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The Lifestream

Gundam Wing

Darkness
~~~~~~~~~~

The moment Aya walked through the door, Yohji knew something was wrong.

It wasn't any kind of psychic knowledge; it was just Aya's body language. Of the four of them, Yohji was the most sensitive to the nuances of body talk. Maybe it was because he spent so much time in the clubs, where you could barely hear, and were hard-pressed to smell anything other than cigarette smoke. He'd learned to read people's movements more astutely than he ever let on. And he was particularly sensitive to his teammates.

Aya's body language was all wrong.

It wasn't that he was soaked to the skin and disheveled. They'd all come in looking like that at one time or another after a mission. And it wouldn't be the first time that one of them had run solo. But Yohji knew for a fact that there'd been no mission tonight, nor any assigned within the last couple weeks.

Watching Aya stumble his way across the living room, he realized that Aya hadn't noticed him. Frowning, he studied the redhead. The stiffness of his movement was so totally unlike Aya that it worried him. He debated getting up, or calling out to Aya, but the way he moved suggested that he'd be easily and violently startled.

Startling Aya was not a good idea at the best of times, which this did not seem to be.

So instead Yohji pretended to be absorbed in the book he'd been half-heartedly reading while watching Aya over the top of the paperback. The redhead made his way slowly up the stairs, and Yohji's frown deepened as he realized Aya was almost limping. He waited, listening as a door opened and closed, and nodded to himself as the hiss of water running in the bathroom became audible.

Half an hour later, the water was still running.

Stirring himself from the couch where he'd fallen into a light doze, Yohji yawned, stretched, and ambled up the stairs. The nonchalant front was part act, part habit, even though there was no one there to see him. His pulse was beating a little too fast as he made his way to the bathroom. This was not like Aya at all.

"Aya!" he called, knocking heavily on the door. He got no response. Twisting the doorknob, he opened it a crack.

Steam came spilling out, misting his glasses. "Oi, Aya!" he exclaimed, pushing the door further open.

Stepping into the steam bath, he left the door ajar in the hopes of clearing the air a little. "Aya, c'mon, answer me," he said, approaching the tub.

Still no response. There weren't any clothes scattered on the floor, either. Concern overrode his first reaction, which was a vague sort of anger at Aya for putting him in this position. It ought to be Omi, or Ken; they were the ones who always made their concern for their teammates obvious, even when it wasn't wanted. But both of them were out tonight.

What was it Ken had said before he left? Yohji paused with his hand on the shower curtain. He was pretty sure what he was going to find when he pulled back the curtain, the question was, why? What had happened?

He pulled the curtain back slowly, from the end furthest from the showerhead. Aya was curled up in the tub, arms wrapped around his knees. The water streamed down over his bowed head, flattening his hair to his scalp. And it was definitely hot -- Aya's fair skin had turned a soft shade of red from the heat.

He got freaked out by the soy sauce in the sink, and stalked off into the rain.

Moving to the other end of the tub, he shut off the tap and pushed the curtain out of the way. Aya looked up slowly, as if only the cessation of the water had penetrated his fog.

"'M cold, Yohji," he mumbled.

But what has soy sauce and rain got to do with anything? Yohji wondered, as he reached down and pulled Aya to his feet. He wasn't going to get an answer to that any time soon, though, so he concentrated on helping Aya out of his wet clothes -- which the redhead resisted feebly at first. But Yohji's attentions roused Aya out of his stupor, and he irritably pushed the other man away.

"Aaa, I can undress myself, Yohji," he muttered, scowling.

Stepping back, Yohji folded his arms across his chest and propped one hip against the sink. "Go for it," he said.

Aya fumbled his way out of his shirt and dropped it on the floor. His fingers moved to the button on his jeans, then stopped as he looked up at Yohji. "Do you have to watch?"

Yohji shrugged. "You promise not to try and drown or boil yourself again?"

Aya's scowl deepened, and he swayed a little. "I was cold."

"There are easier ways to get warm," Yohji said, being very careful to keep his expression and tone neutral.

"Get OUT!" Aya snapped.

There were very distinct teeth marks across the top of Aya's shoulder, Yohji noticed. They stood out lividly white against the heat flush of his skin. It didn't take much for Yohji to put two and two together and come up with an answer he didn't think Aya wanted him to have.

Pushing himself away from the sink, he bowed slightly to Aya. "Gomen nasai," he murmured. It gave him some small pleasure to see that Aya was startled by his response as he left the bathroom.

Ken and Omi were just coming up the stairs, which just figured. Maybe he should have left Aya to run the hot water tank empty.

"Is everything alright?" Omi asked, glancing at the bathroom door.

"Aaa... hai," Yohji mumbled, pulling his hand away from the doorknob with a guilty start. The sharp click of the lock being engaged from the inside was suddenly very loud in the hallway. Yohji shrugged, forcing a wry smile to his lips. "Aya forgot to lock the door."

"Oh." Omi studied him for a moment, then glanced at the door. He didn't seem to be buying it.

Yohji pursed his lips and shrugged, trying to look embarrassed. Laying his hand on Omi's shoulder, Ken steered the younger boy down the hall. Ken's dark eyes met Yohji's and Yohji read a question there that he couldn't answer.

"Aya was a bit distracted tonight," Ken said with a shrug. "He'll be alright."

Yohji nodded, stepping aside so the two of them could pass him in the narrow hall. "Did you guys have a good time?"

Omi nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, it was a great movie. Too bad about the rain, though."

"Ah," Yohji replied astutely. He couldn't even remember what the pair had gone to see.

"Oyasuminasai, Yohji-kun!" Omi added brightly as he opened his bedroom door. "I'm sure Aya-kun will be fine in the morning."

Yohji nodded. "G'night, Omi, Ken."

For a moment, Ken hesitated, as if he was going to follow Omi into his bedroom, but then he murmured a good night and stepped back. For an even longer moment, he stood in the hallway, studying Yohji and the bathroom door.

Quirking an eyebrow at him, Yohji repeated: "Good night, Ken."

The dark-haired boy finally nodded, leaving his questions unasked. "Good night, Yohji."

And then Yohji was alone in the hallway. He debated heading down to the living room again, but decided he was too tired even to watch TV. He wasn't going to sleep until he heard Aya come out of the bathroom, he knew, but he could at least get comfortable while he waited.

Aya got fucked, he thought bemusedly, moving to his own room. He really wasn't sure what to make of that, and told himself sternly that his vague feeling of disappointment was completely irrational.

~*~*~

Damn Yohji! Damn him and his meddling, prying, damn knowing looks!

Aya kept up the litany of silent curses as he dried himself furiously. He'd heard the whole exchange in the hallway. He'd locked the door and then found himself too dizzy to move for a moment, so had leaned his head against the slightly damp wood and waited. Oh, yes, he'd heard it all and, as innocuous as it had sounded, he still hated the fact that Yohji was covering up for him.

Wringing the water out of his hair, he tried to ignore the various aches and protests of his body. He knew he was being irrational to focus on being angry at Yohji to keep himself from thinking about other things, but that wasn't going to stop him.

There are other ways to get warm.

He sneered at the memory of Yohji's words, angry at himself for having been startled by them. Yohji didn't know anything, he couldn't, and he would never understand even if he did know.

...no one will ever understand you... not like I do.

Schuldich's words echoed in his head, and he shivered violently. Wrapping the towel around his waist, he unlocked the bathroom door and swung it open so hard it slammed against the wall. He didn't particularly care if it woke everyone up. He didn't care about much of anything, except getting to bed, and staying there for as long as he could.

And so it just figured when, a scant four hours later, Ken pounded on his door, saying something about a call from Persia. Aya just about told him where to shove it, but thought twice about it and crawled out of bed. A new mission would keep them all busy -- and especially keep the others from wondering about him. Throwing on a pair of jeans and his favourite orange turtleneck sweater, he yelled a reply at Ken, which was enough to stop the incessant pounding on his door. The pounding in his head was another matter, but he'd just have to live with that for now.

Not surprisingly, he wasn't the last to reach the basement debriefing room. Yohji was. As usual. Aya pointedly ignored him as he strolled into the room and took up a casual backwards seat on a wooden chair. Aya settled on the couch, resisted the urge to rub his aching head, and waited.

The light dimmed as Manx entered the room, and the familiar outline of Persia glowed to life on the screen at the front of the room. Aya put everything else aside and listened. The mission Persia outlined was nothing out of the ordinary. Intelligence agents had discovered a new warehouse of Takatori's. Probably stolen goods or drugs, as usual. And there'd be a computer, linked to Takatori's system, which Bombay was to hack. Gather as much intel as possible and close the place down. It was all very boringly status quo.

Or at least it was until Persia's closing comments.

"Be on your guard. Schwarz members have been seen in the area recently, and are likely to be covertly guarding the warehouse. We haven't been able to confirm their involvement, but Schuldich and Naoe Nagi have been sighted.

"White hunters --"

Aya didn't hear the rest. He was already up off the couch and headed for the door.

~*~*~

Yohji watched Aya stalk out of the room, trying to keep his eyebrows from betraying his surprise. Manx had details for their mission, which he duly absorbed, but the larger part of his attention was spent on speculation. When Manx finally asked if Abyssinian was in or out on this one, Yohji exchanged a glance with Ken and both shrugged.

"Soy sauce," Ken murmured.

Manx didn't inquire further.

Yohji's part of the mission was to determine if Schwarz were indeed hovering around. It should have been Aya's job, as he was the best at such stalk and survey tactics, but who knew if he was even going to get involved in this mission. A certain part of Yohji's mind relished the challenge, but he couldn't help thinking it was more than a little futile. If Persia's intelligence network couldn't figure it out....

Shaking his head, he followed Ken and Omi from the room.

In the meantime, though, life went on. There was the flowershop to open, and tend all day, and since Aya had disappeared, Yohji was hard-pressed to find time to even think while he was working. At the end of the day, the usual gaggle of school girls piled into the store, chattering like magpies. As distracted as he was, Yohji hardly paid any attention to them, which only fueled their gossip. It was a distinct relief when Ken closed and locked the shop door, and the three of them retreated to the quiet of the apartment.

"If I was a Schwarz guy, where would I be?" Yohji murmured, an hour or so later, as he preened in front of a mirror. He knew where Schuldich might be; he knew which clubs the redhead was rumored to frequent, just as he was sure Schuldich knew Yohji's favourite haunts. On any given night -- if Schwarz happened to be in town, that was -- they'd be certain to avoid each other, being off-duty and uncaring. It was a kind of hunter's pride that kept them from making easy prey of each other as they socialized. Live and let live, maybe. His teammates might hate him for it, if they knew, but on the other hand, he'd never actually proved himself right or wrong about Schuldich's night-clubbing habits, so it might all be idle speculation anyway.

Time to change that.

Finding Nagi would have to wait. If anyone could find him, it would probably be Omi, bumping into him on the Net. But Schuldich.... He could find Schuldich.

And then what? he wondered.

Straightening the lapels of his velvet jacket, he shrugged and smiled at his reflection. "It's just reconnaissance," he said, turning away. "Just a fact-finding mission."

He hoped to God that Schuldich would play by that rule. He had no intention of dying tonight.

~*~*~

The problem with hunting someone through various nightclubs, Yohji realized much later that night, was that you didn't get to enjoy the nightlife. And that was a real shame. He'd been forced to decline the advances of several beautiful young ladies tonight, and all for what? An hour until closing time for most of the clubs, and he still hadn't found even a rumour of the redhead.

Nursing a beer, and not his first, Yohji sighed. So maybe he'd been a little... over confident to think that he'd find Schuldich so easily. After all, if Schwarz were guarding Takatori's operation, then Schuldich should be working, not lazing around some bar. In theory. Just like he should be working, which he was, in theory. It would have been easier if he'd had something like an actual lead to go on. Aya would have found one, he thought with something bordering on resentment.

The air around him shifted as the occupant of the bar stool beside him left, and was replaced. His curiosity stirred vaguely, but he couldn't quite bring himself to turn and check out the newcomer.

"Well, well, well..." the stranger drawled, sending shivers along Yohji's spine. "What have we here? Another little lost flower boy, I see."

Yohji turned slowly, his fingers tightening around his beer mug. The man beside him smirked, brushing back a strand of crimson hair. "Schuldich," he murmured, too surprised to find a witty rejoinder.

"There's a rumour floating around that you've been looking for a particular redhead all night, Kudou." Reaching into his jacket, Schuldich pulled out a thin silver cigarette case. His smirk turned into a smug but inquisitive look as Yohji reached reflexively for his watch, turning the motion into a nervous fiddling. "Now would that be me, or are you finally confessing to your obsession with Abyssinian?" Taking out a cigarette, he snapped the case shut again, his eyes never leaving Yohji's.

Obsession? As if. He almost rose to Schuldich's bait, opened his mouth to reply, and thought better of it. Get it together, Yohji grumbled to himself, forcing his eyes away from Schuldich's. "You shouldn't trust rumours, Schwarz. They tend to omit things." It was rather annoying that Schuldich hadn't offered him a smoke as well. Now he had to dig in his own pockets to find one, and a light.

"Such as what, Balinese? That you were looking for a female redhead?" Schuldich laughed harshly, the sound as dark and smoky as the air around them.

Yohji shrugged, lighting his cigarette and tucking the lighter back into a pocket without offering it to Schuldich, who still held his cigarette unlit. "Could be," he drawled.

"That would be terribly... disappointing."

Caught in the middle of a long-drawn breath, Yohji coughed, spewing smoke in several directions. Without seeming to cross the space between, Schuldich moved from his bar stool to stand behind Yohji, rubbing his back as Yohji cleared the smoke from his lungs rather ungracefully.

"Get... away..." Yohji gasped, waving a hand rather uselessly in Schuldich's direction.

"Why?" the redhead murmured, pressing closer against his back. "Isn't this what you wanted? You were looking for me, after all."

Crushing out his cigarette in a nearby ashtray, Yohji cleared his throat one last time and straightened up. "You think an awful lot of yourself, Schwarz -- "

not half so much as Aya does

"-- if you really believe I have nothing better to do with...." Yohji blinked, pushed his foot against the bar hard enough to spin his stool sideways and almost hit Schuldich with his knee as he turned. "What did you say?"

Schuldich quirked an eyebrow at him, stepping out of his way. "What did you hear?"

That wasn't an answer, obviously, and it neither confirmed nor denied that he'd spoken. "Doesn't matter," Yohji growled.

you don't understand him

The music was too loud, the lights pulsing from the dance floor suddenly too bright, and his many drinks caught up with him in a roaring rush. He tried to get to his feet, thinking it was time to get some fresh air, but swayed, dizzy and off-balance, and found himself leaning against Schuldich.

"I think you're a little drunker than you realize, little flower boy," Schuldich whispered, his breath hot against Yohji's cheek.

A haze of mirrors and light clouded his brain. Half-closing his eyes, Yohji let Schuldich lead him away from the bar. The music was beating against his skull, threatening to drown him in noise, but it was the unending flicker of lights that was truly painful. Much more of this and he'd have a spontaneous migraine. If he could just find a dark, quiet, spot....

So that's what you want, is it, Yohji?

"What?" he muttered, peering through barely open eyes. He turned at the insistent pressure of a hand on his shoulder, and found a wall behind him. With a sigh of relief, he leaned against it, letting his eyes fall closed. His brain felt heavy, sluggish, and his body was worse, not willing to do anything beyond holding the wall up.

Someone was pressing up against him, lips hot and hungry against his, and he'd forgotten who it was, but did it matter? He came to these places to get laid anyway, to leave it all behind for a while. To find --

...darkness.

Yes, darkness. Because in the dark there was no judgment of him, no right or wrong. Blind as a newborn kitten, he could forget all the things he'd seen, all the things he'd never wanted to see... all the death, and his part in it.

Hands were unbuttoning his pants, tugging down the zipper, freeing him from the confines of the tight leather. Some small spark of irritation flared in him, but was crushed under the weight of... something in his brain. It was black as night in this club, and what did it matter who saw him, if he didn't see?

so that's why you wear the sunglasses...

Yes, that too. He could hide behind their smoky surfaces, leaving others guessing as to what he could and couldn't see. And if he couldn't see....

then it's not your fault.

Something hot, wet, deep... someone's mouth, closed around him, and he shuddered pleasantly. It felt so good, so sweet. The gentle steady sucking was both soothing and arousing, like a dream, but more solid, more real. Reaching down, he tangled his fingers in hair -- red hair, it had to be, even if he couldn't, wouldn't, see it.

"Aya," he breathed, leaning into that delicious mouth that threatened to devour him. Because in the darkness was the only place it could be Aya. He wouldn't let himself even think of wanting this in the light of day.

Laughter rippled through him, sending colour momentarily through the darkness, and he shied away from it. He wanted to disappear into this endless night, be swallowed up by darkness, never again face the light of his mistakes and failures. And that mouth, that tongue flickering along his skin, those teeth nipping gently in all the right places... he wanted that to go on and on and on....

With a soft aching cry, he came, and collapsed against the wall. His arms fell loosely by his sides, fingers already forgetting the feel of red between them.

light always betrays the darkness

Gentle fingers tucked him back into his clothes, zipped and buttoned his pants. A warm mouth, tasting faintly of cigarettes and strongly of sex, pressed against his, and he parted his lips beneath a probing tongue. The kiss was short though, and he struggled to open his eyes as it ended.

Light stabbed his eyes, blinding him, and he blinked away tears from the wounding brightness. In the watery haze, red hair swam before him. But as his vision cleared, he realized the cut was all wrong, the length misleading. And the eyes framed by that hair... were green.

His stomach turned a slow, rolling flip as his mouth dried out and disgust roiled through him.

Schuldich smiled. "Enjoy what's left of your... night, flower boy," he said. And then he turned and faded into the crowd before Yohji could find words to stop him.

Staggering toward the closest door, Yohji managed to make it outside before his stomach completely rebelled and made him quietly sick in the alley.