Tangled

 

 

 

Did we really think, Ken asked himself, that everything would get better if we just got Aya laid?

“Balinese!” the radio barked again. “Understood?”

“Maa maa,” Yohji’s tired voice answered. “I got it, Abyssinian. I didn’t say I was going to leave station, I said I wanted to.”

“Do your whining off-radio!”

“Hai!”

Goody, another night of them snarling at each other until Yohji decided he’d rather apologize than sleep alone, and Aya realized he’d been an ass, and got mad because Yohji shouldn’t apologize, and then they’d go upstairs for privacy and argue at the top of their lungs over who ought to be sorry, and then they’d make up and get even louder…Ken scrubbed his forehead with the back of a glove.

“Still clear, Siberian?” Omi asked. Ken nodded.

“Are you kidding? Ay–Abyssinian came in pissed, we’re probably the only ones left alive in the building.”

“No…” Omi muttered, turning back to his laptop. “Movement, team, I’ve got movement in the third sub-basement!”

“It was clear!” Yohji protested. “There was no one there!”

“Someone is there now,” Omi snapped, before the argument could start again. “We can figure out how later. Abyssinian, pull back, you’re too exposed. Balinese, move to corridor seven, where you can support each other. Siberian, two minutes and we’re moving.”

“I’ll start packing,” Ken muttered. Off-radio. “Beach or mountains?” Omi shot him a quirk of the lips, as close to a smile as he could get, too often lately. Damn it, they were driving Omi crazy too, and he and Aya-chan were plotting again, and that drove Ken–

Don’t go there. Not again, especially not in the middle of a mission, doubly especially one that might be going wrong.

“Got it!” Omi snapped. “Move out, Abyssinian. Balinese, you’re next.” Ahead of schedule, Omi was ready. Ken let him carry his own things, his job was to guard. Besides, he’d need a guard himself if he bashed some dark beast with Omi’s laptop.

“Too many!” Yohji called. “Abyssinian, fall back!”

No answer. Omi scowled and grabbed at his earpiece. “Abyssinian! Fall back, let Balinese support you!”

Still no answer. “I’m going to kill him,” Ken growled. Off-radio. “If he doesn’t get himself killed, I’m going to do it.”

“Get in line,” Omi growled.

“Escape route Bravo!” Aya snapped. “Route Bravo, confirm, Alpha is compromised!”

“Confirm Bravo!” Omi gasped as Ken dragged him into a U-turn. “Siberian and Bombay. Balinese!”

“He’s with me; he dropped his earpiece.”

They ran through empty corridors. Ken kept his eyes open and wondered what the hell had happened this time. This was the third in as many missions that had gone wrong one way or another, though they hadn’t failed. Yet. The whole team had been out of synch since the two older assassins–well, since Omi’s brilliant idea to lock them in the basement. Since before then, actually, things had been getting out of whack for a while. And Ken wasn’t sure what to whack, to get it back together.

Missing guards wasn’t like Yohji. He’d never been as careless as Aya said, and he was more careful now. He even paid attention in briefings. Maybe because he knew Aya hadn’t changed so much he’d forget a screw-up, and Yohji didn’t care to be criticized while they were fucking. Ken could just see it, Abyssinian bitching out Balinese while the blonde worked on getting them both naked…not that he wanted to see it. Damn, he wished he’d realized both were missing before walking into the greenhouse last week–

“Siberian!” Omi flung a spray of darts, then jerked back. Ken followed, Omi was the one who knew the maps. “Bravo is compromised! Going to Charlie, meet us at the second rendezvous!”

“Acknowledged.” That was the controlled Abyssinian who should have been there all along! It was Aya fucking them up, Ken decided. All the times he’d complained about how cold and calculating the bastard was, and now he wished the man would go back to it. Omi shouldn’t be the one dealing with sudden plan changes, but Aya was–who the hell knew what Aya was doing? Not making smart tactical moves, that was for sure. It was like back when they first came up against Takatori. Stupid move or not, Ken had been glad that night Aya had flung his katana at the helicopter. If he hadn’t, Siberian would most likely have been one dead kitty for interfering.

“Here!” Omi caught Ken’s sweater to get his attention. “Will you pay attention?”

Great, now he was screwing up! “Sorry!”

They charged down another corridor, Ken thought he heard more than their footsteps. He yanked Omi behind him, if–

“Rendezvous!” Omi gasped. “It’s–“ They barreled around a corner.

”Damn it!” Ken snarled, as his claws met Aya’s katana. The redhead disengaged as he raked the younger assassins with a glance and didn’t find blood. For once rear guard had been a safe position. He and Yohji were dripping, though, no telling if any was theirs–

“This way.” Aya ran, bloody katana flinging a trail. Ken wondered just how many guards there had been, Abyssinian was breathing heavy. Not as bad as Yohji’s netted tuna impression, but he was out of breath. For Aya, that was damned rare.

Wonder later. Ken shoved Omi into the middle of the group and watched their backs.

 

Route Charlie was the third choice because it was an air duct, narrow, low, and slow. Aya scowled and looked to Omi. “If they realize where we went, they’ll catch us,” the boy agreed, kneeling to dig through his bag. Aya grabbed Yohji and shoved him at the opening.

“I’ll distract them,” he growled. Yohji twisted away from the duct.

“Not alone! If you’re staying, I’m staying!”

Ken remembered in time he didn’t want to slap his forehead in frustration. But slapping them–hmm, which one first?

“Are you questioning–“

”Damn straight! You are not–“

”You will not–“

”Shut up!” Ken snapped. “This is no time for a pissing contest!”

“No one stays!” Omi added. “Balinese, go first. Abyssinian will be right behind you.” He looked up. “Now!”

Reassured by the explosives in Omi’s hand, Yohji crawled into the shaft. Aya glared, but he followed, while Omi rigged the bomb. Ken went next, but he didn’t go far until he felt Omi at his heels. Then he went as fast as he could; Omi tended to go overboard when he was annoyed.

And if he wasn’t annoyed, he was stupider than the two bastards in front of Ken.

****

“And that’s it?” Birman asked again. Omi and Ken nodded, while Aya and Yohji continued to not look at her. Or each other, damn them. They were even sitting on different couches: Yohji limp and sprawled and exhausted, Aya still tightly wound. At least he was sitting. That was rare enough when the mission room was being used for work.

“That’s it,” Omi confirmed. “The mistake in the blueprints allowed perhaps fifty reinforcements we did not expect. Kritiker should be happy we made it home at all.” Omi had been so angry he’d written up his report before he even showered. Not that he needed it anywhere near as bad as Aya and Yohji anyway, after the bloodbath that had erupted in their sections.

“You’re sure?”

“Unless you are implying that Balinese simply did not notice fifty men?”

Aya stiffened and glared. Ken fought not to roll his eyes. Why was it suddenly no one else could insult Yohji, after all the things Aya had said over the years? And Omi was defending the blonde anyway, damned idiot redhead…

“If there were a pretty girl around,” Birman tried to joke, and sighed as four pairs of Weiss eyes just stared at her. Well, Aya was glaring, but anyway. “Very well, I will look into it. You are all uninjured?”

“We’re fine,” Ken growled. “Thanks for asking.” Finally. Yohji wiggled his bare foot, hanging off the end of the couch.

“One of them stepped on my toe,” he complained. “Kiss it and make it better?”

“I’ll amputate it,” Aya offered in a growl. Birman chuckled and turned to the stairs. Omi gave Ken a look before following to walk her out. Ken moved to block the foot of the stairs before either of the others got up. Yohji sighed. Aya glared, but didn’t try anything. That made Yohji sit up, his eyes narrowed on the redhead. He saw something Ken didn’t, his breath hissed out in a snarl.

“You are wounded.” He rolled to his feet and stalked across the room. “What the hell, Aya? You’re not stupid enough to play stoic for Birman.” Usually Aya wasn’t. His definition of ‘fine’ was far broader than the rest of Weiss’, but the redhead did realize going on missions when he was sub-par only endangered all of them. Damn it, Omi needed to get back. Ken wanted to yell, and knew he’d only stick his foot in his mouth and make things worse. But damn it–

Aya only glared harder, but Yohji barely noticed as he pulled the man’s arms open and shoved that damn orange sweater up. Aya hissed, damn, he must really be–

The redhead’s entire chest was shades of purple, by tomorrow his right side would probably be black. Ken and Yohji gasped together, echoed by Omi on the stairs. Then Yohji started swearing, low and quiet and all about stubborn fucking redheads.

“You need X-rays,” Omi said, not bothering to shut Yohji up. “Aya-kun, if your ribs are broken–“

”I’m fine,” the cold bastard growled, making Ken want to poke him right in the darkest bruise and prove he wasn’t anywhere close to ‘fine.’ Yohji did it instead, and didn’t get flattened like Ken would have. Aya only narrowed his eyes and glared harder.

“Cracked,” Yohji announced. “I think they’re only cracked. Damn, Aya, what the hell hit you?”

“More important, why did you hide it?” Omi demanded. “Aya-kun, you will not be able to fight for–“

”I’m fine!” the redhead growled again, setting Yohji off again. Omi shook his head.

“And Yohji-kun. You didn’t mention this.” He held out his hand; one of their communicators lay there. The wire was frayed, and right below the ear it was nearly cut. “It’s hard to believe they came this close, and you aren’t injured.”

Yohji was wearing a turtleneck and his hair down. Aya hissed and shoved the concealment away; Ken winced at the feel of his anger all the way across the room. Yohji only had a scratch, but a scratch that long, right there–damn, that had been close. Aya swore as well as Yohji; what he lacked in vocabulary he made up in sheer explosive intensity. Omi cleared his throat.

“This is it,” he said. “Kritiker has probably already selected our replacements.”

“Nani?” Ken and Yohji demanded. Aya simply pulled his sweater carefully down. Omi went to fall into his computer chair.

“Look at us,” he said. “This is the third time in three missions we ended up running for our lives. It’s the fifth time this month. So far we haven’t missed a target, but it’s only a matter of time.”

“Four missions a week or more, for–“ Yohji began, as Ken growled–

“That mistake on the blueprints–“

”It doesn’t matter,” Aya said over both of them. Omi nodded at him.

“Aya-kun is right. Mistaken information happens; it always has. High-stress times happen, as they have before. This time we are failing to rise to the demands. The fact is that the way things have been going, one of us is likely to die in the next week.”  He looked around, met each pair of eyes.  “If that happens, I think the entire team will go down. We’ve been together too long, been through too much. The loss of one would paralyze the rest, and all of us will die.”

Everyone stared at their hands. Omi was right, Ken had no doubt. He’d been screwing up too, he wondered if it would be him who went first, who brought all of them down. No, without him, they’d manage, they–

Omi wouldn’t. Omi had enough to cope with, he needed to know Ken was behind him. Siberian’s death would knock Bombay too off-balance; he would take the others with him when he fell.

 

“We could request reassignment,” Aya said quietly. “One, maybe two of us, they would move, if we all demanded it. Those who left would have a chance at a real life.” Since Kritiker had decided to stay with only one assassin team, anyone reassigned would no longer have to kill. He looked at Omi, and it was clear who he thought would stay behind. Aya, because that’s how he was, and Omi, who had been raised to be Weiss. Kritiker would never let him go.

“No,” Ken and Yohji said together. Like hell Ken would be shuffled off to live happily ever after while Omi drowned in blood. Yohji felt the same way, only different, about Aya.

Omi shot Ken a tired smile, then turned to the others. Yohji had slipped his arm around Aya, the redhead hadn’t noticed yet. “You are the one with family to care for, Aya-kun. Perhaps you and Yohji-kun–“

”No,” all three of them said this time. Ken sighed and sank to the bottom step.

“That’s that. None of us will leave without the others, so we’ll have to figure out a way to make it work. I know I keep screwing up because you two are driving me crazy.” He pointed at the couple on the couch. “Can’t you do your fighting before or after the mission, not during?”

“Kenken–“ Yohji growled, but Omi cut him off.

“Pointing fingers won’t help; it can’t do anything but divide us further.” He turned away, burying a yawn. “Excuse me. I don’t think we’ll get anywhere tonight, but I hope you will all think about what will help. Who has first shift tom–today?”

“Me and Aya.” Ken stood and stretched. “And I’ll tell you, if I walk into that greenhouse and see anything but flowers, I’m going on strike.”

“If you’d give some warning, do your usual trip over your own feet thing,” Yohji began, but stopped when Aya stood.

“It will not be a problem,” he said in that deep voice, and stalked up the stairs. Yohji jumped after him.

“Oi, Aya! How can you be so sure? Hey!” He turned back to glare from the top of the steps. “You better hope he doesn’t mean what I think he means!” he snarled. “Oi, Aya! Wait–“

Ken shook his head and turned to follow, but Omi was giving him the sad look usually saved for Aya being mean to Yohji. “What?”

“Don’t push them right now, Ken-kun, please. You embarrassed Aya-kun.”

“How do you think I felt?”

 

“Ken-kun,” Omi sighed, “if you think they are hard to live with now, how would it be if they broke up?”

“No way. Those two are meant to be. The only ones who haven’t known it for years are–“ He stopped, blinking. “Shit.” Omi nodded.

“They need each other. But they are still so–fragile together. If they break apart, I don’t think both will survive long enough to work things out.”

“Is that why you think we’re going to die? You think they will break up?” Ken could see it, all too clearly. Aya would get reckless, and Yohji would get careless, and yes, damn it, one of them would die. And then, damn it, he and Omi would die, trying to drag the survivor from the body of his lover, because they damn well wouldn’t leave him–

“They need each other,” Omi repeated. “But I’m afraid they’ll do it anyway. If only they had time…”

“Years,” Ken growled. “Omi, they’ve had years. They’re not going to do it on their own.”

“We interfered before, to good results.”

“Birman is not going to postpone missions again. Things are too crazy right now.”

“That can’t last much longer. It never does. We should have a plan, for when the time comes.”

“My plan?” Ken suggested with a grin. Though they’d never figured out how to keep the two handcuffed together;Yohji in particular was good with locks. Omi grinned too.

“What I want to know, is what in your plan is to keep them from killing you? I never heard that part.”

Ken grinned and ruffled the younger man’s hair. “Lots of fast running,” he said. “You come up with a better plan.  I’ll back you up. Try to work in me hitting one or both, though, I could really get into a good thumping.”

“Thumping is what you’ll get, if you lay a finger on either of them. Especially Yohji! Did you see Aya-kun’s eyes?”

“Brrr! I thought it was going to start snowing.” Ken directed Omi at the stairs with a grip on the back of his neck. Give him a chance and the kid would be up all night, searching for answers on the internet. An exhausted Bombay wasn’t going to do the team any favors either. “Still, if I could make them see how much they deserve it first–“

“No way.” Omi shook his head, obediently climbing the stairs. “Even Birman can’t pick on Yohji-kun anymore, you saw that. Only Aya-chan,” he grinned, “can get away with it now.” He stopped in the hall and muttered.

“What?”

“Yohji-kun’s light is on. They did fight.”

“They usually sleep in his room.”

“If the light is on, Aya-kun isn’t in there. You know Yohji-kun that well.”

“Hai.” Ken ruffled the blonde hair again. “But don’t worry. In an hour Yohji will be upstairs with Aya.”

“You’re sure?” Omi looked up, Ken grinned into those worried eyes.

“Positive. He never turns him away.”

“Good.” Omi sighed as he started up the next flight of stairs. “Are you coming?”

“In a minute. I want some warm milk.” Besides, he’d rather be downstairs until at least half an hour after Yohji slipped up to Aya’s room. Omi yawned and went on.

“How you need help sleeping,” he muttered, “is beyond me. Good night, Ken-kun.”

“‘night, Omi.” Ken watched the youngest–and oldest–member of Weiss up the stairs, then went into the kitchen, but he didn’t open the refrigerator. Instead he sat at the table and thought about friends and dying and things that must never be said.

*****

How did this happen? I am not interested in Ken. I’m sorry, but I find soccer-boy too dull for words. So how come I love this chapter? *grin*