Fandom: Weiß Kreuz/ Brimstone
Rating: Teen/ PG-13
Warnings: un-beta'd, violence mentioned, possible slash if you squint at it, blatent disregard for established timelines
Blame: My own twisted mind, I suppose
Disclaimer: Weiß doesn't belong to me. If it did, Yohji would be in Side B. Brimstone also doesn't belong to me, because if it did there would have been more than one season, dammit.
Author's Note: This is the third of what will hopefully be 12 fanfics. They'll all be unbeta'd, so please forgive (or point out) any errors that escape me. I'll be fandom hopping over the next 12 days, and ratings will vary. There will be at least one more part to this one, possibly more.
Summary: Farfarello's been missing for a while.
So much time had gone by after the museum's collapse that Schwarz had stopped hoping to find Farfarello. Schuldig knew that the madman had been badly injured, but that was all he knew; the minds of hundreds of panicked, dying people had knocked him unconscious and Nagi had had to pull him to shore. Likewise, Crawford had no knowledge of Farfarello's whereabouts thanks to the myriad of visions that struck him in the fall. Some people had their lives flash before their eyes in deadly situations; Crawford got to see the future, or rather several possible futures.
Schuldig also thought that the white hair was damn sexy, so he didn't pester Crawford as much as he could have about the whole thing, and Farfarello's madness had always made it hard for Crawford to get a lock on him, which Schuldig also couldn't mock much, since Farf's madness stumped him in the same manner. If Farfarello had survived, he would eventually find Schwarz--unless that one nightmare of Schuldig's came true. It was that nightmare where somehow Farf went sane, and settled down with a nice girl to raise good Catholic babies. Schuldig could never get back to sleep after that dream.
Nevertheless, after several months, Schuldig started to believe that either the dream was correct, or Farf was dead. There were ways of getting in touch with the team, and even if the obvious ones like cell phones weren't an option, there were always certain message boards, or safe houses that Farfarello knew off.
Then again, it really was more Farfarello's style to send news of his whereabouts by violently slaughtering a church full of parishioners on Easter Sunday. Schuldig was pissed about the special report interrupting his show--well, he wasn't really watching whatever it was, but he hated special reports on general principle--until he realized what he was seeing. Then, he couldn't drag Crawford to the television fast enough.
Whether by design or coincidence, Farfarello was actually in the same town as Schwarz. They didn't bother taking the car to search the area, though they did bring the straight jacket. Crawford still couldn't see anything, but now that Schuldig concentrated he could catch the faint and bloody mental murmurings of Farf's typical post-kill languor.
It seemed that Farfarello was even more batshit than he had been before, and Schuldig said as much.
Crawford only asked, "Will he want to come with us?"
"Why wouldn't he?" Schuldig couldn't imagine Farfarello not returning to the team. Schwarz was fucking boring without someone to talk to.
"Ask him." Crawford was more tense than he would usually be when reacquiring Berserker, but his mind was locked up tight.
Huffing slightly, Schuldig did as he was told and sent out a wordless mental query.
He was quite gratified to receive back honest delight at the touch. It seemed that Farfarello had missed him as well, or them. Schwarz always was good for wallowing in wickedness.
Without quite using words, since that would lead to reading far more of Farf's mind than Schuldig wanted to, Schuldig asked if he would like to come back to Schwarz. Although he would never admit the thought almost used the concept of "home" rather than Schwarz.
Farfarello thought back with surprising clarity, I won't call you the devil anymore. He has a better fashion sense than you.
Schuldig sent that they would be there soon, but he was sure Farfarello could tell he was miffed.
A few blocks later, they found Farfarello standing in an alley near the town's other church. Under the blood, he seemed to have fewer scars, and he seemed to have dyed his hair. More astonishingly, he had two eyes, but he was still himself in his mind, at least as much as he ever had been.
Crawford spoke first, sounding bored and irritated. "Are you ready to go?"
"Yeah." Farfarello was carefully licking his knife clean. "The sheep know that a wolf is near. Fear will make my prey sweeter."
Schuldig was grinning as he deflected people's attention away from the group for the walk back to the apartment. It was good to have everyone back together. It was good to have someone around who listened to him when he talked.