City of Angels
chapter 1
by Krystal
Hmmm. Well lessee.. this isn't exactly yyh but it is gw. I've been working on a real sweet short about Kurama and *who else?* Hiei...demo ::blushes:: this is my firt fanfic for anything... so please be somewhat gentle...I would understad...
here probably tomorrow I'll have that lil short for ya!
lemme know what ya think!
krystal
Standard disclaimers apply: Direct translation–I own nothing, except my insanity.
I wanna keep that. ^__~
Warnings: Everything imaginable..... There can’t pick at me now can ya? *smirks* Flames will be used to heat up my poor freezing bedroom.
Suing is absolutely pointless unless you really *really* want my annoying bird *grins*
Thoughts are indicated by / . . . / (Ahh the joys of messing with minds.....)
Quick explanations: In part one something has happened to Duo, pay close attention to physical descriptions. Still confusing? Keep reading! ^__^;;
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Part 1 : Scars
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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.