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Not Now, Not Ever	By : Blythe Category: Weiß Kreuz > General Views: 2476 -:- 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
- 3
- 4
- 5
Disclaimer: Mine, mine, mine! OK, OK!
Not mine, dammit!

This is a work of fanfiction and is not for profit.

Pairing: Aya/Yohji

Rating: NC-17 for language and smut.

A/N: The long awaited chapter 4. Alright, so maybe nobody was waiting, but a
girl can dream, ne?
As always, thank you to Marasmine for the best
beta ever and to the reviewers who have offered so much encouragement.

KD, this one’s for you, dear!

‘thoughts’

Chapter 4

After Neu, Yohji was quiet and withdrawn. He went to work, always on time, and really
worked. He made some of his best
arrangements. He actually swept the
floor instead of just using the broom as a prop. He stocked the coolers, made displays, and
hauled the larger items wherever they needed to go. He carefully, almost lovingly, tended the
plants; like he was tired of only seeing things die by his hands. For once, he wanted to bring life. ‘Explains why he used to sleep around,
too, I suppose. To see another so full of life under his
hands.’ Aya wondered what it would feel like to be stroked and
caressed by the fine-boned, wire-calloused hands.

Yohji did not, however, interact. He didn’t wait on customers. He avoided the fangirls. He spoke only when spoken to and not always
then. He watched Aya.

He watched Aya with something in his eyes that made Omi’s
heart ache. Something akin to regret
mixed with longing, an apology combined with an invitation. For what, Omi wasn’t sure, but he
suspected. ‘At least,’ Omi
thought, ‘Aya is finally starting to notice the change.’

‘Quit with the cow eyes, Omi. I know something’s up with Kudoh, but what
the hell do you want me to do about it? Hell, I’m so attuned to him I probably
noticed it first!’ Aya just wasn’t
sure that he was ready to approach Yohji about it. They weren’t exactly friends anymore. He no longer wanted to kill the man because
of the Neu fiasco. He wouldn’t have
minded, in the least, being the one to have cut the bitch’s head off, but there
was some poetic justice in her dying in the same manner in which she’d
attempted to kill Yohji. Besides that,
it was the closure that the blonde needed, whether he was ready to admit that
or not.

Aya had still felt drawn to the man, even in his sullen
state. ‘Who knew moping could look so
good?’ he though uncharitably. It
wasn’t moping, not really. It was
grieving. Not just grieving for Neu or
Asuka, or whomever, but grieving for some part of Yohji that had finally let
go. A part of Yohji that had held to the
ideas of life and love with childlike tenacity was gone. And no one knew if it could be regained. It was that fear and that grief that kept
their teammate from reconnecting to the world.

Aya wanted things back the way they were. The companionship that had
been budding before that stupid argument when he’d taken his conflicted
emotions out on his friend. But
really, he wanted it to be better than it was then. He still wanted an answer to the question
that had created the rift.

‘Why the playboy persona?
Why any charade at all?’

Except, he wasn’t the playboy anymore. It was something else, something darker, a
little more brooding perhaps. But it was
still a mask, still a way of shielding his heart and mind. Perhaps his unhappiness was clear, but they’d
all have been more surprised if that hadn’t shown. Asuka or not, Neu’s death had to have him
reliving that night in the alley over and over.

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

Aya-chan’s command to “live” played in his head over and
over. Aya found himself inexplicably
wanting to reach out. He’d never wanted
to do this for anyone else, besides his sister, of course. But, now that Aya-chan had discovered his
feelings, they were that much more difficult to ignore. He wanted to hold Yohji, pet him, whisper
words of comfort, offer peace. But, he
didn’t know where or how to start! Until
tonight, Aya had thought that somehow he’d know if Yohji’s problems were
reaching critical mass. That he could
wait until then to take action. He’d
been hoping that he had learned enough about the man to recognize the signs before it was too late. Now, he was sure of only one thing: he was
running out of time.

It was Yohji’s latest solo mission that drove the point home
for Aya. When Yohji
had a solo mission, Aya always waited up, though no one knew. He’d sit in his room reading or feigning
sleep until he heard his lanky housemate enter his own room. Around 2:30 a.m., when he’d heard nothing he
began to be concerned. Yohji was usually
home by now.

At 3:30 a.m., Yohji finally stumbled through the back door,
one arm clutched around his waist, one leg bearing most of his weight. He fell against the wall, barely remaining
upright; panting and lamenting the last set of stairs he had to negotiate in
order to get to his room. He tried not
to leave a trail, but he couldn’t staunch the blood flow from the wound in his
leg and he knew it’d be hell to clean up before the others saw, especially in
his current state. But, first things
first, he had to get himself patched and cleaned.

He lurched toward the stairs, making a wild grab for the
banister to keep some of the pressure off of his injured leg. He missed and landed with a thud at the
bottom of the stairs. He couldn’t stifle
the cry as his side was jarred and he felt it rip a little more.

‘Come on, Kudoh! You’ve got to get up! If anyone heard
you, they’ll just assume you’re too drunk to walk straight, but if they find
you, well, that could be bad. So, get up and get your ass moving!’ These little mental pep talks could be so
inspiring.

He made it as far as his knees when he heard a door creak in
the hall upstairs. He grit
his teeth and tried to slow his breathing.
He stayed very, very still, hoping whichever curious kitten it was would
just go back to sleep.

No such luck.

Aya heard Yohji fall into the apartment. ‘Did you have to stop for drink on your
way home from a mission? Gods, Kudoh, grow up!’ Then a thousand other thoughts assailed him
at once. ‘Yohji used to drink like a
fish and never stumbled around the house. Even intoxicated, he’s an assassin
and could move silently to his room. He knows the Koneko like his hand and
wouldn’t stumble over anything unless it’d been moved, which it hasn’t.’

That was when he heard the thud and accompanying muffled
cry. Out of habit, he moved silently and
with caution. However, when he reached
the top of stairs, he threw caution to the wind and bounded to the lower level. Yohji was on all fours, damp hair clinging to
the back of his neck, a rapidly spreading puddle of red around him. He squatted next to the hunched form and
reached out a hand, which Yohji feebly attempted to bat away.

“I’m fine,” Yohji wheezed out. “I just need a moment to catch my breath.”

“The hell you are.”
It was amazing how quickly the man could piss him off. Where once was a man
who would have taken any opportunity to be touched, now was one who wouldn’t
accept it even in his very obvious need.
‘Well, I’ll just have to use a different approach for the moment.’ “You’re making a mess. We have to get you
upstairs,” he stated matter-of-factly.
He took the silence as assent and reached out again. This time, he got one arm around the taller
man and slung Yohji’s arm over his shoulders.
He slowly raised them to their feet, immediately aware that the other
was favoring his right leg. With the aid
of the handrail, they made it up to Yohji’s room.

As soon as they were through the door, Yohji removed his arm
from Aya’s shoulders and leaned on the wall.
Aya flipped the lights on and bit down on the gasp that tried to
escape. He’d never seen the normally
tanned man so pale.

“I can take it from here. Thanks for the assistance with the
steps.” Yohji just wanted to be alone so
he could collapse. ‘He can’t see me
like this; so weak I can barely stand. I don’t want to see the disappointment,
disdain, and disgust on his face. Those beautiful, chiseled
features cast down on me is more than I can handle right now. Please,
Aya, just go!’ He could feel the
weight of the amethyst eyes that raked over his appearance. One last attempt to get rid of him, he had to
try. Voice as firm as he could manage in
his current condition he grit out, “goodnight, Aya.”

“Strip,” came the calm reply.

“Pardon?”

“You heard me. Get started.”
And with that, Aya headed for the medical supplies.

Yohji knew when he was defeated. He just didn’t have the strength to fight his
field leader tonight. It was taking
everything he had to hobble toward the bed and follow the order issued. He’d managed to let his coat slip off of his
arms to the floor when he realized there wasn’t much more he could do without
causing a lot more pain.

Aya came back in to see Yohji sitting on the bed, still
dressed, looking dazed. The man looked over and gave a small, sheepish
smile. ‘This is fucking humiliating.
I’m so sorry, Aya.’

“Let me guess, you need help with that, too?” A sigh and a nod indicated that he was
correct. Aya set the basin of water on
the nightstand. The towels and washcloth
were laid on the bed nearby and the medical kit he sat on the floor near
Yohji’s feet.

He knelt in front of the gaunt man and began unlacing his
boots. Next went socks, shirt and
pants. Each article gently peeled away
and soaked off where necessary. There was
a bullet wound in the left thigh and a deep gash in his side. But it wasn’t these that caused the sharp
intake of breath. These new wounds
weren’t what caused the rare feeling of tears pricking the backs of his eyes as
he moved behind Yohji to start washing away the blood. No, these wounds were bad, but the others
were worse. Not because they were more
serious, but because there were so many.
The smooth tawny skin bearing only a handful of the marks of their trade
Aya knew from treating previous wounds was now covered in new scars, bruises,
abrasions, and even a few burns. Aya was
as careful as he could be as he tended to the bullet and knife wounds from this
night’s mission. Once the bullet was out
and the stitches were closed Yohji’s breathing became easier. Aya refilled the basin with clear water to
finish getting the blonde cleaned up.
Aya’d kept his silence while he worked, needing to concentrate, but he
couldn’t hold his tongue anymore.

“Yohji,” he began.
But the older man cut him off.

“Don’t, Aya. Not now, not . . .not
ever.” The words rang in Aya’s
head. He remembered the last time he’d
heard them, even if he had said them to himself. They only strengthened his resolve. He didn’t like to be told ‘no.’

“Damn it, Kudoh, you will hear me!” He moved in front of the blonde again. “Who’s been treating your wounds?”

“. . .”

“Answer me. That’s a direct order, Kritiker business. Now,
who has been treating your wounds?

“I have,” he mumbled, eyes glued to the floor.

“Well, Balinese, you’re doing a piss poor job of it. You
know that several of these should have been treated by a professional but, at
the very least, Ken, Omi, or me. What the hell were you thinking?”

“They’re fine. I’m fine. You’re over-reacting. I’m tired.
Are we done?” It came out in one
exasperated breath.

Aya would have exploded had it not been for the lines of
pain all the over too thin face of his friend.
The bruises under the emerald eyes were so dark they made the orbs look
sunken, exhaustion clear in them. The
faint frown on lush lips another indication of discomfort. Aya shook out two pills from one bottle and
one pill from another in the medical kit.
He handed all three to Yohji with an open bottle of water. Yohji shook his head.

“Swallow them or, so help me, I’ll find another way to get
them inside you. Am I clear?” He knew he
sounded like the icy Abyssinian, but he couldn’t stand to see the man he cared
for so much in this state. He couldn’t
show how much this was hurting him, so he fell into his old habits. It was effective, though. Yohji took the pills without further
comment. He didn’t even ask what they
were. Although, it was becoming clearer
with each moment that Yohji didn’t care about his own life anymore. Had the pills been cyanide, the baka probably
would have taken them without the threat!

Aya gathered the supplies together and helped Yohji get
comfortable in his bed. One of the pills
had been a sleeping aid. He was trying
to force the rest that the man so clearly needed onto Yohji. “We’re done, for now, Yohji. Get some sleep,”
he whispered before he turned out the light.

The last things Yohji was aware of before slipping into
unconsciousness were a cool hand ghosting over his fevered face and the
gentleness, usually reserved only for Aya-chan, in his teammate’s voice when he
spoke his name.

Aya leaned heavily against the closed door regaining his
composure. He wanted to call Manx and
chew her out for not recognizing an assassin with a death wish. For not forcing the fool to
have regular medical exams after so many solo missions. For allowing him to
take that many damned missions in the first place! But, it was five o’clock in the morning. And it wasn’t Manx’s fault. Not really.

He’d thought he would know, somehow, when things went too
far, but he hadn’t. He found out by
accident, a fortuitous circumstance. He
didn’t like to think to about what may have happened if he hadn’t been there
last night… this morning… whatever.

Aya decided to talk to Omi and Ken first. When he asked them about the changes in
Yohji’s behavior they looked at the floor and shuffled their feet like children
being taken to task. Aya coolly informed
them that he wasn’t interested in their guilt: he was concerned for Yohji. He bore as much responsibility as they did,
so who was he to judge? Ken still took
it hard. He had been closest to Yohji,
his best friend. At one time, he had
hoped to see more develop between the blonde and the redhead. He figured if he hung back it would encourage
that development, forcing Yohji to look to Aya where he’d once gone to
Ken. Then it became an easy habit to
fall into, especially once he was so preoccupied with his new lover. He felt he should have been doing more for
his friend recently. They all should
have. Yohji was Weiss and Weiss was a
family.

Well, isn’t hindsight 20/20?

They spent a long night talking it over. And then an afternoon with Aya-chan, altering
the truth while still getting the insightful girl’s opinion. Then another night, this time
including Manx. Eventually, the
three Weiss members came up with a plan.
Clearing it with Manx was relatively easy since she had shared their
original reaction. She’d been wrapped up
in reorganizing Kritiker and while she had noticed that there was a problem,
she had failed to act. She was pleased
that the team was handling it and promised to do whatever she could to
help. She offered some suggestions
(psychobabble) to make Aya’s job a little easier and he was grateful. He’d never realized how well she knew
Yohji. Aya-chan was enlisted as
well. Since Manx had approved the two
weeks off for Aya and Yohji, Ken and Omi would need help at the Koneko. Aya-chan said she’d be glad to take some
shifts if it meant her brother was going on vacation. Aya was content to let her think that was
what it was. He, however, was not
suffering under the same delusion. He
knew that he had his work cut out for him, but he also knew that he could
handle it.

Aya was elected delegate, which was fine as it was what he
wanted. It made approaching Yohji easier
if he could think he was doing it for the team and not just himself. He could ignore his ulterior motives for the
time being.

Time was of the essence and they decided that the plan
should be executed immediately. It was
2:00 am, four days after the disastrous solo mission, but there was no doubt
that the resident night owl was awake.
Aya raised a tentative hand, steeled himself, then
knocked firmly. He opened the door when
Yohji bid him enter. The greeting he was
about to issue died on his lips as he took in his surroundings. Yohji’s quarters were transformed. He’d been so focused on Yohji’s injuries and
his own emotions the other night that he’d failed to notice. Now, though, it was glaringly obvious. Gone was the clutter of knickknacks, candles,
books, magazines, and papers that had once covered every surface and had given
the space a lived-in and homey feeling.
Gone were the rumpled bedclothes and random articles of clothing strewn
about. Gone was the soft chenille
blanket that once draped invitingly over the arm of the overstuffed chair,
though Aya thought he saw the corner of it peeking out of the closet. The room was immaculate. The bed was neatly made. The books were dutifully lined up in the
bookcase. The knickknacks were just
gone, as were the papers and magazines.
Nothing adorned the walls where once were large prints of famous
European artworks and a few of Yohji’s own sketches. The sketch books were on the bottom shelf of
the bookcase, the art supplies were nowhere to be seen. It reminded Aya of how his own quarters were
in the early days of Weiss. Actually, a
lot about ‘Yohji now’ reminded him of ‘Aya then.’

When Aya came back to himself he saw Yohji perched on the
windowsill. One leg was out on the fire
escape, the other drawn up so he could rest his chin on his knee. He was watching the tendrils of smoke from
the end of the smoldering cigarette curl into the night and studiously ignoring
Aya’s presence. Aya started to walk
toward him when sudden realization struck.
‘We’re not friends anymore. He won’t respond to an offer. Has to be a command. Has to come from the
leader of Weiss.’

“Balinese, pack you bags. Take whatever you think you will
need for a two week stay. You have one hour.”
Aya turned on his heel and left without giving the other man a chance to
respond. This was going to be harder
than he’d thought. That wasn’t Yohji in
that room. That was barely a ghost of
the man they’d once known, almost a stranger.

At 3:00 a.m. Aya found himself, once again, outside Yohji’s
door. This time it swung open before he
could knock. Yohji was dressed in his
mission gear with a duffel bag slung over one shoulder. With his hair around his shoulders and his
sunglasses resting fetchingly on the bridge of his nose he almost looked like
the Yohji he knew. But the illusion was
shattered by the too prominent collarbones seen through the open top of the
coat and the dark shadows barely peeking below the lenses of the shades. Aya decided against telling Yohji this wasn’t
a mission right now. He merely nodded
his approval. Yohji nodded back
once. They were on the road heading for
the mountains and Villa Weiss within minutes.
- 3
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- 5
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Not Now, Not Ever

Disclaimer: Mine, mine, mine! OK, OK! Not mine, dammit!

‘thoughts’

Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Mine, mine, mine! OK, OK!
Not mine, dammit!