FicWad

First time sane, and thirteen years old, he ran into Crawford without knowing who he was, coming out of an empty classroom. Schuldig bared his teeth a little, his eyes hooded; just far enough from overt insolence.

He remembers little of Rosenkreuz, less of what came before. He was surviving, every day a different way, sly and scrawny and vicious. Just another scab-kneed pigeon-chested boy in a military-styled uniform too big for him.

From Rosenkreuz, Schuldig learned to recognise power. Years later, he's still just living, standing at Crawford's back and smiling like the end of the world. It's enough.