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
Whispers of Memory
Finding Your Soul
Quatre swatted at a stick that had
struck him across the face, growling some obscenity under his breath. The day
had been never-ending so it seemed, each minute taking hours to pass. He
wondered if his entourage knew he was missing yet, but quickly dismissed it. He
didn’t want to think of them, of their secrets, of their pity on him.
I
cannot believe they think so little of me, he sighed, sitting on a rock for a moment. He looked to
his right, watching the small brook as it cut through the forest, listening to
its quiet whispers of movement. I thought I
was their friend, not their damn responsibility!
A beam of sunlight crawled through
the encompassing trees over head, bathing the left side of his face. The grass
was thick and riddled with fallen branches and dried leaves which had been
burrowed into makeshift homes for the local animals. Dimly, he heard a bird
scream and take flight off some distance to his left.
His hand drifted up to his heart,
clutching it. He hung his head, the golden silk shielding his face from any
sort of view. “What am I doing?” he whispered. “Perhaps Wufei is right and I am
nothing more than a royal brat.”
He rose to his feet, his entire body
heavy. He turned to go back when a branch snapped nearby. Quatre whirled, hand
flying to the dagger he wore at his hip, ocean eyes narrowed.
“Stupid, Heero,” Duo muttered,
driving his fist into the trunk of a nearby tree. “I can’t believe you would
stoop as low as a mortal woman, soul or no soul!” He stomped on, not caring who
or what heard him; when he had his way, nothing would be left of this world
anyway.
Pulling his sword from his sheath,
he cut through the bushes and overgrowth before him, hacking with a ferocity
familiar in war. He snarled as the foliage refused to accept defeat and chopped
at it for a few more moments, purely on good measure. Sighing, he began walking
once again, brushing the damp tangled bangs from his amethyst eyes.
“I can’t believe I loved you for all
these years,” he whispered, the weight of the entire situation suddenly
crashing down upon him. “All these centuries that I wasted, wandering, hoping
for some sort of loophole, hoping you would come back to me. I was such an
idiot.” He slashed at another harmless tree, sending splinters flying through
the air like tears.
“Why do I even care? I’m the Demon of Death, after all,” he
quietly mused. “Who would love a demon?”
“I would.”
Quatre had no idea why those words burst through his lips,
obviously of their own volition, but he wanted nothing more than to take them
back as he looked at the imposing figure before him.
A gleaming sword was
caught in the middle of a swing, aimed at a thick growth of bushes to the left
of the boy. His armor glittered in what little light there was, making it
appear like polished onyx, intricate designs carved into it with love and care.
The boy’s hair was plaited perfectly, the braid slipping over his shoulder in
the most enticing manner. Amaryllis eyes widened in shock and disbelief, then
narrowed in hatred.
“If you know what’s good for you,” the boy said, “you better
not mock me.”
Quatre just stared, his hand squeezing his chest tightly.
The dagger in his hand slipped through his numb fingers and clattered,
unnoticed, against a rock below. Images flashed behind his eyes, burning
themselves into his mind with a passionate fire.
Swimming
in the pure violet of his eyes. Running my fingers through his loose chestnut
silk. Lips, soft and pliable, forcing themselves onto my own. Hands, skilled
and tender, sliding over my flesh, burning, heated. Whispers of love, of
devotion, of eternity.
Quatre sank down to his knees, hanging his head. Tears,
diamonds on his pale cheeks, rolled down unnoticed.
Separation.
Loneliness. Abandonment. Why are you doing this? I love him! Can’t you see that
you’re killing me? Don’t make me leave him, please, sir! Duo! Duo! Duooo!
“Make it stop!” Quatre screamed, turning his head up to the
heavens.
Duo watched with mild interest as the blonde boy in front of
him dropped to his knees in either a fit of mental breakdown or a heart attack;
he wasn’t sure which. He leaned against a nearby, untouched tree, observing the
scene.
Out of nowhere, memories, sudden and fierce, struck him,
driving the demon to his own knees. His eyes closed as he brought his hands up
to his temples, vainly attempting to rid himself of this turn of events.
Was
he swimming in the blueness of the ocean or in the cerulean depths of Heero’s
eyes? He smelled so sweet, like all nature on a crisp fall day. His hair was
thick and tangled and always so difficult to run through his fingers, but he
tried, day after day, he tried. Smile, Heero! I love you, Heero.
“I don’t want to think about this!” Duo growled, slamming
one fist into the ground around him. “Stop it, damnit!”
Come
on, Heero! Let’s go do something, Heero! I’m bored, Heero! We’ll always be
together, won’t we, Heero? We have all of eternity to waste away, don’t we? Why
do you love me, Heero? It is not a stupid question, just answer it! I love you
too, Heero.
Such bittersweet recollections, something so old it seemed
impossible to be real. The pain though, that cruel wrenching in the center of
his chest, reminded him just how true all those scenes were, reminded him how
much he still hurt.
Please,
I beg you! Rethink this! What are you doing to him? No, Heero! I love you!
Don’t leave me, Heero! Don’t, Heero! Oh, God, no! NOOOO!
Duo looked up, feeling the stinging of tears in his eyes,
and found himself staring into the watery orbs of the blonde boy before him.
Both boys knelt on the ground, ignoring the twigs and rocks that dug relentlessly
into their knees, and gazed helplessly forward.
“Duo,” whispered Quatre, voice trembling.
“Heero?” the demon hissed. “I-is it really you, Heero?”
“Yes,” the blonde boy answered, words quivering. He suddenly
shook his head roughly, closing his eyes as tears flew off his smooth cheeks to
splatter against the face of the demon. “I mean, no! No! I don’t know what
happened, but my name is not Heero!”
The
soul is dormant within him,
Duo thought, raising one eyebrow. But it
woke up a little when it saw me. All I have to do is free it totally, and then
I can have my Heero back!
“Heero,” Duo whispered, leaning forward until his face was
inches from the frozen Quatre. “I know you can hear me, Heero. Come back to me,
please.”
The boy quickly backed away and hopped to his feet. Taking a
few unsteady steps behind him, he repeated, “I am not this Heero person you’re
taking about! I never heard of him! My name is Quatre Raberba Winner.”
“If that’s the case, my dear Quatrrre,” Duo said, drawing
his name out intentionally, “what was that little fit back there? Why are you
crying? Why are you trembling?”
“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Quatre said,
shaking his head. His back hit an old thick tree trunk and he leaned against it
for support.
“Oh, but you do,” the demon drawled, walking to the boy.
With a steady hand, he brushed the side of the boy’s face, catching and holding
the pure eyes before him. “I can feel my Heero inside you.”
“W-what?” Quatre hissed, but was stopped before he could go
any farther.
Lips, soft yet relentless, fell down onto his own, sparking
something within his gift and his soul. He moaned, pushing back against the
tree, distantly feeling the bark bite into the flesh of his back. A tongue,
skilled, long, delicious, slipped between his lips and invaded his mouth,
exploring and igniting every place it could. In the back of his throat, Quatre
moaned.
I
remember this! Yes, the way he kissed me! The soft breath against my skin as he
made love to me, time and time again. The way his hands brushed over my flesh
so lightly that it almost tickled, but it burned! Oh, God, did it burn!
My
heart! It’s beating so fast! What is it I feel for this man? No, he’s not a
man! He’s the demon I’m looking for! I can sense it! So, why am I not pulling
away? Why am I not killing him? Why does it feel like I…I love him?
Arms, fumbling like a blind man, encircled the armored boy
before him, and he returned, with fervor, the kiss the demon had bestowed upon
him, whispering his name behind the locked lips.
Duo,
my beautiful Duo.
“I can hear someone,” Trowa hissed, cocking his head to the
left. He stopped, face blank with concentration, and then began walking once
more, avoiding any twigs in his path. He pushed aside a branch, holding it out
so that the young general behind him could pass.
Wufei snorted, pushing past the Knight to stalk away. “You
did a wonderful job watching out for Lord Quatre, you know that, Trowa?” he
snarled, sarcasm dripping from each word.
“Be quiet,” Trowa ordered, squinting his eyes and staring to
the left. He could have sworn he had seen a glimmer of something; it had
happened so quickly, but he knew he had seen something!
“How dare you give me an order!” Wufei raged, sloe eyes
narrowing.
“I said, be quiet,” Trowa hissed, voice emotionless as
usual. “Someone is over there.”
Both boys put their differences aside, shut their mouths,
and crept silently toward a small clearing. Trowa crouched down, Wufei behind
him, and parted a pair of bushes in front of them. They squinted their eyes, fighting
to block out stray beams of sunlight that had penetrated the leaves above.
Trowa saw it first, leaving him with a lasting, tormented
vision, and no matter how hard he tried to block it out, it burned itself
against his eyes again and again.
Quatre lay on a bed of dried brown leaves, each movement he
made causing them to crackle underneath him. Sunlight bathed his face; his hair
lay out beneath him in a pool of gold silk, his face smooth and flushed as his
eyes were clenched shut. His naked chest heaved, his shirt lying unnoticed
several feet away, while his hands roamed with an inconceivable yearning over
the naked body of another boy who was atop him.
Pain, a mixture of caution and jealously, erupted in Trowa’s
chest. It clenched his heart in an iron grip, twisting and wrenching it as if
squeezing all the agony it could muster from the beating vessel. He moaned deep
in the back of his throat, killing it before it could erupt into something
louder.
The Knight’s body reacted before he could even think, which
he thoroughly reprimanded himself for later. He stood up, bursting through the
bushes and took a few solid steps forward into the clearing.
“Quatre…” he whispered, his eyes on the adoring face of the
young king. His one visible eye suddenly shifted to the boy above him, a young
god with chestnut hair falling in rivers about the two of them. “You will pay,
demon.”