And He Doth Descended Into the Depths of Heaven
-Part Two-
Kuriyamimizu

warning- Characters in this story from about this part on are wildly and utterly OCC. Forgive me, I'm a hopeless romantic.

     I always had known that those professors were a little nutty, I mean, anyone with the genius to build something as beautiful, deadly, and utterly needed as the Gundams had to have a couple of screws loose upstairs. However, I never thought in a million years that they would order me to do something like this. I hope it's not just a whim, or a drunken binge, because to destroy something as utterly wonderful as Zero would be a crime to any serious solider, now, then and to come.

     Never once would I ever question the orders that would change my life that would come frequently in the form of little flashing green words. I always would follow them and I always will. Such is the way that I've been trained, to follow unconditionally, feeling everything and showing nothing at all. There is no need to show emotion. Simply the fact that emotion is present is enough of a truth. Simple enough for me anyway. Most would say that I'm not normal, not human, that I'm a machine. Maybe I am, at this time I certainly wish that I was, so that I could carry out my mission without the little niggling feeling of doubt in the back of my mind. Never before did I ever feel anything like that before.

     Not once in my life have I ever doubted my mission. There had never been a reason to. There was always some sort of warped rhyme or reason to what I did. I could always deign what it had been too, up to this point anyway. Now I had no idea where the orders came from. Maybe the Gundams were no longer needed and I was too much of a liability. That was entirely possible. I hadn't heard anything about OZ for what had seemed like years compacted into just mere months.

     Somehow now, as I sit here, on a bed so pristine made that it would be easily comparable to anything professional and more so, I cannot accept mindlessly the orders given me. Somewhere in a deep recess of my heart I know that they are wrong. I can't see any reason for it. There is no reason for it. Then again there is no place in society for one who cannot feel. I thought I had felt when I met Relena. I thought I had experienced emotion when I had met the other pilots. I think all that I ever knew was echoed feelings and shadows of what should have been there. So I cannot claim extreme shock or discomfort to the fact that I have just been ordered to self destruct.

     To self destruct---what is the meaning there? Do they want me to grab that little button that has become so familiar in my hand? Was that what they wanted of me? Or was there something else? I can't say. For one of the few times in my life my course is completely unclear to me, the path ahead murky and uncertain. Whatever it is I'm sure that I'll figure it out at some point, however right now I can't see the path ahead. Therefore I think I need to stop sulking, pull myself together and go out and eat with my comrades.

     There's Duo, with yet another headache. He'd mentioned something to me a week ago about a migraine. I'm curious as to what bothers me more, the fact that he bothered to mention that he was hurting or the fact that I find myself moderately concerned for his well being. He seemed to have down played the fact that his head was bothering him. It'd been happening a lot lately. Now he was coming back in again. The moron flashed me that expressive grin.

"Heero! Aren't you going out to dinner?"

"Hn."

     That's my customary response. I can never quite gather myself to say much more than that in casual conversation. It's a waste of breath. He smiled at me again. Sometimes I wonder about that boy. At times I find myself feeling very odd in his presence. Warm, almost friendly, or at least what qualifies for friendly for me. Apparently what I consider friendly others consider rather cold and indifferent. I try, I really do, however, they just don't see. Sometimes I feel as if I'm a poet stuck inside a soldiers' body, with a soldiers' heart. However, the thought doesn't recur often. Oh, he was talking to me again.

"-'re going to be late if you keep sitting there."

"Hn."

"Jesus Heero, get a vocabulary!"

"I have one, I just don't use it."

     Wow, my voice sounds really monotone, even to my ears. Ah well, what can one do about oneself? I rose, ignoring Duo. I don't want to talk right now. I'm so off balance right now that his presence, I don't know, but I'm sure that I can't take it. So I finish dressing, pulling on a loose green shirt and a pair of loose pants and leave, brushing past him. Something about those deep purple eyes makes me want to sit down and tell him everything, how this had confused me, how lost I feel, and how I'm--afraid. I don't know what it is about one boy, the very embodiment of death, that makes me want to bear my soul. That's why I have to retreat, back away, and keep my soul to myself.

"Oh Heero..."

     I don't falter, don't stop. He saw that look on my face. Damn. I won't let him near me. I cannot let him near me.
 

*Duo POV*

     Go figure, Heero, always the strong and silent one. There's something wrong with him. That look I saw on his face just a little while ago, there's something there. Something's bothering Heero the unshakable. I'll pursue it another time. Somehow the feeling that someone decided to use the inside of my skull as a place to practice drumming, with searing pain in place of the drumbeats kept me from pursuing him.

     *flop* Oh man, bad idea. I'd always been really good at flopping onto beds in an undignified heap; however, today it was a bad decision. Perhaps it was a combination of the fall and migraine plaguing my skull, but the result from the equation was more pain. I pride myself in having a high pain tolerance. I mean, hey I can take a beating and bounce back, and I'm the only person I know that would complain that suffocating to death is a really boring way to die, which it is, but that's a moot point.

     This time, falling onto the bed caused a flash of pain that brought a hiss from my lips and tears from my eyes. At that point I decided that it would be a good idea not to move at all. Slowly, the pain receded, and a plus point, my vision cleared as well. I took a couple of deep breaths. I knew it wasn't normal, it couldn't be normal. Staring into a white wall across from you can give you a good focusing point in your life. Right then, it would be prudent to figure out what's wrong.

     First however, get clothing off! I became very aware of the heat of the place moments after I had fallen onto the not-too-soft mattress that was my bed. First things to go were the boots followed shortly thereafter by the pants and shirt. When I was down to the hat and boxers I was feeling better but not the best. There was one option left to me beside stripping naked, which was tempting, but not for the time. I could bun my hair. This occurs most often to never, but this was one time that I was pretty sure I would bake if I did not get the hair off of my neck. So I pulled it up and enjoyed the waft of air the fan turning lazily overhead had stirred up.  I crossed my fingers behind my neck and laid back into the downy softness of my pillows.
 

     Trowa stared down at the specs for his Gundam with close attention. There was something clogging one of the firing mechanisms in his left turret. He had to figure it out or else take Heavyarms to Howard. It wasn't that he didn't trust the master mechanic, it was just that he was so far away. He didn't want to make the effort for something so trivial. So now he was faced with the complex task of locating exactly the point that was giving him problems. It wouldn't be that assiduous of a task. Just a little time consuming.

     There was a sound of someone stepping into the doorway of the hangar. Mentally he tensed, getting ready to move. When the cool voice of Wufei rang out over the vast expanse of the hangar he relaxed. Just the Shen Lon pilot.

"Are you ready?"

     Trowa stared over his shoulder, looking more than a little confused.

"For what?"

      Wufei rolled his eyes, showing that in his own opinion almost everyone on the planet was incompetent.

"You said that you'd join us for dinner this evening."

     Realization dawned on Trowa. He let his hands off of the plans which rolled themselves up, saving him the trouble.

"Yeah, I'm coming."

     Wufei nodded. The silent pilot didn't need to be reminded anymore than that. When he had his objectives clearly outlined there was nothing stopping him. That was one thing that Wufei admired very much about Trowa. However, when one turned a comparison of the same over to Duo the Deathscythe pilot was very scatterbrained. It would be best to remind him as well. Quatre was the one that had reminded him of the event, so Duo deserved the same reminder.

     He walked down the hall with the light, silent step he had been taught. Slowly he stalked down the hallway toward the room that Heero and Duo were shareing for the interim that they were staying in this particular safe house. Heero himself brushed past him, for once clad in something beside spandex and a much over-used green tank-top. He was clad in, (predictably) loose black pants and a long-sleeved green shirt. Green and black seemed to be his identifying colors.

     Out of personal preference he wished that the rest of the pilots would opt to keep the internal heating of the building down a notch or two. He was about ready to roast in his skin. On impulse of an idle thought he wondered if he should stick a fork in his arm and see if he was done. The idea was ludicrous enough to be feasible, however he had other matters to attend to.

     The entrance to the shared room was looming ever closer. He peeked his head around the door frame to have his idea about the central heating system confirmed. He saw Duo sprawled out on one of the beds, his hair pulled into a bun and adorned only in boxers, snoring with sounds that would mimic a kitten. As he studied the other boy he smiled slightly, cute might actually be a descriptive term for this particular situation. He frowned as something caught his eye. Upon closer inspection he found a twin set of thin crimson lines running down Duo's arms, staring at his wrists and ending just before his elbows.

     Wufei shook his head, leaning his forehead against the cool metal of the door frame. Whatever had pushed his fellow pilot to those lengths must have been severe indeed. He made a mental note to sit down and talk with Duo sometime soon. Over the course of several missions and close calls, he had slowly gotten closer to the Deathscythe pilot, however, it seemed that there were many things that he still didn't know.

     If Duo was sleeping then most likely he wouldn't be attending dinner that evening. Something on the other pilots' face, the serenity that nigh visited there, was something he was loath to banish for a hamburger and fries.

"Sleep well Maxwell."

 The little dragon turned and slipped away again, the sleeping Duo never aware of his presence to his knowledge.

     Under my breath I smiled, shutting the one eye I had kept cracked as soon as I heard the few faint footsteps down the hall.

"Thanks Wu-man, I will."

     I then closed my eyes to fall into a deeper, and much more restful sleep. And thankfully one that was completely dreamless.

*Heero POV *

     It's starting to be winter. The leaves on the ground are withering and dying in the last throes of their existence. I don't want to think about dying now. I have to start dying soon. And a big part of me will die, as soon as Zero does. That Gundam is a part of me, it moves as I do, or vice-versa. I can never tell anymore. I just know that it's going to hurt to part ways with my old friends, Zero and 01. I don't know how I'm going to do it. There are so many different ways to self-destruct---hmm, that's a thought.

"Heero are you all right?"

        Ah, Quatre, always the concerned one, worrying after everyone else before himself. That's a liability that will get him killed one day. But for now it's an asset. Those eyes of his, crystal blue and as pure as his soul are watching me. Most likely if you were ever to be judged, you would find it in Quatre's eyes. Not his judgement of one, mind you, but ones own judgement of oneself. That's what the most frightening thing about looking at Quatre is, you see yourself. Eh, what can you do?

"Hn"

     He worries so much, even as he drives now, he's concerned over me. I hope that this all isn't showing on my face. Most likely it's just him that's picking this up. He's good with that sort of thing. He's 'sensitive' if nothing else. That's just a simple word for a very complex mental structure. I handn't known until recently that he had been bio-engineered. However one will tend to come across knowledge in interesting ways. In those sort of ways I came across that tidbit about Quatre. It's good to know that someone cares about me. Even thought I don't care about myself.

     The silence in the car stretched out for some length. Trowa looked between Quatre and Heero and sensed that something was going on under the surface. With the barest shakes of his head he let whatever concerns had worked through his mind fade. If it was important to the whole then eventually they would all come into the knowledge that was necessary. Wufei didn't seem concerned, so most likely he needn't be either. When the lonely dragon became concerned then most likely it was time for everyone else to be concerned as well.

     The restaurant was looming up ahead, Quatre pulled in land smoothly parallel parked. They all got out, ignoring the chilling cold of the outdoors in contrast to what they had previously been in, and filed into the restaurant.

     Duo tossed and turned, a thin layer of sweat covering his body, making it shine. His brow was furrowed with dreams that didn’t blend and that he couldn’t define. There was so much fear in his face that it would hurt the casual observer. After about ten more minutes of writing torment a figure appeared in the room, her only trace, a think wisp of smoke. She was just a little thing, a little tiny demon, very easily mistaken for something sweet and innocent. She had been designated his guardian, therefore she had to stay with him. In her tiny hands were clutched feathers from the hell that could have very easily become reality. She smiled sadly at her prey/designated protectorate.

     With barely a wing stroke she came to land near his sleeping form. One of the feathers slipped and fell close to his closed eyes. She thought that it looked pretty, with the black tip of the feather and the splashed on crimson. She didn’t know where the red came from, but in a purely aesthetic sense  of color combination worked.

     He was suffering. She could tell from the way that he moved in his sleep. The contented purrs from about a half an hour were replaced by small whimpers of terror. She reached out a small hand and brushed it over his face, effectively stirring him from the restless sleep. With interest she watched as his violet eyes fluttered, uncertain and cloudy. He had been really frightened. Somewhere inside of her young heart the primal instinct to comfort presented itself. So she did the first logical thing that she could come up with. She offered him one of the pretty feathers that she had found along the way. The reaction that she gathered was not the one that she had expected. With a deep throated scream he rolled backward and off of the bed; scrambled backward and ran down the hall.

 She was just a little thing. Her young mind did not comprehend what she had done wrong. All that she had done was offered him a feather. With a small sound of distress she started to cry.

     The first thing that I saw when I woke up was that scary little girl. She was sitting on the bed next to my head, staring at me with those eyes of hers, one hand reached out offering--- merciful God in heaven, one of those feathers!

     I couldn’t help it. That feather, the sight of it, the blood dried and beginning to dull against the colors of the feather scared me more than any of the nightmares had. I couldn’t take it. I had to get out of there. So I rolled. When I felt the ground beneath me I just went. My reflexes are a little sharper than I would first give them credit for. I got out of that room faster than I’ve gotten out of some dogfights.

     All I could do was sit out in the hall, panting like some sort of frightened animal. Then I heard the sounds, little things, almost like whimpers. I do confess, a couple of them were my own, but the others---

     Alex was a little whimpering ball of wings and tears. How was she supposed to protect that man if he ran away from her? She was just four years old and ideas such as first appearance and shock factor didn’t even meander close to her mind. She was fairly non-threatening, that’s why the boss had chosen her. Her glow even matched his. When she thought her ‘glow’ she meant aura. That’s the word they had used. Yet he had still run away.

     As I peered around the corner I found myself facing a most extraordinary sight.  The little demon was crying, and looked quite pitiful, I might add. Now that I looked she was just a little thing. She couldn’t be more than four by human standards. It was very possible that it was just an outward façade, however, somehow I couldn’t believe it. The tears running down her chubby cheeks from bright purple eyes were too earnest for it to be an act.

     It was against my better judgement, but I couldn’t just leave the little thing sobbing could I? I’ve always liked kids, so I couldn’t just let her cry. It struck a chord of honor that still exists in me somewhere or something. Chock it up to what you want, but I went to her, crawling back onto the bed carefully.

     She looked up, her tearstained face glittering in the fluorescent lighting of the room. She sniffed once. He’d come back. He was still afraid of her. That was fine in her book. She was afraid of him. He was literally the boss’ will on Earth. She wasn’t going to mess with that. Still maybe it would help if she appeared a little less threatening.

     There weren’t a whole lot of ways that she could do that. However, one of the few would be to wrap her wings about herself and look smaller. She did that with some of the higher animal demons when they tried to pick fights with her. If she just looked small then everything would be all right. It was working too! He was coming closer, slowly.

     Uh oh, that’s not good. I think I managed to scare her. She wrapped her wings about herself. Actually, like that she looked a lot less threatening than she had just a few moments ago holding the feather. She’d unfurled her wings presumably for balance and it scared me. Now she was just sitting there, wings wrapped about herself like some little gargoyle, looking at me with those giant purple eyes.

“Hi, I’m Duo, do you have a name?”

     A nod. Well at least I got a nod. That’s always good.

“Okay, can you tell me?”

     Another nod. Good, I’m getting places. She has a name that she can tell me. The question is, will she? All I got for a moment was silence, and then she parted those little parting lips to speak and ---nothing came out. She fixed me with those eyes of hers, asking for understanding. I didn’t get it. When she brought one of her little hands up and touched her throat it clicked. She was unable to speak.

“You can’t use your voice?”

     A shake. That would be a no then. She can’t speak, but how does she communicate? My thoughts meandered back to the dream/vision/acid trip, and it clicked. She was like Quatre.

“Could you tell me here?”

     I placed my fingertips lightly on my aching forehead and waited for a reply. A nod! Good, getting even further.

“What’s your name?”

/Alexandria/

“What are you doing here chibi?”

/I’ve gotta pro-pro-protect you!/

     I had to smile at how she tried. For a four year old, the concept of protection was something rather big to have on ones’ shoulders.

-End Part Two

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