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Thicker Than Blood	By : SylverIce2 Category: Weiß Kreuz > General Views: 1419 -:- 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.

Chapter List
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There was no reason for Brianna to stop by
the flower shop on her way home from work. As the shop was
closed, she walked around to the back of the shop, to the back door. The
door opened easily. Brianna bypassed the darkened shop and went upstairs
to the apartment. All the lights were on, but no one was there. As
she was opening the door to leave, a noise from the basement made her pause,
and then slip silently down the stairs.
She paused when a woman’s voice rose above the softer tones of the
men. “Damn it. You’re Weiss. This is what you’re paid to
do. You’re not supposed to start having moral issues about the targets.”

“Manx, you don’t understand. This isn’t
right.” Ken sounded upset, but it was nothing to the horrified tones that
Omi was protesting in.

“No. No no no. I won’t believe it. Manx, tell me that it’s
not true. You added the second target after the mission started, there
might be a mistake.”

Brianna shook her head, not understanding.
She moved a little further down the stairs, and saw the woman who had been
speaking. Tall and red-haired, the woman had an angry expression on face
and had her arms folded. Omi was at her side, wide blue eyes shimmering
with tears that hadn’t been shed. Suddenly there was a thump, and she
heard Ken curse.

Curiosity got the better of her, and she
walked down the stairs. Four pairs of surprised eyes turned to her; Ken
was staring at the blood smeared across his knuckles. Brianna could see a
large dent in the plaster wall next to him. “Ken, are you all
right?” He did a double take at her, then
nodded.

The woman exhaled sharply in annoyance.
“You know her. You’re objecting because you know her.”

Aya nodded.
Ken glared, while Omi swiped a hand across his eyes. Yohji
sighed, and walked to Brianna, slinging an arm over her shoulders. “Manx,
this isn’t the time to discuss this. But yes, to an extent, we’re
objecting because we know her. Go back to Krittiker
and tell them that we’re not going to take out the secondary target until we
see some solid irrefutable proof that we’ll believe.”

Brianna was stunned. What are they talking about? Weiss? Secondary targets?
Moral issues? What is this woman talking about?
The woman had left, angry but knowing that staying would mean fighting a losing
battle. The four guys crowded around Brianna, who was still confused and
worried. This is it. This is
the dark secret that I kept sensing was there.

“Brianna-chan? We can explain.”
Omi’s eyes were worried; she could see Ken
fiddling with the cloth that Aya had produced from
somewhere to wipe the blood up with. “Sit down, and we’ll tell you
everything.”

The girl sat, but before any of them could
speak, she started talking. “I’ve spent nearly four years being
scared. I moved to Japan because my home was too lonely. But it
wasn’t going to be any different here. I was still by myself, and
couldn’t handle the level of isolation that I was feeling.”

She waved a hand at Ken as he started to say
something. “But then I met you four. For the first time in years, I
don’t fear getting up in the mornings. I don’t look around, constantly
worrying. I don’t jump at noises – I can eat out again. I sleep
through the night now. You make me feel safe.” She took a deep
breath. “You four banished my beautiful alone. You became people
that I could trust, men that I could
trust. And I haven’t trusted anyone or felt safe since I left him.”

“Him?” Yohji settled on the couch next to her, draping an arm
around her shoulders. The tiny girl shook her head, again shushing the
comments.

“I was told once that it’s better to live on,
no matter what; that the will to live is the strongest force in the world for a
reason. I didn’t believe that for a long time.

After I was let out of the hospital, my
parents were killed in a car accident. They were my closest family; the only other relatives I speak with are two of my
cousins, and neither of them lived anywhere near D.C. Because of
everything that had happened, I was forced to see a doctor. A psychiatrist. He was the one who told me about the
will to live, that told me that the…incidents…weren’t my fault.” She
looked around at each of the men facing her, meeting each pair of eyes
directly.

“You know, you can let go of depression, and
you can push aside guilt and shame, and you can pretend that you don’t hate
yourself – but none of it really ever goes away. You just learn to live
with it, to ignore it. Every day was easier to cope with – especially
once I isolated myself from a social life. If there isn’t anyone around
you, you can’t get hurt, right?” She laughed, a
short, almost ugly sound. “But no matter how much you push people away,
you are confronted with people who you need. Lives that touch you, that force you to shove through your own inadequacies.
You force me to do that. Something in the back of my mind won’t let me
walk away from you.” She shook her head. “But no matter what that
voice says, I know that I make bad choices. All I’ve ever made were bad
choices when I’ve tried to follow my heart. And right now, I need you to
tell me something – are you another bad choice? Are you going to reveal
something terrible that will hurt me?”

The room was silent after her words.
The four men traded glances, no one sure what to say. Finally, Yohji sighed. “We’re not florists.” Then he
fell silent again.

“That’s all you have to say?” Brianna
started trembling. “That’s it. ‘We’re not florists’? What are
you then? Hired killers?”

The silence was almost touchable. Stunned by the fact that no one was denying it, Brianna’s eyes
filled with tears. No.
Oh, gods, what have I done to myself now. She brushed impatiently at
the tears, and shrugged off Yohji’s arm.
Standing, she looked at each of them, nearly panicking, and seeing the calm,
resigned, and sad expressions, fled the florist shop.

She reached her apartment, out of breath and
crying. She searched through her pockets, nearly sobbing with
frustration, as she couldn’t find her key. When she finally admitted that
she’d dropped her key ring someplace, she slid down to the hallway floor,
leaning back against her door and dropping her head to her knees.

I
thought they were safe. I thought they were good. They lied to me, pretended to be different men, safe men.
They’re just going to kill me. That’s what all that was about. I’m
an assignment to them. One that they’re going to
murder.

She couldn’t have been sitting there for more
than two or three minutes when she felt someone’s presence in front of
her. Giving in, she looked up to see Omi kneeling in front of her.
He held out her set of keys silently. She took it, her hand
trembling. Tear tracts marred her face, and she was sniffing.

“We never meant to hurt you,
Brianna-san. We only wanted for you to see us without having to see the
blood. None of us wanted to be the one to disturb your innocence.”
He stood up, his wide blue eyes sad. “We did it anyway, with these hands
stained with blood.” His disgust with himself was broken through when she
began laughing.

“Innocence?”
The laughter was sharp, nearly hysterical. “What innocence? I lost
that the day that I agreed to marry that man.” She burst into hysterical
sobbing, unable to hold back the floods of emotion that she’d restrained for so
long.

Omi fell to his knees, gathering her into his
arms. He patted her shoulder, not knowing what to do with her
tears. Looking down the hallway, he saw Yohji
running from the stairwell where the others waited. The older man dropped
down and gently took Brianna into his arms, lifting her up. “Open the
door, Omi. I’ll take care of her.”

“She…she said something about losing her
innocence when she agreed to marry someone. Yohji,
I didn’t know that she was married….” Omi’s hands shook slightly as he
unlocked the apartment door.

“I’ll get her to tell me the whole
story. It’ll be all right, Omitchi.” Yohji’s reassuring words didn’t touch the pit of his
stomach, where a cold weight was settling.
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Thicker Than Blood