Disclaimer:

I do not own Weiß Kreuz or any of its characters. I just love them to no end and have a very twisted imagination. Please be aware that I am extremely poor so suing me will do you no good. Thanks.

Warning: NC-17 / Lemon Yaoi / NCS / Violence / Explicit Language

Pairings: Schuldich x Yohji / Aya + Yohji / Ken + Omi / Bradley x Nagi

FYI: { Telepathic speech } -- Inner thoughts -- [ Flashback ]

Author's note:

By the gods, it's been ages since I updated this fic. I'm sooo sorry for the unforgivable delay. What can I say? RL sucks. But hopefully, this very long chapter will make up for the excruciatingly long wait. Get ready for a lot of angst and action, as The Hunted nears its end.

Chapter 19 will finally bring The Hunted to a close, and because of this, I've decided not to put it off for the 'round-robin' I have going with all of my other ongoing fics; it's sort of a tribute to TH's finale. So bare with me a little longer, as I try to make TH's final chapter one that you'll never forget.

Thanks to all for your patience and wonderful comments. They've meant the world to me.

Okay, that's it for now. Scroll down and enjoy the read. And please, don't forget to review!

Thanks again,

Forsaken

The Hunted Part 18

"Hello, my angel."

Yohji froze, fear gripping him, as he peered through the darkness at the man watching him intently from across the room. Holy shit. A wave of panic flooded his insides, but in an instant, Yohji's eyes narrowed and instinct honed by years of being an assassin once again commanded his thoughts and movements. Calm. Stay calm.

The white-haired man suddenly began to move, walking ever so slowly toward him, and Yohji began to inch backwards on the bed, his eyes not once wavering from the one known as Farfarello, the Berserker of Schwarz. He didn't know why Farfarello was here, or why the man was looking at him like a hunter watching his prey, but Yohji knew he was in trouble. Shit, what the hell am I going to do? I don't have my wire with me. Nothing. Shit, shit.

"I smell your fear, angel," Farfarello whispered. "It's so …… pure."

Yohji swallowed, as he cautiously managed to climb off of the bed and stand on his feet. The silken sheets pooled onto the floor as he did so, leaving him naked except for the blue boxers Schuldich had left for him. "What do you want?" he asked, keeping his voice steady and strong, despite the fear coursing through him.

Farfarello tilted his head slightly, his expressionless voice sending shivers down Yohji's spine, as the man's lifeless eye seemed to stare right through him.

"To see the light fade from your eyes," Farfarello responded calmly. "You will be yet another holy vessel taken away from He who deserves only pain."

"You really are insane," he whispered, unable to hold the words back, his stomach clenching, as he remembered suddenly what Weiß had been told regarding the Irishman. Yohji nearly cursed at his own stupidity. How could he have allowed himself to be so vulnerable while in the midst of his enemies? Being with Schuldich didn't guarantee him safe passage, and now it seemed that he was about to pay the price for his folly.

Farfarello shook his head, streaks of white light running along his pale hair, as he moved away from the window behind him. "Not insane. Merely . . . determined."

Yohji cautiously moved back another step, his hand slowly lowering to the small dresser to his right, reaching for whatever he could find, but finding nothing. Dammit. He needed to buy himself some time, but from the gleam in Farfarello's eerie yellow eye, Yohji knew that time was something he had little of. "Why are you calling me an angel?" he asked, trying to distract the other man, as he put more space between them.

"I see you for what you are," Farfarello answered, his accent growing more pronounced as he spoke. "You are an angel. A creation deemed worthy by 'Him' to share the glory of Heaven. You are precious to Him, a light among the darkness He has allowed to fester. Your removal from this plane will cause Him much sadness."

What the hell is he talking about? Yohji wondered, as the scarred man continued to spout out words that clearly proved just how mad he truly was. But it was more than merely branding Farfarello a lunatic that was scaring the shit out of him right now. Yohji could see the calculating intelligence within the gaze focused on him, and he knew better than to dismiss it. I'm in deep shit.

"Are you afraid to die?" Farfarello asked, his tone low and curious.

Yohji blinked at the question, totally baffled. "What kind of question is that?" he asked, as his eyes looked quickly around him, searching for an opening. "Aren't you afraid to die?" It was a dumb question, he knew, but if it would keep the psychopath talking, it would serve its purpose.

Farfarello took another step toward him, shaking his head. "I hold no fear towards death. In fact, I embrace it."

"Embrace it?" You sick bastard.

Farfarello's eye seemed to glow in the dark. "It gives me strength and a measure of relief." Silver glistened in the darkness, as Farfarello twirled a knife in his left hand. "Death is not hypocritical and does not lie. It passes judgement with no partiality, with no mercy or regret, and for that alone, I serve it gladly ... I 'embrace' it."

This guy really is fucked up, Yohji concluded, as his green eyes latched onto the door just a few feet away to his left, judging the distance. Yohji then eyed the knife deftly held in Farfarello's hand. Could he make it without getting dismembered? He would have but a few seconds to run past the man. Yohji swallowed, apprehension seeping into him. Shit, he's getting closer. Can't let him back me into a corner or I'm screwed for sure. Once again, Yohji measured the distance between him and possible safety. I have to go for it. I've got no other choice.

"Running won't help you," Farfarello said, as if reading his thoughts, and Yohji's eyes widened. "Light cannot hide from the darkness. Your aura glows, leading the way."

Yohji stiffened. Farfarello may indeed be insane, but the man apparently was no fool. Dammit, I'm getting fucking sick of this! Gods, just let me find something -- anything to fucking defend myself. His eyes suddenly locked onto the mirror just above the small dresser he'd been searching, his mind calculating in an instant what needed to be done. I'll show him what this 'angel' can do.

Without the slightest hesitation, Yohji lifted his hand and rammed it right into the mirror, putting all of his anger, all of his fear into the one swing. Sounds of breaking glass echoed within the room, as the mirror shattered, spraying the air with sparkling bits of glass.

Surprised by what Yohji had done, Farfarello stood frozen in front of him, his eyes almost mesmerized by the falling glass. Not one to waste time, Yohji quickly grabbed a long shard of glass with his already bloodied hand. Too charged on adrenaline, he didn't even wince as the sharp piece bit into his hand. Blood began to run along his fingers, but Yohji wasn't aware of the crimson liquid, as it dripped onto the floor. His green eyes were focused on Farfarello alone.

Farfarello looked away from the remains of the shattered mirror, focusing instead on the reddening floor. Slowly, he followed the blood up to Yohji's wounded hand until his gaze came to rest on the shard held within its bloody grasp. Farfarello's eye widened, before it finally shifted up to meet Yohji's eyes.

Yohji nearly shuddered at the excitement he saw whirling within the yellow orb. His hand tightened around the glass, as he moved into a fighting stance, ready as he ever would be for what was to come. A part of him already knew that he wasn't going to come out of this alive and instinctively wanted to reach out to Schuldich. But the other part of him, the part that always tried to beat the odds, that never gave up even when it was the smart thing to do, refused to rely on the telepath for help, and most definitely, refused to die without fight.

Come on, you sonofabitch, his mind snarled, even as his heart hammered against his chest in fear and worry. Colors of violet and green suddenly flooded his mind, as Aya and Schuldich's faces blended into one another, but instead of allowing the images to distract him, Yohji used them to fuel his determination.

He would not die easily. He would fight until his very last breath and try with everything he had in him to take Farfarello down to Hell right along with him.

"What now?" Schuldich demanded the instant he walked into the room.

Stifling a sigh of exasperation, Bradley turned his seat away from the window he'd been staring out of and looked at the obviously frustrated redhead. "Sit down, Schuldich."

Grumbling along the way, Schuldich walked over to the leather chair in front of Bradley's desk. Once settled, the telepath crossed his arms over his chest and glared at him. "Happy now."

Bradley ignored Schuldich's comment, refusing to get annoyed. He picked up the glass he'd been drinking from, took a sip of the cold liquor inside, and slowly placed it back down onto the desk before he spoke. "I'm making arrangements for us to leave here."

Schuldich leaned forward, suddenly very interested in what Bradley had to say. "When and why?"

Bradley almost smirked. Schuldich was never one to beat around the bush. "We'll be gone by tomorrow morning, so ready your things and get Farfarello ready as well. I'll inform Nagi of the move later."

A red eyebrow lifted at the mention of Nagi's name, but Schuldich chose to wisely remain silent about it. "You know I'm bringing Yohji along with us."

Amber-brown eyes bore into Schuldich's green ones. "You've decided not to heed my warning then?" Bradley asked, although not surprised in the least by the telepath's decision.

Schuldich looked away briefly, before returning his gaze back to Bradley. "It's not that simple, and you know it."

Understanding the other man's dilemma, Bradley leaned back into his chair, staring at Schuldich with somber eyes. This is all my fault. "The consequences may be great. Greater than even I can predict."

Schuldich hissed. "Dammit, don't you think I already know that?"

"Do you?"

"Yes, goddammit, I do!"

Schuldich abruptly stood up and walked over to stand next to Bradley, his eyes locked onto the view the window was presenting. Bradley said nothing, as he watched Schuldich, knowing that the now brooding telepath would eventually speak his mind.

"I can't lose him, Brad," Schuldich said quietly, breaking the silence that had stretched between them. "Nothing you say will stop me from having him by my side. He's important to me, more than I'd care to admit to you. And although, your warning has managed to scare the shit out of me, I can't make myself let him go." Schuldich turned away from the window and looked directly into Bradley's eyes. "I love him, Brad. I love him."

Bradley's right hand clenched over the arm of his chair, the only outward sign of how much Schuldich's admission had affected him. Inside, however, he was shouting in rage and fear, cursing not only Fate, but himself as well. Dammit, I can't allow him to die. Somehow my vision must be altered. He could no longer stand by helplessly while everything unraveled around him. He'd manipulated fate time and time again, changing events and actions to suit his purposes. And he would do it again. Fuck the consequences of his intervention. He would not allow his vision to come true.

Looking up into Schuldich's handsome face, Bradley got up and came to stand next to the redhead, his gaze looking at their reflections on the window. "Get yourself and Kudou ready then. We don't have much time."

If Schuldich was surprised by his words, the man wasn't showing it. He simply stared at Bradley and nodded. Schuldich then made to turn away, but stopped in mid-motion, shifting his piercing gaze onto Bradley yet again. "Brad?"

"Yes?"

"What you said about Farfarello ... What did you mean by it?"

Bradley's brow furrowed, recalling the brief hint of a warning he'd received regarding the Irishman. "I'm not too sure about what I saw, Schu. The vision was basked in darkness. But I did see Farfarello and Kudou's images, one after the other, before everything faded into black. I warned you, only because I didn't feel ... comfortable with what I saw."

Schuldich looked at him, his eyes searching, before he simply said, "Thanks."

Bradley inclined his head in acceptance and watched with tired eyes, as Schuldich turned and walked out of the room. He stared at the closed door for a few moments, before he turned his head to look out into the night sky. Ice seeped into his bones suddenly, as a sense of foreboding washed over him, and Bradley wrapped his arms around his waist, shivering in response to the feeling of dread pounding into him. He leaned forward and rested his forehead against the glass. Please, give me more time. Please.

As if responding to his silent plea, lightening danced wildly across the dark sky, lighting it up ominously. Almost immediately, a loud crash of thunder echoed throughout the night, just as a wave of water cascaded down from the heavens.

Bradley closed his eyes in bitter resignation and moved away from the window, heading toward the door. Once at there, he opened it and looked over his shoulder, taking one last look at the window, as water beat furiously against it. His eyes narrowed in defiance, as lightening flashed once again, before he walked out of the room and closed the door behind him.

Schuldich had left Bradley's office, pensive and confused. And being in such a state was really starting to annoy him. Nothing made sense anymore. His thoughts, his 'feelings', his life, just didn't make sense. Everything was just a jumbled mass of turmoil inside of him, and it only served to piss him off even more.

He wished he could figure out what to do about Yohji, about the change the man had caused in him. But he just couldn't. All that he knew for certain was that he wanted Yohji with him and needed the man with his every breath and thought. Gods, why does life have to be so goddamn hard?

It didn't help matters that Yohji was fighting him every step of the way. Despite their intensity together, despite the feelings he knew that Yohji harbored for him, the blonde refused to acknowledge their bond as a permanent one.

Schuldich sighed tiredly, as he walked into the living room, heading straight for the bar. Fixing himself a strong drink, he brought the small glass up to his mouth, needing to dull the pain in his chest. He downed the liquid in one swallow and hissed, as the liquor burned down his throat. Once empty of its contents, Schuldich's grip tightened around the glass, before he suddenly turned and threw it into the fireplace, the impact instantly causing it to shatter. Fist clenched at his sides, Schuldich stood in front of the unlit fireplace, staring at the pieces of glass, glaring at them.

What the fuck am I supposed to do? What? He didn't want to be constantly at odds with Yohji, to have to resort to manipulating Yohji's mind to get the blonde to 'accept' his place by Schuldich's side. He needed Yohji to 'want' to be with him. But nothing he said or did was accomplishing his goal to purge Fujimiya from Yohji's heart; the bastard was the main reason behind Yohji's resistance and that fact was beginning to take its toll on Schuldich.

"Fuck!" Schuldich cursed, shoving his hands into his hair, twisting the flamed colored locks mercilessly. He was so angry, so …… so full of despair. He didn't want to feel this way, dammit! Didn't want to feel this wave of cold fear wrenching his insides. But he did. He fucking did. If he lost Yohji ... If Yohji left him....

Releasing his painful hold over his hair, Schuldich dropped his hands to his sides and began to pace back and forth in front of the white sofa nearby, his mind furiously searching for a solution to the fucking mess he's somehow gotten himself into. I can't let him go. He's everything to me …… Everything, dammit. I have to find a way to convince him of that, to make him stay with me. To fucking forget about that undeserving prick!

A sudden thought flickered through his mind, stopping Schuldich dead in his tracks. His eyes narrowed, as he tried to probe the foreign presence his mind was detecting and hone in on its source. Recognition dawned in an instant and rage flared to life within Schuldich, as he rigidly stood in the middle of the room. Son-of-a-BITCH!

Closing his eyes, his power pulsating around him, Schuldich reached through space, attempting to lock onto his 'target'. "There!" he exclaimed, in a low whisper, as his mind's eye caught sight of the strong aura not so far way. Immediately, he began walking, his cold eyes mirroring the hatred flowing inside of him. You've finally come. You've finally come to me, Fujimiya.

Stepping out of the living room, Schuldich quickly reached the foyer and began to climb the stairs, determined to meet his enemy head on. Fujimiya was on the roof, somehow having found their location despite the precautions Bradley had taken, and Schuldich was more than happy to welcome the Weiß assassin into Schwarz's domain.

It's time to settle things between us, Fujimiya, Schuldich's lips curved into a wicked grin, We'll see soon enough who'll be left to claim Yohji's heart.

"Abyssinian? Abyssinian! Do you copy? Abyssinian!" Blue eyes blazed with fury and fear, as Omi continued to hear only static. "Goddammit!" he cursed, nearly ripping the earpiece away from his face, needing so badly to hurl it into the wall ahead of him.

Standing next to Omi on the rooftop that had been chosen as the meeting point for Weiß, Ken looked at Omi with demanding eyes. "What? What the hell happened?"

Omi turned to his lover, his pale face riddled with worry, despite the anger in his blue gaze. "Abyssinian severed the connection." Omi sighed in resignation. "He's gone in on his own."

"Shit! That stupid bastard!" Ken exclaimed furiously, slamming his fist into the wall next to him. "What the hell do we do now?"

"We find him," Omi responded calmly. Reaching into the right pocket of his jacket, he took out the small computer he usually carried with him and began typing quickly into it.

"What are you doing?" Ken asked, as he leaned over Omi's shoulder.

Keeping his eyes fixed on the small screen, Omi continued to type, as he tried to explain his actions. "I'm linking to the Koneko's computer. If we're to find Abyssinian, we have to look at his portion of the list."

Ken nodded in understanding, before he honed in on their immediate problem. "Once we see where he was heading, how are we going to narrow in on his location in time to save his ass? It took us over four hours to get this far?"

Omi swallowed, his typing not once faltering, as he considered Ken's question. "Best we can do is split up again and move as fast as we can."

"Shit."

Shit is right, Omi thought, feeling as if the world he'd come to cherish, despite his role of being an assassin, was about to shatter. Not only had Yohji been taken from them but now Aya was doing his best to get himself killed.

A shudder of despair ran through him at the thought of losing the two older men, of having half of his family ripped away from him. Aya, Yohji, and Ken meant everything to him. They were indeed his family, the only family he'd ever known. Their lives had been far from ideal thus far, too influenced by blood and death to have even an inkling of normalcy, but it had been enough as long as they'd had each other. At least, that was how Omi had felt all of these years working alongside the other three men.

Goddammit, why is this happening? Were they that deserving of punishment for the lives they had taken all in the name of Kritiker's brand of justice? No, he told himself, as he concentrated on the flashing screen in front of him, forcing his doubtful thoughts aside, not ready to face such a possibility. What we're doing is necessary. No matter how much it hurt them, or how much they probably wanted to run away from what they had chosen to do with their lives, Weiß's existence was vital to their reality, for they were the ones who ensured that the life 'normal' people dwelled in continued to exist. Omi couldn't regret that fact.

"Are you okay?"

Omi's eyes widened slightly, but didn't show outwardly how much Ken had startled him. He had been so lost in his thoughts that he'd nearly forgotten about his lover's presence. "I'm okay."

"You're not, but I'll let the lie pass for now," Ken replied, keeping his gaze locked onto the small screen as well.

Omi nearly sighed. He hated when Ken read him so well. The brunette may have a reputation of being brash and ill-tempered, but he was definitely far more perceptive that the others gave him credit for. He knew Ken was worried about Aya and Yohji, just as much as he was, and probably needed some assurance that things were going to be okay, but right now, Omi was unable to comply. He would not be able to get away with another lie.

The screen flashed once more, before a list finally appeared upon it. "Here it is," Omi pointed out, as his eyes scanned through the list. His eyes caught on one address in particular. "Siberian, look at this."

Ken leaned in closer, his eyes narrowing, as he read what Omi was indicating. "What the...."

"I can't believe I didn't notice it before." Omi wanted to smack himself. He really did. Dammit, they were in plain sight all along. How could he have been so blind? "I practically handed Abyssinian a key to Schwarz's safehouse. Dammit, I --"

"Stop it," Ken commanded, turning Omi's face toward him, his blue-green eyes boring into Omi's blue ones. "It's not your fault. We were too worried about Balinese, too disorientated by what was happening to notice this, so stop blaming yourself for every little goddamn thing." Ken's gaze softened, as his finger lightly brushed over Omi's lips. "You're only human, Bombay."

Omi sighed and leaned into Ken's touch. "I know." He did know, but it still didn't excuse his own stupidity, for his inability to see the obvious. Marshall Boulevard had been one of the addresses Aya had been given. There weren't many major streets in the area with such an American name, making it stand out like a neon sign among the other addresses, and Omi was fairly certain that Aya had noticed that fact right away. The stubborn ass had deliberately kept the information to himself. Dammit, Aya, why must you always only depend on yourself? Why couldn't you trust us?

"We'd better get going," Ken said, as he began to walk back toward the door they had come through, disrupting Omi's musing. "That district is at least an hour away from here."

Omi nodded and shut down the compact computer in his hand. Tucking it back into his pocket, he moved to walk alongside Ken. Once outside, they retrieved Ken's motorcycle from where he'd hidden it and climbed onto it. Sitting behind Ken, Omi wrapped his arms around his lover's waist, and leaned into the brunette's body. The roar of the motorcycle broke the night's silence, as it tore through the thankfully not so congested streets.

Suddenly feeling overwhelmed by all that had happened, by the possibilities the future held for them all, Omi rested his head against Ken's back, as much as his helmet would allow, and closed his teary eyes. Taking a deep breath, he tightened his hold around Ken and prayed for the lives of his two missing brothers.

Walking along the dimly lit hallway, Bradley fidgeted with his tie, as his nerves began to overwhelm him. What the hell am I doing? I'm acting like a schoolboy. This isn't me. Where was his usual calm? His tough as nails attitude? Down the fucking toilet, that's where.

Bradley sighed, and ran a hand through his dark hair; yet another nervous reaction, he realized despairingly. Dammit, what is wrong with me? This is what I wanted, isn't it? I told him that I would speak to him later, that we needed to talk ... about us. So why am I regretting my decision already? He wasn't even to Nagi's door, and he was already wishing to turn back around and forget his resolve. Was he truly prepared to allow his heart to guide his way?

Amber-brown eyes latched onto the door just a few feet away. I'm almost there, and yet I feel like I'm still so far away. Bradley clenched his hands, fisting them against his sides, as he continued to walk toward his destination, despite the trembling in his legs and the queasiness in his stomach. He had to finish what he'd started.

[ ""Don't you get it, Bradley? We're not in Rosenkreuz anymore. We're not even a part of Estet. We don't have to live by their rules any longer, don't you see that?" ]

Bradley could no longer deny the truth behind Schuldich's words. The past was no longer relevant. Rosenkreuz, Estet, even Weiß, no longer held precedence in his life. He should've realized that fact long ago, but like the stubborn man he had been bred to be, Bradley had tried to resist that knowledge ... that truth. He had tried to cling onto the life he'd grown attached to, that he'd molded himself to live for, and had been afraid to completely break away from the chains that had been placed upon him by Fate. It shamed him greatly to realize how he'd wasted so much time planning his revenge against Weiß, against those he now acknowledged had aided Schwarz in gaining their freedom.

Why? Why had he been such an idiot? What had been the purpose behind his hopes for vengeance? Why had he set in motion the now inevitable path that was laid out before them? Bradley sighed once again, knowing the answers to those questions and feeling reluctant to admit to them. He had wanted the power, the ability to dominate those around him, to gain control over those that had hurt him mercilessly, who had twisted his gift to suit their purposes without a care to how much harm it had caused him. For that reason alone, he had waited patiently for his moment, for the time his gift had deemed crucial for Schwarz to move in for the kill.

Everything had been in its place …… everything except for Weiß. The group of assassins had somehow thrown a wrench into his carefully constructed plan, changing the set of events he had been so sure of. It had galled him to know that four ordinary men had taken a stand against Schwarz, a team with powers beyond imagining, trained to kill without a second thought, efficient in every way possible, and had deterred the destiny he had worked so hard to strive for. Bradley had hated Weiß for that. Had hated them with his entire being. Revenge had been the only solution for his need to destroy, to make Weiß pay for their interference and nauseating sense of justice.

But in the end, Bradley could only surmise that his greatest wish had indeed been nothing but a childish fantasy. Weiß was not his enemy. They never had been. His anger, his thirst for power, his need for retribution, had made him blind to that reality.

Weiß and Schwarz were meant to be counterparts in the twisted game Fate called Life, but it was more than just a battle between the light and darkness, good versus evil. The two groups both struggled for survival and fought for what they believed in. It didn't matter if their purpose was right or wrong, or if their actions were derived out of a sense of duty or for the need of money. Weiß and Schwarz were the same.

Guilt once again filtered through his ingrained defenses, his mind once more berating him for his lack of judgement and humanity. In the past, such regretful thoughts would've been scoffed at, erased viciously from his mind and heart, but now, Bradley found himself no longer able to do so. Yes, he indeed had many regrets, and now that he had acknowledged them, they were eating away at him, each one marking him irrevocably. He had made many mistakes in his life, committed many transgressions to which he would be held accountable for when death finally came for him.

However, now was not the time for regrets, Bradley told himself, as he stood in front of Nagi's door, his silver-rimmed glasses gleaming under the light. He couldn't erase the atrocities he'd made in the past, couldn't rectify the many errors he'd at times voluntarily committed all for the sake of freedom and power. Nothing, not even his death, could ever make up for them. But, there were two people in particular that needed for him to at least make an attempt in redeeming himself.

His plans for Weiß, for Yohji Kudou, had set in motion a chain of events that would eventually lead them all into a whirlwind of madness. His vision hadn't been clear, giving him only sporadic glimpses into the future, but Bradley was still able to recognize death's approach ... and it frightened him, something he hadn't felt in a long time.

Blood and death marred Schuldich's path, and it bothered Bradley greatly to know that he had helped to keep the telepath upon its spiraling course. He cared for Schuldich, cared for him as a brother, and it actually hurt to realize how badly he'd failed him. Although he and Schuldich weren't too far apart in age, Bradley had always been the one Schuldich had depended upon for guidance. That role, set in place since their adolescence, had not changed when Schwarz had gained their freedom, their bond having grown beyond that of leader and subordinate.

It was for that reason that Bradley could not dismiss the part he'd played in bringing about the events to come. 'He' had been the one to put Yohji Kudou in Schuldich's path, and in doing so, had been the one responsible for altering the fate of Kudou and Fujimiya's relationship, for if Schuldich hadn't laid claim to the blonde, Fujimiya and Kudou would've eventually worked out their problems. It would've come to pass, he knew without a doubt. He had foreseen it after all, and he had made sure that the reconciliation between the two Weiß members would fail.

Bradley frowned, seeing himself for the heartless bastard he was. He lowered his gaze to the smooth, gray marbled doorknob a mere inches away from his hand, bitterness and self-hatred welling up inside of him. Goddammit, I lived up to 'their' expectations of me. Gods, Bradley chuckled grimly, they're still leading me by a leash, even from the grave.

He had used Schuldich to further advance his goals, and now, things were almost to the point of no return. Schuldich had fallen in love with Kudou, a phenomenon that even his precognition had not been privy to, and now the redhead was more unpredictable and even deadlier than before. Schuldich now regarded Kudou as his mate and Fujimiya as his rival. Bradley had seen the savagery barely kept leashed within Schuldich whenever Kudou's place at his side was threatened by the katana-wielding assassin, and he knew for certain that instinct would prevail over logic if Schuldich's hold over the blonde wavered in the slightest. Bradley sighed, the nails digging into his skin, as he fisted his hands tightly, going unnoticed. He had changed Schuldich's life and that of Kudou's forever, all for the sake of revenge.

What he'd done to Nagi was his worst regret, however. Bradley swallowed, as Nagi's beautiful face came to mind. He remembered the stunned look on Nagi's face, the confusion and wariness within his dark-blue eyes. Nagi hadn't expected his offer to talk, to finally get past the wall that had erected between them after they had ... made love. Guiltily, he recognized now his own folly, his stupidity in putting that damn wall between them in the first place. If he'd only acted upon what his heart had wanted, had been begging him to do, instead of acting like an emotionless bastard, Nagi wouldn't have been hurt. But no, Bradley admitted angrily, he'd acted like a fool, a logical fool bent on pushing away not only his feelings and desires, but also the only man he'd ever loved in his entire miserable life.

Pain slivered through his chest at the thought of the willowy brunette; it was a never-ending ache that he felt to the bone, an ache that would forever haunt him if he didn't somehow make amends for what he'd done. He wanted to prove to Nagi that he'd been wrong to try to deny his feelings, to try to dismiss the brief looks Nagi had sent his way and tentative touches that had nearly burned him alive. His eyes had indeed opened, and he wanted Nagi to know that he'd finally come to accept him as the beautiful, intelligent, and willful man that he was, who's desires mirrored Bradley's own. Nagi was in his blood, pulsating within him, and Bradley was now ready to accept that fact.

Once again, he tugged at his black tie, tucking it back into his navy blue suit needlessly, as he nervously eyed the door in front of him. Taking a deep breath, he raised his hand toward the door and knocked, feeling his insides twisting and his heart pounding, as the sound echoed within the empty hallway. Soft footsteps announced Nagi's approach, and Bradley closed his eyes briefly, trying to calm his quaking soul.

As the door opened slowly, Bradley held his breath, determined to somehow atone for his sins.

Nagi swallowed, his stomach doing flip-flops, as he reached for the doorknob. Please, don't let it be him. Please, please. More than a little apprehensive, Nagi opened the door, and his heart nearly stopped, as Bradley stood before him. Shit.

Needing to put some space between them, Nagi walked over to stand next to his desk. "Why are you here, Bradley?" he asked, feeling his heart ramming against his chest, despite his determination not to react to the precog's presence.

Bradley walked through the doorway and closed the door. "To talk," he replied.

Infuriated by Bradley's calm demeanor, Nagi turned away, giving his back to the other man, and glared at the scattered books on his desk. "We have nothing to talk about." He heard Bradley sigh, and Nagi shivered, prompting him to wrap his arms around himself. He looked to his left, trying to distract himself, and caught sight of Bradley's reflection on the freestanding mirror against the wall just inches away from him. Just leave. Please, just leave.

"We do have to talk," Bradley whispered.

Nagi's heart nearly stilled, as he watched Bradley come to stand behind him. What is he doing? Why is he standing there, just staring at me? Nagi wanted to run, to get away from the source of his pain. But as Bradley's hands came to rest on his shoulders, his thoughts scattered in all directions, leaving him lost to the feelings he could no longer deny, to the feelings that were breaking free from his tedious control, overriding the fear in his heart of once again being betrayed. Bradley's spicy scent engulfed his senses, as he was pulled against a strong chest and embraced from behind, and Nagi felt himself begin to tremble.

"I'm sorry for hurting you, Nagi," Bradley whispered into his ear, and Nagi began to cry, unable to hold in the pain any longer. The arms holding him tightened around him, as silent sobs wracked his body.

He felt like such a fool for crying like a baby in front of the very man he had been trying for months now to convince that he was no longer a child. But he couldn't help it. Bradley had hurt him so badly, had made him doubt all that he'd come to rely on, and he just couldn't control the agony sweeping through him.

"I'm so sorry, Nagi. So sorry."

Nagi closed his eyes, hearing the sincerity behind Bradley's words, but afraid to rely on his own judgement. Was he really hearing the sad tone lacing Bradley's words? Or was he hearing what he wanted to hear? I'm so confused. Why is he doing this to me? Why?

Nagi was turned abruptly within Bradley's embrace, and he found himself looking into Bradley's serious amber-brown eyes. He shuddered at the feel of callused fingers wiping away his tears. "I don't ... I don't understand," he admitted brokenly, as he tried to gain a measure of control over his chaotic emotions. Bradley's thumb rested over his lips, and Nagi's glistening gaze became transfixed, as the man who'd shattered his heart, who'd torn his world apart, began to speak.

"I know that you're confused, so am I, but please know that I never meant to hurt you the way I did." Bradley swallowed, giving Nagi the impression that the usually stoic man was indeed just as nervous as he was. "I was more than shocked by what had happened between us, and I ... I reacted badly."

Nagi's eyes narrowed. "Reacted badly? You broke my heart, Bradley, and then you tore it out and stepped all over it."

Bradley lowered his head briefly, before gazing back into Nagi's glaring eyes. "Please understand that I've never allowed myself to lose control the way I did with you. Realizing that I had gone against my resolve not to touch you, that I had taken you like I'd always dreamed of doing, confused the hell out of me. What happened between us was not something I had planned upon. I was ... lost -- without guidance."

Nagi's hands clenched over Bradley's forearms, as he watched the man he loved struggle to express himself, something he had never seen happen in all the years under Bradley's leadership. He could only stare in amazement, unable to utter a single word, as his mind tried to process what Bradley was saying to him. He dreamed of making love to me.

Bradley took a deep breath, as he moved his thumb gently over Nagi's lips. "I was ... I was scared, Nagi. Scared of my feelings for you. Of what you made me feel when I was inside of you."

Nagi blushed at Bradley's words, but felt his body respond to the warmth brushing across his lips. "Why?" he whispered, his eyes now memorized by the mouth moving ever so closer to his own. "Why were you afraid?" Tell me, Bradley. Please, let me in for once. Let me in.

"Because I knew then and there, without a doubt, that I loved you."

Nagi's heart seemed to stop, his eyes widening. "You ... You love me?"

Nodding his head, Bradley leaned even closer, until his lips hovered a mere breath away from Nagi's slightly parted mouth. "I have cared about you for a long time now. So much so, that the feelings you were invoking within me frightened me more than I cared to admit. I found myself fighting those feelings constantly, and I was more than a little frustrated by it. It was a losing battle, I knew, and I wanted so badly to hate you for it."

"But you didn't." It was a statement, not a question.

Bradley shook his head. "No, I could never hate you. Instead, I began to hate myself for wanting you so much."

Nagi's dark blue eyes grew confused. "Why did caring for me push you to such an extreme? And……." Nagi paused, trying to keep his voice steady. He could still feel the hurt that had welled up inside of him, that had pierced his soul, as he'd watched Bradley walk away from him, leaving him naked and crying on the floor. "Why did you push me away?"

Bradley looked at him, his face full of emotion, stunning Nagi into silence. "I didn't know what to do, and I panicked. I ran away like a coward from what was happening between us. But I see now," Bradley cupped Nagi's face, his hold gentle, letting Nagi know that he could move away at any time, "that I was fool. Running away from what we shared, trying to stamp these emotions driving me insane, didn't wash away your scent from my skin, or erase the memory of your taste ingrained into my mind."

Nagi's heart was pounding against his chest, his breathing coming in short gasps, as he stared at Bradley through a veil of tears. Strong hands buried themselves within his dark locks, and Nagi sighed, as nimble fingers ran along his scalp. Gods, is this really happening? Is he really holding me -- touching me with love in his eyes?

"I need you, Nagi," Bradley declared, without an inkling of embarrassment or hesitation, "More than the very air I breathe."

Nagi closed his eyes, causing tears to trail along his cheeks, as a joy he'd never thought possible of feeling seeped into his soul, giving it life once more. Before he could stop himself, he wrapped his arms around Bradley's neck and melded their lips together, trying to convey all of the passion and love that belonged to this man alone. Bradley's arms tightened around him, bringing him even closer, and sparked the fire that always flared between them anew.

Nagi lost himself to the sensations now dominating his every thought. All of the pain he'd experienced because of his love for Bradley was forgotten, pushed aside by the omission he knew had not been easy for the older man to make. And as Bradley moved them both closer to his bed, Nagi found himself more than willing to hand out his heart again, this time confident that it would be accepted and kept safe.

Panting against the wall, Yohji tried to catch his breath, wincing as his left arm screamed at him in pain. Afraid to take his eyes off of the madman intent on killing him, Yohji couldn't tell how deep the bastard's knife had cut into him. Not good. Not good at all. The blood loss would soon take its toll, weakening him, and Yohji knew that once his strength began to falter he was as good as dead.

Blood was running into Farfarello's eye from a wound Yohji had managed to inflict, but the white-haired man seemed oblivious to it, as he raised the sleek knife in his hand up to his mouth and licked it clean. "Your blood calls to me, angel," he said softly, his breathing showing signs of exertion.

"Fuck you," Yohji spat, pushing himself away from the wall. The room took a spin, but Yohji refused to allow himself to fall under its spell. Stay alert, dammit. Keep yourself steady and don't lose sight of him. But it was one thing to chant the words over and over again in his mind and quite another to get his body to listen to them.

Farfarello suddenly charged at him, and Yohji barely had enough time to sidestep the attack. He hissed in pain, as he forced his body to roll across the floor. Crouching in front of the Irishman, Yohji felt the sweat pouring along his face, as he breathed heavily, trying to ignore the pain radiating along his body.

"Why do you fight against your fate?" Farfarello asked him, between breaths. "It would be less painful for you if you gave in to the inevitable."

"That's rich," Yohji chuckled grimly. "You actually want me to hand over my life to you? Sorry, but I'm not one to give in so easily to Fate or to you."

Farfarello's lips curved in a slight grin, the yellow depths of his eye glittering with what seemed to be respect. "I expected as much from one such as you. I would have been disappointed if you had responded otherwise."

Oh, great. Now, I've impressed him, Yohji thought sardonically, as he slowly straightened his body. He stared at the scarred man, the shard of glass still digging into his hand, trying to figure out a way to gain the upper hand. Farfarello sure wasn't making things easy for him. The man was agile and quick as a cat, resilient to pain, and worst of all, perceptive as all hell. Not once had Farfarello allowed him to get near the door or the window, the only two means of escape. Yohji was well and truly trapped, and Farfarello knew it.

Fuck this. "Well, now that we've established that I'm just as crazy as you are, can we get on with this?" Yeah, he was definitely crazy.

Farfarello raised the knife in his hand up to his waist, and then slowly reached behind his back. Yohji's eyes narrowed and his heart began to pound even harder, as another gleaming knife came into view. Fuuuck.

Farfarello brought the other knife up next to its twin and looked at Yohji with blood lust in his eye. "It's time to end our little dance ... Yohji Kudou."

Faster than the eye could see, Farfarello moved, catching Yohji off guard. Weak and disorientated by blood loss, Yohji couldn't avoid being thrown into the wall. His head cracked hard against its surface, ripping a gasp from him, and he saw blotches of white zigzag before his eyes. Yohji refused, however, to let it end this way. Bringing up his arm as fast as he could, he rammed his elbow into the side of Farfarello's head and sliced through the air with his other hand, using the jagged piece of glass to cut Farfarello's chest. But that was all he could manage, before Farfarello jumped away from him, not once reacting to the blow Yohji had dealt him.

Yohji winced and nearly dropped his weapon, grabbing his throbbing arm, as he felt blood still steadily flowing from his wound there. His vision blurred for a moment, and Yohji blinked rapidly, trying to get the world back into focus. Moving along the wall, using it to support himself, he watched as Farfarello rubbed a hand over the long and gaping cut on his chest. Taking advantage of the psychopath's moment of distraction, Yohji shoved himself away from the wall and ran purposely toward the door. Let me make. Goddammit, let me make it.

An instant later, however, a flash of silver caught the corner of his eye, and Yohji knew without looking that Farfarello had snapped out of his daze. I'm not going to make it, am I? he asked himself, a second before he was shoved viciously into the very door he'd been trying to reach. He screamed, as his arm crashed against the door, and inadvertently lost his hold over the shard of glass he'd been using to protect himself. Damn, he whispered inwardly, as he was turned around to face the man about to kill him.

"Fade into the light from wence you came, my angel, and know true peace," Farfarello whispered into his ear, like a somber prayer, before he raised one of his knives and thrust it forward.

Yohji tried to protect himself, grabbing at the knife coming toward him with his already bleeding hand, but there was nothing he could do to stop its descent. Pain splintered through him, as the blade sliced through his futile hold and plunged into his body. With his back against the door, his pain glazed eyes locked onto the yellow eye staring at him, as the knife was ripped out of his body, wrentching a cry of agony out of him.

Feeling his body growing numb, Yohji slid down to the floor, as his legs gave way underneath him, and clutched at his side, feeling hot liquid pouring over his fingers. Farfarello crouched down in front of him and stared at him with a strange look on his face. Unable to look away, Yohji stared right back at the white-haired man and watched, with detached eyes, as a lone tear shimmered in the dark, before it trailed down a pale cheek, intermingling with the blood flowing from the corner of Farfarello's mouth.

Darkness invaded his vision, and his mind reached out instinctively for the one person who could possibly hear him. { Schu.... }

Schuldich's mental cry came at him almost immediately, but Yohji could not respond to it. His eyes began to close, and a mixture of relief and sadness washed over him, as the world began to fade away.

Schu ... Aya....

I love you....

On his side, with Nagi pressed against his naked chest, Bradley suddenly tensed, his body growing stiff, as a vision assailed him.

"Bradley? Bradley?" he heard Nagi call out to him, as if from a distance.

Images swarmed his mind, signaling death's approach and Fate's unmerciful decree, and Bradley fought against his vision's hold, desperate to stop time. When he was finally freed from his gift's grasp, Bradley sat up in Nagi's bed, gasping for air.

"Bradley?" whispered Nagi, his tone hesitant and confused, as he gently placed his hand over Bradley's shoulder.

As if completely waking up from the nightmare he'd been locked into, Bradley looked at Nagi and grabbed his lover by the shoulders. "Get dressed, Nagi, and hurry."

"What's wrong?" his Nagi asked him, even as the slender youth moved to comply.

"Everything," Bradley replied, as he practically jumped off of the bed and began to frantically search for his clothes.

Dressing as quickly as he was able to, Bradley rushed out of the room, with Nagi at his side. Yohji Kudou was in danger, and he could only hope that he wasn't too late to save the man's life, for if the blonde assassin died, Schuldich would be lost as well. No, dammit. I'm not going to let you win, his mind shouted, as he ran down the hall, heading toward Schuldich's room.

This time, he would not let Fate have its way.

Walking along the rooftop of Schwarz's safehouse, Aya moved quickly but cautiously along the concrete beneath his feet. Violet eyes roamed around him, as he walked up to one of the two large glass panels leading into the building. Leaning over enough to peer inside, he tried to gauge how heavily secured the building truly was.

Motion detectors had been placed along the floors; he could see the barely noticeable red eyes from which the almost transparent beams originated from running along the walls below. Aya then looked closer at the glass he was hovering over, and noticed, with little surprise, the wires wrapped around the base of the panel. More sensors. Getting into the building was definitely not going to be an easy task.

Aya sighed. Things would've probably been easier had Omi and Ken been here to back him up. Regret suddenly filtered through the determined haze he'd been under, thinking back to how angry and concerned Omi's voice had seemed, just before he'd severed all communications with his comrades. At the time, he'd wanted to prevent Omi and Ken's intervention. But now, as he stood within his enemy's territory, he was beginning to see his lack of reasoning. Aya sighed inwardly. I have no time for regrets. He'd made a decision, and he now had to stick by it. He could only hope that his being on his own wouldn't become a determent towards saving Yohji.

A prickling sensation suddenly ran along his spine, and Aya twirled around swiftly, unsheathing his katana as he did so. A dark rage began to build up inside him, as his narrowed gaze fell upon the man he'd sworn would die by his hand. "Schuldich," Aya growled, as he brought up his katana and held it with both hands in front of him.

Schuldich smirked at him from where he stood a few feet away; his eyes were glittering pools of green, holding a promise of a cold death. "Fujimiya, what a lovely surprise. Come to play?"

Aya ignored the taunt. "Where's Yohji?" he asked menacingly, gripping his katana tightly, as he readied himself to attack.

"In my bed," Schuldich replied easily, not once losing his sardonic grin.

Aya's eyes narrowed dangerously, as a wave of fury swept through him, nearly blinding him. But he refused to allow himself to fall for the bait Schuldich was obviously throwing at him. He would not fail Yohji by losing control or his wits. He would not fall prey to Schuldich's manipulative games.

"Does it bother you to know that?" the telepath asked, green boring into violet, "To know that I've had his warm body beneath mine?"

"Shut up!" Aya spat the command, his emotionless mask slipping momentarily, as he tried to push away the images Schuldich's words were invoking.

Schuldich tsked. "My, my, you have such a temper ... Ran."

Aya tensed with the need to decapitate the telepathic bastard, his eyes now slits of amethyst. "Don't call me that."

Schuldich grinned and agilely stepped off of the ledge he'd been standing on. "It's your name, isn't? Why are you so against acknowledging it? Or does it have to do with the fact that your poor little sister doesn't know just how tainted her brother's become?"

Stay in control, Aya told himself, as his temper flared inside of him at the mention of his sister. Don't give him the satisfaction of besting you. It wasn't an easy thing to accomplish however. The bastard was using his powers against him, trying to dig into his mind, looking for a weak spot. Aya took a deep calming breath, willing the mental shields he'd been trained to hone and strengthen to stand firm. That's it. Keep your shields up. Keep them strong, so that you can make the sonofabitch pay for what he's done.

"Impressive," Schuldich said, acknowledging Aya's defenses against his ability. "But using my gift isn't all that I can do." A long blade seemed to materialize in the telepath's hand, and in a blink of an eye, Schuldich lunged right at him.

Metal clashed against metal, the sound of the impact resounding around them, as Aya managed to block Schuldich's attack. He pushed his katana forward, forcing Schuldich to jump away, and swung his arm in a wide arc, aiming for the German's head. Schuldich dodged it, however, using his incredible speed to avoid being sliced in two. But Aya wasn't deterred in the least. He would have Schuldich's head.

Over and over again, Aya swung his blade, his strokes so fast and powerful that the sleek metal hummed through the air. Schuldich was fast though and very adept in using his own blade to block and attack in turn. A sudden kick to his mid-section had Aya falling backwards, but he quickly recovered his balance, once again saving himself from getting gutted, as he managed to block Schuldich's attack. His fist connected with telepath's face, and Aya felt a wave of satisfaction, as Schuldich stumbled a few steps back.

Spitting out blood from his mouth, Schuldich wiped away the blood trailing from his face with his hand, looking at Aya with furious eyes. Good, Aya thought. The bastard was beginning to lose his cool.

"You know, I can easily kill you," Schuldich said, in between breaths. "Shields or no shields, your mind is still fair game."

Aya's eyes narrowed, holding his katana in front of him once again. "Your point?"

Schuldich smirked. "That wouldn't be much fun, to end things so quickly," Evergreen eyes sparkled, "Besides, I want you to die slowly. To suffer as I have."

Schuldich once again lunged at Aya, but was easily blocked. Close enough to see his reflection within Schuldich's eyes, Aya's entire body trembled, as he held the telepath's blade at bay.

"You don't deserve him," Schuldich growled at him, putting more strength into his weapon's descent, pushing against Aya's hold mercilessly. "You've never deserved him."

Muscles bulging beneath his jacket, sweat beginning to bead along face, Aya focused all of his anger and pain into maintaining his hold, using the cluster of emotions to fuel his determination and strength. "And you think that you do?" he managed to ask, as he took a step backward, then forward, trying to sustain his block. "You fucking raped him!"

Schuldich's eyes blazed with fury. He pushed at Aya, sending him back a few steps, and thrust his blade toward him, managing this time to place a shallow cut along Aya's cheek, before his weapon was blocked yet again.

"You don't know a fucking thing about what Yohji and I have shared," the telepath snarled. "At least, I didn't break his heart. Face it, Fujimiya, you fucked up. You threw Yohji away like a piece of trash, and you hate yourself for it," Schuldich grinned, despite his harsh breathing, "And so does Yohji."

"No!" Aya rasped, as he broke off from Schuldich, pushing the other man back enough to land another punch against his enemy's face. His heart was pounding against his heaving chest, and his head felt as if it was about to explode, but Aya refused to comply with his body's demand for a reprieve. His eyes locked onto Schuldich's, sending the German a look of pure hatred. "I may have hurt, Yohji, and I may deserve his hatred, but he still cares for me." Schuldich's eyes narrowed, and Aya honed in on the sudden anger found within the man's green orbs. "He cares for me ... and you know it, don't you? You know that he still loves me."

"Shut the fuck up."

The words were spoken in a low tone, bellying the fury now blazing in Schuldich's gaze, and Aya knew his words had struck home.

Suddenly the German tensed, his eyes becoming almost black, as a look of absolute horror crossed Schuldich's features. "Yohji? Yohji!" the telepath yelled, as he dropped his blade, and raised his hands up to his head, panic widening his eyes.

Fear poured into Aya at the sound of Yohji's name, and he watched in surprise, as Schuldich swayed on his feet. He knew that he should attack, that now would be the perfect opportunity to catch the telepath off guard. But something in Aya told him to stay where he was. What the hell is happening? Was Schuldich somehow linked to Yohji? Was Yohji in danger? Gods, he must be. What else could explain Schuldich's behavior?

Schuldich suddenly pushed past him, causing Aya to stumble, and jumped right into the glass panel Aya had been trying to breech earlier. Shattering glass followed Schuldich's wake, as the telepath landed on his feet and disappeared into the darkened corridor. Aya immediately followed, not caring of the danger he was placing himself in by rushing in after the other man.

Be alright. Just be alright, please, Aya chanted repeatedly, as he followed his enemy into the darkness.

TBC....

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