~~~~~~~~~~~
Every Judas by Carole

Rating: PG
Warnings: Yaoi subtext. Mentions onesided
Farfello+Bradley,
Schu+Bradley....Bradley+Nagi
~~~~~~~~~~~
Silver flashes. Knives dance in his hands, but he's
not watching them. He's been watching you again, gold
eye gleaming as hefollows your every twitch in this
prison you call an office. As you type away, I wonder
if you are really oblivious to it, or ignoring it,
knowing that nothing will happen. In control as
always.

White hair shifts under artificial lights as the
single golden orb turns in my direction. He is aware
of the observation, even if you aren't. I smile, a sly
grin, and wink knowingly. There is no needto read his
mind, nor do I want to try to make sense of what I
find there. It's obvious what he's thinking, why he's
watching. I used to do the same thing myself, for the
same reasons. I wonder if you realize just how
beautiful you are: perfect and unreachable.

He turns away, giving all his attention, the same
single mindedness he applies on his quest to hurt God,
focusing it solely on you, despite the flashing death
he plays within his hands. More than loyalty, but
that's what you have in us, in Schwartz. Estet may
think they own our souls, but its you first, as
always, isn't thatright, Brady-boy? I wasn't there
when you seduced him into our loving embrace, but I
wonder, was it the same way you seduced me, with the
confidence, the control, the air you had about you
that promised the world and more? The unsaid promise
of delivering God to him on a silver platter, a
direction for his madness, even as you told me you
could quell the voices in my head. Never spoken, but
there, behind your eyes, you offered everything I
wanted.

I can remember it so clearly, the day my life changed
forever. Calm. That was my first impression.

You stared straight at me, like you'd been waiting for
me allyour life and knew I was coming. It was only
later that I knew the truth. Your shoes splashed in
the grime and wet as you walked over, marring the
white starkness of your pants. An angel disguised as a

businessman with glasses, perfect dark hair, white
suit, who promised me peace inside my head. A peace
paid for in blood.

Calm, controlled. You were the first one who didn't
make my headache with unwanted noise, of hopes,
dreams, lies and promises unkept, of images and words
I knew weren't my own. You were the first one
who didn't think I was crazy, but told me I was
special, different, blessed.

I know I just stared at you. You weren't my usual type
ofcustomer. I've never asked what you thought of me
then and looking is outof the question since I can
only see what you want me too. Control, always, nein?

//I know what you are.// Clear as crystal, not the
jumbled mess of thoughts that the drugs merely dulled,
but never obliterated. //I can teach you to control
it, make the voices stop unless you want to hear
them.// Your lips never moved and you waited
expectantly for the answer you knew I'd have to give.
And for a moment, the voicesdid go away, you drowned
them out through sheer personality and will. I
think that was when I fell in love with you.

I should have realized what a fool I was. I can't even
blame iton being naive for I can't remember myself
ever in procession of innocence in the ways of the
world in any form. Telepathy doesn't leave you the
luxury of thinking the best of people, especially
given my former profession. So, years later, I'd done
my time in Helland you'd actually fulfilled your
promise. The voices were gone. Ihad control no matter
how much you accuse me these days of lacking both
that and sense. I was hopeful then, watching you like
Farfarello does now, giving off subtle and not so
subtle hints as to what I wanted.

And you ignored them all, cold, professional,
unattainable, challenging. Then came Farfarello and
our darling little Nagi, who is no more innocent than
I was at his age.

Poor, deluded madman. I think he's as much a fool as I
used tobe, thinking I could have you. But be wary, he
loved and followed God once with the same devotion. I
wonder which of you, if either, I should pity.

Or myself, for that matter, if I get caught in the
middle. The clack of keys falls silent at laughter
that does not sound half so desolate when released.

A finger pushed up your glasses to the bridge of your
nose as you turn that oh so perfect face towards me,
illuminated by the radiation emitted from the computer
screen.

"Schuldich?"

"Yes, Bradley?" False sweetness that could form
cavities at thirty paces.

"If you're going to murmur on and be distracting,
leave." Therewas a pause for breath and you send a
piercing glare towards me. "Anddon't call me that,"
you say, turning back to whatever it is your doing.

//Someone really should remove that stick before it
does permanent damage, Bradley-chan. You don't have to
work all the time.// Ibrush against your mind, soft as
a feather, but I know you can hear me.

Annoyance. //Schuldich...//

//Fine, whatever you say, Bradikuns.//

You scowl, then ignore me as I rise to my feet, making
a great show of stretching out the kinks from the
position I have held for so long in my corner of the
couch. As always, untouchable and desirable, and
I realize that I'm as much a fool as I ever was.

"Oh, Schuldich?"

I turn, my voice too eager. "Yes?"

"Take Farfarello with you."

I bow in mock obedience. Or is it? We would follow you
to the bitter end. Estet must praise you for this. Who
else could keep the madman, the prodigy and the whore
in line? Though, I'd doubt they'd do so if they knew
our real loyalties, including yours. Estet will not
own us forever.

With a gesture, Farfarello comes through the open door
like an obedient dog.

Pity, we can never have you. I laugh again, I can't
help it and Farfarello looks at me like I'm the one
who's locked up in aroom with padded walls every
night. Oh yes, Crawford, you play God with us, your
devoted disciples, but I wonder what would happen if
the madman found some were more devoted than others.

Of what you and Nagi do when he is locked up for the
night. Sometime, I just might find out and who'd need
who's pity then. Every Judas gets offered his thirty
pieces of silver eventually. But I couldn't even do
that, could I, Bradley? Again, in control, you'd see
it coming.

The laughter is almond bitter on my tongue and falls
away to silence.

~end