Breaking a Madman

Breaking a madman

Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Crawford x Farferello, OC x Farferello
Summary: Takatori is dead and Schwarz is no more. Farferello believes he is unwelcome and leaves Schwarz for his hometown. However Esset knew where he’s going and make arrangements in Ireland for him. He’s taken back to the mental institute he was taken from before, and tested to see what will make him break. Can Schwarz find and rescue him before the Farferello they know is no more and what’s left is just a shell of his former self?
Notes: There will be language, torture, and reference to abuse in the institute for no reason. Some of this will be from imagination as well as research as it’s hard to find out the gritty stuff you want. Reference to drug use and previous rape *perhaps* Not one of my usual happy fictions, till maybe the end. I really don’t know how this will end myself.
Warning: Mostly AU, scenes changing from the final battle at the end and Takatori’s death.

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P
Part 1

Farferello watched as his team members panicked around him, all except Crawford who kept his usual cool dexterity. Schuldig and Nagi panicked openly, running through into their rooms to collect what they could before they would have to leave the apartment they’d known for years.

Takatori was dead. Fujimiya finally had his revenge. Now Esset and any of Takatori’s associates could be after them for failing. Schwarz was no more, and none of them knew how to truly cope.

The mission had gone as planned, until smoke suddenly filled the room, Weiss bursting in and making their way through. Of course Schwarz fought to save the politician but nothing came of it. Through months of sleepless night, easy missions, you could say Schwarz had slacked off training. Nagi had tried to save them, fainting when his power overtook him. It was then Crawford called for the signal to retreat but not before they saw the redhead’s steely blade make its way through Takatori’s body, the man in question, falling to his knees and cursing them with dying eyes. The smirk Aya wore, forever marking its presence in each of their minds. Schwarz had failed, goodness had prevailed over them and now there was nothing left to do but escape.

~~~~~~~~~~

As Farferello watched the others’ run like headless chicken, chattering about what they were going to do or where they were going to go, Farferello left for his cell. Schwarz were no more. Was there really anything for him now? No true way to hurt god, to get his revenge if he could no longer kill and torture freely. What was the point now? He thought about his options. Stay and go with them if accepted, to do nothing for life. It wasn’t like he could fit in with the others. Crawford could get a job, go back to his old life before Schwarz, even if they were hiding. He guessed Schuldig could fit in with society if only to stand out a little in his own extrovert way and Nagi out of all of them could have a somewhat normal life. He could finish school, become a computer programmer for some large company, but when he thought of it what could he do? He didn’t have the brains or good looks that the others did. He had no real goal in life. The one he did seemed incapable of now achieving.

He shook his head as he moved around his room, to the areas no one knew about, where he kept money, passports, none of them knew he’d found Crawford’s stash of things like this. He knew he must leave, no way that the rest of Schwarz would keep him there, he’d lost his usefulness. In reflection, he knew he’d always been the outcast, no one cared for him. The idea they were family were probably right for the other three, but none of them could acceim iim in other circumstances, at least that’s what he thought. He already knew that he annoyed Crawford, was around for the German to tease and annoy, and to be ignored by the boy.

He knew it would be better if he just left, before he was taken away and locked up, or maybe put down like a rabid dog to end his misery.

He moved the small things he had to a black bag, taking extra clothing but that was it. He left his knives behind, throwing them on the bed, he’d have no need for them, though his hand itched to hold one, to feel the comforting blade against his skin, against his tongue, but he knew he would have to leave it all behind. He’d just placed the small bag in his almost empty wardrobe when Schuldig entered, offering a brief smile.

“We’re leaving for England in about six hours, Nagi has arranged tickets and accommodation, we’ll have to travel business class, blegh, so that the others can’t track Crawford’s credit cards. Who would have thought Schwarz would end like this?”

The Irishman shrugged, unsure whether Schuldig was asking a direct question or pondering his theory to himself. Whatever, it didn’t matter as he soon left the room, closing it with a click.

“England…. Original”

He knew how the other three members hated any area that was too cold for its own good. He knew now that it was more important than he’d previously thought.

It need not matter to him though, soon, before them he would leave for Ireland, to go home and face himself, face his old life, and face god who had ruined him so much. He would pay for the ticket at the airport; he just needed to escape Schwarz now.

~~~~~~~


Part 2


Farferello now sat in the cab, leaving for the nearest Japanese airport. The idea to use the sedatives had come easily. It had taken a few hours to work in the drinks the others had taken instead of injected but it worked none the less. He said his good-byes to the only people he’d trusted even just a little or cared for in his recent years.

They were family to him, but he’d grown to love one of them out of that. It was hard to imagine that he; Farferello could fall in love with the American. The man, who\'d locked him up, kept him out of sight, smirked when he got hurt, but wasn’t that natural? To love those you hate? He didn’t truly know, as far as he known, he’d been incapable of love. But once he arrived he paid for the cab. He’d changed his clothing, taken one of Crawford’s awful suits and sat scratching at the itchy material of the starched shirt’s collar. His other clothing lay in his bag, along with the choker and eye patch. He thought he’d be less conspicuous than a young man standing easily out of the crowd. Now at least he looked ugly, not standoffish.

He ran a hand through his recently dyed black hair. The Irishman had seen the dye in the bathroom, earning sniggers from the German as he ran off to tease their leader. Crawford was always worried of looking to old, the dye waiting for the arrival of a single grey hair, which never appeared to come. He guessed the white suit, black hair and scars easily on display made him look odd, but he couldn’t allow himself to be found. He pulled the glasses up his nose, wondering if this would even work.

The Japanese airport was busy but he doubted they were stupid, maybe the dank lighting and busyness would make them slip up in his favor. The use of on man many Schwarz passports made him look somewhat similar to Crawford if you didn’t stare to easily, then again, it was foolish of him to even try. nam name was different like the many others they owned and he’d sighed in relief as somehow he’d been allowed to board the plane, not knowing that someone had seen through the poor disguise.

Security knew who he was. Some of the men who had worked for Takatori had seen him through the cameras but had allowed him to board the plane. He could be dealt with more thoroughly and easily when he arrived in Ireland, his home. What better to great him, than a few of Esset’s men? Or Takatori’s acquaintances, angry he’d been killed. What better way to get at Schwarz than to take the Irishman back to the only thing he’d known before Schwarz? Before they’d let him become what he was now?

The asylum.

Long disused on national reports, but the underground circuits still worked. The torture still went on. Behavior modification was something the main doctor was dying to try out, and now he had a patient. How long the Irishman would last through the severe mental and physical torture was unknown, but it wouldn’t be pleasant.

Unknown to him, Farferello had set the ball rolling for his own impending doom.


~~~~~~~~


Part 3


Crawford was the first to wake. He sat up in the kitchen chair, raising his head from the table and grasped it as pain and grogginess raced through him. Blinking tired eyes, he took his glasses off, pinching at his nose. Looking up he noticed Schuldig enter the room, almost tripping in his hazed state of mind.

“Why do I feel like I just went twenty rounds with Weiss?”

He shook his head, desperately trying to clear the cobwebs as he stumbled over to the table, sitting down next to the American.

“Same reason I do…Nagi?”

He called for the boy, who had just woken up and fallen off the sofa he’d been currently sprawled on.

“Owwwwww!”

He crept into the kitchen, clutching his head as he looked for aspirin. On his journey he noticed the bottle, always used to calm Farferello unscrewed and brought it out to the others.

“I think we were drugged”.

at dat down, watching the other two blink at the bottle, as they began to focus clearly.

“Who would drug us and not kill us?”

The German was confused, his head still aching. Both he and Nagi turned his gaze to Crawford when the other didn’t answer.

“Craw….”

Nagi didn’t finish, but instead waved his hand in front of the others eyes. Slowly Crawford blinked, coming out of his daze.

“Farferello’s gone. Esset had him”.

“Had him?”

The other two gaped, Nagi run to to the madman’s room, he saw the knifes laid flat against the bed.

“It’s true…. But why did they take him, what happened? What do you mean had?”

Crawford shook his head.

“He left here of his own will, they got him at the airport but I don’t know which one. It was raining though, he…he was dressed like me. But he’s not with them now. I don’t know…it was hazy…”

Schuldig stood from the table, slamming his fist down.

“Why the hell did he leave, weren’t we good enough him?him?” He sat down breathing hard, still tired from the drug.

“We don’t have the details Schuldig. We also have a plane to catch. Nagi when we reach England you’ll have to start researching. If he was dressed as me, he was using one of my passports. Esset must have known it was him to allow him to board, they have full control on the airports and docks without anyone being the wiser”.

Nagi turned feared eyes to their leader, even if Schwarz was no more, he still needed guidance.

“What will they do with him?”

Crawford sighed. He honestly didn’t know.

Before the cab came, Nagi had done some quick research, coming up with nothing. When they arrived in England they’d have to start a thorough search for their kidnapped member. Crawford just hoped they weren’t too late.

~~~~~~

Farferello opened his single eye; he was greeted with silence and deathly calmness as he looked around the dark room.

“A cell.”

His voice sounded slower than usual, maybe he’d been drugged. He couldn’t remember. After he had arrived in Ireland, he’d caught a cab but was taken to some back alley instead of the hotel he was to be staying that night. He’d managed to escape the driver, using hand combat against him but in his distraction he didn’t feel the jolt of the tazer in his back till he was on the ground. His face was pushed against the mud as water rained down hard against his body. Making the dye in his hair, run slightly into his eye, and over his face. Another jolt to the neck had him spasming, and then all went black as he felt something puncture his arm. He should have known the ease he’d escaped from the airport was too easy, suspiciously so. But he hadn’t been thinking straight, mind in chaos, still rolling with the emotions of actually leaving all he’d known the last few years behind him. It had hit him more than he thought it could, had affected him more than he’d wanted.

As he now looked around the cell, head moving sluggishly, he tried to move himself, to reach out. To do something! Looking down at himself, revealed he was in a straight jacket. White cotton pants adorned his legs and he could no longer feel the ever-present weight of the rings in his ears, or the weight of his eye patch covering his lost eye. The comforting feel of the leather choker was missing from his neck.

/So if I escape I can’t kill myself. Aghhh, but what about the buckles they’ve used to bind me/

He’d been laid against the rough canvas lining of the cell, naked beneath the jacket, as the material itched at his skin. He was chained to the wall around his throat like some rabid dog, feet and legs buckled together as he sat against the wall, feet touching the cold tile floor, obviously no one wished to make mistakes where he was concerned. He closed his eye as the drugs began to kick in, making him feel sleepy. He sighed a little; it wasn’t worth fighting right now, he could do nothing. He’d felt the assault of the hypodermic needle when he was in an institute before. But then he was 15, he’d already had enough torture before then, some he knew the other’s had no clue about. He was more innocent in blood shed then, than he was now.

Inside he began to boil, cursing god for throwing this upon him, even the lord to weak to fight him freely.

“FUCKING BASTARD!!!!! TO WEAK AND AFRAID TO FIGHT ME!!!”

He screamed. Making his throat raw with the passion and animosity of it. He began to strain against the collar binding him, fighting the double thick cuffs and sleeves restraining him, padlocked tightly. The clanking of the chain as it hit itself was quieted against the wall as he screamed. The shrill loud, impending, his ears began to bleed by the screeching of it, he banged harder against the padded wall, limbs crushing against the straps and buckles binding him, bruising him aakinaking him bleed raw as he tried to break free.

“I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU!!!”

He continued to scream, even as the door of his cell was opened, light shining in through the hallway. He continued to scream even as his head was hit against the wall, a hand cuffing him, making it snap back hard. He struggled against the large weight above him, pinning him down as he tried to bite them, getting a mouthful of blood and choking on it as he was sat on.

“Sweet, sweet Jei, you should learn to be a good boy”.

He stopped at that very moment, eye glazing as he stared up into the eyes of his captive.

“No…”

He blinked as the cold eyes glared down at him. Cheek dripping blood from where he’d bitten into it, but the scar across the mans\' face, from neck to ear made him realize where exactly he was in that instance.

“Ahh…you remember me Jei, I’m so pleased”.

A rough hand caressed his face; blood dripping onto him as the large nurse leant forwards and licked his face.

“I see you remember Jei…. When we were told you’d left us two years ago, I was so deeply. Yo. You always were a good little bitch”.

The nurse smiled, slapping him hard across the face.

“We have a lot to make up for. But I can wait a few more hours. Doctor Hujen wants to see you. He’s gonna make you scream so sweetly”.

The nurse smiled, pressing a wet kiss to the Irishman’s mouth as he pulled a needle and bottle from his side. Pulling back he bit Farferello, making him bleed as he stabbed the hypodermic into the skin behind his knee.

“I’m gonna make you regret the day you cut me Jei. I’m gonna make you wish you’d died that time you overdosed in here, and I’m going to make you bleed”.

All Farferello could do was watch as the room began to swirl, and his eyelids drooped as the drugs took fast affect.

“Welcome home Jei. Welcome back to paradise”.

Then his world went black.


Part 4


When Farferello did eventually awaken he found himself strapped vertically to a large squared object of some sort. The thing was cold against his skin, hard and rough. Shifting his gaze, the only thing he could do, he looked up after straining forwards a little to find his head and neck strapped to the wooden board behind him. He knew from then what the machine was and a quick test confirmed both anklankles and knees were strapped down and closed together. His arms spread out to his side. The thick leather bindings chafing against his already raw skin. It appeared the drugs he’d been given had stopped his fast healing process somehow. These people wanted him to suffer and bleed.

/I can’t feel pain, what’s the point? /

That he didn’t know, but looking around the room from his vantage point there was only a small crack of light coming from underneath the door. He heard voices in the hallway in front of him, and tried to scream at them, but when he’s mouth opened nothing came. He didn’t seem to have the energy. His body was half-slumped against the restraints keeping him supported. He’d been on this machine before or something like it, but the room was different. That much colder and darker.

His first treatment here, had been shock therapy after he’d been taken. Being found on the streets had lead him here, instead of a juvenile center, his screaming about god killing his family attracted the attention of psychologists. He was announced insane and sent here. A ten year-old boy, too weak in his own mind and body to fight. After the treatment that night, he’d been taken to his cell, the arms of the jacket fitting his body, scraping along the ground with a soft thud. He was to drugged and passive at the time to fight and to try and escape. That night was the first of many abusive rapes as the nurse lead him to his room, strapping him to the bed and using him for his own pleasure. It was the last time Jei had cried that night, after being released from his bindings as the nurse had left, he’d curled up into a tight protective ball, shutting off the outside world as he retreated further into his own little world.

But Farferello was Jei no longer. He was strong and he could handle the abuse. It was only a body after all. God’s temple, although he suffered he knew god would to. The desecration of his own creation without Farferello even trying. Even here he could hurt the one who’d killed his family in his mind. The only place where no one could get to him. Not even the lord who’d lied to him after so many years of worship.

The clank of the door opening caught Farferello in his pondering and he stopped briefly, eye watching as a dark haired man entered the room. He appeared no older than Crawford, though his face showed much more aging. The blood shot emotionless eyes had no resemblance to Crawford’s. At least with him you know he had emotion, even if he hid behind his glares and papers and cold harsh words. You knew he was alive. He had that spark of life. This one didn’t. He was cold. Dead inside.

The doctor in his overly white uniform walked up to him, the smell of antiseptic, emanating from him and Farferello was able to count the blood spots on his outfit.

/Eleven/

His mwas was still working slowly. The morphine and concoction of other drugs, slowins bos body and heart rate down, beating at irregular intervals.

“Jei…my you look delightful. I have waited a long time to meet you”.

The doctor’s voice was placid, made of nothingness as he moved around behind him, slowing placing the surgical gloves on his hands.

“I look forward to our constant meetings from now on. People today are so weak and pathetic. They can’t last long but you…Agh…you’re special my friend”.

/I’m thrilled/

The snap of the white rubbed gloves echoed through the room as Farferello tried to trace the man’s movements by sound alone.

“I decided after looking at your previous records electric shock treatment would be best. You had quite an astounding record at withstanding it. Last time you had it done was…”

The flipping of pages and a click of buckles could be heard as the doctor read through Farferello’s previous notes.

“…Eigundrundred volts at six amperes for over a minute before passing out. You know, some people when electrocuted couldn’t even stand that. Their brains fried, nasty mess it was. Cerebrospinal fluid leaking from their ears as their flesh gently singed. Agh the smell, it was quite fun to experiment on people. To see how long they could last. But of course, I don’t wish to kill my test subject off yet”.

The doctor stroked his rubber-gloved hand across Farferello’s strapped face before poking him in the temple.

“But when you die, your brain will be most interesting to go through my friend”.

The doctor hummed as Farferello watched him with a lazy eye. Moving to the machine in the corner, the doctor pulled it with a clank towards the structure Farferello was planted on.

“Not only does Esset get at you, but I get to play”.

The surgeon snickered and laughed as he switched the machine on. The whir of it, hauntingly terrifying in the dark room, water from a tap somewhere continued to drip. As the doctor got the sections out he began talking again.

“You know I was going to lobotomize you at first. But we haven’t had very high success rates. The patients keep fucking moving. Not only do they loose an eye but usually scramble their brains in the process. Until you came along Jei, I was awfully bored. Shall I tell you about my last procedure?”

He grinned at the Irishman, not caring if he was given an answer. He moved to the side of him and Farferello felt a cool gel press into his skin as tiny puckered pads was pressed against him. Wires trailed from them and pressing another lever, the structure Farferello was on slowly began to tip back.

“Well first I inserted the instrument into the person’s eye. They sometimes loose one, it’d be a shame on you”.

He laughed as he pressed more patches to Farferello’s skin, continuing to lower him to a 90-degree angle.

“Then you press on, right into the frontal lobe of the brain. Quite tricky if you don’t know what you’re doing”.

As he continued to talk, he set his tray out, clicking the knobs up for the first shock.

“After you do this, you move it just to a pivot point. You’d usually do it more carefully but who gives a fuck? they’re insane”.

It was then he turned the machine on. Nine hundred volts coursed through Farferello’s body and his limbs twitched violently, convulsing against the binds around him. As it went on, Farferello’s body continued to shake, as volts went through his brain. The doctor continued to talk, like they were in a normal carefree situation.

“You then shift the instrument until it severs the nerve fibers connecting frontal lobes to the thalamus. Of course this was believed to try and cure you but only helped to change your personality. So what’s the point?”

He shut the machine off after a moment and moved over to his subject.

“Not even singed. Shall we try again?”

His grin grew cold as he moved to the machine again, notching it up another two hundred volts at 5 amperes. Still quite weak compared to electrocutions.

Farferello’s body strained against the leather straps holding him, as he began to shake, teeth gritting as electricity raced through him, causing his body to jolt where it lay strapped. Another moment and it was shut off. Farferello slumped further against the straps. Blood and fluid leaking from his ears from the force of the treatment.

“Hmmmmm a thousand volts. Maybe next time we can increase the amps”.

The doctor snickered as he waited a moment, using plastic tongs to pull the pads from Farferello’s head, and switched the machine off. Lights flickered on as the doctor moved to the side of the wall, flooding the small dank room with vibrant white light, blinding the already dazed Irishman.

“I think that’s it for now, you’ve impressed me”.

The doctor moved over to a small switch, pressing a small alert, lighting it up and a nurse soon came to the small room, his white clothing almost lost in the vibrancy of the overhead lights.

“Take him back to his cell and clean him up. I detest foaming patients”.

He flicked back a strand of loose hair as he left the room, tugging off his gloves and throwing them to the ground, notes under his arms. The nurse looked towards the now foaming madman, eye glazed over as he almost choked on his own bile. As the straps were un-done he fell sharply to the floor. He slumped down and lay on his stomach, trying to curl up tightly.

“It’s best to just give in. Once you let him win he’ll stop the pain for you, maybe even kill you”.

Farferello spat out the foam tiredly, trying to say something. To make a retort but he was too tired. His body exhausted from the treatment. His wrists and ankles were bleeding now from the struggle against the straps when he was receiving the treatment, eye watering as haziness shifted into his mind.

“Nothing will save you here. Not even god”.

Farferello continued to stare at the ground as he was pulled up from underneath the arms and drug across the cold tiled floors. Rubble cutting into his feet as he was lead backwards through the hallways, the lights around him flickering as the stench of rotting bugs and who knows what else filled the corridors with its ghastly aroma.

/I won’t let you win god. I’ll have my revenge/

Even if it did kill him he promised himself silently.

As he was taken back to his holding cell, the jacket was strapped tightly onto his limp body, wrists and ankles bandaged securely and he was propped up, held against the wall by a chain so he didn’t fall and choke on his own vomit. The nurse smiled, stroking his hair after he’d finished and let a hand trail back down the Irishman’s body, touching him harshly.

“When you’re better we’ll have some fun, little leprechaun”.

The nurse laughed as Farferello’s single gaze, lost of the light and life it once had turned to him with murderous intent.

“K-ill y—you….” The Irishman choked it out before closing his mouth; afraid of choking on his own tongue as his brain tried desperately to sort it sensors out.

The nurse laughed again, grabbing Farferello’s pale cheek roughly and squeezing, digging his nails in until red trails of blood began to seep through the skin.

“You wish, little bitch. You don’t have your friends here to help you now. You never will. They’ve been taken care of”.

The nurse laughed as Farferello whimpered softly, his frail, foggy mind believing the lying words.

“No-oooooooo-o”.

He screamed inside his head, trying to lunge forwards, the exhaustion from before overtook him and he fell back, head hitting the wall and he collapsed

“They hated you for allowing them to die, you selfish bastard. The little one screamed so delightfully when he was fucked raw, his virgin ass bleeding until we slit his throat. You are all good little bitches and they died hating you”.

The nurse left as Farferello curled into himself against the wall. His mews continuing.

/D-dead…/

~~~~~~~~


Nagi lay sleeping curled against the German on the plane seat, feet brought to his chest as he hugged him tightly. The boy had cried himself to sleep, sobbing quietly from worry of what had happened to their silver haired member. He looked upon Schwarz as the only family he had. Dysfunctional and crazy maybe but they were closer than most normal families. Schuldig turned his gaze from the boy to Crawford. The man was feigning sleep, he could tell that much, by the liveliness of his jumping thoughts.

//what will we do if we can’t find him Crawford? //

The American didn’t bother to try and lie, to keep pretending.

//We have to…there is no can’t. We will get him back and we will go, we will start anew. I promise//

But inside Crawford knew this was one promise he was afraid, impossible to keep.


Part 5


In the asylum the doctor continued his tests. Over the next few days Farferello was submitted to more electric shock treatment and given more drugs to keep him passive. He could no longer think straight and the constant whispers of the people around him were slowly creeping into the little refuge he had created inside his mind. He could no longer tell what was reality and what were past memories. The doctor had said he should be thankful there was no more of Masafumi’s medicine left. Farferello as a true crazy monster would be unstoppable yet very intriguing to study. The doctor seemed to forget about the fail-safe technique.

As of yet, the doctor had been able to keep the nurses from touching him. At one point the doctor did catch the elder nurse, the one that had abused Farferello years ago with his pants around his ankles and hovering over the Irishman. The doctor had pulled him away, kicking him down to the ground and out of the room.

“He is my patient, therefore that is my body! Touch it again and I will have your hands!”

He didn’t want any foreign objects near Farferello unless he had put them there.

The Irishman had been kept chained as the last few days went, though the jacket was now un-necessary. Keeping his arms and legs strapped and his body pumped full of morphine and a mix of other drugs to calm him seemed to work. His body was to busy fending itself off from the drugs to worry about the outside world. The news that second day of his team members being dead seemed to affect him more than the doctor had first thought, though the memory was now distant in his foggy mind. With that information in mind he set out a course of treatment, determined to make Farferello face his largest fear. Drugs and machines were to be connected to him, his mind monitored, as the drugs would be administrated, and the dosage increasing to start off the fits and sensations. Whatever the silver haired man feared, he would see. No way would he escape unscathed.

The doctor smiled to himself as he ordered the nurse to clean the younger man lying on the floor up. Half naked and chained had made Farferello dirty. Impure. Not that it mattered really, but the doctor was determined to increase his suffering if only to see how far he could push him.

~~~~~~~

Strapped to a bed, Farferello’s single eye watched the play of light flitter through the glass windows at the very top of the buildings’ walls. All around the corridors to his cell, sat rooms with large glass windows so people could see into the room, to watch the patients as they went crazy with torment. Only now as Farferello’s mind shut down from the things trying to get to him did his mind focus on the safety net of his fragile mind inside. Only now he began to notice trivial things.

Like how he missed the jangle of his earrings when he cocked his head. Or how the corridor lights flickered on as they passed them, the hum of a broken light fixture overhead and the buzz of flies as they gathered round excrement.

Not only did his mind mingle through things like this, one thought fading into another did he think about his dead teammates. His friends. If he could, truly call them that. He missed the presence of the German in his mind. Always trying to sift through his thoughts, but coming across a self-preservation barrier, somehow stopping the telepath from reading him. He also missed Nagi’s temper tantrums and the gentle tinkling of shattered glass hitting the tabletops when his telekinesis broke glasses. But most of all he missed the American’s growl of annoyance at him, even being locked up each night. The things he got almost every day yet took for granted or hated. Now he would never hear the American shout at him again, or the boy look at him as if he had two heads for licking his knives. Never again would he smell the German’s awful cologne, or the way he spent forever on his hair. He knew the day he began missing Weiss would be the day he would die, to just give in, as nothing else mattered anymore.

His ears picked up the soft squeaking of the trolley wheels as the nurse, stroke, guard wheeled him along, trying to fight the awkwardness as the wheel faced the wrong way. It softened; almost inaudible when the table hit carpet, softly bumping against it as it was maneuvered through large oak doors with glass shattered panels. The flip flap of the door as it closed made a small draft flutter Farferello’s hair and he closed his eye against the soft breeze. The stench of rotten eggs caught his senses, making him gag a little as the wheeled table came to a halt. He was un-strapped and pulled off, laid flat against the ground as he was stripped naked. The freezing water that followed made his body arch in a small amount of shock as the icy water hit him, making the grime and blood from his cuts drain away, pooling in the crooks of his body. The water turned red and brown, a soft contrast of hewing colours. His body sighed in relief, slumping a little as the water was shut off. The door to the room closed with a clang and he was left naked in the darkness, unable to move from the straps still binding his hands and wrists, body to weak from drugs and lack of food.

He waited.

Waited for everything and anything. His head snapped up at a sound from inside the room and his eye glanced something in the dark. A type of mechanical machine reared up from the ground, the top moving out as it started to spin. The cold water that hit him in sprays as it spun made his body shiver involuntarily as it made contact with his already cold wet skin. The machine stopped after a few minutes, making sure the room and he were soaked before going back into the small hole in the ground. This carried on for what he thought two or three hours, by the time the nurse returned with a woolen blanket, scratchy against the skin and dried what was possible, his lips were blue. Skin paler than usual and his body couldn’t stop shaking.

This was some kind of new treatment. He’d experienced water torture before but never anything like this and for never so long. The cold tiles beneath him had acted as a stimulant, making him cold quicker.

Naked, he was carried off by two men in pearly white uniforms splattered with dirt and other messes. Arms hooked under his own and both his legs let him be led compliantly to the next room. The drugs he’d been having had kept him sedated, stopping him from doing the others harm and escaping. The doctors had learnt from their old mistakes. Some dead by not doing their jobs properly.

Lead into a metallic room Farferello was strapped to another table. The buckles ran over his body, covering him as he shivered against the tardy black leather padding. He felt a needle stick into his arm, and kept in place with tape as something was added to his already drugged body.

“Do you dare confront your fears Farferello? Do you know what they are?”

The Irishman shook his head weakly.

/I don’t…fear…anything/

His mind cried out as his eye began to close, falling into a sleep status as yet another drug began to take its effect. He could do nothing to stop the following events.


Part 6


Since Schwarz had landed in England every day was spent scouring areas for any news they could find on the Irishman.

The lack of Nagi finding anything on plane and cab records and even flight bookings, suggested that Esset had, had their fingers in corrupting and changing the data. It really did appear that they didn’t want Farferello to be found, at least, any time soon.

All three were testy. Crawford angry that nothing had been found and Nagi at himself for not finding anything. It seemed right now under these circumstances only Schuldig kept them from going insane and working too hard. It was the third night thus far that Schuldig had found Nagi asleep at the computer or Crawford had arrived home late, looking for information in sources only he seemed to know about. But tonight was the first night Crawford had come home drunk after. He’d walked through the house glaring at him, cursing why he hadn’t received any more visions and that the whole world would pay. Schuldig hadn’t had to shut him up as he tripped over the sofa and landed on the floor, staying there and sleeping the rest of the night. That was only yesterday, he was thankful the American had decided to stay sober that night. The German had never thought that Farferello’s departure would ever affect them as much as it had, he wondered if they’d ever miss him the same way. Of course he missed the man himself, only he could, and would help the redhead annoy their leader to the end of his limit. Only Farferello would listen to his ranting about how the American wouldn’t even look at him as more than an acquaintance or an annoying friend. But as the days progressed it became clear that it was indeed Farferello that the American wanted. Only now did the German realize he wanted the American because it was expected, because it was an age old game that they had played since he’d joined Schwarz and he knew now what the affects of wanting someone so much truly did to you. He began to wonder now if during that time he’d ranted and raved, if the white haired man had felt the same for the American.

With a sigh he finished drying his hair from the shower, leaving the pale blue room and wandered across the hall of the landing, feet sinking into the plush, also blue carpet. He walked down the stairs, towel in hand and peered into Nagi’s room. As thought, the boy was still typing away at his computer, still trying to find any trace of their taken companion. He left him alone, closing the door quietly but not before missing the boy’s plead to find him.

//We will Nagi, it takes time, but we will//

He moved along, leaving water droplets on the carpet as he tugged his hair towel off.

//He doesn’t have time Schu, I remember what you said about him and how he was in the last one. What if he comes back different…what if he never comes back at all? I’ll be losing more of my family//

The soft plead cut at his usually cold heart, the smirks and laughter he hid behind before seemed to crumble down before his eyes. He knew the words the boy spoke were the truth.

//We can but try Nagi, we will until Crawford gives the order, and I doubt that it’ll be soon//

He carried on into the kitchen, pouring himself some juice and taking aspirin for now now pounding headache before leaving to see Crawford. The towel was left sprawled over the chair in hope to pull the American from his daze and make him shout at him.

//He really cares for him doesn’t he Schu? I bet he wishes he’d told him how much he cares for and likes him ne? How much he’s needed? Before he left?//

The German nodded absently to himself though no one was around to see it. He knew if they had done, they wouldn’t be in this here.

//We all do Nagi…//

With that he closed the mental link, putting his barrier up to try and soothe his head, ever since he’d stepped from the shower and his barrier had been open, he’d heard the worried whispers from Crawford’s head, he wasn’t even trying to keep the German out anymore.

“Crawford?” Schuldig knocked and waited for an answer, after a moment he went in when there wasn’t any and walked silently across the dark red carpet, to the desk when the American was sat.

“Bradley?” He moved to the American’s side and looked down at the photo in his hand, noticing the whitened fingers, caused by his deathly grip on the frame.

“When Nagi said we should have a picture taken I thought he was crazy. We’re hardly a family, not like we deserve happiness”.

He shook his head and didn’t even blink as a hand was placed on his shoulder.

“We all follow different paths, there are worse than us and they are happy, we’re new men Crawford. We’ll find him”.

Crawford made a sound in his throat, placing the picture back in his drawer with a last look. His body language changed, becoming more stiff and rigid, a mask slipping into place over how he was truly feeling. Shuffling the papers at his desk he looked up into the jade eyes of the redhead before him.

“Was their something you wanted Schuldig?”

The sadness was also masked, his voice taking the impending tone as usual.

Schuldig sighed and hopped off the desk.

“Nagi is trying again, I don’t think we’re gonna find anything Crawford”. He watched the American tense before placing the glasses back on his face, previously on the table and shifted some more paper work.

“Esset are good but not that good. I know they must have left something, if only to tease us of his location”.

He stood, going to the window and pulling the heavy red curtains closed, everything in his small office fitting in with these shades. The German watched him, he seemed…frail…something he would have never have compared the American with until five days ago. He had an answer but knew not to voice it, fearing the American would crack if he did.

/But what if they truly think we won’t be after him? / He asked himself.

Crawford stood, arms crossed and glared at him plainly.

“Anything else? Or do you just wish to annoy me longer?”

Schuldig shook his head and made his way to the door, opening and closing it without a thought.

As he leant on it, he heard the distinctive swish of a drawer opening again and guessed the American was taking the picture out again. He nodded with a grimace as he caught the whispered “Farfie”.

/Where are you Farferello?/

~~~~~~


Part 7


It had been almost a day now since the newest treatment had started. It sorted through your memories, mind raped you in Schuldig’s terms, but even he wouldn’t be able to sort through Farferello’s so easily. No, this came from the inside, it picked apart any safe haven you may have, and shredded it to get to your inner most secrets. In his mind Farferello was locked, his form surrounded by screaming memories of pain and things he had kept locked away since he had become Farferello. Memories that would prove his very existence in Schwarz obsolete.

In the small cold room he’d been attached to the table, the straps digging into his vulnerable naked flesh, as he slowly froze. The drafts freezing his already frail body and inside his own mental prison; Farferello could feel his body ache in pain. Everything had become slow motion, clear yet fuzzy. When he’d managed to open his eye some hours ago he had seen nothing but blurs moving around him, as they soon turned to demons and fading into memories inside. Flashes became apparent, all different in context but brought Farferello to an inner plane, ripping him from the sanctuary he had hid in for so many years. Once his eye had closed again the images started. They pounded at his very core, the of of his true self he’d long forgotten.

~~

“Jei go wash for dinner”.

In his mind his image gasped as old memories began to play for him. His mother preparing dinner for them, and his own smaller image running off with a skip and a smile to do as he was told.

He saw himself say his prayers and pounded at the imagery like an iron wall, not allowing him to escape. The picture before him changing to little Jei at the church looking up with saddened eyes to their lord perched high above on a crucifix looking down upon them.

“Lord, In life, I will try to be good, to make ma and pa happy and to worship you and spread your good word”.

The boy smiled, his two golden eyes shining with happiness and belief in a fake lord, before he bowed and ran to catch up with his mother, running in the gentle green fields full of bright flowers, surrounding their closest church.

“Ma when I die will I go to heaven? Will all of us go to heaven ma? I’d be so lonely without you…”.

His bright eyes turned to his mother, smiling at her as she held his hand.

“Of course Jei, but only if you’re a good Christian, then we will always be together”.

Jei smiled as they continued to walk, and the image shifted.

~~

Ruth smiled down at the white haired boy, taking his hand as they walked to the chapel.

“Jei my little one, I have something to tell you, I know I must tell you to be forgiven in the lords eye for my sins”.

Jei looked up at the nun, shaking his little head.

“What do you have to be forgiven for Sister Ruth? God loves us all the same”.

Jei smiled, swinging their hands as she led him to sit down.

“Jei…I’m…I’m your mother. I so wish I could have told you before”.

She smiled as she waited for his answer, expecting him to jump happily into her arms. But his face darkened, and tears began to fall.

“LIAR!!!! You can’t be, ma is, ma and pa are my family, and my sister. YOU LIE!!!”

He ran from the church all the way home, pulling at his face to rid himself of the gentle tears falling, as the sky opened and the rain began to pour.

The images faded and all Farferello could do as the next one was brought into focus was watch.

“MA, PA….NOOOOOO!!!!”.

Jei feel to his knees as he saw their lifeless corpses around him. He ran to his sister’s room and cradled her body in his arms.

“Why…why did you do this god why?!!!”

His tears began to fall again, as his face twisted to anger.

“I’ll make him repent for t I’l I’ll make him suffer”.

All went quiet as the scene faded, Farferello’s brain activity, quieted on the scale in the lab until it started jolting again.

“I’ll kill you Ruth!!”

Farferello saw himself, as he was now, in the church and fighting Siberian to get to the nun that had only tried to protect him. Farferello saw himself laugh as they fought, and as the screen faded, the only thing that was left, was the image of the dead nun, flashing through his mind along with many other thoughts.

Against the table Farferello whimpered, trying to fight the onslaught of repressed memories.

“God, hurt…no…ma…pa… sister!”

The doctor turned to him and smiled, looking up from the graph with his mental activity.

“It has begun”.

~~~~~~~~~~~


Part 8


Adding more drugs to the already limp body, the doctor smiled again, a cruel calculating grin spread across his features as he left the boy alone.

“I give you two more days…JEI”.

~~

Farferello panted inside his sanctuary, walls breaking down around him, crumbling as if made of sand. The images wouldn’t go away, no matter what he tried. He began to run, but felt as if he was stuck in quick sand, the movement slow, lethargic. He couldn’t do a thing to escape his fate.

The images turned from little Jei. Now taken by the hand to the institute, already drugged a little, the boy allowed himself to be taken. He was so tired of fighting everything, no matter what he did, god wouldn’t listen to him and it made him angrier to be ignored. The sound of a heartbeat broke through his consciousness, and as the boy was escorted he could hear the cries around him, the whisperings incasing his mind, twisting him in his own right as he sank further into his own recess.

The next image had the boy chained to the wall, crying out as he was roughly raped, blood splattering as his virginity was taken and then beaten unconscious to stop his cries alerting the other guards or nurses.

When the image shifted from black he was now almost 17, but this time as he was raped he bit his lip accepting it. There was no escape for him and as he was thrust into he clawed at his own skin allowing the blood to drip freely, joining the blood of the still opened wound of his eye that refused to close every time he scratched at it more. His body was thin and frail, bones almost poking through his skin as he curled up afterwards. The laughing of the guard never ceasing. This time he didn’t cry, it just made him stronger, another sin, another reason to hurt god. Homosexuality and rape, it was all he could do inside this haven but curse him. Curse everything he supposedly stood for, but did nothing to save his children from hurting.

He didn’t care.

~~

Amongst the table, blood began to seep from Farferello’s mouth, a reflex to stop himself from choking as it flowed down his chin and dripped onto his chest, warming the even paler skin. His blue lips now coated in the dark red liquid as his eyelid fluttered uncontrollably. The soft whimpers had stopped, leaving his mouth almost an hour ago and now he knew he was closing down, he couldn’t stop himself retreating into the far corner of his mind, though he still wasn’t safe.

The next image had his mental self-staring in rapt awareness. The day Schwarz had come for him. The dark haired man had sneered at the guards, who’d pulled him naked from his bindings and Schuldig had covered him, lifting his still drugged form, as money exchanged hands with a hint of Schuldig’s awareness on the others’ mind. He was finally free from them, but where was he going? What did they want? He didn’t know either, but he somehow knew, just somehow guessed that they would help him in his goal.

To hurt those god loves. To hurt him any way possible. To kill the people that followed him like lambs to the slaughter. He would feast on their pain and blood and make them suffer. Make them see how truly evil god was. But now as Farferello watched, he knew one thing was true.

/God doesn’t exist…. I have no meaning anymore/

It was as if that information was the final blow to his system, and he began to shut down inside. Forever retreating into his mind as his eye slid up into its socket, the deathly white the only colour now beneath the whitening skin.

/No one can save me… there’s no one left. They’re all dead. Maybe if I die to I can escape this pain I’m feeling inside. Pain I said I would never feel again/

And with that thought, he gave in, letting the memories wash over and envelop him, taking him in their steely grip and squeezing. He was sure there would be no retribution this time.

~~~~~~~~~

Meanwhile, in England Crawford sat up in bed, sweating. His sudden cry out had the rest of the household running to his room. He looked at them with darkened eyes, and growled, cursing Esset.

“I know where he is”.

Nagi looked at him with blinking eyes. He’d only managed to find out earlier that day from a badly hidden file that Farferello had landed in Ireland, he still had no knowledge of where he could be.

Schuldig entered the room as Crawford stood and began pulling his night clothing off.

“Where?”

Crawford’s gaze turned to him as it cleared from his vision, the quick reference to the institute in it, had him knowing instantly where Farferello was taken.

“Paradise”.

~~~~~~~~~~~~


Part 9


Nagi watched both men. He’d never really heard them discuss Farferello before. Of course he knew things but not much about the incidents or when Farferello was in the asylum.

“What’s Paradise?”

Crawford turned to him as he started to get dressed, pants and shirt flung on quickly.

“Paradise was the name the asylum used. Some paradise it was”.

Schuldig nodded as he watched their leader, well companion you’d guess now, move quickly.

“It was far from Paradise, when we brought Farferello from there he was naked, shivering and starved. Not to mention drugged up to the eyeball”.

Nagi blinked as he was hustled into his room, laptop pulled open and set in front of him.

“Yes naked, they liked to use Farferello…they…just get us tickets or transport or anything to Ireland as soon as possible”.

He gave the boy the details of the closest airport, but thought it’d be best for a chartered plane they could land so if Esset were watching they’d be less likely found out. He also gave the boy details of where the asylum was so they could get as close as possible. Nagi watched Crawford then leave before turning to the red head.

“They raped him didn’t they”.

The German nodded. He didn’t find real reason to tell the boy everything. A glimpse into the Irishman’s mind when he’d first joined Schwarz was disconcerting, amongst the anger and mix of memories and god he had the most recent images. Even he was surprised now, of what Farferello had become from the weak teenager back then. But now he was more worried. In two years, medical science had come far. He just hoped they weren’t too late.

If they were…he knew Crawford would make it a blood bath.

~~

‘As I lay thee down to sleep, I pray the lord my soul to keep. But if I die before I wake, I pray the lord my soul to take’.

Farferello heard the rhyme somewhere amidst the trembling voices in his mind. Even now he truly wondered if he’d ever had a soul, or if one truly existed in even the kindest loving person. He didn’t think it was possible, and the lord would not watch over anyone, nor would he want a lying creature that poisoned man against each other to.

This lord was a lie, a creation to flock people together to stop mass hysteria, something they could all believe in and join them together, though hurt others if they believed in something other than this lie of a god. Everyone needed something to believe in. but now, Farferello knew that his whole life was nothing but a treacherous lie. There was no god. He was glad he was at least here now in a twisted way, at least he wouldn’t be free. He couldn’t do anything anyway. He knew nothing but Schwarz or asylum’s the others could have had a life. But he knew now they were dead, nothing mattered anymore.

Nothing.

~~

He didn’t even fight when he felt the shadow over his body, the straps at his legs removed and legs positioned, and then the burning sensation he could once again feel as he was taken. The nurse grunted against him, pulling on his hair and squeezing his throat as he came, filling the already abused, now bleeding body with another sin that no longer mattered. His eyelid fluttered in his dream, bare consciousness allowing the real world to mix with the tormented one he was in. He felt the nurse shift and re-apply his straps before injecting him with another dosage of the clear liquid already running through his veins. The nurse then left before the doctor came back. He knew that the rape didn’t matter. Nothing did anymore. Nothing was free and sacred and he let the throb of pain comfort him, let the blood trickle down his thighs as it had before so many times. But now he was alive, he could feel the small amount of pain that had come with it, though it was useless. He had no need for these feelings. He didn’t want them.

As the mind altering sedative worked through his system, joining the other still inside and he felt his mouth pull up into a little smile.

‘Is misery made beautiful? Right before our eyes?’ (1)

He didn’t know where the line had come from but it suddenly lit up, showing through his many other thoughts as they washed over him, pulling him down to the darkest depths of his inner self.

/Misery is never beautiful/

~~

Nagi poked his head round Crawford’s door. He blinked at the ammo Crawford was packing in a small bag, along with clothing and other things he couldn’t quite see. As he entered, the American looked back at him with darkened eyes. He could see this would be one fight that would have no witnesses and maybe even no survivors.

“I’ve got a plane booked. Once we get to the small airport we can rent it. Schu is going to help so…so they won’t ask questions. Then we can go to the smaller airport in Ireland that I found, it’s quite quiet and away from anything where Esset might be near”.

Crawford nodded as he finished zipping the bag.

“Tell Schuldig to prepare himself, we may need his help to divert attention from ourselves and to find Farferello”.

The boy nodded.

“Will he be okay Crawford?” The boy whispered softly, he was afraid of what might have happened from the small description the German had given him. He could also tell that something was being hid from him.

“I don’t know…but no matter what. They will pay!”

He placed the bag on the table and ushered the boy out.

“Get me when it’s time to go”, and he shut the door.

Nagi sighed, glaring a little at the door. It was obvious no one was going to tell him anything. He’d just have to prepare himself for whatever when they got Farferello. Instead, for the next few hours he went to his room, trying to conserve his energy. He knew a fight was eminent and his help would be needed, especially if Crawford wasn’t totally focused. As he left he heard the distinct clicking of a bullet cartridge being placed into a gun and sighed as he passed Schuldig’s room.

He wondered if they’d ever have a normal life after this.

~~~~~~~~~


TBC