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

 

 

 

 

Chapter Two

Meetings foretold

Dreaded future

 

 

           

Duo slammed the bar door behind him, noting with extreme satisfaction the flurry of frightened looks he received from the occupants. Several people slowly rose to their shaking legs and darted out of the small establishment, casting frightened glances over their running shoulders.

            The boy smiled and sat down at a nearby table, watching the way the bartender walked to him in tiny steps and the way his baldhead glistened with a thick sheet of sweat. Duo laid his chin on the back of his hand and waved the older man over with a finger.

            “I won’t bite,” Duo said. “No matter what the legend says.”

            The bartender gulped, his gray eyes suddenly wide and large. He knew he was looking death in the face and he wondered for how much longer he could hold his bladder.

            “W-w-what can I g-get for you?” he stuttered.

            “The finest wine you have,” Duo replied, his head still resting on the back of his hand. This was so amusing.

            “J-just one glass, s-sir?”

            “The whole bottle, my good man,” he answered, words laden with mock joy. “Don’t be stingy.”

            The man turned and nearly tripped over his own feet as he ran back behind the bar. Duo tapped his impatient fingers against the knotted wood of the round table in front of him, flashing amethyst eyes towards the doorway.

            “Any minute now,” he murmured, as the bartender set a filled flute of crimson wine before him. “You are so slow. You should’ve beat me by ten minutes at least.”

            Footsteps, light and commanding all at once, came floating through the door and struck the boy’s ears, which sent him smiling even more.

            “Ask and ye shall receive,” he muttered.

            The door swung open, golden light blinding anyone who dared to look into it. A figure, dark and straight, stood in the center of it, nothing more than a shadow for a moment before he stepped in. His face was ageless, lineless, yet rough and dispassionate, along with a set of pure azure eyes that were hard after seeing every wonder of the world. His body was lean and a little lanky, but he moved with the grace of any wild beast, while his hair, dark and completely unruly, brushed his face. His clothes were plain, a pair of black pants that slightly hung off his lower body and a deep forest green tunic. A long black wool cloak trimmed with dark animal fur almost brushed against the wooden floor and was attached around his neck by a silver brooch that sparkled coldly, while the hilt of a gleaming short sword hung off his waist.

            He turned his impassive eyes to the boy at the table sipping wine, and calmly strutted to him, an air of quiet confidence about him.

            He took a seat and folded his hands atop the table, watching the boy with expert eyes. “So, we finally meet.”

            Duo nodded, bangs bouncing, as he smiled. “Yeah. It’s been awhile,” he remarked, sipping some more red alcohol. “I’d say about, oh, ten thousand years or so.”

            “Hn.”

            “So, would you like some wine, Heero?” Duo offered, waving his hand at the trembling bartender. “I’m sure he would be more than happy to complete any order you may have.”

            “Just tell me why you sought me out,” the boy growled.

            Duo chuckled, light and merry. “Always so serious! I would have figured after all this time you would’ve at least gained some sort of sense of humor. I remember that one time-”

            “I see that over the years you haven’t learned to control your loose tongue,” Heero muttered.

            Duo pouted, lower lip sticking pathetically out. “Aw! You wound me!”

            “Again, why did you want me?” he growled.

            Defeated, Duo settled back in his wooden chair, hands folded behind his head as a cocky smile crossed his lips. “Aren’t you sick of this?” he inquired. “All of this?”

            “What are you rambling about now?” the dark haired boy grumbled, raising an eyebrow.

            “I’m so tired of all this wandering,” Duo said, his voice oddly serious. “I didn’t ask to be immortal! I didn’t ask to be born as the Demon of Death! I want out, and you are the only one who can help me.”

            Heero looked on, face never changing, as he took in the weight of the words. He couldn’t count the numerous times he had thought the same thing, but it was his purpose to roam. His entire reason to exist was to prevent what may happen if the dreaded words of legend came true. It was his mission to keep the demon across from him in check while staying as far away from him as possible at the same time, and he was a perfectionist when it came to following orders.

            If that’s the case, why am I here? he bitterly thought.

            To make sure he doesn’t do something foolish, he answered, but that didn’t seem it. Perhaps, he’s not too far off on this. I am really tired of roaming. How long do I have to endure this stupid world? How long must I walk the face of the earth because of some legend over ten thousand years old? 

            Heero rose to his feet so quickly the chair behind him tumbled backward, his face indifferent. For a moment, Duo’s heart jumped, wondering, hoping his words had rested upon the boy’s soul in a winning manner.

            “You are mad,” Heero said, his nasally voice impassive. “You know I will never help you.”

            Duo hopped to his feet, slamming the palms of his hands onto the table and leaning forward on them. His braid slid over his shoulder like a living serpent. “Damnit, Heero! I know you want to! You can’t enjoy this!”

            “I do what I am told,” he said evenly.

            “And when was the last time you were told anything?” Duo shouted, his voice full of rage. “The Voice has been silent for more years than I care to remember! Why do we even keep on going? I don’t get it! Because of something that was said ages ago? Where is the logic in that?”

            Heero stared at the fuming boy with mild interest. “I’m going to continue with my last orders, regardless of what you have to say.”

            “You know, I would’ve thought that all these years would’ve worn your stubbornness down,” Duo snarled, baring his teeth.

            “And I thought you would’ve gained some intelligence during that time as well,” Heero replied, walking towards the door.

            “You know, for the Angel of Life, you sure are a cold-hearted bastard,” Duo muttered, slumping back down into his chair. He picked the wine filled flute up once more and sipped it.

            Heero stopped, back still to the demon. “I want to help you,” he whispered. “You think I’m not tired of walking as well? You think I don’t want to rejoin my ranks in the Higher Plane? I do, but I was entrusted with an important mission and I intend to follow it.”

            “What is wrong with going home?” Duo pleaded. “Why are we cursed like this?”

            “I don’t know,” Heero muttered, walking to the door once more. “But I’ll roam for the rest of eternity, just like I was told. I won’t have the blood of every person alive staining my hands.” And with that, he was swallowed by the radiant sunlight outside.

            Duo sighed, his heart heavy. “Bartender! More wine! No, forget that! Give me some ale! The biggest mug of it you can find! Bartender!”

            Upon receiving no answer, he cursed and got to his feet, walking towards the bar. Peeking over, he saw the bartender, sprawled out across the worn floor, apparently passed out from fear, or at least that was what the dark stain around his crotch made it look like.

            Duo grabbed the first mug he could find and leaned over the bar, filling it from one of the tapped barrels that stood against the wall. Sighing, he took it back to his table and lazily drank it.

            Today is just not my day.

 

 

            “Damn!”

            The curse echoed throughout the small clearing, which only angered Wufei more. He inspected the ground again, his black almond-shaped eyes relentlessly searching for any signs of where the young king had run off to.

            “Trowa must be with him,” he muttered, kicking a rock. “No wonder there aren’t any traces of them! Damn that Knight!”

            He began walking west once more, sighing. If Trowa was with him, there would be some difficulty in finding Quatre. Always the attentive one, the one to catch what most would miss or deem unnecessary, the Knight of the Scythe would cover every track they could leave.

            A stick snapped under his foot and a large raven, feathers slick and polished in the sunlight, took to the sky like a messenger of doom.




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