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No Mercy	By : Blythe Category: Weiß Kreuz > General Views: 2071 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Weiß Kreuz, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
Title: No Mercy

Author: Blythe

Archived:
MediaMiner.org, Adultfanfiction.net, and YxA ML

Disclaimer:
*sniffle, tear* NOT MINE! WAH!!!! Weiss
Kreuz is the sole property of Takehito Koyasu and Project Weiss. This is a work of fanfiction and is not for profit.

Rating:
NC-17, language and lemon (eventually)

Pairing:
Aya/Yohji (naturally)

A/N: Thank
you to everyone who is still reading.
I’ve moved, AGAIN, but am finally unpacking and FINALLY have my computer
out of the box! Thank you to my stellar
beta, Marasmine. And to my roomie, KD,
who has endless patience with me!

This chapter is dedicated to DarkePhoenix, whose wit and
wisdom is immeasurable and without whose support I may well have cracked over
the past week or so. Thank you.

Chapter 6: Details

Manx often wondered if her appearance in Yohji’s life had
been a blessing or a curse. She could
never place her finger on exactly why, but she’d immediately developed a soft
spot for the teen when they’d met. She’d
pitied his circumstances, but admired his fortitude and endurance. Her respect for him only grew after he’d shot
Hanajima. It wasn’t that she was proud
that he’d taken a life, but that he’d found a way to free himself, with a
little help from her and her team.

Afterwards, she’d truly hoped that he’d be okay, that he’d
move on and make something of himself.
Maybe make a nice life with that Murase girl.

When he’d unwittingly become involved in another of
Kritiker’s cases, she’d wondered if it was providence. Or maybe he was just that unlucky.

Either way, when she’d found him in the alley that night,
she’d known there was more to it than mere coincidence. He’d recognized her, almost instantly, and
clung to her like a lifeline. In her
more self-important moments, she fancied she was that only one who could have
saved him. He’d seen her as a protector
of sorts and believed she’d rescue him again, as she had before.

Now, she was once again watching him crumble. It was not unlike those first weeks after
Asuka had died. She’d stayed nearby,
visiting as often as possible. Sometimes
he’d talk, sometimes cry, but mostly he’d listen. And when she’d finally “asked” him to join
Weiss, he hadn’t hesitated.

Now, she wondered if she’d truly been deserving of that
trust. Because she was standing between
him and the only one who could help him.

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

Aya was beyond caring about appearances.

He made a mad dash to his room and changed into mission
clothes. He secured the small weapons on
his person, grabbed his trench and sword, and headed for the Porsche.

He broke every known traffic law and probably a few
unwritten ones on the short trip back to the building. He definitely did not yield to pedestrians.

He left the Porsche out front. He had no time for stealth or pretense. He was close.
He could feel it.

As he ran around the side of the building, he noticed the
door just swinging closed and moved with lightening speed to catch it before it
locked him out again. He entered and
could hear hurried footsteps heading up.

He mounted the stairs, taking them two at a time, but froze
in his tracks on the third floor landing at the sound of a familiar voice.

“Thank you for coming so quickly.”

“You said it was urgent.”

“It is. Please, come this way.”

Then, the door closed, cutting off any further conversation.

Aya resumed his climb and paused again outside the apartment
door, his curiosity suddenly overwhelming hurry.

“I’ll do what I can, but he needs a hospital.”

“You think that I don’t know that? There are,” she
hesitated, “mitigating circumstances. He would be,” another hesitation while
she searched for words, “agitated, if he wakes up there.”

It was so out of character for Manx to be that inarticulate
that Aya felt dread settling over him again.

He could wait no longer.
Aya opened the door to Yohji’s apartment.

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

Manx, who was standing in the middle of the living room,
spun around to face the door. And
gasped.

The man, who Aya assumed to be a doctor, stood in a
doorway. Aya could barely make out the
darkened bedroom behind him.

“What are you… How
did…”

Aya was slightly bemused by this new, flustered Manx. He took in her rumpled appearance and the
lines of worry that creased her face. He
felt a brief, but searing flare of jealously before ruthlessly shoving it
aside. He needed to focus. Nothing else mattered right now, but Yohji.

“Irrelevant,” he finally answered. He nodded his head toward the bedroom. “He’s in there?” He started moving toward the room without
waiting for an answer.

Manx moved to intercept.

The doctor attempted to block the door.

Aya prepared to draw his blade.

He had waited too long, worked too hard, and come too far to
let anyone or anything stand in his way now.

“Hanae…”

The weak call just made its way to the living room.

Confrontation suddenly forgotten, Manx turned from Aya,
bodily removed the doctor from the doorway and rushed into the room.

She went straight to the bed and grabbed the hand lying over
the covers.

“I’m here,” she whispered, her other hand gently stroking
the errant blond hair from Yohji’s forehead.

Aya had followed and took in the scene with narrowed eyes,
surprised by this level of…intimacy and disliking it instantly. He forcibly held himself back. He wanted nothing more than to rush forward,
to touch Yohji, to verify that he was, in fact, here and real and living. He needed reassurance that he wasn’t going to
wake up again, frustrated and aching and alone.

But, he waited, needing, just as much, to understand the
situation at hand.

“I was dreaming,” Yohji told Manx quietly. She smiled before
noticing the tears in his eyes. “I was
back,” he began, “in that apartment that felt more like a cell than any
dungeon. I was waiting for you, for your
team. But, you never came. And, somehow, he knew.”

Manx didn’t have to ask who he meant. Keiji Hanajima was the only person who could
inspire that kind of fear in Yohji’s eyes.
She waited patiently for him to tell her the rest.

“He was so angry. He was going to kill me; I was sure of
it.” His hand tightened around hers and
his eyes went wide for a moment, as though he was still there.

She made gentle, soothing noises until he focused on her
again. Aya found himself increasingly
resentful that it was Manx, not himself, reassuring and comforting the fragile
form on the bed.

“He’d cornered me, looming, like he always did. I felt so
small. Smaller than I am now. Maybe even smaller than I was then.” He took a deep breath and went on. “Anyway, he was reaching for me and suddenly
his arm was gone.” He looked at her,
making sure she was following. “There
was no blood. It was just gone. His other hand was nearly around my neck, but
then it was gone too. And he was so angry! He was screaming and kicking and I
was on the floor by then, trying to hide, to find cover. Something, anything.”

He choked a little there.
The tears had begun to fall and he was trying hard not to sob. Manx continued to pet his hair as she
waited.

“Finally, he stopped and I looked up. His head was…gone.
Severed, but not disappeared. It was lying on the floor. The face…it was
like…it was just like when I shot him. But you weren’t there and I was holding
a gun that I didn’t remember having and I was so confused. So lost…” he trailed
off.

Aya had been keeping to the shadows, listening. His heart had clenched with every word and
his frustration and jealousy were reaching new heights with every stroke of
Manx’s hand.

Yohji went on after another moment to compose himself. “I looked for you, all around, but you
weren’t there.” He said it with such
sadness, as though she’d truly betrayed him, that Manx found herself wishing to
make it up to him.

Aya felt details falling into place as he recalled the words
of Yohji’s letter, how he’d met Manx, what she’d done for him. Apparently, a closeness still existed between
them. He could accept that, for now, but
he didn’t have to like it.

“I’m here now.” She
whispered.

Yohji gave her a watery smile. “He
was there,” he whispered back.

This time she did raise a brow in question. More tears fell from Yohji’s eyes as he
elaborated. “He was there and he helped me. He told me it was okay. He held me.
He…” he sobbed now, brokenly. “He loved
me, Hanae. In my dream, he loved me. And he was there.”

And Aya knew. Aya
knew who he meant. He stepped forward
and repeated Manx’s words.

“I’m here now.”

Yohji’s reaction was…spectacular.

The sound that came from him from him was a keening wail so
sharp and unexpected that Aya flinched back.
In a flurry of movement, Yohji scrambled to the far side of the bed,
grabbing Manx’s shoulders and placing her between them.

Startled, Aya moved forward, one arm outstretched.

Yohji whimpered.

Aya froze, hurt and angry and suddenly uncertain. Why didn’t Yohji want him?

Manx glared and moved to cover Yohji more completely.

“Out,” she growled.

“Yohji…” The name a
whisper on his lips, the pain evident in his voice.

“Out. Now, Abyssinian,” she commanded more firmly.

Her attention focused on Yohji, cowering and shaking behind
her as soon as she was sure that Aya was moving toward the door. She never noticed when he paused in the
doorway, watching. She forced Yohji’s
face up to hers.

“What was that about?”
She asked as gently as she could, but she’d been shaken by the outburst,
too.

“I…Was he really…I mean, is he really here?”

It took her a moment to realize precisely what he
meant. She couldn’t help that small
smile that twitched the corners of her mouth.

“Yes, Yohji. He’s really here. He’s real.”

Aya couldn’t help but smile a little at that since he’d had
similar thoughts about Yohji. Still, it
had unnerved him, the way his lover had recoiled from him. Had he imagined the connection between
them? Were all of those feeling really
one-sided? No, he decided. He could not accept that.

“Ah.”

Manx studied Yohji for a moment before asking, “Was that the
only reason that you were so—“

Luckily, he saved her from having to finish her sentence. “I just,” he sighed, “I just don’t know if I
can face him.”

“Why?”

Aya was wondering the same thing.

Yohji gave her a look that said a five-year-old should be
able to understand this.

“Hanae, I’m not supposed to be this way,” suddenly more
lucid.

She raised a brow when he didn’t immediately elaborate.

He sighed again. A
combination of frustration and resignation.

“Crazy. Broken. Gay. A coward. A killer. A whore. Do I need
to go on?”

From his place in the doorway, blissfully unnoticed, Aya was
one step ahead and already planning how to deal with this. Yohji wasn’t rejecting him, he thought with
relief. He was, however, rejecting
himself and that could be just as damaging to any future he hoped for.

With the immediate threat apparently gone, Yohji had become
considerably more articulate. Aya
figured it was the shock of seeing him, combined with no small amount of fear
and panic, that had caused such a violent reaction. However, the shakes had subsided and, aside
from a great deal pain, both physical and emotional, Yohji’s eyes were
clear.

Manx was losing her composure again, arguing emotionally,
not logically. “Yohji, you are none of those things!”

Aya deemed it safe to go back and cut in. “Actually, he is. Well, at least one of those
things,” he amended.

Yohji seemed to be holding his breath, mentally steeling
himself for what he seemed so sure was to come.

Yohji dropped his head.

Manx glared.

Aya smirked.

“What? Are you going to deny that he’s gay?”

Manx sputtered.

Yohji giggled.

Manx was floored and, once again, found herself
speechless. Had Abyssinian just made an
attempt at humor? And was Yohji
laughing? She couldn’t remember the last
time she’d seen that!

Aya had a tiny smile playing across his lips. The painful constriction in his chest finally
began to ease at the sound of his lover’s laughter.

“Manx? Can we have a moment?”

Finally coming back to herself, she turned back to Yohji.

He gave her an almost imperceptible nod, but his eyes were
still clear. She stood, giving Aya a
look that warned him not to make her regret this, kissed Yohji’s brow, and left
the room.

Aya followed her, closing and locking the door behind
her. Slowly, his confidence momentarily
shaken, he turned back and, for the first time in too long, looked into the
eyes of his heart.
- 6
- 7
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No Mercy