Angel in Disguise

Omi felt warm, and comfortable, and for a moment couldn't figure out why. He gradually became aware of another body beneath his own, cradling him. His short term memory was malfunctioning, he decided. He couldn't recall where he was, or who he was sleeping with.

Stretching, cat-like, he reached up and put his arms around the anonymous person's neck, burying his face against it and inhaling. They smelled of blood.

It just figures, he thought sleepily. This is a dream. I finally find someone, and they smell like blood. I'm never getting away from it.

Slowly, his memories returned to him. Climbing into the building; finding Farfarello and the bear. Going through the hellish laboratory with the Irishman. Getting bitten by that child-thing. Farfarello saying it had absorbed part of him.

Suddenly afraid he was curled up beside the kid, he jerked up and looked at the hair. White and spiky, accented at the ears by multiple gold loops. His arms tightened automatically, relieved it was Farfarello, and then he had a chance to wonder why he was in the Irishman's lap.

*

Farfarello grinned, thrilled that the pills had worked faster than he expected.

However, his enjoyment was short-lived. It appeared somebody else had noticed, as well. The boy's eyes were growing wider as he saw Omi begin to move.

"Four pills left. Try not ta get bitten again, aye?" he chuckled. His body still felt heavier than usual, only this time, it was due to the complete comfort of the position. For some reason, he didn't want to move. He'd have to remember this, later, like the shower. So many fascinating things he hadn't paid attention to before. He wondered briefly if Nagi would fit this way, but his mind rebelled against the thought. It felt... wrong, in some way.

Muscles lazy, he pulled himself upwards, letting Omi slide off onto his feet.

The child was now fully aware of the circumstance, and stalking around them in a wide, wary circle, sharp teeth clenched.

"No pain," the Irishman murmured. "If ye' fight, hit ta kill."

Omi shoved aside the disappointment that Farfarello had put him down, realizing that being caught together in this situation was likely not the ideal outcome of the battle.

Now that he was standing, he took the time to look around at their surroundings, and realized that they were past the door he'd opened - and faced with another door. No wonder they were still in the building. His eyes went immediately to the computer, dropped outside the stairwell door, which was now being guarded by the weird kid. He nodded his assent to not getting bitten again - he hadn't wanted to be bitten in the first place, but if the child - he still couldn't think of it as anything but, despite it's demonic appearance - had absorbed bits of himself and Farfarello, that explained the quick, sudden changes in it's fighting style. Now it was more dangerous, because it was no longer just a wild thing - it seemed to have their combined knowledge of battle. Of all the people it could have absorbed, it would be Farfarello and himself. The telekinetic wasn't a physical fighter - though if it had bitten him, would it gain his power? - and Schuldig wasn't either; he aimed more for psychological defeat. Crawford would have made it more analytical and cold. Omi could wipe the floor with any of Weiss if he so chose to, and none of them had any extra special abilities beyond their physical prowess. Of all of them, Omi would have chosen it to bite Yohji. The older Weiss wouldn't have appreciated it much, but he was the least skilled in hand to hand combat.

All of these thoughts were flash-flash-flash fast, but his feet were moving forward before his brain caught up, still slightly addled by the combined drugs in his system. The stimulants were powerful, but would take a few more minutes to have full affect. He had to get that computer, however, and he feinted right, launching a dart that landed squarely in the kid's collarbone. This served to do nothing more than anger him, and he fell for the feint, moving clear of the door in order to engage Omi at a closer range.

Planting his foot down, he banked left, and dove into the other room, rolling and coming up on his knees, beside the computer he needed.

This was only half effective; if he wasn't by the door, he couldn't open it, and that trick wouldn't work twice. He slid around the doors aperture, watching the kid watching him. It clearly didn't know what he'd retrieved, or it would be a lot more violent. His eyes shifted towards Farfarello, waiting to see what the Irishman would do.

Amazingly, the kid's attention followed Omi's movements, displaying his narrow back. Lung shot, that works on the horse, right?

Farfarello withdrew two larger knives, pelting one forward with his right hand.

It was too much to ask for that the child stay still. The noise of the knife whipping through the air caught his attention, and he leapt, the blade sinking into his stomach instead. He showed no outward annoyance, pulling the knife out easily and gripping it in his small hand. His fingers barely encompassed the thick hilt.

But the boy wasn't used to his new ability. He didn't realize stomach acid was slowly leaking into his system, slowly killing him. A normal person would've been in excruciating pain. A normal person would know they were dying. Farfarello grinned, knowing they would win. Eventually. Or at least share a mutual defeat.

Omi winced as Farfarello got the kid in the stomach. That was going to be a messy death; supposing he wasn't immune to dying as well as tranquilizers.

While the other two were distracted, Omi settled himself in front of the door, connecting the computer and running codes until he found the one that worked. He turned his attention to the fight, not wanting to be caught off guard by either of the other two. His brain was still foggy, but he could feel the stimulants doing battle against the tranquilizer. Finally, a positive beep from the computer. Omi turned, and manually entered the code, grinning as the door slid open onto a long, brightly lit hallway. At the end of it were four glass doors, and beyond those - escape. He didn't bother unhooking the computer; he simply grabbed Farfarello by the wrist and began dragging him down the hall. "Leave him, he's dead," he said. "Let's get out of here."

Farfarello couldn't agree more. He flew after the young Weiss down the hallway, his chest bursting. The beast wailed behind them, but they were already home free, its steps growing faint as its stomach acid burned through the gap the madman had created.

Feeling so delicious after killing a child... a child he felt a very deep affinity towards. But he couldn't help but be pleased, a wide grin plastered on his face. The entire building could fall now, and he still wouldn't be able to help but grin.

Kill me now, he dared the almighty, fingers finding the boy's and curling around them like he and his sister used to run, hand in hand, so they wouldn't get separated.

*

Omi felt Farfarello's hand tighten around his own, and felt a flush of warmth in his chest. They'd done it!

Together.

They'd done it together.

And he hadn't given any thought to what would happen now. Reaching out with his free hand, he pushed open the front doors, lifting his face to the crisp night air and inhaling deep lungfuls of it. His damp hair felt uncomfortably cool, but he'd left his bike and helmet not far, just around the corner in fact. Acting on an impulse, he spun around, not letting go of Farfarello's hand, and threw his free arm around the Irishman's neck, surprising him into a hug.

"Thank you," he murmured. Thank you. There was so much more to it than that! Thank you for saving my life. Thank you for not killing me. Thank you for helping me get through this. What happens now? Where do we go? I think I love you.

The white-haired teen still smelled of blood; Omi realized it was because he was still wearing his shirt. Before Farfarello could get it into his head that a truce was no longer necessary between them, he'd let go and dashed towards the corner of the building, back to where he'd left his bike. The ground blurred in front of him, and he belatedly realized his eyes had filled with tears.

Why? because they were separating.

Because after this, Farfarello was the enemy.

*

The hug surprised him a bit... well, more so the fact that he didn't mind the physical contact. His left shoulder was shot, but his right arm was functional enough.

But before he could even think about what to do with it, the boy had already turned tail and run.

Farfarello's first reaction was that they were being chased again, and that he should follow suit.

...But a quick look around told him they weren't.

He stood for a moment, confused, not understanding the separation.

He wanted another shower. For the kitten to rest in his lap again. To lick the blood from his wounds.

"Omi!" he called, brows knitting together in frustrated confusion.

"I have to go!" Omi called over his shoulder, and wiped at his eyes quickly. He jammed his helmet over his head, and started the bike, jumping on it in one smooth movement. Before he could lose his mind and go back, he kicked it into gear and sped away.

***

This is the end of the first part! We're right in the middle of the second now, so I may or may not post what we've got so far; if I did, it would mean ending on a horrible cliffhanger, with no way of knowing what was going to happen next, and a possibly long wait for any more. (Not that that's unusual for me, but still.) I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it; my partner (who still hasn't gotten back to me on which name she'd like me to credit her under) is a wonderful writer, so much better than I am, and RPing with her is an absolute joy. For the record, Farfarello (and occasionally Schuldig, and the rest of Schwarz) are under her control. Omi's parts - and Weiss - belong to me.