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The Piano Trilogy	By : Nakkinomiko Category: Weiß Kreuz > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 1693 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don’t own Weiss Kreuz or any of the characters—last I knew that honor went to Koyasu Takehito. I make no money from this…I just like to play with them.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
Disclaimer: I don’t own Weiss Kreuz or any of the characters—last I knew that honor went to Koyasu Takehito. I make no money from this…I just like to play with them.

A/N: Warnings for this chapter: sap, het lemon, an unhinged Farfarello, and Ran drinking. Heh. Rodisquall, your review was delightful. :D I really appreciate the kind words and love your enthusiasm! Interested in another arc that stars Schuldig/Ran?

*****

The Piano Trilogy

Part Three: Coda

Aya Fujimiya swore under her breath as she missed yet another note.

"Now, now," came an amused voice. "What would your brother say if he heard you talking like that?"

"He'd get over it," Aya retorted. She let her breath escape her in a puff of air that momentarily levitated her bangs from her forehead. "Damn it! This is so hard!"

"It's only the third time you've gone through the piece, Aya-chan. Most people wouldn't be doing as well as you are now," came the calm reply. "You're going to be very good with more practice."

"Not as good as you," Aya returned. She turned her head upwards slightly to eye the man sitting cross-legged on top of the baby grand piano. Schuldig smiled warmly at her from beneath orange bangs, his green gaze dancing with amusement. He was dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt and held a mug of cocoa in one hand and a lit cigarette in the other.

"I've been playing for years," he said. He took a pull from the cigarette before putting it out in the ashtray next to him. "If you practice, you'll be as good as me before you know it."

"You had better get the air freshener out," Aya said. "You know how Brad and Ran hate it when you and Yohji smoke in here."

"Thank God you're not them, ne?" Schuldig returned with a grin.

Aya gave him a grin that was classifiable as evil.

"I’m not ever going to be that uptight, Schu! I mean, come on! Ran's so uptight I don't know how Crawford even manages . . ."

"Stop right there!" Schuldig exclaimed, breathless with laughter. "You, Aya-chan, are evil disguised as a sweet little girl," Schuldig said after he managed to quit laughing. "I'm not going to tell Ran that you were just taking pot shots at his sex life . . . I think he'd have a heart attack!" Schuldig shook his head again before he met her eyes and his expression became serious again. "So, you going to try that again?" he asked with a nod towards the black and white keys.

Aya sighed and nodded. She repositioned her hands on the keyboard and concentrated on the sheet music in front of her and started to play again. She'd been taking lessons from Schuldig for nearly a year now. When she had first woken from her coma, it had been one of the few things she could manage while she was still recovering her strength. She had practiced for hours every day simply because outside of reading, there hadn't been much else she could manage. Schuldig had surprised everyone by being a patient teacher, and Aya's own talent had bloomed under his guidance, and she really was becoming an accomplished pianist. But she still made mistakes, and it still frustrated her when she had trouble with difficult measures in the music.

"Damn!" Aya swore as she again fumbled the notes.

"Relax," Schuldig said, his voice gentle. "It's a difficult section, kid. It even took me a while to get it when I did this one. Just keep plugging away at it . . . you’ll do it."

"I know," Aya said softly. She frowned slightly as she removed her hands from the keyboard and rested them in her lap, wondering if she should just give up now and save herself the agony.

None of that, Schuldig chided in her mind. Anything worth having is worth a little work, ne?

"I know." She looked up and smiled at him. "I just want to do it right now."

"You are so your brother's sister," Schuldig teased. "Everything's always got to be perfect."

"Well, why bother if you don't do it right?" Aya asked.

"For the fun of it, perhaps?" Schuldig offered. "That's why you're doing it, right? It's just for fun . . ."

"I don't think that Ran kills for fun," Aya found herself replying. She bit her lip right after she said the words, thinking that perhaps that hadn't been kind. But Ran was good at what he did--he'd have it no other way.

"No," Schuldig agreed. "None of us do that for fun. The only reason we all strive to be perfect at it is because we'd be killed ourselves if we weren't." He smiled softly and reached out to lay his palm against her cheek. "And all of us have something to live for, Aya-chan. You, and each other."

"I'm sorry," Aya whispered. "That wasn't very nice of me . . . and you've always been so nice to me, Schu."

And she meant the words--in her strange world Schuldig had become her best friend--someone she could confide in and trust with her deepest and darkest secrets. She'd bitched to him about Ran's over protectiveness more times than she could recall, and not one word of it had ever gotten back to Ran. She would have been mortified if it had--she really did love Ran dearly--but sometimes he was so terribly overbearing, and nothing helped her get over the resulting frustration like a good bitch session with Schuldig.

"Hey, don't you think we've gotten a little serious here?" Schuldig chided, his green eyes dancing with humor. "For God's sake, Aya! If I wanted morbid I'd go to work."

Aya laughed--she couldn't help it, and she stood enough to wrap her arms around Schuldig's neck and kiss his cheek.

"You're right," she said as she sat down and repositioned her hands over the keyboard. "I'm being melodramatic, this piece isn't so bad," she said.

"That's the spirit," Schuldig said.

Aya nodded and began to play.

*****

Something was bothering his angel, but Schuldig couldn't quite put his finger on it. Aya--just like her brother--had natural shields that he couldn't get past without her noticing, and he wasn't willing to be pushy about it. He'd go out of his way not to make Aya uncomfortable about anything. Aya had all but adopted all of Weiss and Schwarz as her family, and for some reason, she had gotten especially close to Schuldig. It confused the hell out of him for the longest time--he couldn’t understand why he should find himself getting so close to a girl that really was the sweetest, kindest person Schuldig had ever known. He was a cold-blooded killer, wasn't he? Apparently, though, it didn't matter much to Aya.

He'd tried to distance himself from her--for her own protection, of course--until one day Ran had cornered him. I know why you're being cold to her, Schuldig, and I can appreciate it, but you're breaking her heart, Ran had said. She needs a friend . . . Schuldig had just stared speechless at Ran for several moments before Ran had just given him an enigmatic smile and walked away. To say that he'd been shocked would have been an understatement, but Schuldig managed to shake the surprise off and really thought about what Ran had said. He'd stopped being so cold to Aya after that, and their friendship had developed fast after that, and Schuldig felt like he'd known her forever.

Of course, in retrospect, Schuldig supposed Ran had thought that perhaps he had needed a friend too.

"Damn." The annoyed curse brought Schuldig from his thoughts and he watched while Aya repositioned her hands and started to play again.

"Maybe you should stop for today," Schuldig offered lightly.

"Not yet." Aya's lips thinned as she continued to play, and Schuldig could feel her determination leaking through her shields. "I can do it. . ."

Schuldig had no doubt about that. It would only be a matter of time before she reached a point where he'd have nothing more to teach her, and Schuldig wasn't sure what he'd do then. Perhaps he'd search for a professor at a nearby university and see if he could strike a deal to have them continue to teach Aya in private. He'd do just about anything for the girl that had picked up where Yohji left off and helped him, Schuldig of Schwarz, remember what it was like to have family and people to truly care for.

Which was why he was so frustrated with himself at that point. Something was bothering her, making her focus not quite sharp enough to master the music she was working on, and Schuldig felt like he was missing something obvious. All he was sure of was that it really had nothing to do with the little exchange they had just had.

He listened to her play the same seven measures over four more times before he reached out and placed his hand on the crown of her head.

"Ne, that's enough, okay?" Schuldig said. He could feel her frustration growing. "It'll still be here tomorrow."

"Okay." Aya wouldn't look at him, and she moved her fingers from the keyboard and placed them in her lap.

"Aya, do you want to tell me what's bothering you?" Schuldig finally asked.

She looked up at him with narrowed eyes.

"What makes you think something's bothering me?" she asked.

"Aya."

*****

Shit. Aya took a deep breath and let it go slowly. He was on to her, and she knew that Schuldig wouldn't let it go now. He never did, when there was something making her fret, and she was fairly certain this time would be no different. Usually she'd have no problem telling him, but this time . . . This time it was something big, and she wasn't entirely sure she had the whole mess worked out in her own head yet. She wasn't sure she could even put the problem in to words that he'd be able to understand.

"Aya."

"I . . . I’m not sure I want to talk about it yet," Aya finally said. She looked away from his eyes and stared down at her hands. "I don't know if I can."

"Is it that bad?" Schuldig whispered.

"I don't know if I'd call it bad," Aya returned. She worried her bottom lip between her teeth before looking back up at him. "It's just difficult."

"How so?" Schuldig's tone was gentle and tentative, and she knew that if she told him to, he'd back off.

The thing was, she really needed to talk about it--Aya suspected it might be the only way she'd ever work it out.

"Ne, Aya-chan. Let me help you work it out, whatever it is," Schuldig whispered. "You can just talk, and I'll listen."

Aya swallowed hard and then gave him a wan smile. "You sure? It's going to freak you out, Schu."

"I'm sure," Schuldig returned earnestly. His green eyes were warm with concern as he looked down at her.

"I'm in love," Aya said slowly.

"Is that all?" Schuldig sounded bemused.

"But it's not that simple," Aya said softly.

"It's not me, is it?" Schuldig asked with a soft chortle, his green eyes gleaming with a moment of mischievousness.

"No, you idiot, it's not you!" Aya said, laughing with him. "You're my best friend, Schuldig. I'll never see you as anything else."

"Good," Schuldig said, and he winked at her. "I'm already taken, you know."

"Idiot!" Aya said the word affectionately before she sobered and looked him in the eye. "You sure you want to listen to this?"

"If you're ready to talk, I'll listen as long as you need me to," Schuldig said. He paused to light a cigarette, and Aya let him take a puff before she spoke again.

"There are two problems with me being in love," Aya said. "First of all, I'm fairly certain the person I’m in love with has no clue that I like him. Secondly, I'm more than fairly certain that my brother is not going to approve."

Schuldig took another drag on his cigarette before he flicked the ashes into the ashtray and looked down at her thoughtfully.

"Okay, both issues can be a problem," Schuldig agreed after a moment. "But surely not insurmountable . . ."

"It's Farfarello." Aya snapped her mouth shut after she said the words and waited for Schuldig's reaction. For a moment he just stared down at her with slightly widened eyes, his cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth as he tried to process what she had just said. Then, he seemed to recover, and he took the cigarette from his mouth and ground it out in the ashtray.

"This has just become a drinking conversation," Schuldig said. He unfolded his legs and hopped down from the piano. "Would you like a drink, Aya?"

"No," Aya said. She hid a smirk behind her hand as she watched the German pour himself a finger of vodka from the bar on the other side of the living room and then return to the piano. It wasn't very often that anything really got to Schuldig, and it was almost amusing.

"Well, I do," Schuldig returned with a wry grin. He knocked back the alcohol with one swallow and then looked down at her from his perch atop the piano. "Okay, I think I can handle the conversation now."

"I told you it was going to freak you out," Aya said.

"I was warned," Schuldig agreed cheerfully. "Okay, so you're in love with Farfarello . . . Would it be too nosy of me to ask how that happened?"

"I'm not sure how it happened," Aya said. "To be honest, he scared me when I first moved in here. He's so eerily quiet, and all of those self-inflicted scars . . . I knew he wasn't right in the head long before you or Crawford warned me about him."

"But you're not afraid of him now," Schuldig said. "You haven't been for quite some time."

"No," Aya agreed.

"Even knowing what you know?" Schuldig asked.

"Yes, even with the knowledge that he kills in cold blood when you take him on missions," Aya whispered. "I'm not naïve, Schuldig. I know what it is you guys do, and I know that Farfarello is not completely sane. But I honestly believe that he would never hurt me, even during one of his psychotic episodes."

Schuldig frowned slightly.

"I'm not sure that's something I ever want to test out," Schuldig said. "Farfarello doesn't have the capabilities to recognize friend from foe during those episodes, sweetheart. Both Crawford and I bear scars to prove it." Schuldig pulled up the left edge of the T-shirt he was wearing and revealed a scar just below his ribcage. It was half a centimeter wide and at least five inches long. "Crawford's is worse."

"Whoa." Aya swallowed hard as she tried to imagine the severity of the wound that would leave behind such a scar.

"I spent three days in the hospital after that, and they had to give me two units of blood to compensate for the blood loss," Schuldig said, his voice very quiet. "And Farfarello barely remembered doing it. He didn't even have the capability to feel sorry for it, Aya-chan, and he calls me his friend."

"I understand," Aya whispered. "But it doesn't change how I feel."

"I wasn't trying to change anything," Schuldig said. He lowered the edge of his shirt. "I just wanted you to understand what you were getting into before you really got into it. Farfarello will always have the mental illness, Aya. Not even all the love in the world will make that go away."

"I know," Aya whispered. "And because of that illness, I'm not entirely sure he'll ever really be able to understand what it is I feel for him. I'm not even sure he'll care, but I can't help how I feel, Schuldig."

"And what are you feeling?"

"I want to comfort him," Aya whispered. She paused, not sure if she could go on. She wasn't sure she could put it all into words that he'd understand. For all that he seemed to be emotionless, there was a great deal of pain beneath Farfarello's façade, pain that was at times almost tangible in the air around him. Aya sometimes felt that if someone could reach out to Farfarello and share that pain with him, that maybe he'd find some relief from the madness that dogged him. And Aya wanted that for him, and she wanted to be the one to give it to him.

"I think I understand," Schuldig murmured. "It’s kind of the same with Yohji and I."

"Oh?"

"Yeah." Schuldig smiled slightly. "The night that Yohji and I first made love . . . he was helping me forget something painful. We were still technically enemies that night, but he did it anyway, because he saw I was hurting." He stopped and laughed lightly. "I fell in love, of course. How could I not when he gave so freely of himself, even though he knew that I might very well kill him the next time we met?"

"Wow," Aya breathed. She had known that her brother's team and Schuldig's had once been enemies, but she had never heard about the circumstances that brought Yohji and Schuldig together. "I had no idea . . ."

"So, I think I see where you're coming from," Schuldig said, smiling. "And I'm not really questioning that you love Farf. I'm just trying to help you think it through."

"I know," Aya said, smiling a bit.

"Which brings us to the second problem . . ."

"Ran," Aya finished.

"Ah, yes," Schuldig said, smiling wryly. Schuldig seemed to think about it for a moment before he spoke again. "You might be surprised, kid. He might not mind at all."

"You're joking, right?"

"No," Schuldig returned. "He might react badly at first, but then he'll storm off to his room, and he'll think about it for a while, and then he'll come around."

"Maybe," Aya said. She was doubtful that it would go that well.

"But, I guess the real question is, will he even ever know about it?" Schuldig looked down at her with narrowed eyes. "He won't need to know about it, not unless you decided to tell Farfarello how you feel, and that's really what it all comes down to, isn't it? That's what you've really been fretting about, and that's why you can't concentrate on the music today. You've finally made a decision and you're worrying about consequences."

"Yes." Aya worried her bottom lip between her teeth and felt tears prick at her eyes. "I don't want to cause trouble for anyone," she managed. Tears worked their way from her eyes, and Schuldig reached out to catch them as they fell. "But I know I can help him, Schu. I just . . . It's just a feeling I have. I'm not naïve enough to think I can change him at all, but I can help him. And at the very least, I can love him."

"I believe you can," Schuldig agreed. He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "God knows you've worked wonders for the rest of us. Every time I look at you, sweetheart, I remember why it is I do what I do."

More tears spilled over as he spoke the words, and Aya swallowed a sudden sob that wanted to leave her. Sometimes it was so hard living in her situation! Nearly every week her brother and his team mates were off on one mission or another and constantly risking their lives for a greater cause, and Aya so often felt as if she were nothing but a burden to them all. She wanted to help them more, but knew there was nothing, really, that she could do.

You help just by being you. Schuldig's voice was gentle in her mind, and he kissed her forehead again. Don't ever forget that, Aya.

I won't. She reached up and wiped the tears from her eyes and managed to smile for him. "I want to try this piece again," she said. "I think I can do it now." She lifted her hands and positioned them on the keyboard. "Can I try?"

"Play away," Schuldig said.

Aya began to play.

*****

It was much later that evening when Schuldig found himself cornered by Ran. He wasn't surprised, really. Aya hadn't realized, but Ran had been in the kitchen, and he had heard a good portion of the conversation they had had about Farfarello. Schuldig hadn't even been aware until he'd felt a sudden spike of surprise from Ran's consciousness, which, oddly enough, had come after Schuldig's declaration to Aya that Ran might surprise her with his reaction. By that time, Ran had heard enough, and Schuldig didn't want Aya to be upset, so he'd let it go.

But he had known that Ran would corner him eventually, and so he really wasn't surprised when he found himself alone with the Weiss assassin in the kitchen. It was late--after midnight--and the rest of their menagerie were already in bed sleeping. Schuldig looked up from where he was smoking a cigarette at the table and smirked slightly as Ran made a disgusted noise.

"Those are going to kill you someday," Ran said.

"I really rather think it will be my job that kills me," Schuldig said. He ground the cigarette out, none the less. There was no sense in antagonizing an already agitated Abyssinian any further. "Care to join me?" Schuldig asked, nodding towards the empty chair across the small table. He lifted the tumbler of vodka he'd been nursing and took another sip before grabbing the open bottle and pouring another inch of alcohol into the glass.

"That will kill you too," Ran said, and he was smirking now. He moved into the kitchen and settled himself into the chair before reaching out to take the glass from Schuldig. He glared at the glass before knocking it back in two swallows and then handed the tumbler back to Schuldig.

"More?"

"No," Ran said.

"So, where do you want to start?" Schuldig asked.

"I don't like it," Ran whispered after a moment.

"Well, neither do I, really," Schuldig admitted. "But I wasn't about to say that to her face, not when I promised I'd listen and not judge."

"I know." Ran sighed and motioned towards the bottle. "On second thought, I'll have another shot, please."

"Got it." Schuldig poured the liquor and watched while Ran knocked it back.

"Would he hurt her?" Ran asked after a moment.

"I can't honestly say," Schuldig replied. "He seems to like her well enough, but that's when he's relatively sane. And she's never really seen him when he's crazy, Ran. Not like you and I have. She might change her tune after seeing that . . ."

"Maybe." Ran didn't sound convinced. "But, if she really does become involved with him, then she'll see it eventually."

"Yes, more than likely," Schuldig answered. "But, to be honest, Ran, I don't think it will scare her. I think it will make her more determined."

Ran seemed to chew on that for a moment before he met Schuldig's eyes. There was fear there, and resignation as well, and after a moment Ran gave him a wan smile and shook his head.

"You're right, of course," he murmured. "You're always right about her."

"Does that bother you?" Schuldig asked.

"No," Ran returned. "She needs a friend that's not me. I know I drive her nuts sometimes, and it's good she can bitch about it with someone. I don't mean to be that way . . ."

"You've got every right to be that way," Schuldig said in a fierce whisper. "If it were me, I'd be the same way."

"Yes, well, that doesn't make it right," Ran murmured. "I can't keep smothering her like I have been . . . It will kill her spirit, and that thought terrifies me. She deserves better than that."

"She doesn't think you're smothering her," Schuldig offered. The alcohol had worked its way into Ran's system, and his shields were weakened because of it. Schuldig could feel his indecision and an underlying fear of what might happen should Aya really decide to try and carry on a relationship with Farfarello.

“Does she really love him?" Ran murmured after a moment. He caught Schuldig's gaze and held it.

"I believe she does, yes," Schuldig said. "I can't read her very well--she's a lot like you that way--but from what I could read, she seemed sincere."

Ran seemed to think about that for several moments before he spoke again.

"Then who am I to get in her way?" Ran whispered. "If we were normal people living normal lives, I might have a right to get upset and be picky about who she dates, but we're not normal, are we? We're all killers, and she's stuck in our world and will never have a normal live for the simple fact that she's my sister."

"That is true, yes," Schuldig agreed quietly. The alcohol was having an effect on him too--he was starting to feel depressed. Schuldig wished that there was some way to make all the evil in the world go away so that none of them would have to kill again. He wished there was a way for Aya-chan to have the normal life she deserved.

"Ne, Schu, don't think about it too much," Ran murmured, his mouth turned up in a wry smile. "She's alive, and I can talk to her, which is more than I could have hoped for before you showed her the way out. I'll never be able to repay you for that."

"It was Crawford's idea," Schuldig said with a shrug. He gave Ran an evil grin. "And you repay him for that almost nightly."

"Idiot." Ran rolled his eyes even as a slight tinge of pink colored his cheeks.

"You're so cute when you blush!" Schuldig couldn't help the chortle of laughter that left him when Ran unsuccessfully tried to glare at him. The effect was somewhat ruined by the smirk that was pulling at the corners of Ran's mouth.

"You are absolutely incorrigible," Ran accused.

“Guilty," Schuldig said, shrugging. "So, you're going to let this happen?"

Ran's expression was abruptly sober, and he gave a slow nod. "Yeah, I guess I am.”

*****

Farfarello wasn't as clueless as they all thought he was. He was aware of Aya's feelings towards him, and he had been for quite some time. But he had mixed feelings on the matter, and until he'd sorted them out, there was no way in Hell he was going to let on that he knew. He wanted to be sure of his own feelings before he even entertained the thought of acknowledging Aya's.

And what are my feelings?

It was a good question, and one that Farfarello had thought on long and hard once it had become clear to him that Aya wanted to be more than just friends. He'd thought back to the day Crawford and Schuldig had brought her home from the hospital. She'd looked terribly fragile in the wheel chair, her beautiful features pale and gaunt as she smiled up at him. Farfarello had been startled at the sudden stab of fierce emotion he'd felt in that moment. It had been years since he'd really felt anything at all, but there was no denying the almost painful intensity of the sudden protectiveness he'd felt for Aya. Her smile had been so beautiful and her personality so selfless and she had offered her friendship to him freely, with no strings attached, and it had overwhelmed Farfarello.

He had thought that perhaps she'd withdraw her friendship upon finding out about his mental illness and the dark stain of his past, but Aya had surprised him once again. If anything, she became closer to him. She would hover in the kitchen when he cooked, helping him peel potatoes or making salads to complement whatever main course he happened to be making on any given night. They talked a lot during those quiet moments, about everything and nothing in particular, and Farfarello had found that there was a sharp mind beneath her beauty. It had fascinated and frightened him at the same time. Fascinated him because her mind was as beautiful as her face. Frightened him because the protectiveness he already felt was quickly becoming something much deeper and more complicated, and it was quickly becoming apparent that Aya's feelings towards himself were much the same.

And he was afraid for her, and with good reason. Being his friend was dangerous enough--Schuldig and Crawford both bore scars as proof. What would it mean for the one that dared to actually love him? Farfarello knew that he would always be mentally unstable. Too much had happened to him too quickly in his youth, and there was no escaping the damage it had done to his psyche, and years of life as a killer hadn't really helped matters any. Schwarz' escape from Estet certainly helped matters, but Farfarello wasn't going to try and fool himself into thinking that he'd ever be normal. He knew better, and because he knew better, he was afraid that if he let himself get to close to Aya that he'd eventually hurt her.

The thought that he might one day do Aya harm frightened Farfarello, and he thought it a very good reason to not get any closer to her . . . And yet . . .

"Ne, Farf! Hand me that tomato, would you?"

Aya's soft voice shattered his musings, and he quickly handed her the tomato that had been resting on the counter next to the toaster. She was making salad again, her small hands deftly and easily chopping vegetables and whisking them into the wooden bowl resting next to the chopping board. She was quick and efficient with the large chef's knife, and Farfarello found himself smirking slightly. Apparently the penchant for a deft handling of blades ran in the family.

"Which dressing should I use?" Aya asked, and she paused to look up at him.

"Italian?" Farfarello offered. Her eyes were beautiful--a deeper, richer amethyst than her brother's, and Farfarello resisted the urge to drown in their depths.

"Sounds good," she said. She moved to the refrigerator and fished out the appropriate bottle before returning to her place beside him. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply before smiling up at him. "That meatloaf smells divine," she said. "Promise you'll teach me how to make it?"

"Sure," Farfarello returned. As if he could deny her anything.

"Ne, Farf . . .” Her voice had gone tentative, and when he looked at her again, her brow was furrowed with a slight frown. "I've been meaning to tell you something."

"Oh?" He turned his attention back to mashing the cooked potatoes in the pan before him.

She stilled next to him, and he felt her hand on his wrist. It startled him, because she so rarely touched him. He froze and slowly looked up to meet her eyes, and nearly ceased to breathe at the intensity of her gaze. He felt fear again, for he suddenly knew what she was going to say, and Farfarello wasn't entirely sure he was ready to hear the words.

"I . . ." She stopped and swallowed hard before she tried again, and her voice was a barely audible whisper when she spoke. "I love you." A blush blossomed across her pale cheeks as she spoke the words, and she worried her bottom lip between her lips before looking away. "I . . . I just wanted you to know," she continued. "I mean, I don't expect anything from you because of it, but I just wanted you to know." She was slicing vegetables again, even though her hands were shaking.

"Stop," Farfarello murmured, and he reached out to take the knife from her. "You're shaking so badly you're going to cut yourself."

"Damn," she whispered, her blush deepening as he took the blade from her and set it on the counter.

"Aya." He placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him before taking her trembling hands into his own.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I don’t know what's wrong with me! One little declaration of love and I'm falling apart at the seams." She gave him a wan smile, and he could feel her trembling through the hold he had on her hands. She was afraid of rejection, afraid that her emotions were unrequited and that she'd just made a fool of herself--it was all there in her eyes.

Farfarello just gazed into her eyes for several moments and tried to focus on his own emotions. He wanted to take her into his arms and calm her. He wanted to tell her how much those words meant to him, and how much she meant to him. But was it worth it? Was getting close to her worth the risk to her own life?

"Farf? What's going on in that head of yours?" Her head cocked to the side slightly, her expression gone from one of trepidation to one of curiosity. "You look like you're warring with yourself."

"I am," he whispered. "Aya . . . It's dangerous."

"Dangerous?"

"It's dangerous to get this close to me." Farfarello squeezed her hands. "I might hurt you."

"I know," she returned, her gaze serious again. "But I love you."

"Is it enough?" Farfarello wondered. "Will you love me after . . .” He couldn't finish the sentence. The thought of him hurting her was too terrible to give voice to it.

"Farfarello, will you answer one question honestly for me?" Aya whispered. She freed one of her hands to cup his scarred cheek.

"Of course," he whispered, and his head tilted to lean into her touch.

"Do you feel anything for me at all?"

"I love you," Farfarello whispered, his tone fervent, and God be cursed, he meant it.

The smile that won him took his breath away. He gave in, then, and pulled her into his arms and hugged her smaller frame tightly against himself and buried his nose in her fragrant hair and inhaled deeply. Almost instantly her small form ceased its trembling, and something that had been wound so tight within himself eased suddenly as he held her. And in that moment he knew there would be no going back for him. Regardless of the danger to himself or Aya, he'd never let her go. The crazed part of his soul smiled darkly at that, for surely God would weep over one of his angels being claimed by a devil such as himself.

*****

Schuldig stood at the oversized door window that led to the penthouse's rooftop garden and watched the rain come down. Lightning flashed across the sky, and the boom of the thunder vibrated the glass that Schuldig was resting his forehead against. It was a hell of a night for a mission. His lips were pulled into a slight frown and his thoughts were morbid at best. It was on nights like this that things always seemed to get crazy for them.

"Schu?" Aya's reflection appeared in the glass, and her expression was plainly worried. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he murmured. It was a lie, and she probably knew it, but she'd let it drop.

"The others are almost ready," she offered. She stepped closer to him and her reflection raised its hand, and a moment later he felt the warmth of her hand on his shoulder. "They sent me to get you."

"Yippee." He couldn't quite help the biting sarcasm that put an edge on his voice. Her reflection cringed slightly, and he immediately felt like an ass. He turned and looked down at her, apology in his eyes, and reached up to touch her face. "Sorry, kid. I don't like the rain . . ."

"I know," she whispered. "None of you do." She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him fiercely before stepping away and turning to head back to the kitchen.

Schuldig followed her wordlessly, and when he arrived there, she was in Farfarello's arms. Her cheek was pressed against his shoulder and her head tucked beneath his chin.

"We need to get going," Ran said, his tone flat. He was already in the mission mindset, and his emotions were unreadable as he watched his sister with the Irishman.

Nearly a month had passed since Aya had told Farfarello of her feelings, and their relationship was progressing slowly. As near as Schuldig could tell, they hadn't even kissed on the lips yet. He thought that perhaps it was Farfarello that was setting the pace. Aya was virginal, but she wasn't naïve by any means. Neither was Farfarello, but Schuldig imagined that the Irishman was afraid to get to intimate with Aya lest he lose control of the beast that lay just below the surface of his psyche.

Even though, the love was there. It was noticeable in the way Farfarello spent every free minute he had with Aya. They held hands often, whether they were sitting on the couch watching TV or walking in the park. Aya often cuddled against Farfarello on the couch when they were reading, and lately Farfarello had started lying atop the piano when Aya was practicing, a habit he had no doubt picked up from Yohji. Aya seemed content with things as they were, and Schuldig suspected that even if she wanted more, Aya wouldn't ask for it. She'd wait until Farfarello made the move to make their relationship more intimate.

No one ever said that Aya was stupid.

"Don't wait up for us," Farfarello murmured to Aya as he released her and stepped away. "We're going to be very late this evening."

"Okay," she whispered, smiling up at him. She proceeded to move around the kitchen, embracing every one of their strange, fucked up little family and ended as she always did--with Ran. She hugged her brother fiercely and kissed him on the cheek. "Don't get dead."

"Not with you to come home to."

It was the same dialogue every time, a bit of a tradition that Ran and Aya shared, and the whole team had gotten kind of superstitious about it. A mission never started without a hug from Aya and those two simple sentences being exchanged between brother and sister. It was hard for any of them to not look back when they left the apartment. Every time they left her, it felt as if they were leaving the only ray of sunshine they had in their lives behind.

At least, that's how Schuldig felt. And he suspected the others felt the same, and perhaps now, Farfarello more than any of them.

*****

The rain continued to fall, and Aya felt a melancholy blanket her, and she retreated to her bedroom and curled under the covers and watched the rain run down the window in tiny rivulets. She hated it when they all went on a mission together. It was actually a rare occurrence that all eight of them were needed at once, so Aya was almost never completely alone in the large penthouse apartment they all shared. Aya hated to be alone--she'd been alone enough during her years long coma. She'd had enough of it for a lifetime.

She flinched when a particularly loud burst of thunder rattled the window and her teeth, and she burrowed deeper beneath her covers, and tried not to think of how miserable her 'family' was out there in the cold rain. She wished that it were morning already and that her brother and the rest of them were home already, safe and snug in their beds. She wished that Farfarello were in the kitchen making them a late night snack rather than out in the pouring rain letting blood.

Farf. A smile curled her lips and she closed her eyes. He loved her. She hadn't thought that he would be able to return the emotion, but apparently Aya had thought wrong. He'd been hiding from her beneath that silent façade, simply because he was afraid of hurting her. Aya could understand it, but she was happy that he had stopped. He was a different person now--everyone could see it. Schuldig had been astonished at the depth of emotion Farfarello was capable of when he just let himself feel. He'd never shown the capacity before Aya had entered his life.

And Aya had been surprised at her brother's willingness to allow the relationship to happen. Ran had his reservations--it was obvious in the torn expressions he often wore when he watched Aya and Farfarello together. She knew he wanted both of them to be happy, but she was Ran's sister, and he was worried for her safety. Aya could understand the worry, and she loved him all the more for trusting her to know what she was getting into.

Aya knew what she was getting into. She also knew that she hadn't really gotten into it yet at all. There was going to be a moment in the future where she would have to decide just how important her relationship with Farfarello really was to her. She was aware that it might mean pain for her--physically and emotionally. She remembered the scar that Schuldig had shown her and wondered how much it had hurt when Farfarello had inflicted that wound. Would she be capable of withstanding such a wound? Would she have the courage to stand steady in the face of Farfarello's madness?

She mused over these things as she was lulled by the rain. It was falling lightly now, and the center of the storm had moved off. The lightning was less frequent and the thunder less deafening, and she started to drift.

Aya slept, for a time.

She started awake when a second storm caused more thunder to crash down around the tall building they lived in. She sat straight up in bed, her breath coming in short gasps as she tried to focus on who she was and where she was. She'd been dreaming of something dark and forbidding, and while she could not remember exactly what it had been, the emotions stuck with her. Thunder cracked again, and she swallowed a startled scream. This storm was much more violent than the last had been, and she could feel the invisible hairs on the nape of her neck standing up on end.

Something was going to happen. She could feel it in her bones, and it was as if the whole apartment was alive and was holding its breath and waiting with her.   And then she heard it--faint and barely noticeable above the din of the rain pelting insistently against the window--but it was there. Voices in the apartment. She looked at the clock on her bedside table and it read 3:37 a.m.

They're back, she thought, and she got out of bed and wrapped a robe around herself to hide the flimsy cotton gown she wore before padding to the door and opening it.

"Watch yourself!"

She recognized Ran's voice, and frowned slightly as she pinpointed the direction it was coming from. It was at the far end of the hall.

"Worry about yourself," Schuldig's voice replied. "Damn it, Farf! Will you just put the knives down?"

"I've got the sedative." Crawford's voice was calm, as always.

"No! I cannot hurt God if I sleep!"

Aya felt her blood run cold, and she froze in the doorway and swallowed hard. That had been Farfarello.

"Farfarello, you're going to hurt either yourself or someone else if you do not stop," came Crawford's calm reply.

"Did you not see how they bled? God wept, did he not?" Farfarello sounded manic. "I could make him weep more! It would never be enough! Never!"

"Grab him," Crawford's voice ordered.

It was silent for a moment, and then she heard Schuldig utter a sharp curse followed by a manic cackle of laughter from Farfarello.

"Schu!" Yohji sounded terrified.

"It's just a scratch," Schuldig assured him.

"You're bleeding all over the damn place!" Yohji shot back.

"And isn't it glorious!" Farfarello laughed.

Aya swallowed hard and forced herself to move again. She walked down the hall, towards the rectangle of light that was Farfarello's room, her heart in her throat and her pulse pounding audibly in her ears. She was afraid of what she was going to find in that room, and at the same time, she knew that she had to go there. The time to face her fears had come.

"Let me try." Ran's voice was calm.

"Careful, Ran!" Omi sounded worried.

"Too bad Nagi's out cold," Schuldig complained.

"It couldn't be helped," Ken's voice said. "We'd be dead if he hadn't stopped that wall from collapsing on us."

Aya paused in the hall, and she looked to her right into the room that Omi and Nagi shared. Sure enough, Nagi's small form was occupying one of the twin beds, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

"We'll have to make do," Crawford's voice informed them.

The sound of steel scraping against steel startled Aya, and she quickly closed the distance between herself and the open door at the end of the hall. She stopped just outside the open door and took in the scene before her with a slightly opened mouth and wide eyes.

"God damn it!" Ran hissed. He just barely danced away from Farfarello's downward slash and narrowly missed parrying the second knife with his katana. "Farfarello! I don't want to hurt you!"

"But I want to hurt you," came the blithe reply. "How many lives do you have left, kitty cat? Shall we find out?"

Oh, God. Aya swallowed hard and stepped into the room. Farfarello's back was to her, so he did not see her, but the others did. Aya noted that there was a sizeable gash torn in the upper right sleeve of Schuldig's white trench, and true to Yohji's earlier words, the German was bleeding profusely. The white leather below the cut was slick with blood and there were spatters of it on the white padded walls and floor. She met the German's eyes.

Aya, get out! Schuldig command was sharp and loud in her mind.

No.

She looked away from him and blatantly ignored the others, and it was in that moment that Ran realized she was in the room.

"Aya!" Ran gasped her name in shock.

And everyone froze as Farfarello suddenly whirled around to face her and pinned her in place with his golden gaze. His visible eye narrowed slightly, and his expression reminded Aya of a some great predator stalking prey. She swallowed convulsively as he took a step towards her. His lips curled upwards into something that was halfway between a smirk and a maniacal grin as he took another step towards her.

Her first instinct was to run, but she shoved it away and forced herself to stand absolutely still as he came even closer. She was trembling by the time he reached her, and she barely had time to notice the blades he carried in both hands before he was filling her field of vision. He was so close she could smell the blood that was smeared on the leather he wore and she could feel his heat through the silk of her robe and the cotton of her gown. His single eye gleamed down at her with an emotion that she was certain she had seen somewhere before, but she couldn't quite place it.

"Mine," Farfarello growled.

And she suddenly had a name for what she was seeing in his expression. Possessiveness. Need. Lust.

"Aya?" Ran again, and this time, he sounded terrified.

"Get out." Aya spoke the words in a whisper but managed to put an edge of command on it.

"No!" She wasn't sure who had spoken the word loudest: Schuldig or Ran.

"Get. Out." Her voice was stronger this time.

"Aya!" Ran sounded like he was going to break into a billion pieces.

"Mine." Farfarello stepped even closer.

"Everyone out, now." Crawford's tone left no room for argument.

"No!" Ran sounded angry now.

"NOW."   Crawford sounded completely un-phased by his lover's anger.

The others were already leaving the room, and Crawford was moving towards Ran with purpose. Aya didn't see any of it--her gaze was riveted to the man before her. Her instincts told her that looking away from Farfarello at this point might not be a good idea at all.

"Go, Ran. Please,” Aya whispered. She knew what was going to happen next, and she most certainly did not want her brother in the room when it happened. "Crawford . . ."

"Now, Ran," Crawford said, his tone slightly more gentle than it had been a moment ago. "There's nothing we can do here now."

"He's right," Aya managed. Her breath hitched when Farfarello raised a hand and placed the flat of a blood spattered blade against her cheek. "I have to do this," she whispered. "For both of our sakes."

Ran was still muttering curses as Crawford firmly took his elbow and ushered him from the room, and the door closed behind them, and Aya was suddenly alone in a white padded room with a mad man.

*****

"We can't leave her in there!" Ran spat the words out in desperation and anger. He looked up at Crawford with blazing amethyst eyes. "What were you thinking?"

"She's going to be fine,” Crawford returned in a calm voice.

"Excuse me?" Ran snapped his mouth shut and just stared at his lover for a moment. Sometimes he forgot that Crawford could see things before they happened.

"Which is the only reason I left when I did," Schuldig murmured from where he was lying on the couch. He'd peeled his trench off and Yohji was now cleaning and bandaging the wound that Farfarello had given him. His uninjured arm was covering his eyes and his complexion looked almost dangerously pale. "If you're wrong, though, Crawford, I'll kill you myself. Ran won't even get a chance!" Schuldig groaned softly. "God damn, she's scared out of her mind," Schuldig said. "She's leaking it everywhere, not that I expect her to do otherwise . . . "

"Shut up," Ran whispered. He sat down heavily on a chair near the fireplace and didn't protest when Omi brought him a shot of vodka. He knocked it back.

And promptly asked for another.

*****

Aya found herself thinking that if she lived through the night she'd probably never be afraid of anything ever again. Farfarello was still staring down into her eyes, the coolness of hard tempered steel against her cheek a constant reminder of just how much danger she could quite possibly be in. Aya knew that no matter what happened now that there was going to be pain involved, and the knowledge left her breathless with fear.

"Pretty little angel," Farfarello breathed. "Such perfection, such snow-white skin. I wonder how you look in red . . ."

Aya gasped at a sudden sting in her cheek, and a moment later she felt warmth trickle down her cheek. The twin thud of the knives hitting the padded floor made her jump slightly, and she swallowed audibly as she felt his arms wrap around her waist.

"Hmm . . . Very pretty," Farfarello growled. She closed her eyes as his lips ghosted across the small wound on her cheek. "It's tiny, Angel. It will heal and there will be no scar . . . You are too beautiful to mar, pretty little angel." His tongue lapped at the blood on her skin before he pulled away enough to look down at her. "My but red looks fine against your skin."

"Do you think so?" Aya whispered. She was amazed that she could even speak at all. Fear had all but closed up her throat and left her near breathless.

A corner of his mouth hitched in a smirk and he nodded slowly.

"Definitely your color, pretty little angel."

"I have a name," Aya found herself saying. It bothered her that he seemed to have forgotten her name in his madness, as if he were trying to disassociate himself from her.

"Do you, now?" He released her and stepped away, and his eye narrowed slightly. He stooped and came up with the twin blades in either hand. A maniacal grin flashed across his features. "I suppose you do. All angels have names, ne, Aya-chan?" He stepped close to her again.

"Farf . . .” The flat of a blade was pressed against her lips.

"Shh," Farfarello whispered. "You've talked enough, Aya-angel."

Aya slowly closed her mouth, and Farfarello moved the blade from her lips to rest against her cheek again.   She couldn't help but tremble as he brought the other blade up and slid it beneath the sash holding her robe closed. There was the whisper-quiet sound of fabric being rent by a sharp edge and then her robe fell open to reveal the lacy cotton gown she wore.

"Take it off," Farfarello whispered. He stepped away from her, his golden gaze intense.

Aya shrugged her shoulders and let the silk slide to the floor in a puddle of fabric. She shivered slightly as chill air touched her bare arms. She went very still and Farfarello stepped close to her again. The flat of a blade was pressed against her skin of her neck where it met the fabric of her nightgown.

"Please don't," Aya whispered. "It's my favorite nightgown."

Farfarello's amber eye narrowed slightly, but the knife was withdrawn and he stepped away from her again.

"Take it off."

Aya lifted the gown up and over her head with trembling hands. She felt heat flood her cheeks as she let the gown fall from her hands. Farfarello's gaze was intense as he took in her nudity. Aya shivered again.

"It's cold," she found herself whispering. She resisted the urge to wrap her arms around herself--her instincts told her that to do anything other than what Farfarello asked of her might, at that point, be a very bad idea. Instead, she waited, her naked form shivering visibly.

"Is it?" Farfarello's voice was a low purr. He walked a slow circle around her, his gold eye noting every curve on her pale supple body. He abruptly tossed the knives away from him, and they skidded to a halt against a far wall.

"Yes, it is," Aya managed to whisper. She swallowed convulsively when he reached up and started to remove the leather jacket he was wearing.

"Shall I warm you, Aya-angel?" Farfarello purred. The jacket was tossed carelessly aside as was the black tank top he wore beneath it. It was Aya's turn to blatantly stare--his chest was lean whipcord muscle, and even with the scars that crossed his flesh here and there his physique was more than a little impressive. By the time she had finished admiring his well-honed abdominal muscles he had already kicked his boots off and was removing his leather pants.

"I think it's already warmer," Aya whispered. Indeed, her flesh felt suddenly hot as she watched him peel the black leather away from his skin, and then he was as nude as she.   Aya was transfixed by the sight of his arousal.

"Like what you see?" Farfarello moved closer to her.

"Yes," Aya answered honestly. He was right before her again, and his hands came up to frame her face.

"You're trembling," Farfarello murmured. "Still cold? Or are you afraid?"

"Both," Aya admitted.

"Smart girl," Farfarello whispered. He bent down and kissed her hard. Aya moaned as his tongue gained entrance to her mouth and entwined with her own. It was not a gentle kiss, but it was a good kiss, none the less, and Aya felt her knees going weak with the intensity of it. "So sweet," Farfarello whispered against her lips.

"Kiss me again," Aya whispered.

"Oh, I plan on doing so much more than kissing," Farfarello informed her with a wicked little laugh. "Surely you know that?"

He didn't wait for her answer. Aya gasped as she felt strong arms around her waist and she was pulled into his embrace. Her lips were claimed in another possessively harsh kiss, and one of his hands came up to cradle her head as he thoroughly ravished her mouth.   His lips moved from her mouth down to the flesh of her neck. Aya shivered as his tongue flicked out to taste her skin.

"Such a pretty angel." Farfarello's breath was a tickle against her skin. The fingers of the hand cradling her head suddenly tangled in her long dark hair and she gasped when Farfarello used it to arch her head back. His free hand splayed in the center of her back, and he continued to tug her head back until she was forced to arch her back or have her hair painfully pulled. He stopped then and smiled wickedly at her before he bent his head down to claim one of her nipples between his teeth.

"Oh!" Aya let her eyes flutter shut as sparks of pleasure shot through her system. Farfarello's teeth nipped at her before his tongue circled around the nub of flesh.   "Oh, Farfarello . . .” Aya’s breath left her in a hiss as he moved to her other breast. More pleasure warmed her system, and very soon she forgot that she had ever been cold at all.

"Mine!" Farfarello hissed the word passionately.

"Yes," Aya agreed, her voice a breathless whisper. "Always, Farf."

He swept her off her feet and carried her to the bed on the far wall of the room and lay her out on the black comforter. She wrapped her arms around him as he lowered himself onto her form and claimed her lips again. His hands and lips were all over her then, and Aya let her eyes slide shut and gave herself over to the pleasure he was drawing from her.   It wasn't until he spoke her name that she realized he had suddenly stopped.

"Aya-chan."

She opened her eyes slowly. He was gazing down at her, his hands flat against the bed on either side of her head and his expression serious.

"Farf?"

"Are you still afraid?"

"No,” Aya whispered. "You won't hurt me, not really."

He seemed to think about that for a moment, and then his lips curled in a slight smile, and his expression went wry. "Ah, but I will," Farfarello said. "It always hurts the first time, angel."

Aya realized that he'd come back to himself at some point, that somewhere in the midst of his touching and kissing her that his sanity had returned, and that she was talking to the man she'd fallen in love with. She reached up to touch his scarred chin before she slid her hand around the nape of his neck and pulled him down for a slow kiss.

"It's okay," she whispered when he broke the kiss. "That kind of pain I can live with." She smiled up at him. "Do it, Farf."

It hurt, but only for a moment, and then he was moving within her. She wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his shoulders and held on tightly as he claimed her body and captured her heart and soul. Soon she was moaning softly as the pleasurable pressure built low in her abdomen, her embrace tightening around Farfarello as he pushed them both closer and closer to completion.

"Mine!" Farfarello whispered the word harshly against her ear, and then Aya cried out as she felt teeth sink into the tender flesh at the juncture of her neck and shoulders. The pain of Farfarello's sudden love bite was eclipsed by the sudden wave of pleasure that broke over her, and she cried out again as the intensity of it all shook her to the core.

"I love you," Aya whispered into Farfarello's ear as the Irishman found his own release. Farfarello wrapped her in a firm embrace and held her tightly before rolling onto his back and taking her with him. She crossed her arms on his chest and rested her chin against her arms and met his golden gaze.

"I hurt you," Farfarello whispered. His lips curled down in a frown as he lifted a hand to touch the thin cut on her cheek.

"Do you remember doing it?" Aya whispered to him.

"I . . . Yes," Farfarello said. "But it was like . . .” His words trailed off and he shook his head.

"Tell me," Aya whispered.

"It's hard to explain," Farfarello said after a moment. "I know I'm doing things, but it's like I'm outside of myself watching it happen. I . . . I try to forget what I see during those times. I don't like some of the things I've done." His head rolled to the side and he seemed suddenly very interested in the white padded wall directly next to his bed.

"You didn't hurt me," Aya said. She shifted slightly so that she could use her fingers to roll his head back and look him in the eye again. "And I love you, Farfarello. I love you and all of your little quirks."

"You must,” Farfarello whispered, and he managed a smile for her.

"Do I really look pretty in red?" Aya asked. He looked startled for a moment, and then was laughing. She grinned down at him. "Well, do I?"

"Yes," Farfarello managed after a moment. "I'm going to buy you a little red dress with matching stockings and stiletto heels."

"Ran's going to have a heart attack,” Aya said, and she didn't sound at all sorry for it. "Can I have a black dress, too?"

"Whatever you want," Farfarello said. His expression was suddenly serious again, and he pulled her down for a gentle kiss.

"I want to sleep," Aya said, and she yawned to punctuate the sentiment. "For some reason, I'm exhausted. Can I stay here?"

"Do you even have to ask?"

*****

Schuldig hummed softly to himself as he went about the motions of making breakfast. It was Sunday morning, which meant it was his turn to cook the morning meal. It was just past 9 am, and the others would be up soon. No one in their twisted little 'family' ever slept much past nine thirty, not even if they were hung over. And Ran's going to be hung over, Schuldig thought.

Normally, he would have found the thought of Ran with a hangover most amusing, but on this particular morning, he did not. The circumstances were anything but funny. Ran had nearly gone nuts last night when Crawford and Aya had forced Ran to leave her alone in a room with a psychotic Farfarello. Ran had downed a significant amount of alcohol in a very short time, and it had been for the best, really. Schuldig had to admit that the urge to join Ran in his drunken stupor had been very strong, but he'd resisted. It would have been very, very hard for him to monitor Aya's emotions had he been drunk out of his mind. Schuldig had only allowed himself to have a drink after he'd felt Aya's emotions calm and her fear dissipate into something else entirely.

A noise at the doorway made him look up, and he found Farfarello standing just inside the room, his expression somewhat uncertain.

"Good morning, Farf," Schuldig said. "Want to help make breakfast?"

"I . . .” Farfarello closed his mouth and moved to join Schuldig at the counter.

"Whatever it is, just spit it out," Schuldig said. He could feel Farfarello's trepidation in the air.

"Why did you leave her there?" Farfarello asked suddenly. "I could have hurt her, badly."

"Did you?" Schuldig asked. He poured the eggs he'd been beating into a frying pan.

"Not exactly," Farfarello said. "But she didn't come out of it unmarked."

Schuldig chuckled. "Very few people have really good sex and come out of it unmarked, Farfie. Hell, you should see some of the bruises Yohji’s left me with."

"I cut her." Farfarello sounded like he hated himself.

"How badly?" Schuldig knew it couldn't have been that bad--Aya's fear would have spiked sharply had he really hurt her, and Schuldig hadn't felt such a thing from her.

"It's a scratch really, but that's not the point . . ."

"What is the point?" Schuldig asked. "If you're looking for me to condemn you for taking what you want --no, what you needed--then you're barking up the wrong tree, Farf. Besides, Aya wanted to stay with you last night. Yeah, she was afraid at first, but of all the emotions I felt from her last night, doubt was never one of them, Farfarello. Aya loves you, idiot. And obviously, you love her too. You didn't hurt her, you loved her."

For a long moment the only sound in the kitchen was that of frying eggs and sizzling bacon, and then Farfarello finally spoke.

"Thank you, Schuldig."

"You're welcome," Schuldig returned. "Now, do me a favor, ne? Make us some pecan pancakes. Aya-chan loves them, and I can't make them worth a crap."

"Sure."

*****

Aya swallowed nervously as she stepped into the kitchen. She'd showered and put on a fresh nightgown and robe, but no amount of rearranging the material around her collar would hide the livid bite-shaped bruise that Farfarello had given her. She really didn't care what the others thought about it, but she knew Ran was going to throw a fit, and she wasn't sure she was up to dealing with it. She was a little sore from the previous night, and had been somewhat disconcerted to wake and find herself alone in Farfarello's white room.

"Good morning, everyone." Aya was proud of the fact that the words didn't come out in a nervous squeak. Eight pairs of eyes were suddenly riveted on her, and she lifted her chin slightly and managed to give them a smile.

"Aya . . . Your throat . . . “ Ran’s voice trembled slightly as he spoke the words, and when she met his gaze across the room, his amethyst eyes were glittering dangerously.

"It's fine, Ran," Aya said.

"It . . .” Ran started.

"It's fine," Aya said again. "It's just a bruise, Ran. It'll go away."

"He bit you," Ran accused.

"I liked it," Aya said. She felt her cheeks heat as she made the admission, but it was the truth. A certain part of her had found some pleasure in the little hurt Farfarello had inflicted with that bite. She heard a few snickers from the others, and found it hard to not laugh herself as she watched Ran's jaw drop open in shock.

"That was perhaps more information than he wanted," Crawford said, his lips set in a smirk. He reached over and closed Ran's jaw with his fingers. "I told you she was going to be fine," he said to Ran.

Aya felt arms slide around her waist, and she leaned back into Farfarello's embrace. She giggled as she felt a light nip on her earlobe before a kiss was placed against her cheek.

"Someone is disgustingly happy," Schuldig drawled. "You're leaking it all over the place, Aya-chan."

"Someone is getting married soon," Ran interrupted.

Aya narrowed her eyes and was about to tell Ran to mind his own damn business when Farfarello's voice stopped her.

"Of course," he said. "If that's what Aya wants."

She turned in his arms, and he was smiling down at her.

"Really?"

"If you want, yes," Farfarello said. "I love you, Aya-chan, and I would be more than honored if you would consent to spend the rest of your life with me."

Aya answered him with a kiss.

*****

Epilogue--two months later

"You can stop whenever you want," Aya informed Schuldig.

"Do you want me to stop?" Schuldig asked as he continued to play.

"She doesn't want you to stop," Farfarello said, his lips curled upwards in a smirk. "She wants to dance all night."

"Is that so, Mrs. Farfarello?" Schuldig asked. Farfarello and Aya were dancing in the center of the penthouse's large living room. Aya was dressed in a simple white wedding gown and Farfarello was dressed in a tuxedo and they were stunning as they moved to the music Schuldig played.

"Just one more, Schu? A nice, slow waltz?" Aya's expression was wistful.

"Of course, Angel," Schuldig answered. He immediately granted her request, sparing a moment to smile at Yohji, who was in his customary position atop the piano. As Schuldig played tears started to form in his eyes.

Schu? Yohji's voice sounded concerned in his mind.

I'm fine, Schuldig sent back. I'm just happy, Yohji. I . . .

What is it, Schu?

When Estet murdered my family and took me away, I thought that I'd never be happy again, that I'd never really enjoy music again or get a chance to share it with others. But here I am . . . I have you, and the others, and Aya's so very close to surpassing me in her lessons. It's just . . . It's just a little overwhelming when I think about it.

Yohji reached out to catch the tears as they fell from Schuldig's eyes.

"I love you," Yohji whispered. Schuldig felt more tears well in his eyes as he finished the waltz.

"We'll be off to bed, then," Aya said, and she stopped by the piano long enough to kiss both Yohji and Schuldig on the cheek before she and Farfarello went to their room.

"Ne, Schuldig? Play it for me?" Yohji reached out to cup a palm against Schuldig's cheek.

"Why do you like it so?" Schuldig whispered.

"Because it's what you were playing when I found you in that warehouse, and because you play it so beautifully. I'll always think of you and that night whenever I hear it," Yohji whispered. The blonde shifted enough so that he could press his lips against Schuldig's. "Ne, play it?"

Schuldig's fingers were already moving, and by the time he whispered a quiet "Sure," the soft strains of Beethoven's Moonlit Sonata were already floating through the apartment.

*****

END
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The Piano Trilogy