I do not own the “Gundam
Wing” characters, nor did I make any money off of this project, so please no
suing. Various pairings, yaoi, AU.
The Completion Of Death
Meeting Myself for the Second Time
Fragmented Feelings of a Flightless Angel
Wings that sparkled like the stars
outside brushed against the doors as the angel walked into the room, his face
the usual emotionless somber expression. His cobalt eyes glimmered with the
candlelight, two deadpan icy pools of fire. His green tunic hung in tatters
over his muscled torso, dried blood so dark it appeared brown still on his
back. In his right hand he loosely held his sword, while his eyes scanned
everyone there, then falling back onto the winged demon in the center.
“No,” Duo explained, his grip
unconsciously tightening around Deathscythe. “Don’t you see? I have everything
here! I’ve waited for you so we can finally put this all behind us!”
“I have my orders,” the angel
replied, taking another step into the room.
“Forget the orders!” he screamed,
his cheeks turning red with rage. “I’m tired of the damn orders! I just want
what was stolen from me!” Tears leaked out of the corner of his eyes and
trickled down his face, unnoticed. He waved a hand at Quatre, who stared in
complete awe of the angel. “Look! I have your soul! Doesn’t some part of you
want that back?”
Hard cerulean eyes shifted towards
the young king, observing his buttery locks, his soft, intelligent eyes, his
youthful features. He could feel the energy that exuded from his graceful body,
more life than any mere human could ever hope to hold. Behind that smooth face,
he saw his own, behind those soft eyes, his stared back.
I
don’t…it can’t be!
“You see?” Duo eagerly cut in. He
walked to the angel who paid him no heed. “This is what we’ve always wanted!”
“Wanted…”
The demon leaned in close to Heero’s
ear, purring gently as he pushed his scythe into his hand. “Take it. Take what
is rightfully yours.”
Dimly, the angel felt the weapon of
legend fall into his grasp, a small sigh escaping his lips. The power was a
comfort to his weary body, filling him with long forgotten passion. Without
realizing it, his feet carried him to the young boy whose sea-colored gaze
never left his drowning eyes.
Trowa and Wufei both tensed up,
their hands flying to the swords. Duo waved at the two humans, silent whispers
of calm. Smiling, he turned back to the priceless moment, that which his life
had been made of.
The angel’s wings
stretched out in magnificent glory, flapping, then enveloping Quatre, who
leaned against the torso of the immortal. Heero’s fingers sought out the king’s
cheeks, touching them as if they were delicate rose petals, then snaked his
arms around the boy’s body, pulling him closer than should have been possible. “I see myself in your eyes,” Heero whispered.
His eyes couldn’t leave the beautiful calm that radiated from the boy king’s
face; he drank it in like expensive wine.
“There are two people inside this
one vessel,” Quatre replied, his voice hushed. His head fell back as if
offering his throat while his lips parted with the smallest smile of ecstasy.
“Take that which is yours, Angel of Life. Take hold of the destiny that should
have been.”
A light as pure as new-fallen snow
began to build in the center of the embrace, slowly expanding its warming
touch. Quatre’s fingers slipped over Heero’s calloused ones, intertwining and
grasping hold of the scythe. A soft humming purr emanated from the weapon,
hypnotic in its subtlety. The brilliance soon enveloped the couple, hiding them
from the others’ eyes in pure blinding intensity.
Suddenly, the scythe’s purr turned
into a whining screech as the light shot out with force, grasping everything in
a white glow. It tore everyone’s sight from their burning eyes, that noise
driving all sane thoughts from their heads as it pounded itself into the
darkest regions of their minds, tearing at them. Somewhere, an eternity away,
Quatre screamed, but was promptly cut off like a dagger.
And just as surely as the light
appeared, it faded away, leaving only Trowa, Wufei, and Duo standing in the
dark candlelight, the only noise the sound of wax hitting the cold marble.
Deathscythe lazily floated in the air several feet off, standing with no aid of
anything.
Duo stood smiling beneath an angel
statue, his wings flapping as his eyes took on a dreamy glaze as he stared at
the hovering weapon. Trowa and Wufei rushed to him, the general grabbing the
demon’s upper arms in a bruising grip and shaking him roughly.
“Where the hell did they go?” he
screamed into the uncanny peaceful face. “Tell me what happened to Quatre, you
bastard!”
Slowly, the demon turned his eyes
towards the shouting boy, a lopsided drunken grin hanging loosely from his
lips. “They went to decide the fate of all that has ever been. They have gone
to the other side. It’s up to Heero now.”
Quatre blinked repeatedly as he
looked at his new, unfamiliar surroundings. There was nothing but color, a
swirling copper that bled into one shade of constant movement. There was no
ground to stand upon; he was weightless as he was suspended in the nothingness.
With a quick movement, he turned around, his eyes frantically searching out
something that was the slightest bit familiar.
His gaze fell onto a dark-haired boy
some twenty feet away who floated with the same hovering quality the king had
so recently developed. His hair drifted with a laziness that matched the
spiraling colors behind them, his eyes lightly closed as if pleasantly dreaming
while his head was thrown back. His lips, full and moist, were parted and moving,
whispering words that the king couldn’t make out. Arms, slim and muscular, hung
at his side while wings with unblemished snowy feathers were fanned out behind
him.
Quatre dimly recognized that blank
face, a sleep heavy name rising to his lips. “Heero.”
The angel’s head fell forward, his
eyes sliding open, dark and seductive, yet so very vacant that it was if he was
staring into the void of space. He regarded the king with an animalistic
predatory gleam.
“My soul…is the death of the world,”
he hissed. “And as the carrier to that weapon, you must be destroyed.”
Showing
him any sort of fear is not an option, Quatre thought as he looked evenly at the angel. It will just provide him with more confidence. “You are wrong about that.”
“You have no idea what you are
talking about,” Heero growled.
“And after you kill me, what then?”
the king continued. “Your soul will live on! You cannot destroy that part of
you! Quit running from yourself!”
Cerulean blazes filled his eyes as
his wings flapped silently. “I will complete my duty.”
“There is someone out there that
loves you,” Quatre whispered, face soft. “He has done everything in the world
for you, spent these last ten thousand years pining away for you. Do you
realize how lucky you truly are?”
Heero turned his back to the king,
head falling forward. “My mission is…more important than either of us or our
feelings for one another.”
Quatre shook his head as he walked
to the angel. He dreamed he could see past the hard shell and into the beating
heart beneath, but he was painfully reminded that the part he wished to seek
out in Heero rested within himself. His fingers brushed against the delicate
flowing feathers of his wings, then settled on his shoulder. “Nothing is more
important than love, Heero. That was what made this world.”
“There are more important things
than us,” he whispered, eyes slipping shut. “Your mortal vision blinds you. Our
existence is nothing in the grand idea. I follow the will of the earth.”
“Your life is more important than
that!” Quatre yelled, pulling him around to stare at him. “Your love is
precious!”
The wings flapped once more,
encircling the boy and pulling him tight against his body. Heero’s eyes
attached themselves to Quatre’s, devouring the boy into blue oceans. He could
feel the rhythmic beating of the mortal’s heart, could hear the stop of breath
as his body melted against the angel’s. “Do you hear that pounding in your
ears? Do you feel that heat that rises off you in passionate rivers?”
Quatre said nothing, nodding. His
lips were slightly parted and moist, and he could feel the soft washes of
warmth against his face as Heero’s breath fell onto him.
“That is the human distraction,
Quatre,” he whispered into his ear. “That is a weakness that I have been
spared. It is the soul that causes that, and I have none.”
“But you have a soul,” the king
murmured. “You can feel complete once more.”
“What makes you think I don’t
already?” he inquired, voice rough. He could see himself inside the body
against him, feel the yearning that his soul called to him. The song was a
sweet misery that seemed beyond any comprehension, a tearing that begged him to
recognize it.
“If you do, then you would be able
to admit your feelings,” Quatre replied. “And I wouldn’t feel this other
presence inside of me, this other love that isn’t mine.”
Heero leaned his head back, his dark
locks licking his face. Duo. How can I be
with you when it means the world? I want my soul, I want to be rid of that damn
agonizing emptiness I feel whenever I look at you, but how can I? I can’t think
about my desires or myself…can I?
“I wish I knew what it was like to
have a blissful ignorance of mortals,” Heero murmured into Quatre’s ear, his
lips grazing the lobe almost seductively. “My existence gives me no such privilege.”
He leaned his head forward, his lips brushing against the crown of the king’s
head. Behind him, crimson blood began to run down the sides of the feathers,
meeting at each furry tip, tainting the purity of perfection that the wings
possessed, and staining them maroon for here after.
“Heero
will choose whether or not to accept his lost soul, and if he does, then he
will be complete.”
Up
to the angel, Trowa
thought as he polished his sword with a white rag. The fate of Lord Quatre rests in his hands. I feel
so…helpless. It sickens me. I wanted to protect him and I failed at that.
A reassuring hand fell onto his
shoulder, squeezing it gently. Sighing, he looked upward and into the pleasant,
violet eyes of an excited demon.
“It isn’t your fault, Trowa,” he
said warmly. “His fate was decided before he was born. You could only aid him
the best you can, and you did! Everything will work out for the best. Trust
me.”
The Knight blinked, amazed at the
positive confidence that drifted off him in waves. The thoughts of his own
life, how he had betrayed all that he ever believed in all for the sake of
love, fled him as his chest grew pleasantly warm. Distantly, he felt his lips
crack into a small smile, one of the few he ever shared. “Thank you, Duo.”
Out of the corner of his eye, the
demon watched as Wufei hopped to his feet, eyes on the scythe. Duo whirled
around, face impassive as he watched the floating weapon start to slowly spin,
end over end, while the center began to emanate a buttery glow. Trowa climbed
to his feet, eyes narrowed, as the scythe became a circular blur, the light a
blinding white brilliance, heating everything it touched. A hypnotic hum
reverberated throughout the room, low and hushed, causing both mortals to
unconsciously sway from side to side.
The black marble reflected the
radiance, igniting the room into a fiery sun. Duo was the only one to keep his
eyes open; the light did not bother him in the least. He leaned against the
altar, his lips cracking into a hesitant smile. This had been all that he had
wished for and now it was here! Forget the last ten centuries, damnit! The time
was now! A sigh escaped his upturned, moist lips.
Finally…
The light began to recede, allowing the cool onyx of the
walls and the ebony night to take control once more. Trowa and Wufei both
blinked several times, shaking their heads as if they just awoke from a nap.
Duo, however, stood staring with wide violet eyes, eager and ready to pounce.
“Heero…”
Heero stood, face indifferent as he held the limp, unconscious
body of Quatre in his arms. His eyes blazed in two relentless oceans of azure
fire, taking in everyone around him with a hard look. His tunic continued to
lie in tatters across his lean chest, nothing more than scraps now, barely
clinging together with life. The amazing wings that had graced his back were
gone, as if they never existed. Behind him, Deathscythe lay discarded and
forgotten against the cold stones.
“Heero…”
Gently, the angel set the king unto
the floor, with Trowa running to him, Wufei in direct pursuit. They knelt
beside their lord, checking for signs of life, and upon finding them, allowed a
sigh of relief. With skeptical eyes, they looked up at Heero, who only stared
unemotionally at the blissful demon.
“I can’t believe it’s finally over,”
Duo whispered, his voice cracking. Suddenly, he broke into a run, and when
reaching the angel, wrapped him in a frantic embrace, his arms running up his
back and through the dark, unruly locks. Heero made no movement, standing
perfectly still, arms at his sides. “We can finally be together, Heero! Can you
believe it? First thing I want to do is go to Quatre’s nation and-”
“I rejected it.”
Duo stopped moving, his breath
catching painfully in his throat. He turned his face towards the angel, mouth
working silently for a moment as he took a step back. He slowly shook his head
as he stared at Heero, confusion imprinted across his features.
“W-w-what? No…”
Heero nodded, face indifferent.
“Yes.”
Duo’s wings flapped, the leathery
blackness looking haunting in the candlelight. “No! I won’t believe it! Damnit,
you couldn’t have!”
The angel shook his head, eyes
impenetrable walls. “I refused my soul, Duo. This is the way I will remain
until the end of time. We will never be together again.”