Schuldich pressed his hands to the glass wall, looking out across the
burning, light filled city. Takatori had cut their contract on the night he
was to die. They had pushed Weiss as far as they could without disrupting
their plans. Here in the safety of the building, behind the walls of steel
and telepathy, he watched as the night burned on; the city of Tokyo caught up
in a fervor that he had only felt once before and of that time, he only had
empty memories of pain.

/It reminds me of Berlin./

Schuldich's green eyes focused on Liebe's reflection in the glass. "I don't
remember."

/How could you? You were doped to the gills and getting your brains fucked
out./

"Tactful."

/Truthful./

"Talking to yourself again?" Nagi asked as he came into the room.

Schuldich watched as Liebe retreated, hovering in the back of his mind. "Shut
up."

"How eloquent. Your grasp of the human language always astounds me."

Schuldich rolled his eyes and turned around. "What do you want?"

The slight Japanese boy headed over to him, coming to stand beside him at the
glass wall. "To see the view."

"Your city is burning."

"It's not my city. Never was."

"Still resentful?"

Nagi slanted gold-brown eyes at him. "What makes you think that?"

Schuldich smirked. "I'm a telepath."

"You don't know everything."

"I never said I did."

Nagi turned to look at the city again. "It's beginning."

"It's *been* beginning."

"You think Immortality is possible?"

"Anything is possible."

/Anything?/ Liebe whispered into her mind as she touched his shoulder, making
him shiver. /You should listen to your own advice sometimes./

One moment she was there, the next, gone; cryptic statement echoing in his
ears. Schuldich made a face. "Where's Farfarello?"

"Laughing in a corner and cursing out God."

"Brad?"

"Getting our orders."

Schuldich snorted. "He already knows our orders. He's just doing this to
placate them."

"It's what he does best." Nagi shrugged his shoulders. "It doesn't matter,
though."

"Doesn't it? We've only got his word for it. He could plan to kill us when
this is all over," Schuldich said, recalling the incident with the gun.

"Perhaps. But not you."

Schuldich looked at him. "What do you mean?"

Nagi brushed some of his hair out of his eyes as he turned to face Schuldich.
"He could never kill you. Farfarello, yes, for obvious reasons. Myself
because he could. You? You make him think for himself. He wouldn't want to
give that up."

"Liar."

"Take it however you like, Schuldich. You know it's the truth."

There was bitterness in Nagi's voice; anger, hate, longing, jealousy. A
multitude of emotions that were all directed at Schuldich. The German stared
at Nagi silently for a moment before reaching out and tilting his face up,
pressing his mouth to the other boy's. Nagi's lips parted automatically,
tongue drawing Schuldich inside. The redhead slowly and carefully kissed Nagi
until he couldn't breath. When they finally parted, Nagi was gasping for
breath and so was Schuldich.

The redhead gave Nagi a mocking smile that seemed sincere. "You don't want my
life," he told him before walking away.

He dug his discman out of his blazer pocket and put on his earphones. Turning
it on he skipped to track six and turned up the volume. Going into the other
room he flopped down on the couch and threw an arm over his eyes as the music
tried to break his eardrums. He let himself go, riding the waves of notes as
he freed his mind from the tight control he had it in. With casual
indifference he pierced through the veil of chaos that shrouded Tokyo,
running other people's thoughts through his own.

It had been months since he had last done this, just listened to the world
around him, anchored to his body by the music in his ears. Months since he
had filled his head with the voices that had shoved him onto this path. It
wasn't his fault that he had this ability. Just a random twist in evolving
genetics that had given him this hell that he called life. The city burned,
the people screamed, and he listened to their thoughts. He listened where no
one but a select few could and danced through the intricacies of insanity.

With a grimace he dragged his mind, his self, back to reality, calling up the
silence deep inside him, the silence that he had sold everything for. Mind.
Body. Soul. His whole existence wrapped up in a soundless void. But the void
was breaking, the masks slipping. He was hearing voices again and this time
he had nothing left to sell.

Cool hands trailed up his chest, his throat, his face, tangling through his
hair. /You've got a choice, Schuldich./

"And that would be?" he whispered, eyes closed.

/You know what./

"Liebe . . ."

She chuckled softly, sadly, bitterly. /I tried, Schuldich. I tried. But I'm
dead and you're alive. It's not my place to help you./

He kept his eyes closed, feeling the coldness wash through his body from
hers. "Thank you."

/I told you never to thank me./

"All the same. I mean it."

The hands lifted, her touch faded, her voice silenced. /My crazy little
redhead. Who will save you now?/

And just like that, she was gone. A memory, a hallucination, he didn't know
which. But it didn't matter anymore. He turned the CD back to track six, his
voice falling into the silence like shattered glass.

"Help me . . ."