Three: to obtain bearing

Disclaimer: I own not-a-thing cept for this plot, these words conjured into a story. Weiss Kreuz/Sailor Moon belong to their respective owners.

For once, Aya was not being hunted down by faceless shadows he could only refer to as demons. In his dreams, they always stopped him dead, his body would stiffen and he would just wait for them to overtake him. They were always a welcoming sight. They meant redemption.

It must have been the rain that stopped them from coming.

He sat up at last, still abandoned at the tops of the stairs. The rain was only drizzling but it brought him a shivering spell nonetheless. It was oddly comforting though and instead of leaving, he allowed himself to be bathed with what felt like dewdrops in the early morning.

Or maybe it wasn't the rain. He turned his head toward the shrine and watched it. The roof allowed a halo of a mist to be created around it, giving him the feeling that he was treading on something holy, something pure.

It was not chasing him away though.

Before he finally left, he did something he had not done since his parents took their departure.

The abandoned bells rang and he made a prayer.

"What did you ask for?" Her voice was soft as she tugged at his arm. His eyes hardened and he tried to remember. Honestly, he couldn't remember…except that it had been the simplest of blessings he had asked for.

Which blessing though?

"I can't remember."

She frowned, clearly disappointed.

"Do you feel no pain either?" he asked her sultrily. When she did not answer immediately, he grew tired of her shallow breathing and threw the knife at her feet. Sure enough, it aroused the desired effect. The sudden movement had alarmed her unsteady balance and she promptly slumped against the wall, falling to her knees.

He edged closer, his sense of smell picking up the coppery smell of blood.

His long scarred hands reached for the knife and he held its blade for both to examine. It was smeared and stained with her blood. He twirled it in his hand and held it against her pale neck.

"No," she finally answered in a labored whisper.

His grin disappeared. She felt her body shudder at the harbinger of ill wills. Wrong answer, she thought as she barely threw her body away from him in time to miss the second swing of the knife. Before she could collect herself from the sudden motion, he yanked her up by her long hair.

Grimacing, she opened her eyes to watch as he licked her blood off the blade.

"Liar," he said. "Liar, liar." He traced the blade clumsily on purpose over her carotid arteries. If he managed to slip, which she was sure was his intention; she knew she had no chance of surviving.

She suddenly reached for the blade, surprising both him and her and thrust it out of his grasp, tossing it across to the other side where it embedded itself into the wall. Now she felt she had a little bit more control. He growled in anger, reaching for her neck, something she hadn't count on.

Her air was getting cut fast. She struggled and thought of the only thing that had saved her before.

Hot, she had never felt so hot before.

When he heard her scream, he thought it had been a cry for help. But really, it was shameless of him. He had wanted to play her hero just so he could see that angry look on her face - that same one that had not so subtlety pushed him back.

Schuldich never suspected it; the way the room was blazing from inside that someone could have started it. He kicked the door several times before it thundered down.

The entirety of the room continued to burn. He watched in awe as she stepped over Farf's slumped body, walking through fire and flame as if they were mere extensions of her limbs. She turned around to glance at him. Her violet eyes stilled him as she reached out for the wall. His eyes widened in surprise as the wall begin to melt, probably from the sheer heat of the flames.

But was that really even possible? He rubbed his eyes. What was he thinking?

Of course it was possible.

You are a telepath. Dumbass.

She passed him one more look. The look clearly told him to stay away and he swore he heard her voice.

I have never wanted to be saved. Don't save me.

I will push you back with the same force. Stay away.

Shaking, he fell to his knees. He coughed, his body trying to release itself of the poisonous air. When he looked up again, she was nowhere to be found and the wall…it had melted back into place.

He let out a small laugh. Did he want to save Farf?

Then the sprinklers came on.

Aren't you afraid you'll hydroplane to your death?

He grinned, chugged down his last glass of water. Does that mean you won't come home with me then? He sighed, shaking his head 'no'. Not tonight. Maybe never. Of course he would never say that to her.

Is that why sometimes you stagger? Is that why you still ride such a fast but dangerous weapon?

Nearly, 2 years ago, he had almost met that fate. Nearly. He spent no less than 3 months in the hospital and then until now, recovering.

See? You and I know each other more than you thought. Cheers.

She smiled, raising her glass in his direction. I'm sorry, he thought. Good bye. He dropped the cash on the counter and got up, leaving her laughing with the one next to her.

He stopped at the entrance to inhale the smoky, tainted air before him finally pushed himself outside - where the natural world melted with the dirty. She must have turned around to look after him again because out of the corner of his eye, he saw the swing of dark red hair.

He ambled slowly toward his motorcycle. The creature or weapon as she liked to call it was simply waiting for him. He smiled. Of course it had nowhere to go without someone taking it somewhere but he never parted long with it either way. He geared up and jumped on his bike just before it started raining.

It nearly killed him for a reason. Perfect.

When he had first tried it – it became his drug. Winds lashing, water drowning, death riding just beside him – it was all his escape. Skies and noises fading to the non-syncing effects - It was wonderful.

It continued to be…

…Until he nearly ran her over - a ghost walking across the empty black road. His bright lights lit up her pale skin and pale gown. No doubt, she was a ghost. He went on for 5 seconds before swerving around. Did he kill her? Was she real?

Was...she a ghost?

He found her where he saw her last - a dirty pile of rags. She looked like moving, breathing garbage. He could tell from the faint raising and falling of the chest though that somewhere underneath that garbage cover, she was human. He bent down and picked up her hand. Who was she?

He had indeed stumbled upon a ghost.

"She's not here," he answered the extremely impatient voice on the other line.

"Find her." Those were his final words. Then he hung up and Schuldich had to really refrain from breaking another of Takatori's really, super precious cell phones. He spat out the bitter saliva in his throat and cast a disgusted look at the remains of the temple and to his one silent comrade.

"Let's go," he ordered Nagi. Of course only Takatori would think people were as stupid as him. Really, he knew the girl was smarter than that. She would never return to the one place everyone knew to find her.

"Hey Nag…since this is the first time you're out with me this late…how about a special treat? A really really special treat."

Aya stopped dead in his tracks as the lights flickered off with the loud crack of lightning. He was left in complete darkness for a couple of seconds before they all turned back on – something he wished hadn't happened.

He was surrounded on all sides. Behind him, the screen door flailed pathetically against the wind. It's creaking and banging adding to the sudden drop in temperature in the room. A dripping wet Ken moved closer toward him - holding something. In the doorway leading to the living room were a sleepy Yohji and worried Omi.

"She's bleeding – a lot. Can you help her Omi?" Ken's voice broke the silence.

Who is she? Do we know? Do you know?

Of course he didn't know. Why would he? He first and foremost needed his computer. That was what happened when he lived with such idiots…a-hem, much older idiots.

Maybe you should call Manx…she's a woman.

Manx has no number. We don't go to her. She comes to us. He wanted to scream this out at them. His head was hurting and he was worrying – why? For a complete stranger nonetheless. Perhaps it wasn't really worth it…

"Lighten up, will you?" Yohji asked, noticing his placidly irritated look.

The girl moaned. Everyone got onto their feet in hasty nervousness and fear. Yohji had had plenty of experiences handling women but never a girl. He glanced at Ken and Aya, both of whom were indeed looking between Omi and the girl. Oh good, she looked to be Omi's age…he could communicate between the two parties.

"Don't save me," she said. Her tone was barely there with the true meaning of her words. Yohji let out a small snicker. She could barely stand, what did she expect?

Aya frowned, continuing to watch her as she struggled then promptly fell off their black leather couch. She hit the floor with a thud, flinching angrily at her weak body and at the guys who she did not know.

"Open your damn door and let me out."

Well, Ken thought, that was the last time he saved a pile of garbage. Before he could reply, Aya acted. Aya kicked the door open.

"Go," Aya said monotonously. "If you can." Their mouths hung open. Aya usually minded his own business and loved sulking in his room, as Yohji loved to say. Why all of a sudden?

"Watch me. I'll make it…"

"Why did you say such a mean thing to her?" She looked absolutely devastated that he could have said such a thing.

His face scrunched up into a frown. He hadn't meant it in a taunting way. He had just been surprise to see her there – flesh and breathing.

"She was…she was supposed to be dead."

She staggered up to him and met him despite their height difference. He was the one who had kicked the door open for her. Maybe he was just trying to help her or maybe, more realistically he was taunting her. Watch me, she told herself.

She looked into his eyes and challenged him with an unwavering glare. Her head felt heavy then and she touched her forehead, breaking the contact. A headache hit her with an onslaught of nausea.

"Why…why… Have we met?" she looked up at him once more with a more questioning gaze before she collapsed headfirst onto his chest. Before he had time to react, what little that was in her stomach came out of her mouth and onto his black trench coat.

Yet…he didn't push her away.

Notes: Yeah…it took me a damn long time. Trust me: I was working on this for a long long time – not sure where I wanted to take this but I think I'm kinda happy with this…for now. Leave me a comment or review – how do you think the story is going? I'd appreciate it…and yes, I will finish this even if it takes me forever… Love and world peas, oOoo