CITY OF ANGELS
By KRYSTAL



Part 1 : Scars

Looking out across the vast expanse of ice cold sea, Heero couldn't quite remember how things had gotten this fucked up. He hadn't felt this confused since those days when he'd first woke up in that thrice-damned hospital room. He sighed, laying back against the cool dew laden grass that decorated the cliff, and placed slender, scarred arms behind his neck.

But then again, life was like that /one minute everything ok, the next. . ./ or so he'd discovered. Idly he bit his lip and toyed with a stray lock of hair, briefly playing with the idea of flying. Now *that* would be fun. A cynical smile played it's way across full lips at the thought of just jumping and letting it all end here.

As he watched the icy waters below bubble and froth against the jagged outcroppings of rock, he realized with a small sigh that they were sadly proving to be more of a temptation every morning. /Flying. . .. Hell, I could do it. No we're not nuts--just misunderstood./ Then again so was the idea of stealing Jarod's car and taking off to-- Well, he really didn't give a damn where; just anywhere, where there was something more going on. Where he didn’t have to feel soo trapped. With Jarod constantly on his case hell it didn’t take a genius to figure out that those pale green eyes were hiding something. Something Jarod was afraid of.

Sitting up, he blinked at the ever darkening, clouded sky. He sighed again, just for effect. Being in a constant struggle to find your identity can get a little tiring.

/ Rain...rain go away... Huh? Wonder where that one came from../

He'd pretty much given up any hope of finding out *who* he was, but that didn't mean that he had to sit around in this boring, little, sorry-excuse-for-a-fishing-village and-- /Damn!/ It was getting cold outside. . . and the best part was that it was going to rain. Thank god it was Saturday. At least there wasn’t much he had to do today. Lazily he rolled the days events around in his head just knowing that Jarod was sure to find something to keep Heero busy. Made him want to stay in the early morning predawn light as long as possible. As much as he cared for Jarod, working for him was turning out to be a real bitch. But then again so was his girlfriend, Heero thought with a smirk.

Slowly Heero sat up wincing a little as the muscles in his back protested. He’d been stressing again, pushing himself too hard trying to forget. Jarod knew but he still tried to keep Heero’s thoughts occupied. Heero knew the man only had good intentions but he still felt caged.

With a last resentful sigh, Heero turned and headed back; back to his little house by the sea, back to that small, insignificant life that awaited him. Gravel blissfully churned beneath his bare feet as he walked back towards the house. Back to Jarod and Jarod's none too intelligent girlfriend, of all people. The little ditz gave 'blonde' an entirely new meaning. Why couldn't he just stay out here in the rain all day?

/Saturday mornings . . . ch'./ Heero blew chestnut strands out of his face in exasperation. The damned things always got him thinking about his virtually nonexistent past. /Cynical? Moi? Never!/ He just knew there was something more. Some part of his life locked deep within. That missing part that left his very soul burning with anxiety . . . and fear. A fear so deeply rooted that it left him wondering if he even *wanted* to remember. It was that feeling that kept him from searching, from leaving that sleepy little town.

/Oh fuck; I'm gonna end up depressing my self again./ Heero paused for a moment before blinking back the tears. /Why fear?/

The worn old house he'd called home for the past two years loomed closer as his thoughts continued on their reflective track. This seemingly inconsequential life was all he had, now. All he wanted, really--or so he kept trying to tell himself.

Coming down the stone walkway that lead up to the weathered porch and back around to the garage, Heero spotted his friend. Jarod had been around since the beginning--or at least the beginning of the life he *could* remember. It was Jarod who had pulled him up on to that fishing boat, Jarod who had taken care of him in the hospital. Hell; Jarod had even taken him in and put him to work. He owed his whole life to the guy--but that didn't make Jarod any less of an asshole.

Gazing now at the ass in question, Heero felt a short twinge of guilt and tried to fight off the snicker that followed. It wasn't *his* fault Jarod had left the whipped cream in plain sight--or that Jarod's girlfriend, Lindsey, had been lying on the couch helplessly, just *begging* to be decorated. Personally, he thought her face just looked *better* covered in whipped cream. And it most certainly wasn't *his* fault that she couldn't take a joke. He fought to keep the smirk off his face as Jarod came closer, the early morning breeze gently playing off his t-shirt.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Jarod casually asked while absently toying with the worn paint on the banister, green eyes narrowing with amusement.

"Wouldn't you like to know," Heero replied winking one violet eye, while pausing at the step to the porch.

"You do realize that now *I'm* in the shit house with Lindsey?"

Raising his eyebrows in mock surprise, Heero couldn't bite back the cackle making its way up through his throat, or the smart ass remark that came next.

Casually Jarod flipped him off and headed back into the house letting the screen door slam shut behind. " I made you that thrice damned coffee of yours," Jarod called from somewhere in the house. The sound of clanking dishes drifted out to greet Heero.

"Caffeine!" Heero cheered bounding up the stairs.

*****

It was Life or Death. The outcome of this single battle could change everything. There were to be no mistakes. Sweat threatening to trickle down her back, she wiped jagged bangs away from pale aqua blue eyes and reloaded the machine guns while slicing through one more suit with her laser rifle.

Now! All that was left was the *detonator*. With the single stroke of a key . . . the enemy's entire fleet would be taken out. Darting her way around the debris, she positioned herself just right--

*Knock* *Knock*

/Knocking?!/

"Fuck!" Relena silently cursed while detaching her self from the VR set. "Just a minute," she pleaded while carefully removing the straps so as to not cause too much noise.

Gently she placed the set into the top drawer of her huge mahogany desk. Making way across her pale pink carpet, Relena silently cursed what ever evil had brought her away from her game. Someone was going to *pay*.

Attempting her most authoritative voice Relena called for the unwelcome intruder to enter.

"Relena-sama."

"Noin?!" /What the hell is she doing back?!/ "What a pleasant surprise I wasn't expecting you for another four days!" /God forbid./

"Yes . . . well I sort of have some bad news."

/Fuuuck,/ Relena silently whined to herself. "What, you couldn't bring me *good* news?"

Noin, playing with the silver chain draped around her neck, anxiously replied, "And . . ." She paused considering the weight of her next statement. "Well, some more bad news." There; she had gotten it out! Sadly, however, she didn't want to be the one in here right now. Relena had always given her the creeps.

"Ok," Relena replied, frowning. "Give me the less intimidating news first."

"Well . . ." Noin paused again, blinking.

Relena mentally sighed. /This dipshit had better hurry up. My game is waiting!/

Taking a deep breath while wiping a stray lock of dark hair behind her ear she continued. "I saw Dorothy-sama in the hall . . ."

Relena's eyes brightened considerably at this, her frown almost wavering.

Taking it the wrong way, Noin doggedly plowed on. "She said something about a game . . ."

"Oh." Relena's frown deepened, brows furrowing. /Damn./ It had taken two rounds of poker listening to Dorothy bitch about the damned thing before Relena's interest had *finally* been piqued. Then it had taken another four rounds and a considerable amount of alcohol to convince Dorothy to let her borrow it.

It wasn't like Relena could just go out and buy one. She had her pacifism to maintain, after all.

"Relena. Relena?"

Noin startled her out of her reverie. "Yes. What?" Relena asked blinking, and failing miserably at holding back a snicker. "Oh, yeah! Make it quick, Noin. Then," she added with a little smile, "send Dorothy in for me, would ya?"

Noin almost lost her lunch. Relena was *beaming* for god sakes. Just for the record Noin, took that the wrong way too, but then I guess it could be considered the *right* way. . . .

*****

"Heero! Oi, shit for brains!" Jarod called while childishly wrapping Heero's long chestnut hair into a bun. Jarod had decided that Heero's face had been plastered to the T.V. screen long enough.

"Huh? Wha-- Hey, I know that woman!" Heero replied, jumping for the remote.

Sadly, however, Jarod beat him to it. Flipping the T.V. off for now, Jarod collapsed into a boneless heap next to Heero on the couch. "How many times do I have ta tell ya not to watch the news? It's too damned depressing for ya! You're trying to *heal* remember? Besides, Lindsey is coming over tonight. An' if she see's *you*"--Jarod emphasized by pointing a finger at Heero's nose--"running around all depressed, she'll
be pissed as hell and *I* won't get any." With his finishing lines Jarod crossed his arms and pouted, giving cute a whole new meaning.

"Remind me again why I *care* about your sex life?" Heero retorted while getting up and making his way toward the kitchen. Their was cocoa in there waiting for him. Heero considered the blonde headed idiot on T.V. for a moment and decided that Jarod might know. "But, no, Jarod, I swear. I think . . . I know that woman!"

"No! Really?! Are you sure?" Jarod asked in mock surprise getting up to follow.

As much as Heero loved Jarod like a little brother, he could be such an ass sometimes. "Asshole."

"Heero! *Everyone* knows her!" Jarod spread his arms pausing dramatically. "She's the freaking Queen of the World!"

Then Jarod got that devils look in his eye that Heero had become more than accustomed to. "Or . . . maybe you knew her intimately? Eh?" Jarod quipped, brown eyes all alight, a rakish grin spreading across his face. "Ohhh, I know!" Jarod supplied, brown hair pooling over bare shoulders. "You were in *love* with her!" Jarod accused with an evil cackle threatening to break free. "Heero loves Relena," Jarod sighed melodramatically, placing one slender hand over his heart.

For some reason that last statement pierced Heero to the core. Stunned, Heero bit back the bile rising in his throat and ran for the bathroom. His stomach in knots, he crouched over the toilet. This last memory had royally kicked his ass. When he was done he slowly stood up, clutching a towel as if it were a life line. Wiping his mouth he looked into the mirror, face pale as a ghost. /Wow, I'm lookin' pretty./ He winked at his reflection. His chest hurt and his whole face burned. It wasn't until he had stood in front of the mirror for a few minutes that he realized he had started crying. Pulling on a few stray hairs, he absently began undoing his braid. After telling Jarod that he could quit pounding on the door, Heero began to run himself a bath.

Six months after his rescue, the pain had begun. Fleeting memories would rip through his head; too brief for him to make anything out. They would shatter his self control and then the pain would rage through. He wouldn't even know why he was feeling these strong emotions, just that he couldn't control them. Which only made things that much worse.

That's how he'd come up with the name Heero a few weeks after; Jarod told him he'd been moaning the name in his sleep. Heero had taken it on as a kind of reminder that he still had a past out there . . . somewhere . . .

Holding his head in his hands, sobbing, Heero tried to fight off another headache. It was the eighth one this week. He didn't know how much longer he could survive like this. . . .

*****

Biting his lip and wiping away the stinging that threatened to invade his pale green eyes, Jarod watched the last streaks of fiery red fade into the night. Pale stars began to do their decorating across the sky. Watching the surf gently caress the beach below . . . out here with the breeze blowing through his hair . . . he realized just how simple everything could seem.

Tracing the waters edge to the cliffs about half a mile down shore, he finally understood why Heero had to leave. Heero was restless. He had demons to fight. But he couldn't do it here. Jarod knew that awful day when he pulled Heero up out of the water. Gazing into those fevered violet eyes he had known the boy had been through more than hell. A hell that Jarod himself was accustomed to. Jarod sighed letting the scent of the rain soaked earth to take him away, if only for a few moments.

Although Heero knew nothing of his life's past, his eyes were too old. Eyes that had seen so much pain and hate that even the doctors had decided that it would be for the best if Heero never remembered his past. Jarod sighed, gently wiping at the tear on his cheek. They didn't think he could handle the truth. Seeing the cuts on his wrists and arms, the bullet hole in his chest . . . it didn't take a genius to figure out that Heero had attempted suicide. If he ever *did* remember his past, who was to say he wouldn't try it again?

Heero's body was healing but his heart wasn't. Heero was tormented constantly with dreams of a past he could not recall, as well as fleeting images that would leave him sick for days.

Realizing with a start that the moon was, out Jarod began heading back, looking over his shoulder one last time. Things were getting worse. Not only for Heero, but himself as well. Jarod's old *friends* were back in town. He could only pray they didn't find him this time. The last time they had found him it had turned into a real blood bath.

*****

Shifting into fifth, Wufei gave his truck a bit more gas. He'd been expecting to see Quatre's estate blink into existence any minute now for the past half hour! It was getting *dark* now, and he didn't particularly like the idea of spending the night in the woods with the snow. It wasn't that he had anything personal *against* snow, it was just, well, cold. And he was running out of gas . . . that was all! Honest!

After another fifteen minutes of searching for Quatre's fictitious estate, Wufei was beyond thoroughly convinced that some insolent bastard had fucked up. And upon further examination, he was sure that the insolent bastard was *not* him.

/Shiiit./ It was starting to snow again. With a resigned sigh, Wufei turned the heater up and flipped the radio on. This was going to be one hell of a long ride. His only hope was that the people in the next town could be of more help than Quatre's jackass assistants.

*****

Heero emerged from the bathroom wrapped in his favorite black robe. Hair brush in hand, he began on the mass of tangles haphazardly flowing down his back. In the kitchen Heero found the steaming cocoa Jarod had set out for him and the multicolored note Jarod had left saying that he had "stuff" to do in town. /Figures,/ Heero sighed to himself.

Head still hurting like hell, Heero took some of his meds and then brought the cocoa back with him to his room, the beginnings of a somewhat morally questionable idea brewing in his head.

****

Quatre had been nervously pacing around the house all evening. It was seriously beginning to wear on the others. Deciding to take him out of everyone else's misery, Trowa wrapped a comforting arm around the boy's waist.

"Where is he?" Quatre asked, tears threatening to free themselves from his lashes.

"He'll be here," Trowa assured.

"But he's never late. Not for a mission!" Quatre countered, bringing melodrama to a new level.

"Maybe it's because--" Wufei started to offer, but Trowa waved a hand for him to stop.

By now Quatre had broken free and was standing in front of the window. Watching the delicate snowflakes silently dusting the landscape, Quatre whispered to himself, "I don't want to lose another one." /God damn it! Heero's already a shadow, and Duo--/

Opening his eyes and wiping the tear from his cheek, Quatre noticed the head lights streaming through the snow. "He's here," Quatre whispered.

"What?" Trowa asked. Grimly noting the tenseness of his lovers body.

"He's here!" Quatre replied more steadily this time.

*****

Eying himself warily in the mirror, Heero decided that a night out would definitely help. At the very least it would put some color back into those all to pale cheeks.

Getting dressed, Heero chuckled to himself. If Jarod knew he was pulling a stunt like this, he wouldn't have been able to make it two steps out the door. Better yet, knowing Jarod and his sick sense of humor, Heero would most likely be handcuffed to the bed.

No . . . Jarod had *Lindsey* now. What an improvement. He slipped some music into his new player, still fiddling with the brush handle.

It hadn't been *his* fault that he'd kept moaning the name 'Heero' in his sleep. Rolling his eyes, he kicked open the closet, looking for something to wear. He wasn't exactly new to the particular club he was planning on visiting, so the leather vest was definitely out. But the black silk with the leather pants . . . ohh! and those boots. . . . He paused, toying with the idea of Jarod in this ensemble.

He guessed that was why he'd taken on the name Heero. To this day it evoked feelings in him. What they *were* he still couldn't pin point. It just seemed . . . comforting. Even though he had nothing to draw a past from, he had a name. Standing in front of the mirror, Heero tied off his braid.

Thank god Jarod and Lindsey weren't back yet. If Jarod ever bothered to look into his lil' closet . . . Heero smirked. Priceless.

Heero still didn't understand why those two didn't just get married already. Jarod had said that it had something to do with his past, and that Lindsey could end up hurt. For some reason, Heero just couldn't find that as being much of an excuse.

Putting on the finishing touches, Heero gave his image a brief wink and blew himself a kiss. / Me? Vain? Never! / Roughly thirty seconds later, he was speeding away on his brand new rebuilt Harley, a fuzzy purple note of his own upon the table.

Part 2: Remembrance

"Quatre, you want foreplay? Go pick on Trowa."

"But, Wufei, that's not what"

"No! No threesomes!"

"Wufei, don't you think the boy's red enough?"

"But, Heero, it's not *my* fault he's easy. . . ."

Heero sighed and left his designated spot by the window. It *had* been too long. He had to admit he'd missed this. However, it just wasn't the same. Not without-- Iie. He wouldn't start thinking like that. Duo was better off where he was. He had to be.

Trowa decided to enter the small living area a little too late to catch all of the excitement. He paused at the archway leading to the kitchen and watched Heero head toward his room. Raising his eyebrows, he shot Quatre a questioning glance. Quatre raised his hand, warning Trowa to let it be, while Wufei fought off a snicker at the faint blush that still decorated Quatre's pale cheeks.

As Quatre sat upon the couch worrying a small pillow between his hands, Wufei failed miserably at containing his laughter and darted past Trowa toward the kitchen. There was tea in there, and cups that were just begging to be played with. Besides, his mission didn't start for another three hours and if he didn't find *something* to keep him entertained, he'd go looking for some C4 charges to play with and then he'd end up get yelled at.

As he went to the sink to get the water, he couldn't help but look out the window. The sky was blurring into night. The sun already set, Wufei could hear the street lamps popping and buzzing as they struggled to life. He sighed as he put the kettle on top of the stove. This current safe house was small but much more comfortable than the ones they had occupied during the war. The war . . .

Staring out the window, Wufei let his mind wander back to times when their team was whole. Once they learned to work together, things had changed dramatically. It was because of *that* the war had been won. The time they had spent after the war, running about taking care of things, cleaning up after everything . . . They had all changed so much in that short period.

But it was all too brief. They never had found out exactly what had happened to Duo, or who was behind all of it. The ones who had hurt him directly were dead, and the higher ups hadn't left a trail--it had been more of an unbreakable wall. Wufei gripped the mug tighter as he fought off the rage bubbling inside him. The trail wasn't worth sitting here brooding over. At least they were left with the small comfort that Duo had lived. Wufei didn't know if it had been luck or that god Duo had spent so much time talking to. Duo didn't remember what had happened.

Hopefully, he would never have to.

*****

When Duo awoke, he immediately wished he hadn't. His head was pounding, his mouth tasted like vomit, and, on the whole, he felt like shit.

/Duo?! Wait a goddamn minute. What the fuck?!/ He must have had more to drink than he thought. "But, no. My name is *Duo*." He tested it out to get the feel of it on his tongue. Yesss . . . It just felt . . . *right*.

Sighing, he attempted to sit up. Before he could, however, a sharp pain lanced mercilessly through his body, burning along his very nerve endings, biting at his insides.

"Oh, fuck!" He was alone, and he couldn't remember where he was. This day just kept getting better and better. Duo could do nothing as a few pieces from 'Good Morning Sunshine' chose to dance through his head. /Of all the goddamn songs, why this one? Maybe I'm just cursed./

Moaning, he flipped on the little bedside lamp. He didn't know what the hell had happened, but he still felt the last remnants of what ever drugs had been pumped into his body. Although he couldn't remember any of the previous night's escapades, he was pretty damned sure that none of this had been his idea.

What was bothering him--Hell! He'd remembered his name; he knew it was his name because . . . oh, hell, he just did. It just *felt* right.

Sadly, however, Duo's stomach chose that moment to reward him for his drinking habits. Less than ten seconds later Duo was in the bathroom losing his dinner from the previous evening. /Oh fuck! Jarod is going to *kill* me! But first he's going to chop me into little itty bitty pieces. Shit shit shit shit./

When Duo was done feeling like he'd been raked over a bed of hot coals--and feeling more than a bit sorry for himself--he decided to pick his ass up off the bathroom floor and go home. Where Jarod and the Ditz could bitch at him for being so irresponsible, help him clean up, and then get him to bed.

When standing Duo noticed himself in the mirror. "Oh gawd, I look like death warmed over." Duo smiled at that. "No pun intended, of course." Absently he ran his hands over glittered cheeks while undoing what was left of his braid. /It's gonna take years to get this crap off./

Dully he noticed he was still naked. Slipping around the room as quietly as he could, Duo grabbed at the pile of cloths on the floor and--praying to god that they were his--struggled into them. With a grimace of distaste, he turned and left the sorry excuse for a sleazy hotel room.

He knew this place; it wasn't exactly the first time he'd been here. It was the . . . the . . . Oh, fuck it! He knew the desk clerk well enough. It was certain he could get a ride home.

*****

The steady pulse of heavy metal music seemed to plunge itself into the very souls of the people occupying the floor. All around, people were swaying their hips seductively with each beat of the hard bass.

Wufei eyed the crowd with utter distaste. Why the hell they couldn't pick up the informant at someplace quiet, like a library, was as far beyond him as the thought of Heero wearing a pink tu tu. Although he was sure this was Quatre's doing. The little shit could seem so innocent, but he could also be such a sadistic little bastard when the mood hit him.

Wufei scowled as his bottom was grabbed, a rather undignified moan breaking free before he could stop it. Quatre was going to pay. /Sadistic bastard./

Wufei crossed his arms, scowling out at the crowd once again. This was going to take forever.

*****

Sighing as he closed the door to the black sedan, Duo leaned back in through the window, his now unbound hair snaking over his shoulders, and thanked Janace for a most wonderful ride home. She had picked at him all the way, telling him that he needed to go to the local hospital.

Duo didn't know why but he really didn't like hospitals, so he had had the pleasure of explaining to Janace that he was perfectly fine and there was *no* reason to worry.

"Hee--I mean, Duo, are you sure?"

"Absolutely." Duo shrugged. "Don' worry 'bout it"

"You can't even walk straight," she observed dryly

"Janace . . . 'm fine. Thanksh for th' tequilla!" Duo bubbled loudly while shaking the bottle's contents all over the seats. She had given it to him hoping to calm him down a bit. It had done it's job, albeit too well.

Janace scowled, pouty lips pressed into a thin line. "Yes . . . Well, just make sure Jarod has a good look at you before you go to sleep."

"I'm 'kay," Duo said, shrugging again. The after effects of the rape drug combined with the alcohol were making themselves more than obvious. What a night. Well at least he was drunk and wouldn't have to think about anything for a while.

Duo stumbled his way up the walk onto the porch, and then threw himself at the porch swing. Settling in for a comfy night outside, Duo lazily put one arm up over his head. Morning was coming and the sun would soon be out, driving him off of the swing. /Oh well. Might as well take whatever sleep I can./ Duo sighed, rolled over, and passed out.

*****

/// Water was pooling at his feet. The deck was soaked. Wind lashing about violently. Duo! Where was Duo?! He'd found him, oh my god blood! Blood all over. Duo why?

"I can't Heero . . . I just can't"\\\

Heero sat up, echoes of Duo's words swirling around in his head. He still couldn't get a decent night's sleep. These days, everything just passed in a blur. He did what he was told, when he was told to do it. It was hard to be the perfect soldier when the only love of your life had turned into a ghost.

Looking out the small window above his bed, Heero gazed greedily at the tiny pin pricks shining in the night sky. Duo would love a night like this. If only--but, no. Duo had begged Heero to let him go.

Bowing his head and holding his hands across his lap, Heero waited until the stinging in his eyes and the pain in his chest faded. Heero leaned over the rumpled sheets to look at the clock. Four a.m. Wufei was still out.

Guessing that the others must be with him, Heero slid from the bed and dressed quickly, grabbing a light jacket on his way out. A walk would do him some good. He needed a clear mind; old feelings could only jeopardize things.

*****

Duo awoke with a start. He was supposed to be doing something, but he didn't know what. Seeing as how he didn't *know* what, he decided that the safest move would be to go into house.

It was yet again a rainy day. /Very promising,/ Duo thought to himself while attempting to sit up. He couldn't really remember how he had gotten on the porch. Bits and pieces of the night before dancing through his already pounding head, Duo decided that he'd better go inside and face the Wrath of Jarod. "Ooh, scary!" Duo chuckled to himself.

As Duo stood up and made his way rather stiffly toward the door, he noted that it was slightly ajar. The metallic lock had been picked at--judging by the scratches, the intruder was no professional. Some jackass had probably waited until he had left last night before going in and robbing the place.

"Figures," Duo sighed to himself, standing up to look through the door into the foyer.

"Hello!" Duo called out. The place had definitely been ransacked. Papers, bits of glass . . . anything and everything seemed to be littering the hardwood floor. "Hello!" Duo called again, louder. He definitely did not want to come home to some armed street punks. It was *not* the best way to begin the morning after a really bad bender the night before.

Duo kicked at the remains of a poor vase, already half broken, on his way in the door. /Damn./ They had certainly trashed the place. Deciding that there was no way any idiot would stay behind and wait for the owners, Duo slowly crossed the hall and padded into the living room, unsure of what he would find.

Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw. Blood spattered the freshly painted walls, little pools of it decorating the carpet. /It's all over the place,/ he noted with detachment that startled him. The smell hit like a ton of bricks, it's coppery sent carried upon the breeze drifting from a nearby shattered window. There was something about this that Duo recognized. Something . . . He couldn't pin it, but for some odd reason he wasn't quite as horrified as he would have expected.

Duo moved closer toward the couch to get a look at the body. He could already see one pale hand stretched toward the fireplace, almost as if the person were looking for any warmth possible,even in death. His stomach lurched. This was *not* going to be pretty.

* * *

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