|
Shades of Grey part 3 Everything was exactly the same. Ken felt a rush of sadness as he looked around the briefing room. So many things had been decided here - it had played host to so many pivotal moments in their lives. Moving stealthily through the dimly lit room, he felt as if he had been away for years, not just days. He found his favorite chair and sat down to await the return of Weiss. No one had been in the shop or the rest of the building, leaving him to wonder where they were. The funeral had ended hours ago. < I just have to be patient.> Once they returned, he planned to inform his friends about the next night. If things went accordingly, Schwarz's plans would be thwarted and Schwarz itself may meet its end. Yet...yet the thought of destroying Schwarz left Ken feeling rather uneasy. Nagi, Crawford, and even Farfarello had more to their characters than what he had originally thought. The past several days had enlightened him: Nagi was a good kid, making the best of the decisions offered to him. Farfarello may be crazy but he possessed such conviction in his beliefs that it was almost admirable. And Crawford... what could he say about their leader? Crawford was a man who didn't believe in lowering his standards to sub-par - he wanted to appear infallible, perfect, even when Ken know he wasn't. A shuffling on the stairs caught Ken's attention. Looking up, he saw Omi slowly making his way down the steps. Eyes adjusted to the darkness, Ken noticed everything about his friend. Omi, however, was at a disadvantage, not even noticing the figure in the corner of the room. The boy made his way over to the light switch but for some inexplicable reason, Ken didn't want to be seen, not like this, and not by one of his best friends. "Please, don't." The disembodied voice caused Omi to pause. His stance took on a cautionary pose, ready to attack whoever was lurking in the darkness. His eyes scanned the room, eventually coming to a stop in Ken's general direction. "Who's there?" He was frightened, Ken knew, but Omi would never show it, not in body language nor tone. "I'm here to help." "Who are you?" Ken was surprised the usually bright Weiss member didn't recognized Schuldich's voice. "Schwarz is making a drop off midnight tomorrow at Syntech labs. Make sure Weiss is there if you want to get them." Ken rose, suddenly uncomfortable with the thought of Schwarz's demise and eager to leave. "Why should I believe you? I don't know who you are, what you want, why you - " "Do it for Ken then." Those words silenced the younger boy. Ken had to get out of here before his plans for the next night were ruined. He needed to be with Schwarz for his idea to work. But more importantly, he wanted to get away from the familiarity that surrounded him; something wasn't right, something had changed and he was beginning to suspect that it might be him. Using his now-mastered mind-blocking technique, Ken left, not bothering to look back at the still form of the friend he left behind. ~*~*~*~*~ "Who are you?" Those words, spoken without inflection or expression, roused Ken from his half-sleep. Wide awake now, he sat up in his bed and stared down at the man lying beside him. Their eyes briefly met, nothing but glints in the darkness, but Ken quickly looked away. "What do you mean?" "Who are you?" The same words, with the same deadpan tone, from Crawford's supine form. "I don't know what you're talking about." "I think you do. You're not Schuldich. Who are you?" Silence. Ken stared straight ahead, afraid that his actions in the next few moments would greatly alter the events of the next day. But was that so bad? Perhaps things would turn out better than he had originally planned. Better? What would be better? For Schwarz to get away? For him to fail in the task he had set for himself? Ken mentally shook himself. "Well?" "How did you know?" Ken replied with the same tone. "Answer my question first." "Hidaka Ken." Ken couldn't see Crawford's reaction but he sensed that it definitely wasn't one of surprise. In fact, the thoughts in his mind were more those of confirmation. "How did you know?" The American emitted a soft chuckle and sat up as well. "How? That was simple. Your innocence and naïveté spoke volumes, Ken. And as for when, the first night we had sex. The real Schuldich could never duplicate your purity nor would he ever have submitted as easily as you did." "Then why have you not killed me? Or revealed me? Or do whatever it is you do with spies." Oddly, there was no panic in Ken's voice, only acceptance. A pause. And then the older man spoke. "Why didn't I kill you? I don't know. I think I fell in love with you." Ken quickly turned his head and stared at his bedmate with astonishment. "No, that's not it," Crawford continued. "I think I fell in love with your innocence. It's so rare, your bright-eyed views of the world, that I found myself wanting to possess it, even for a little while." Ken continued to stare at the American, unsure of what to feel. Should he be flattered? Angry? Scared? He was speechless. "So what do you plan to do now?" Crawford asked. "Tomorrow's events haven't been written in stone yet."
"Weiss knows of tomorrow's plans. It's going to be a trap. I know what they're planning to do; all I had to do was lead Schwarz straight into it."
Crawford smiled, not one of derision, mockery, or superiority, but one of genuine amusement. He shook his head, as if unbelieving of Ken's plan.
"What's so amusing?"
"You. You are so pure in your way of thinking. Weiss is good, Schwarz is bad and nothing in the middle lies. You are naïve." Crawford paused, searching for the right words. "It's really paradoxical when you think about it, about what you are, and what you do. You are an assassin, and yet, when you kill, you believe you are justified in what you're doing, because you are good, and the one you're killing is evil. But you're still killing, aren't you? Taking a person's life... is that considered good? Not everything is right or wrong, good or bad, black or white. Haven't you ever considered the shades of grey in between? Do you even think that those embryos they're manipulating would even have a chance at life if it weren't for science? They'd just remain unfertilized eggs, nothing more than waste. And yet, you're so convinced that you're in the right."
"Then what is right? You tell me! How are you such an expert that you know what I believe?" Ken retorted, unable to hold in his frustration and uncertainty of the past several day any longer.
"I'm not an expert but I've lived, Ken. And I've seen. There is no definite line between right and wrong. What is right, for what I believe it's worth, is one's ability to follow their convictions, to follow what they believe in, be it viewed as good or bad by others."
Ken didn't want to stay here any longer. Anger and frustration over the past week's situation had been pent up too long. He had to get away. Rising from the bed, he grabbed his clothes off the desk chair where he had carelessly dropped it earlier and left the room.
Yes, he was running away again. It seemed that he was forever running away, especially when everything he had held as truth, when every ideal he had used as a guide in life was questioned or destroyed. But what else was he supposed to do? What could he do?
~*~*~*~*~
The dark stillness was suffocating, restricting one's actions and thoughts for fear of being seen or heard when one desired otherwise. No sound, no light, no sense of one's existence within such a void. And thus, Ken waited, waited for Schwarz to show as he held his borrowed body in the shadowed entrance of Syntech. He didn't know what he was doing anymore; he had just switched his mind over to auto-pilot for the last twenty hours and resigned himself to the fact that whatever results came from this night were meant to be. Closing his eyes, he sensed three distinct minds wandering through the building, their thoughts narrowly focused on their respective duties - Weiss was here.
And so was Schwarz. Ken heard them now, their muffled shuffling easily discernable in the still air. Taking a deep breath, Ken moved to meet them. Farfarello and Nagi briefly looked at him but continued walking as if this rendezvous with their missing fourth member had been pre-planned. Crawford's actions did not deviated from their set course; he knew Ken would join them, and thus, paid no heed to the arrival of the redhead.
There were no words exchanged as all four moved deeper into the building as one, each of them seemingly aware of their duties and actions. Once Nagi deposited the disks in the director's office, the mission would be over. All they had to do was leave and wait for the money transfer. The rest of the group was to provide cover to ensure the drop off went smoothly. And it did. Within minutes, Nagi had been in and out of the office, his subtle nod as he exited the office indicating that the transaction was complete.
As they retraced their steps back through the building, Ken watched Crawford calmly step aside as a bolt sped by the space he had just recently occupied.
Omi. Ken couldn't see him but he was there, in front of them, shrouded in darkness.
"Weiss." Farfarello's raspy voice caressed that word with such sadistic pleasure that Ken was almost afraid of what was going through the Irishman's head.
"Split up?" Nagi suggested, looking to Crawrford for confimation. Before the older man could reply, Ken spoke up.
"No. Weiss has most of the building covered. Head towards the back entrance and take the main hallways. They didn't cover those very well. I'll hold them up."
Farfarello had wanted to stay and fight, Ken knew, but the stone glare of Crawford's temporarily overrode that desire. Without preamble, Nagi and Farfarello move to comply, turning back the way they had just come. Crawford turned to go as well, but not before meeting Ken's gaze. The American's eyes reflected an odd combination of acceptance and pity; he knew what was going to happen and he was not going to stop it. Ken moved his lips into a semblance of a half-smile, grateful for the non-interference. Crawford nodded, and left; no good-byes, no good lucks, no words, just simple actions that conveyed what needed to be said.
Ken knew Omi was still there, making ready to chase after the departing Schwarz members but Ken blanked the boy's mind, leaving him unaware of where his targets were. And then, he left as well, running in the opposite direction of Schwarz, hoping everyone would leave this building soon. Ken glanced at his watch - half past midnight. Another fifteen minutes and the charges he had set earlier would go. That should be plenty of time for Schwarz to get out and for Weiss to follow. If Youji was where Ken sensed him to be, he should have informed the others of their target's retreat. Ken checked his watch again: 12:31. Almost there.
"Schuldich." Ken heard the growl, saw the flash of unsheathed steel, and registered the murder glinting in amethyst eyes.
And with that, Ken stopped, no more evading or dodging. He just stopped ... and looked at Aya's beautiful pale face. He didn't cry out as Aya thrusted his sword through him, for he didn't feel any pain. He just stood still, tired of all the running, and gazed at the ethereal façade inches from his own. Aya's breaths were coming in gasps due to the action moments ago, but he froze as well, his weapon penetrating his opponent's chest, and remaining there as his whole body went still from the look in Schuldich's eyes.
"I'm sorry, Aya." Ken's voice came out no more than a hoarse whisper. "I love you. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner." And then he smiled, a genuine Ken smile that lit up a room when he so desired. But his eyes were sad, full of sincerity as he stared at the man still holding the sword.
Aya's eyes widened in recognition.
"Ken..." His name escaped as a breath.
In response, Ken leaned forward slightly, enough for the sword to slide deeper, and met Aya's lips with his own. And in that one kiss, he put his while self into it. It held all the dreams, promises and love of a life that could have been. It held all the yearning and emotions that had been suppressed too long. Ken broke it off first, transfixed on Aya's frozen expression as he pulled away.
"Aya!" Omi. Omi had found them. Ken sensed him now, standing behind him. He wondered what had first passed through the boy's mind when he had first come upon the awkward tableau.
"Omi," Ken raised his voice to be heard. "Get him out of here."
Omi didn't move.
"Now, Omi!"
His harsh tone spurred the boy into action.
"Aya, let's go!"
Ken looked at the man in front of him. "Go, Aya. Go now," he whispered.
"No..."
"Omi, bombs are set to go off soon. You and Aya have to get out of here!" Omi was beside Aya now, pulling at the older man's arms.
"Aya..." Omi managed to pry Aya's fingers off the sword and pull the weapon out himself. It took all of what remained of Ken's waning strength to stay upright as the blade was removed from its warm sheath.
"Go."
Omi nodded as he pulled a frozen Aya and his sword toward the exit. But before he was entirely out of sight, Omi turned to stare briefly at the barely standing figure.
So this was it. And this was as it should be. Death, he guessed, was a suitable punishment, a punishment for being so blind to what was happening around him, for limiting his vision to such a narrow spectrum. But it was an infinitely better punishment than Aya's, Ken thought and regretted. Aya's punishment for the transgression of loving such a blind person was that of watching his love die twice and it was something Ken would never wish on anyone, least of all Aya. He seemed to be forever failing that man.
"I'm so sorry, Aya," he muttered as he slid to the ground, his life flowing out of him in the warm fluid that seeped through the hole in his chest. But as darkness began to engulf the edges of his vision, he couldn't help but feel that everything was as it should be. Everything felt...right.
Smiling, Ken closed his eyes.
End
Note: I didn't realize I had used the British spelling for "grey" (instead of the American "gray") until now. Sorry. I tried to "American-nize" most of the spelling but old habits are hard to break. ^_^ Also, thank you to those who left feedback; at first, I told myself that I didn't really matter if no one responded but I didn't realize how anxious and unsure I was about my writing until I read the feedback. So the reviews really mean a lot. My sincerest thanks!
|