Author's notes: A complete AU, I only know so far of one character from the series who will be in here, so why not make it an original?

Well mainly because I seem to do so much better at fanfiction . . . oh well.

Warnings: Kinky is high here, as it lime, and some obvious implication of sex. Yaoi is a high major here, angst, and a lot of self-pity.

Pairings: 2x? and OCxOC

Prologue

Pain… body numbing, mind shattering, pain. A strangled croak of protest arose from his throat to attempt to take form from his lips, and failed miserably. Vainly the figure tried to lift his arm, and succeeded in raising it up a measly few inches, before it fell to the Earth again, not without, it should be said, excruciating pain. How was it even possible to be alive under such conditions?

It was raining, the teenager, almost adult, noted surly. His chestnut hair pooled around his head, and fanned around his shoulders, his eyes were narrowed and squinted against the raindrops as he vaguely tried to make some sense of where he was. Who he was.

'Something ridiculous…' His mind contemplated in its dysfunctional state. '…but meaningful, something involving the word two, but starts with a D.' He could remember those small facts?

That was a good sign, maybe all hope wasn't totally lost after all.

'Heero would say I never had any hope to begin with… hmm, I wonder who Heero is.' The boy's mind thought vaguely, he felt oddly cynical as his gaze traveled from the corner of his eyes, to rove over the white surface and to his other corner. As far as he could gather from his surroundings, it was daylight, very near dusk and the sky was darkened with angry storm-clouds. Concrete walls surrounded him on all but one of his four sides, the empty side lay facing the end of his soles, so try as he might he could not lift his head to glance over those pointed peaks called feet.

'Okay, gather your thoughts, Mr. Name-means-two-but-starts-with-D.' His mind produced this thought with an abnormal amount of sarcasm, amazing how badly he wanted to smack himself, and in his current condition of mental stability, it would have been a safe bet to say he would have done so too, if he could move without sending his body into spasms of agony.

'How ironic, that which entraps me in a prison of sensory receptors blockage, is also a protector of what vague and small shred of sanity I may possess. Whoa, I'm analytical, odd, I'm not normally analytical… at least I don't think I am.' With a soft flutter of his lips in what could have been a sigh under normal circumstances, he tried to gather details.

'Okay, observation number one. I'm not dead.'

'Obviously. I must have been mentally retarded before this, or maybe I still am. Okay, I'm not dead, that's a start.' And oddly enough, though it was a dim-witted realization, it was an important one.

'Why?' He wondered. 'Why is it important?' Then his eyes widened slightly, but his mind took the information calmly. Why was it important? His consciousness asked. And his mind readily supplied; 'Because I am supposed to be dead.' His mind quickly fell into a controversial state, his confused consciousness would ask a question, his mind would speedily reply, it seemed that it was simply a puzzle, ask the right question and a piece is revealed, ask a wrong question and the pieces to be revealed would expand, thus creating more questions to be asked, and more to reveal.

'Why am I supposed to be dead?' His thoughts asked.

'Obviously I was supposed to die, or someone tried to kill me.' His mind replied.

'How do I know this?' His thoughts demanded.

'Because Heero is dead.' Instantly a pain filled his chest, his heart constricted with some indescribable forces of loss and hurt, and all for a man whom he couldn't even remember.

'Always giving me pain, even after you're dead Hee-chan.' The youth thought dimly with annoyance as tears formed at the corners of his eyes, angrily he blinked them away and tried his hand once more at moving. 'Got to stop goofing around, I have to find help. Serious, help.' As his raised his fingertips, ignoring the small, but soon to turn to gigantic spasms of pain, he wondered why he didn't call to a god, or something to assist him.

'The only God I believe in, is probably doing this to me.' His subconscious vaguely reminded him and he frowned. 'Learn something new about myself every fucking minute.' He thought with a rather large scowl. 'So, what shall I call myself? I don't like referring to the person known as 'me' as 'hey Mr. Freaky-pessimistic-amnesiac!' He thought as he slowly used his arm as a lever to straighten himself and sit up, it was a miracle he didn't scream in utter agony. Who ever had done this to him, had quite obviously done a real number on his body.

'… Lazarus.' The name popped into his head, for some unknown reason. The teen blinked a few minutes, before attempting a shrug, when his callous gesture sent him into reels of pain and left him gasping for breath, he settled for a mental shrug and reminded himself venomously to watch his future actions.

'Lazarus, a cute story. Jesus Christ brings a man back to life named Lazarus, now how the hell do I know about the bible? What am I? A priest?' He thought wildly as his eyes shifted to his attire.

A black shirt with buttons down a middle row and white sleeve cuffs adorned his upper torso, but funnily enough it was ratty, teared and beyond salvageable. He noted the long light brown strands of blood crusted hair that flickered over his shoulder and narrowed his eyes with annoyance.

Evidentially he was exceptionally fond of his hair.

'Heero would say I was obsessed with it.' Again he frowned, that name was popping up everywhere… Returning to his self observations, he noted black leather pants with select cuts in the fabric, the largest and most painful seeming one appeared to be on his right leg, around his inner thigh, it had sliced clear through the leather and left a deep gouge that had ceased bleeding, which worried him, the wound had scabbed over at least 2 days ago, just how long had he been out for? When he had managed to sit himself in a proper position, or what he deemed a proper position, he took a quick scan around, and discovered the only exit from this alley led to a road, but more importantly was that across that road lay a house.

The property was surrounded by pristine metal, well polished and sharpened fences with spikes decorating the top. Past the fence was a huge thicket of rose bushes that surrounded the sidewalk which led to the front door of a dark and ominous, yet inviting and appealing mansion. Vaguely he noticed a soft waft of a peculiar scent reaching his nose, and he could feel it originated from that dark mansion, and so, with a great deal of cursing and colorful language, he rose to his feet, and as one arm gripped the other, and he stumbled in his footsteps, he finally struck out, in search for some help, and more importantly, some answers.

Disclaimer: I own only the plot, it remains to be seen if I own the protagonist. ;)