Notes: This is something of a "behind-the-scenes" fic, showing you the stuff that
happens to the characters when they're not onscreen. The stuff you don't see. This
one's pretty short, too, more of a ficlet than a real fic. It was just kind of a whim,
and has no real point except to stick another little scene into episode 13. Not
much in it to rate, either... it's got extremely mild shounen-ai, but I guess it
might be PG13 for language. Schuldich in pain does not have a clean vocabulary ^_^ As always,
I don't own Crawford, Schuldich, Nagi or Farfarello, or any of the cast of Weiß, as much
as I'd like to. I certainly don't own evil smelly old Takatoriiiiii ^^; This is a non-profit, uh,
thing.
Definitely not good...
Schuldich slammed into the carpet, wondering through the blinding pain why that damned annoying ringing in his head wouldn't go away. He vaguely noticed, with some aggravation, that Farfarello didn't seem to be minding this nearly as much as he was...
A blurring and wavering Takatori stood over him, golf club raised to strike again. "Why? Why did you kill Ouka? She was my most valuable treasure!" He brought the club down, connecting with Schuldich and sending him sprawling again, then swinging around to hit the unmoving Farfarello across the face. "You bastards killed her!" He was angrier than they had ever seen him before, and it was not a pleasant sight. He drew back again, preparing to properly crush their skulls this time, and grunted in surprise as the club jerked in his fists. Takatori whirled, glaring murder at Crawford, who had caught the club firmly in one hand. His voice was level as usual.
"Mister Takatori. You are mistaken in who you should hate."
"What?!" Takatori snapped.
"We didn't kill your precious daughter."
Takatori snarled, giving the club another tug. Crawford didn't let go. "Excuses won't work with me, Crawford."
"Weiß is the cause of all this. If you're going to hate someone, hate them." Crawford's voice retained the same level tone, with only a tinge of authority that irked Takatori.
"Weiß?"
From behind them, Nagi leaned in and added softly, "They are powerful..."
Crawford let go of the golf club, satisfied that they had won and it would be of no more harm. Takatori had retreated back into his world of anger and revenge, this time his wrath focused elsewhere. "Weiß!" He turned and stalked out of the room, leaving the door open behind him.
Crawford wordlessly turned to his two abused partners. Farfarello stood, swaying a little, but otherwise seemed unaffected. He smiled slightly, licking blood off his lip.
Schuldich tried to raise himself off the floor and collapsed back, swearing. With a small gesture, Crawford motioned to Nagi. The boy moved across the room, and lifting one hand, brought Schuldich hovering a few feet off the ground. "Lie still," Nagi said calmly, and the four of them, one staggering and one floating, headed out into the hallway.
* * * *
In the room of stars there were many adjacent chambers, and in one Schuldich lay, squirming in pain and in a very foul mood. Crawford sat by the side of the bed with a first aid kit, expressionlessly cleaning the various wounds on Schuldich's body while the other man ranted.
"That bastard! If Takatori cared anything for that stupid Weiß brat of his, I'd kill him, too, just to piss him off! Hell, I'd-- Ow! That frigging hurt!"
"You don't appear to enjoy what happened when you pissed him off this time," Crawford replied simply.
Schuldich glared at him. "Well, I-- OW! Dammit, you prick! Just leave me alone!"
Crawford drew back, regarding him coolly. "Do you want them to get infected?"
"They won't get infected," Schuldich said petulantly.
"How can you be so sure?" Crawford leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. "I can see you a few days from now, lying in bed, unable to stand, eat... have sex... screw with people's minds..."
"You can't lie to me, Crawford. I can read your mind, remember? And besides, you can't see farther into the future than a few minutes."
Crawford shrugged. "Think what you like." Schuldich made a grab for the first aid kit, lunging clumsily and swearing in pain again.
"Dammit, gimme that! I'll do it myself!"
"Go ahead." Crawford stood, dropped the kit onto the blanket, and left the room, shutting the door with rather more force than was necessary.
In the room of stars, Nagi typed away at his computer. He didn't look up when Crawford entered. "How's Schuldich?" he asked, not sounding terribly interested in the answer.
Crawford leaned against the wall. "He's worse than a three-year-old." For the first time some semblance of irritation crept into his voice.
Nagi looked over, halting his telekinetic typing. "That's right. He's a three-year-old with a strong adult body, raging hormones, and the ability to read your mind."
Crawford made an unidentifiable noise of frustration and glanced around the room. "Where's Farfarello?"
"I don't know... off somewhere licking his wounds, I shouldn't wonder. I offered to help, but you know how he is about pain." Nagi tipped his chair back on two legs, waving a hand abstractly. "'If my pain hurts God, then I want to be in as much pain as possible,'" he quoted. He glanced over at Crawford again, raising an eyebrow. "That was pretty smart thinking, you getting Reiji to transfer the blame from us to Weiß."
The older man shrugged. "Of course I know that Ouka's death was our fault, but this serves our purpose. Still, I abhor working for such an idiotic person. A man who is so uncreative as to take out his anger on his underlings with a golf club is someone we shouldn't be wasting our talents on."
Nagi had known Schwarz's leader for a long time, and the average person would never have noticed it... but he could tell now that Crawford was extremely pissed off. He was about to say something more when a shout of pain came from the other room, followed by a string of swearing in multiple languages.
"Your three-year-old is calling."
Crawford rolled his eyes and opened the door. Schuldich was lying on the bed with one leg outside the blanket, holding the sides of his head with both hands. Crawford entered, shutting the door behind him.
"What happened?"
"Shit... I was trying to get at that cut on my leg and I guess I sat up to fast. God, it feels like someone's got my head in a clamp..."
Crawford picked up the first aid kit and, sitting down, resumed cleaning the gash on Schuldich's thigh. "You did just get knocked around with a golf club. You can't expect to spring right back." Schuldich moaned irritably, squeezing his eyes shut. A few minutes passed in silence.
"Schuldich."
"Nng... yeah?"
"I'm going to open my mind to you. I want you to try to read my thoughts."
Schuldich opened one eye, surprised enough to ignore the pain for a moment. Out of everyone he'd ever known, Crawford had the best-guarded mind. The times that Schuldich had gotten even a glimmer of what he was thinking were few and far between... and now Crawford was asking him to reach into his thoughts? He was a little skeptical. No, he was extremely skeptical. But chances like this didn't come along every day... He raised his head a little.
"Why, what do you-- Augh! Shit!!" he reeled back again, clutching at his head.
"I suspected as much..." Crawford said. "The blows to your head must have made your brain swell enough to inhibit your powers of telepathy." Schuldich grumbled incoherently. "I guess the rest of us will have a few days' vacation from having to guard our thoughts."
"Crawford, your compassion overwhelms me."
"... And that means you were bluffing."
"Eh?"
"You can't read my mind without being in severe pain, so there is no way you could have known whether I was telling the truth about your wounds getting infected."
Schuldich ground his palms into his eyes. "Well, you were bluffing, too. I know you can't see that far into the future."
Crawford shrugged again, dismissively. In silence, he moved on to another set of bruises.
"Crawford..."
"What."
"Take your glasses off."
"If I take my glasses off, I can't see to treat your wounds," Crawford replied seamlessly.
"Then quit treating them for a second. Take your glasses off."
Crawford paused, smoothing a piece of medical tape over the gauze on Schuldich's leg, and then sat back in his chair. He didn't know quite how it happened, but the next moment his glasses were in his hand, Schuldich was slightly blurry, and he felt like a complete idiot.
Schuldich opened both eyes. "You know, you're pretty cute. Now if I could just get you to loosen up..."
On the other side of the wall, Nagi scratched the back of his head. Schuldich didn't need telepathy to screw with people's minds.
~End~
Definitely not good...
Schuldich slammed into the carpet, wondering through the blinding pain why that damned annoying ringing in his head wouldn't go away. He vaguely noticed, with some aggravation, that Farfarello didn't seem to be minding this nearly as much as he was...
A blurring and wavering Takatori stood over him, golf club raised to strike again. "Why? Why did you kill Ouka? She was my most valuable treasure!" He brought the club down, connecting with Schuldich and sending him sprawling again, then swinging around to hit the unmoving Farfarello across the face. "You bastards killed her!" He was angrier than they had ever seen him before, and it was not a pleasant sight. He drew back again, preparing to properly crush their skulls this time, and grunted in surprise as the club jerked in his fists. Takatori whirled, glaring murder at Crawford, who had caught the club firmly in one hand. His voice was level as usual.
"Mister Takatori. You are mistaken in who you should hate."
"What?!" Takatori snapped.
"We didn't kill your precious daughter."
Takatori snarled, giving the club another tug. Crawford didn't let go. "Excuses won't work with me, Crawford."
"Weiß is the cause of all this. If you're going to hate someone, hate them." Crawford's voice retained the same level tone, with only a tinge of authority that irked Takatori.
"Weiß?"
From behind them, Nagi leaned in and added softly, "They are powerful..."
Crawford let go of the golf club, satisfied that they had won and it would be of no more harm. Takatori had retreated back into his world of anger and revenge, this time his wrath focused elsewhere. "Weiß!" He turned and stalked out of the room, leaving the door open behind him.
Crawford wordlessly turned to his two abused partners. Farfarello stood, swaying a little, but otherwise seemed unaffected. He smiled slightly, licking blood off his lip.
Schuldich tried to raise himself off the floor and collapsed back, swearing. With a small gesture, Crawford motioned to Nagi. The boy moved across the room, and lifting one hand, brought Schuldich hovering a few feet off the ground. "Lie still," Nagi said calmly, and the four of them, one staggering and one floating, headed out into the hallway.
In the room of stars there were many adjacent chambers, and in one Schuldich lay, squirming in pain and in a very foul mood. Crawford sat by the side of the bed with a first aid kit, expressionlessly cleaning the various wounds on Schuldich's body while the other man ranted.
"That bastard! If Takatori cared anything for that stupid Weiß brat of his, I'd kill him, too, just to piss him off! Hell, I'd-- Ow! That frigging hurt!"
"You don't appear to enjoy what happened when you pissed him off this time," Crawford replied simply.
Schuldich glared at him. "Well, I-- OW! Dammit, you prick! Just leave me alone!"
Crawford drew back, regarding him coolly. "Do you want them to get infected?"
"They won't get infected," Schuldich said petulantly.
"How can you be so sure?" Crawford leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. "I can see you a few days from now, lying in bed, unable to stand, eat... have sex... screw with people's minds..."
"You can't lie to me, Crawford. I can read your mind, remember? And besides, you can't see farther into the future than a few minutes."
Crawford shrugged. "Think what you like." Schuldich made a grab for the first aid kit, lunging clumsily and swearing in pain again.
"Dammit, gimme that! I'll do it myself!"
"Go ahead." Crawford stood, dropped the kit onto the blanket, and left the room, shutting the door with rather more force than was necessary.
In the room of stars, Nagi typed away at his computer. He didn't look up when Crawford entered. "How's Schuldich?" he asked, not sounding terribly interested in the answer.
Crawford leaned against the wall. "He's worse than a three-year-old." For the first time some semblance of irritation crept into his voice.
Nagi looked over, halting his telekinetic typing. "That's right. He's a three-year-old with a strong adult body, raging hormones, and the ability to read your mind."
Crawford made an unidentifiable noise of frustration and glanced around the room. "Where's Farfarello?"
"I don't know... off somewhere licking his wounds, I shouldn't wonder. I offered to help, but you know how he is about pain." Nagi tipped his chair back on two legs, waving a hand abstractly. "'If my pain hurts God, then I want to be in as much pain as possible,'" he quoted. He glanced over at Crawford again, raising an eyebrow. "That was pretty smart thinking, you getting Reiji to transfer the blame from us to Weiß."
The older man shrugged. "Of course I know that Ouka's death was our fault, but this serves our purpose. Still, I abhor working for such an idiotic person. A man who is so uncreative as to take out his anger on his underlings with a golf club is someone we shouldn't be wasting our talents on."
Nagi had known Schwarz's leader for a long time, and the average person would never have noticed it... but he could tell now that Crawford was extremely pissed off. He was about to say something more when a shout of pain came from the other room, followed by a string of swearing in multiple languages.
"Your three-year-old is calling."
Crawford rolled his eyes and opened the door. Schuldich was lying on the bed with one leg outside the blanket, holding the sides of his head with both hands. Crawford entered, shutting the door behind him.
"What happened?"
"Shit... I was trying to get at that cut on my leg and I guess I sat up to fast. God, it feels like someone's got my head in a clamp..."
Crawford picked up the first aid kit and, sitting down, resumed cleaning the gash on Schuldich's thigh. "You did just get knocked around with a golf club. You can't expect to spring right back." Schuldich moaned irritably, squeezing his eyes shut. A few minutes passed in silence.
"Schuldich."
"Nng... yeah?"
"I'm going to open my mind to you. I want you to try to read my thoughts."
Schuldich opened one eye, surprised enough to ignore the pain for a moment. Out of everyone he'd ever known, Crawford had the best-guarded mind. The times that Schuldich had gotten even a glimmer of what he was thinking were few and far between... and now Crawford was asking him to reach into his thoughts? He was a little skeptical. No, he was extremely skeptical. But chances like this didn't come along every day... He raised his head a little.
"Why, what do you-- Augh! Shit!!" he reeled back again, clutching at his head.
"I suspected as much..." Crawford said. "The blows to your head must have made your brain swell enough to inhibit your powers of telepathy." Schuldich grumbled incoherently. "I guess the rest of us will have a few days' vacation from having to guard our thoughts."
"Crawford, your compassion overwhelms me."
"... And that means you were bluffing."
"Eh?"
"You can't read my mind without being in severe pain, so there is no way you could have known whether I was telling the truth about your wounds getting infected."
Schuldich ground his palms into his eyes. "Well, you were bluffing, too. I know you can't see that far into the future."
Crawford shrugged again, dismissively. In silence, he moved on to another set of bruises.
"Crawford..."
"What."
"Take your glasses off."
"If I take my glasses off, I can't see to treat your wounds," Crawford replied seamlessly.
"Then quit treating them for a second. Take your glasses off."
Crawford paused, smoothing a piece of medical tape over the gauze on Schuldich's leg, and then sat back in his chair. He didn't know quite how it happened, but the next moment his glasses were in his hand, Schuldich was slightly blurry, and he felt like a complete idiot.
Schuldich opened both eyes. "You know, you're pretty cute. Now if I could just get you to loosen up..."
On the other side of the wall, Nagi scratched the back of his head. Schuldich didn't need telepathy to screw with people's minds.
~End~