrils, suffocating him. That had been the point at which he had awoken, sweating and gasping.

Yohji considered the dream for some time, wondering what, if anything, it was trying to tell him. Then he chuckled softly. It was just a nightmare, that was all, strange only because he wasn’t used to dreaming. He guessed he must have dreamt before the accident but since then he hadn’t had a dream that he could remember. Until now.

All he had in his head from his unknown past was those few snippets from the elevator and two names. Aya’s was one and the other was Asuka. That was probably because it had been the name of the cutest of the nurses from his hospital stay.

He lit a cigarette and sat back against the headboard thinking back to when he had first come to. It had been disorienting, to say the least. He had no idea who he was, what he was or what had happened to him. No visitors had come to see him; nobody seemed to know him. This meant that there was no link at all to his past, nobody to tell him about his childhood or what he did for a living. He took his frustrations out on the hospital staff, reducing more than one nurse to tears.

Asuka had been stronger than the others and prettier. He smiled down at his cigarette as he remembered her standing, hands on hips, telling him to behave himself as if he were a small child. Gradually they had grown closer and he would possibly have made a life with her if it hadn\'t been for his mysterious benefactor.

He had been awake and aware for about a week when he received his one and only visitor, a young man, no more than nineteen or twenty, with dark hair and eyes and a serious demeanour.

\"I am here at the instructions of my employer,\" he had said, \"a powerful man who can pull many strings. He heard about your plight and has arranged for a new identity for you and money to help you until you find your own way in the world.\"

At first he had been delighted when the young man had given him the birth certificate, driver’s license, credit cards and bank account of Ito Ryo. Then, after he had thought about it for a while, he became suspicious. Why would such an important man do so much for a complete stranger? Why hadn’t the young man given his or his employers’ names? And why was there so much money in the bank account and such high credit limits on the cards?

His stubborn nature had taken over then, and instead of marrying Asuka and taking the benefactor’s offered salaryman position, he had left his apartment and Kyoto and gone in search of answers. All he had taken with him was a couple of cases of clothing and the strange, yet somehow familiar, katana. And the credit cards, of course.

And fate brings me to the same city as this Aya. I need to know what he knows. It’s time I got my past back.

He extinguished the cigarette and lay back down on his bed to sleep for what remained of the night.

The day dragged by until the moment he could return to the hospital to confront the man there. He waited most of it out in a café across the street from the hospital, just in case his quarry was discharged. There was no sign of him, however, and when it was time for the evening visits, Yohji took the elevator up to the same floor. There were no flashbacks this time and he moved quietly down the corridor and into the man’s room. Ran/Aya appeared to be sleeping but as soon as Yohji approached the bed he jerked awake and groaned when he spotted him.

\"What do you want?\" The words were ground out with a mixture of apprehension and anger. It was hardly the most auspicious of beginnings.

* * * * * *

\"I don’t care if he has left the country. I want him found and soon!\" The phone was slammed down, making Nagi wince. \"Damn it, Yohji, why did you have to take off like that?\"

Nagi glanced up at his companion. \"Perhaps he didn’t like that nurse as much as I thought he did.\"

\"He liked her well enough, Nagi. No, it was my fault. I should have kept some of his money back. All I’ve succeeded in doing is making him suspicious. He wants to know why anyone would bother to do that for him as he doesn’t realise the money is his own. Damn!\" He slapped a hand down on his desk, causing the papers on it to jump.

\"You’ve given him a new identity and enough money to build a new life. Why are you so determined to keep him close, Mamoru?\"

\"Think about it for a moment. He was an assassin for years. If one of his enemies should recognise him, he’s defenceless. He doesn’t know who he is or what he’s done. In order to keep it that way, to keep him safe, I need to keep tabs on him.\"
Privately, Nagi was of the opinion that his employer and lover was a bit of a control freak. Hardly surprising, considering his family background and the position he now held. All Nagi could hope for was that he didn’t turn out to be too much like Reiji. Not that he was as stupid as Reiji had been, but there was still that Takatori trait of wanting to regulate everything personally.

\"If he’s left the country, he’s less likely to run into any enemies,\" he said soothingly.

Mamoru stared at him as if he’d gone crazy. \"Oh really? Are you trying to tell me that neither Essett nor Rozenkreuz are global organizations?\"

Nagi shook his head. \"No, but they’re more likely to search for members of Weiss in Japan than elsewhere.\"

Mamoru’s blue eyes stared at him for long moments, making him fidget. Curious how they could be so soft one second and as hard as granite the next. Finally, Mamoru blinked and Nagi let go of breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

\"You could be right. Just depends where he’s gone. If he’s in Germany, for instance, he could be in real trouble.\"

Nagi thought about that for a while before an idea formed. \"Does he speak any foreign languages? I mean, does he know enough German to get by there?\"

Mamoru smiled suddenly. \"No. He doesn’t speak any German to my knowledge. He used to be able to speak good English. I wonder if he can remember it?\"

\"Even if he can’t, it might narrow the search down.\"

Mamoru grinned at him and picked up the phone again. \"Kawasa? Try searching in English speaking countries and while you’re at it, get Hidaka out of jail.\"

Nagi’s eyes widened in surprise. Hidaka was supposed to be in prison for his own good; to stop him from becoming as psychotic as Farfarello had been. Thoughts of his old teammate caused him to wonder if he was still happy with Sally. He supposed that he must be as there had been no reports of a one-eyed psychopath cutting up the local population.

And what about Hidaka? Was he really ready to set foot in the world again? Nagi could only hope that Mamoru knew the man well enough to make the judgment. Personally, Ken gave him the creeps. He still couldn’t forgive or forget the killing of his surrogate mother, even though it had been explained to him what she’d been doing.

Mamoru had put the phone back down, this time more gently, and was smiling at him. \"Ken speaks English, too. He can join in the search.\"
\"As long as you’re sure. What about Fujimiya? He’s in America, after all.\"

\"No. I don’t want him involved at all. Chances are if Yohji-kun were to see him…. No.\"

Nagi suddenly realized something. \"You don’t want Kudoh to regain his memory at all, do you?\"

* * * * * *

Ken left the prison with access to his bank accounts, a ticket to England and instructions to search for Yohji. He glowered slightly at the thought. Why the hell couldn’t Omi leave them all the hell alone? Oops, no, not Omi, Takatori Mamoru. Either way, Ken wasn’t too happy with his assignment.

Omi had hurt him badly when he’d sent him off to Europe with Yohji. He’d thought the boy had loved him, especially after all they’d been through together. But now he had a new lover and a new identity and Ken was no more than one of his lackeys. A lackey being put on a plane for London to search for a man who didn’t even know who any of them were. He had to believe that Takatori Mamoru knew what the hell he was doing.