Linkage:
Night ~ 2
~~~~~~~~~~
Fire crackled toward him, immobilizing him. He hated fire, hated the brilliance exposing him, blinding him. Time froze, his imagination slipping into fast-forward, gracing him with scenes of flames snapping up his pant legs, feasting on his jacket, crisping his flesh beneath to the texture of a sunburn, a roast, a charcoal briquette.
He was going to die here.
"Hey, Yohji! Stay with me, ok?"
But Aya was there, still alive, and that was what mattered. With a quick, nervous toss of his head, he broke the hypnotic grip of the flame and stepped forward, out of its path.
He had to give Aya his sword, had to give him the chance to fight back against the seductive Schuldich. Aya with sword in hand was a different Aya. A powerful Aya. An Aya he could believe in, trust...
love....
Schuldich tsked, shaking his head. "You were supposed to use the other door, flower-boy. Don't be difficult."
"... don't be difficult..."
"What? Yohji, I can't hear you. But keep talking, okay? Stay with me."
But the fire got him anyway, bit deep into his shoulder, sent tongues of flame flicking through him, consuming him from the inside. He hadn't expected Schuldich to have a gun... hadn't thought.... He must have turned his brain off back in the bar, in the darkness. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
His body carried him forward, stumbling, Aya's sword twisting in his grip and tangling in his legs. Clutching at his shoulder, he fell. He barely felt the impact of the concrete floor; his world was consumed in a blaze of fiery pain.
"Dammit, Schwartz..."
Time hopscotched around him, throwing stilted, disconnected images back and forth like children's bean bags. Schuldich's gun fired endless rounds, driving a single bullet deeper and deeper through him, through his heart. And around him the inferno blazed, scorching, melting the flesh from his bones. He might have tried to scream but the sound escaped him, staggered drunkenly ahead or behind the scenes in his mind. Only one word mattered anyway. One word that could change the course of time, rearrange the jumble of reality.
"Aya..." he whispered. Aya...
Aya and Schuldich, locked in some wordless conversation. If he didn't do something, anything, he might lose Aya to Schwartz forever. He could see -- through soot-smeared eyes, through the flashes of fire on his glasses -- see how Aya was torn, and though he might never understand the reasons (...never understand him the way I do...), he knew there was a choice being made. Aya's sword thrummed against his hand and Yohji frowned at it as Aya frowned at Schuldich.
Pushing himself mostly upright, he drew the sword from its scabbard. It sang softly, whispering death in a language all its own.
"Aya..."
And somewhere, somehow, he found the strength to throw the sword across the short, immeasurable distance that separated them. Aya turned, and reached, and the sword fell into his hand like it was meant to be there. He collapsed, eyes falling shut against the fire, the night, the pain, but not caring because Aya's words caressed his ears like the sweetest promise a lover ever whispered.
"...I fight for Weiss..."
He'd won.
Darkness stretched out its arms, beckoning, and Yohji fell gladly its embrace.
~*~*~
"He'll live," the doctor declared.
Ken nodded tightly, eyes red-rimmed from lack of sleep. Beside him, Omi slumped bonelessly into a chair.
"There was a name he said a couple of times," the doctor continued. "I believe it was 'Aya'."
Ken and Omi exchanged glances that were not half as surprised as they might have been a few days ago.
"I didn't see the name on his chart. Is that someone that should be contacted?"
"Uh, no," Ken stammered. "No, it's okay."
For a moment, the doctor frowned and looked like he might push the issue. But he shrugged. "Anyway, you might as well go home. He won't be awake for a day at least." The doctor studied them both until Ken finally found his brain and thanked him. With a nod and a tired smile, the doctor walked away.
Omi was watching Aya, curled up asleep on a loveseat across from them. "I don't get it," he said softly.
Ken was too tired to laugh, but he smiled. "I don't think we're supposed to. The important part is that Yohji's alive, and Aya's still on our side."
"But... why?"
Shaking his head, Ken forced himself to his feet. "I don't think it really matters, Omi-kun. C'mon, let's go home."
Aya opened his eyes as Ken stepped over to his chair. Before he even sat up, he said quietly, "He'll live. That's all that matters." Pushing himself up out of the loveseat, he brushed past the startled Ken and headed for the door to the parking garage.
Omi and Ken followed his lead silently.
All fiction © 2002-2005 Tavam Shaytar