Truth and Consequence

by Soma

I. Second Voice

"Nothing." Nagi pushed away from the desk with uncharacteristic frustration in his voice. He winced at the squeak of the chair's wheels, rubbing eyes too young to be so tired.

"You've been thorough, I'm sure." Crawford's voice was clipped, evincing an equal exhaustion. It had been well past one when the seer had finally stepped through the front door.

Nagi flashed a reflexive look of irritation at the second-guessing, but didn't dignify it with an answer. "Just that one transaction with one of Takatori's minor subsidiaries, from a month ago, and-"

"We've already been briefed about that." Crawford finished grimly. He gave the boy an absentminded pat on the shoulder as he stepped away. "Takatori's certain it's him, and there's no voicing dissent on the matter until we have an airtight case for it. Keep checking his associates. The money he's skimming has to be going somewhere." The door closed on Nagi's defeated sigh as the beleaguered telekinetic turned back to his immense console.

"Go a little easier on the boy." The voice was not unexpected, though it's proximity was. Crawford stepped away from Schuldich in a fluid motion, leveling a warning glare at that lazy grin. A fine brow arched over the thin silver frame of his glasses. "Sympathy from you?"

Schuldich shrugged as he moved forward, locks of flame whispering over his shoulders. "Sometimes you act like you forget he has class in the morning."

Vermillion and viridian with flashes of white every now and then when he smiled. Best not to dwell on it, as strong as his guards were. Nature granted this particular predator exceptional colouring to disarm and mesmerize his victims.

"That ," replied Crawford crisply, already turning to leave, "is secondary. He has a job that precludes him from the luxury of dwelling on lesser matters."

"You know- " And the teasing lilt in Schuldich's voice was gone, like a filmy veil tossed aside- "not everyone's given themselves completely to the 'job'." Even with his back turned, Crawford could feel the other assassin closing the space between them. "No sense in forsaking all personal indulgences, Brad." Warm fingers ghosted along his shoulder blades, followed by equally careful brushes at the edges of his mind. Crawford's barriers came up like a wall of ice in less than the space of a thought.

"Some of us have no sense of priority." The words were delivered in a level tone. Schuldich would settle for his anger if denied all else. "If you insist on indulging in excess, you are welcome to do so in the manner of Farfarello: on your own time, and out of sight of the rest of us."

With that he was gone. Schuldich considered striking something, but settled on slamming the door in Nagi's face, as the youth turned to deliver a canny smirk. After Schuldich had tried to help him too. He was too aware of his own motives to be truly angry, however, and knew Nagi was as well.

At the base of the stairs Crawford paused, tossing his shoulders in the universal motion of tension, attempting to shake off the uneasy sensation that lingered on his back.

II. Timely Pleasures

"Next time, you can monitor the target." Schuldich flung away the derby he had been wearing, ruffling the somewhat flattened locks of his hair with irritation. Droplets of water flicked from its ends and soaked into the reports Crawford had spread across the coffee table. "Um Gottes willen, if he spends all his time as leisurely as he did today, it's no wonder his company's so small."

"Not so small anymore," Crawford reminded him calmly. The was, of course, the source of their employer's paranoia. Nearly tripled expansion in the last five months, after eleven years of consistent, if modestly successful activity. "He's getting the extra revenue from somewhere."

"Unless he's being paid to promote the local bistros with his presence, I didn't see where from." Crawford hid relief at the annoyance in the other's voice. Schuldich gave in readily to the immediate, and an aggravated Schuldich was less likely to instigate situations which were tiresome and trying.

"Who was he dining with?" he asked, not looking from his paperwork.

"Just his mistress." Schuldich stretched out on the couch, resting his head against Crawford in a casual motion and finding himself flat on his back when Crawford moved away with similar ease.

"I want you to maintain surveillance until we report on Thursday." Crawford's voice revealed no change as he gathered his files and left for his study. A decisive click of the lock announced that it would be another long night for the seer.

***

"I don't pay you to tell me things I already know!" Crawford reined in the urge to send Takatori to an expedient death. From the tension written across Schuldich's face he could tell that the German was having less success with his struggle. "A week and you have no more knowledge of Matsura's activities that you started with! A group of overpaid thugs is what you are!"

Crawford adjusted his glasses briefly as a vision flashed past, and stepped forward, arms neatly folded behind his back. He caught Schuldich's fist an instant before he raised it. "You would no doubt find disposable help far more costly in the long run." A slight inflection of strain entered his voice as Schuldich loosened his fist and twined slender fingers with his. "At this point we have more than confirmed that there is no activity occurring between his company and any of yours. We suspect he is employing a third party in this."

"Then find out who it is!" Takatori had no need to curb his fury. Behind an illusory shield of contracts, influence and money, he imagined himself safe from his shadowy agents.

"Of course, sir." The tiniest catch in his voice as Schuldich's thumb stroked upwards, brushing the margin of flesh on the inner wrist, just under the starched cuff. Depositing the folder of accumulated data on Takatori's desk, he pivoted on his heel, jerking his hand from Schuldich's in the same instant.

When they reached the elevator, he shoved Schuldich in, stepped after him and jabbed the 'close' button. The doors slid shut on Nagi's look of mild amusement and Farfarello's disinterested scowl.

Schuldich crashed into the wall, the metal rail encircling the side panels digging a painful demarcation into the small of his back. Crawford stood over him, hands pinning his arms at his sides, grating his elbows against the steel bar. He looked up at Crawford and found nothing there: no flash of anger in those eyes, mind a likewise blank.

"If you ever threaten a client again, I will break your hands personally. Luckily enough your powers function perfectly with or without them." Crawford smiled pleasantly, emphasizing this with a slight increase of pressure. Small bones in his elbows ground against one another and sent shocks of pain along his arms.

"We both know you wanted to hurt Takatori back there as much as I did, Brad. That's not the issue here... is it?" The intonation of his words ladened his grin with suggestiveness. Crawford's lips thinned in response, ready to fire a retort that would be both short and cruel.

So cold, standing over him. Eyes burning and stony face a million miles away. Schuldich strained to cross that dreary breadth, ignoring the audible crack from his arm, until their faces were inches apart. "Have I made Bradley a little nonplussed?" His tongue darted out to trace the curve of Crawford's lower lip, and he felt a satisfying tremor, an unintentional tightening of grip, in response.

The silence was deafening, though a myriad of responses were now seeping through the edges of Crawford's barrier. Each paled in the shadow of the anger that accompanied them. Schuldich claimed that rare droplet of emotion like a prize, blood wrung from a stone. Its opiate effect overwhelmed him. He felt the blow to his jaw - it made him bite down on something that filled his mouth with the taste of bitter copper - but he could not feel the accompanying pain.

As he slid to the floor, head knocking against the rail on his way down, he vaguely registered Crawford turning away. "Don't be presumptuous." The frosty words were like a brand to his overloaded synapses.

He never could tell with Brad if he was freezing or burning.

Nagi and Farfarello waited in the lobby, having taken the express elevator. They moved aside as the doors opened and a slightly mussed Crawford walked out, adjusting a cufflink as he swept past. Nagi peered into the elevator to see Schuldich gathering himself up, cradling an arm that seemed oddly hyperextended.

"Always when he's been angered to a pitch by Takatori. You have impeccable timing, Schuldich." Nagi's tone was offset a bit by the mild sympathy in his eyes.

Emerald eyes still heavy-lidded and drunken followed the dark-suited form of their leader until he disappeared behind tinted glass doors. Schuldich wiped a trickle of blood from his chin and cracked a wry smile. "All for the unparalleled pleasures of delayed gratification, my friend."

III. Headhunter

Light glinted off the ostentatiously gilded trim in Takatori's office, and Schuldich raised his good arm to his eyes. Too soon to be back, he thought dimly. There was residual anger in this place, like the hint of copper that remained on his tongue. Crawford seemed on edge as they arrived, anticipating more confrontation no doubt.

Schuldich almost laughed at the thought. He was far too tired, his arm a muted ache at his side and his mind a roaring mess, thanks to the painkillers he'd been put on. What had possessed him in that elevator even Schuldich was uncertain of. Only vague notions of Crawford's rage, mixed with something whose flavor was so elusive he could only hope he had not imagined it. The man's aura was as tightly-wound and taut as a harpstring. Schuldich never could resist strumming it with bard-light fingertips, coaxing forth sharp music.

Takatori looked more composed than he had at their last meeting, the contents of the file Crawford had given him spread across the polished marble of the desktop. Gesturing Crawford forward, he tapped a photo of Matsura dining across from a dark-haired woman with avian features. "What is this?"

"It's a surveillance photo, sir." Professionalism firmly in place. "Matsura with his mistress."

Takatori grinned, his self-satisfaction sparking the faintest aftershock of violent impulse in Schuldich's mind. "Indeed? I was under the impression that she was Miho Shirahane, president of Genzoudan." He smiled at the spark of recognition in Crawford's face. Genzoudan was one of the largest companies gathered under the mantle of Takatori Industries. Steadfast, old, and beyond suspicion. No wonder it had slipped past even the old man's notice, and certainly theirs.

Takatori studied the photograph a moment longer, before he shook his head slowly, in a mockery of sadness. "It's a shame. I've been on good terms with Genzoudan ever since it was under the care of her father." Looking up, his face was cold, with the usual hint of slow cruelty. "Truly a shame. I trust you will have no trouble wrapping this up now?"

Crawford flashed a thin smile, now on fondly familiar territory. "Certainly, sir."

***

"Perfect." Nagi uttered, allowing himself a proud grin. "It all checks out. I found the anonymous account she's been laundering the money through."

"And retrieved the contents?" Crawford attached the silencer of the MP-5 with clipped precision, setting it down to double-check the auxiliary Desert Eagle 50.

Nagi shot him a nasty look. As if they had not been through this procedure before. "Done. Wanna know something interesting?" Crawford evinced no curiosity, but he didn't wait for a reply. "The codes to the account had been recently changed by the time I got to them. Incidentally, Matsura has also recently bought plane tickets for himself and his family to Gallivare, Sweden."

Schuldich's smile bespoke volumes of malicious amusement. "The thieving bastard. I'm sure Shirahane-san will appreciate this."

IV. Dissolved Girl

"So," Schuldich began conversationally, over the body of Shirahane's personal secretary. "What do you think prompts someone in a position as comfortable as Shirahane to try something so stupid?" He rested his bandaged arm on the dead woman's back, her head twisted round unnaturally to face him.

Crawford shot him a glare as he deftly reloaded his clip. "Same reason they all do. Stupid greed, accompanied by the idea that they will sense the right moment to cut loose." He strode over to the door of the waiting area, firing two quick shots before pulling back. A shot rang past his head, imbedding itself in the smooth granite wall beyond.

Schuldich fired once, dispatching the remaining guard. "I don't know." He thought of the look on her face when she spoke to Matsura, completely unaware she was being watched. "Somehow I don't think that's the reason."

Crawford surveyed the room and motioned for him to follow. "Well, her reasons are of no concern now."

***

All things considered, Miho Shirahane was surprisingly calm for someone in her position. Having received news of Matsura's death earlier that day, this invasion did not come as wholly unexpected. What did surprise her was the clean economy with which they had cut a swathe through her reinforcements. Slipping past security, they had reveal themselves when they forced their way into her private elevator. When she tried to order the controls shut down, her calls had met with static.

She plucked a stray fibre from the sleeve of her pressed grey Ferré and contemplated the tiny metal switch in her hand. When she heard the news, she had ordered extra security, and activated this only as an afterthought. The option of actually using it had not occurred to her as viable or even necessary. So really, there was nothing to be done now but curse her own carelessness. If anyone had the money to hire the best, it would be Takatori.

They had caught Kanjiro in an unguarded moment. Out for a drive with...his family was it? Miho's fingers curled at the thought. Since when did he go for drives with his family?

Further contemplation was forestalled by the appearance of two men at her door. If it had not been for the sling on the redhead, and the slight staining on the shoes of the other, she would have imagined they were both here on business. She supposed, in a flux of hysteria, that in a way they were. Her voice was more amused than the situation allowed when she asked, "So, do you two have appointments?"

"We're here to deliver a message from Takatori-san," Crawford explained with a polite smile, the MP-5 trained squarely on her.

Schuldich broke into a grin at Crawford's subdued flourish, but it quickly drained from his face. //Crawford.//

//What?//

//She has this room rigged with a bomb.//

Crawford's gaze did not shift from Shirahane. "Madame, if you would please raise your hands and step around the table."

Shirahane's face remained impassive as she turned her palm discreetly to flash a rod of silver at them. "I think I shall remain here, and you shall turn and leave the way you came."

Crawford's voice was brittle. "I'm afraid that's not possible."

Her dark eyes glowed with honest mirth. "More's the pity, then."

The gun didn't so much as sway as he silently took her measure.

"You know," Schuldich broke in conversationally, tone dangerously light. "He was leaving for Sweden."

She started, but caught herself and scowled at him coldly. "Why on earth would he do a thing like that?"

"It's true...had his bags packed and everything." Schuldich allowed a flash of relish in his voice. "Even had the codes to your account changed." And then, because he could not resist twisting the knife just a little, "Good thing we got him before he left all the burden of blame on the fall-guy, eh?"

Shirahane stared, flinching slightly when a pair of plane tickets struck the desktop. The name printed on them was unfamiliar. She was about to voice this when a passport followed, the picture next to the name immediately recognizable. Her thumb brushed across the polished top of the detonator conspicuously. The passport sported barely dried bloodstains.

"So," Schuldich's voice was as light as a nail grazing a wound. "At least now you're not operating under false pretenses, eh?"

"You know," her voice was low, a trifle huskier than before. "You know when my father passed on, he told me to keep my hands clean. This company has been in our family for three generations."

"So I'm told. Since 1912, was it?" Crawford's voice carried the level pleasantness of one discussing a business transaction.

"A good machine need only be maintained after all. And I've always adhered to that principle. Kept myself clear of potentially dangerous entanglements." She shook her head ruefully, and Schuldich knew she was no longer talking about the company.

"Entanglements indeed. A shame you did not mind your own principles then." Schuldich noticed Crawford's finger strain on the trigger, though his replies still flowed smoothly.

"It gets very banal, minding those boundaries. It chokes you eventually." She looked up and smiled as though her face would break. "I thought for once I'd make a risky venture."

"Then you understood that risk carries with it repercussions." There was barely reined-in anger in Crawford's voice.

Miho answered with a bleak smile as the shots rang out, pitching her back in her chair.

Crawford stepped forward and pocketed the switch. "Call Nagi and Farfarello. We're done." He exited the room with brisk strides.

***

When they slipped into the car Nagi shot Schuldich a coolly inquisitive glance, eyes flickering significantly to Crawford. Schuldich couldn't blame the boy for wondering. Their leader evinced no signs of his usual good humor after completing a mission successfully. "What's wrong with you?" he asked, despite having a fairly good idea.

He only got the slight metallic click that preceded the deafening explosion a moment later.

The other two stared for a moment before Farfarello snarled, and Nagi shouted, "Drive!" The clattering sound of debris on the roof clinched it. They peeled from the alley at high speed.

Staring back at the chaos, Nagi remarked, "Damn. That took out at least the top five floors."

Schuldich was, for the first time in recent memory, at a loss for words. "That was... excessive." A detached part of him laughed riotously at his saying this.

Crawford merely stared ahead, a hand clutching the seat cover convulsively.

V. A Shoulder to the Wheel

"Get out." Crawford didn't bother to look up when Schuldich opened the door to his study. Locked door at that, but larceny was old hat to the redhead.

"And abandon you during a fit?" A smile like a gun trained on the heart. "This is too rare an opportunity to squander." He rested elegant fingertips on the edge of the mahogany desk, casting a shadow over the computer screen. " Such a wonderful opportunity that I wonder if you didn't do this out of a subconscious impulse." Laughter. "If you allow me, we can find out."

Crawford almost had to laugh with him. The impulse was anything but mercifully subconscious: Schuldich could not tell him anything about it of which he was not already persistently aware. "You've come to rely too much on your power, Schuldich-" lightly, no point in taunting a hungry wolf already drawn by the scent of blood- "if your ability to assess another's composure is so deteriorated." His cool tone was betrayed by the difficulty he was having accessing his mission files.

"Don't bluff on a poor hand, Brad. My senses aren't quite dulled enough that you can just brush this off."

"You seem rather certain that lingering will bring you something other than swift expulsion." He cursed himself for leaving such sloppy openings in the usual, evasive dance of their repartee, but his nerves were approaching frayed.

"I have a pretty good knack for sensing when something's to my advantage." Schuldich, it seemed, had decided that he had time to play along. Or perhaps he was waiting for Crawford to procure enough rope to hang himself.

"That's odd. I seem to recall you had a pronounced weakness for things that caused you harm." It was low, the allusion to Schuldich's old habits. But then he wasn't inclined towards fighting fairly.

Schuldich chuckled, brushing aside the barbed reminder. "I said I have a good sense. I don't always act on it."

"True. Someone with any sense of self-preservation would have known not to come barging in here."

A hiss. "Self-preservation?" He slid from the desk, moving behind Crawford so that he could deliver his question in the man's ear. "And tell me Brad, what do you know about the self-preservation of a telepath?"

There was an unfamiliar venom in the voice, and Crawford's fingers paused on the keyboards a moment before hitting 'send' on the confirmation log. "I know it ought to be intimately linked with restraint."

"Indeed?" Schuldich paused, like the brief tensing of the hunter before it springs. "Because I don't believe you have a fucking clue about the former." He wrapped strong fingers around Crawford's jaw and jerked the man's gaze away from the computer screen.

"Have you ever had to clutch for your own thoughts amid a sea of others?" Those flashing eyes that could pinion one, now just inches away, darkened to the shade of pine needles. "Do you know what it means to be buffeted by hundreds of minds whose very touch is loathsome?

"Would you like to find out?"

Crawford's barriers were shot from the rigors of the day, and he felt the first wisps of the other's mind breach them. A screaming cacophony of ugly, alien regrets, desires, hopes and cruelties lapped against his mind like the first waves of an incoming tide. Gentle insistence that promised a drowning. He turned to give Schuldich a forbidding glare. "Enough." More than he ever wanted to know, really.

The host of voices died away to the barest whisper of a single presence. Schuldich. "I had to stay afloat in my own head." The nonchalant voice was punctuated with a shrug that could not offset the intensity in his eyes. He fell forward now with infinite slowness, a snake coiling tenderly about it's prey. "Every desire and impulse buoyed me." Butterfly kisses trailed their way down the path from Crawford's earlobe to collar.

Breathing suddenly seemed a task to Crawford. Was there ever a time he had done so naturally? The very air seemed to fight him. "Why now- " he paused, untangling the telepath from around his shoulders, forgetting to even apply warning force to his grip, "why now, even after you have been trained to keep them out?"

"Some traits are hard to break. And some can't be lost without demolishing foundation walls." Schuldich smiled, boneless as he allowed himself to be held at arms-length. "Are you so eager to see me crumble apart?"

Crawford was silent. He studied the other's sharp features, contemplating the expression that managed to be slyly clever, sure and desperately hungry at the same time. The lips parted slightly in expectation, poised on triumph. Those eyes usually held more languid assurance than promise; that assurance was wanting now, replaced with a watchful and desperately neutral expression that he dimly recalled seeing only in flashes of peripheral vision. He wondered what his own eyes looked like right now.

He disengaged his hands, firmly pushing Schuldich aside as he rose. "I should ask the same of you."

Schuldich blinked at the sudden movement. He sat absently in the vacated chair, staring with shadowed eyes at the quickly-receding figure. At the sound of the car pulling from the automated garage, his gaze tore itself away from nothing. When he spoke again, it was with full equilibrium restored. "That is a habit you must be broken of. You will be made to unlearn control." Schuldich tried to smile through the onset of a familiar, lancing pain. "Just as I have been made to learn patience."

-- April-May 2001