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No Mercy	By : Blythe Category: Weiß Kreuz > General Views: 2071 -:- 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.

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Title: No
Mercy

Author: Blythe

Archived:
AdultFanFiction.net, MediaMiner.org, YxA ML, for now.

Disclaimer: I am Queen of the World and I own everything. Except Weiss and anything affiliated with
it. This is a work of fanfiction and is
not for profit.

Rating:
NC-17, for future chapters and language

Pairing: Aya/Yohji

A/N: This
is short compared to my normal chapters, but I needed to get something
posted! So, this chapter is unbeta’d,
all mistakes are mine! This is for
Bewsbud, because I promised and she asked nicely! Thank you to everyone who is still following
along. I can’t begin to tell you how
much I appreciate that! I’ll get back to
the story as soon as I return from vacation, I promise!

Chapter 2: Hiding

Aya sat up in bed, scrubbing his face with both hands, then
running them through his hair. That had
to be the weirdest dream he’d ever had.
How can you dream of someone else’s dream?

Nevertheless, he had.
He was certain of it. It was as
though he’d been dreaming with his
love and not of him. They say that you cannot see something in
your dream that you’ve never seen in real life.
All the so-called experts say that it’s impossible. Still, Aya knew that in his waking life he’d
never set eyes on that face, but he’d seen it in his dream and he’d known
immediately who it was. Keiji
Hanajima. Aya remembered the name from
that night in cabin when Yohji’d been so scared and from the letter, where
Yohji had finally given a few of the reasons why.

In his dream, Yohji had been younger, a kid, learning to
survive on his own. He was streetwise
and equally book smart, not to mention beautiful. Then, that man had picked him up. And refused to let him go.

In another part of the dream, Aya had seen Keiji on all
fours, crawling across the enormous expanse of bed like a predator toward
Yohji, who lay very still on the opposite side of the bed. Keiji had whispered one word as he reached
his prey and loomed over the prone form.

“Mine.”

Aya shuddered as that image from the dream came to the fore
of his thoughts. He remembered being in
that same pose, that same threatening posture when Yohji had held up his arms
in defense, had begged for mercy. Aya
couldn’t help but wonder what had happened next.

Between having read Yohji’s letter a thousand and one times
and now, having dream visions of his past, Aya was slowly beginning to
understand a few things. As he
re-examined the many cryptic comments or incongruent reactions Yohji often had
to things, Aya began to comprehend of his lover’s thought process.

He was starting to really understand why he left.

Now, if he could just find the damn man. Say all of things that he should have said
when they were still at the cabin.
Articulate, once and for all, what he really means instead of the insipid
words he’d chosen before that had left too much open to interpretation. Or misinterpretation, in this case.

He’d told Yohji that what was between them wouldn’t end when
they got back to the Koneko, but had never bothered to identify exactly what had
started between them. He’d told Yohji
that he wanted to stay with him, but allowed it sound like he’d only meant that
night.

Still mulling over the things he wished he’d done
differently, he grabbed a t-shirt and some sweatpants. He trotted down the steps and out the door,
barely pausing to slip into his running shoes.

Reaching the corner, he turned left and started at a fast
jog up the road. He normally went right,
always right, actually, but today, he needed a change. Maybe a fresh landscape would give him fresh
ideas. He was willing to try anything at
this point.

He ran further than he normally would, weaving around
unfamiliar blocks, up and down new and different streets. He stopped, bent over, hands on knees, to
catch his breath in front of an old building.
Nondescript, aging brick, climbing ivy staking its claim to everything
it encompassed. Old, wood and glass
doors to the foyer, gave the structure a sense of antiquity, as though it has
stood here forever, while all of the other shops and apartments had sprung up
around it. It should have stuck out like
a sore thumb with all of the metal and glass surrounding it, but it
didn’t. Between the dark brick and the ivy,
it sort of melted into the shadows. ‘Hiding in plain sight,’ he though and
then laughed at himself. He admired the
building for another moment before turning toward home and a much needed
shower. He never noticed the curtains
twitching in the fourth storey window.

*****************************************************************

Yohji slipped into his favorite pair of jeans and wandered
back to the bathroom to finish toweling his hair. He didn’t bother with a shirt since it would
only end up damp around the collar. He
didn’t feel like putting in the effort it would take to use the blow dryer, so
he worked the towel over his scalp until his hair was no longer sopping, then
left it to lay on his shoulders.

In the kitchen, he grabbed the first aid kit from the
cupboard at the far end of the counter.
Being significantly larger than the average, this kit did not fit in the
bathroom medicine cabinet.

He sat at the table, near the window, and held his hand in
the now streaming rays of morning sun.
It was so much easier to see in natural light.

He grabbed a pair of tweezers and began the arduous task of
removing slivers of ceramic tile from the back of his right hand. Once again, he was grateful for his
ambidexterity, the job not being hindered by having to use his left hand.

Once he was satisfied that there were no remaining shards,
he sterilized and bandaged his hand. He
was relieved that tonight’s job was another stake-out and he hadn’t really
fucked up by injuring his hand on a night when he had to kill somebody. Not that he wouldn’t be able to if he had to,
it was just convenient that he didn’t.

Yohji gathered up his supplies and stowed them away
again. He still wasn’t hungry, but
figured it was time for a nicotine jump start and went to search out his
cigarettes. He found them, after
searching the bedroom and around the computer desk where he’d woken, on the
sill of the front window. He’d come here
to enjoy the night air and give his eyes a break while he smoked. It must not have been long after that when’d
fallen asleep since the pack never made it back to the desk with him.

He lifted the window, allowing the slowly warming air to
waft through the apartment and clear out the stale smell that sometimes settled
in old buildings. He stood with one hip
on the wall, hand at his lips, eyes on the street below. He watched the few early commuters making
their way to the bus stop, the train station, the car pool. There were a few bar stragglers who were just
coming home, as opposed to heading out.
There were a few people who just always seemed to be out, neither coming
nor going.

Then, something caught his eye. Something that should most definitely not be
there. A flash of red from up the
street, headed his way. He stared,
transfixed as the figure of his love came into view.

Aya stopped right in front of Yohji’s building.

Yohji was paralyzed, overwhelmed by the maelstrom of
emotions that assailed him. Fear, lust,
anger, love. There was pain, a physical
twist in his gut and he staggered back from the window. The curtain fell back from where he’d pinned
it with his hip.

He sat on, or rather dropped to, the floor trying to regain
his breath. Getting to his knees, he
moved back toward the window, positioning himself to see and not be seen. He watched Aya look over the building again
before turning around and heading back the way he’d come.

Yohji lit another cigarette and set about berating himself
for his reaction to seeing Aya and talking himself out of what it really meant.

************************************************************

Throughout his day working at the Koneko, Aya found his
thoughts drawn back to that building.
There was something odd about it.
It didn’t fit in that neighborhood and yet, had he not stopped directly
in front of it, he probably never would have noticed it. And that thought, that expression, ‘hiding in
plain sight,’ didn’t seem appropriate.
Not in reference to a building anyway.

‘Why would a building
need to hide?’

No, it simply didn’t make sense. Still, Aya trusted his instincts and his
instincts were screaming that the structure was important somehow.

He pushed the thoughts from his mind for the remainder of
his shift, focusing on the tasks at hand.
There was a mission that night and he couldn’t be distracted. He resolved to jog that way more often, but
beyond that, he let it go.
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No Mercy