~ All standard disclaimers apply
~ Warning: See ToB- Ninmu
~ Tears of Blood: Kaeru ~
Quatre stood by the window, peering out into the snow. Dark bags marred the skin under is bloodshot eyes. The jacket he wore seemed to swallow him whole; his clothes seemed absurdly oversized. He sighed, his breath misting in the cold air, fogging the already clouded glass pane.
Three days and still he relived every awful detail of that horrible day. He had no escape. During the day memories filled his mind's eye and inner ear, drowning out the real world. At night the memories sucked him in, forcing him to look into those lifeless gray eyes, hear the agonized scream, feel once again the agony of knowing that if he had just tried harder... If he had just tried harder none of this would have happened and Duo would still be alive. Visions haunted him, but there was nothing he could do.
There was no respite even from his Uchuu no Kokoro. It maintained a dull ache in his chest, as it the agony of Duo's torment had left a residue that would never be cleansed. Or perhaps the ache was the product of something else. None of the remaining pilots had been given any missions since they had arrived in this Allah-forsaken shack. The only orders had been to stay here and await further instruction. No instructions had arrived.
Trowa had attempted to contact Professor G about Duo's death, but had received no acknowledgement. After no reply had been obtained Heero had been on his laptop for hours tracing the email and G's whereabouts. The search provided disappointing results. As far as Heero could tell, G had gotten the message, opened it and replied. However, the mail was routed and rerouted so many times it was next to impossible to find out what had happened to it, even for Heero. The pilot was a master hacker and tracer, but apparently the professor was better.
Absently Quatre rubbed his chest. The pain didn't dissipate. He focused on the falling snow on the other side of the fragile glass. It was an opaque white blanket, hiding the outside world from view. As he watched, a stray gust of wind opened a hole in the curtain. A shape became visible, dark against the white background. Its form shifted, whipping in the wind. It collapsed, surrendered to nature's force.
It could very well have been a loose piece of cloth caught in the storm, but somehow Quatre didn't think so. Before he quite realized what he was doing, he was halfway out the door, the wind propelling snow into his face and down his jacket. He left the door open, hurrying as much as he could to the dark shadow just barely visible against the blinding storm.
The blanket of snow was so thick Quatre nearly stepped on the dark bundle before he noticed it. Straining his eyes, he took a closer look. The dark stuff looked like hair, soaked by the snow and whipped about by the wind… A loose strand of it wrapped around Quatre's numb fingers. It was hair! And a lot of it.
Duo! Only Duo had hair as long as this. Quatre's mind shied away from the fact that he had just buried Duo's dead body three days ago. This had to be Duo. Surely he had just stepped outside, never mind why, and gotten so cold he'd collapsed. Those three days of agony had never happened; they were only a bad dream, something easily dismissed now that Duo was here, alive, not dead, not buried. Shoving the loose mass of hair aside, he searched for Duo's face.
Quickly he discovered Duo was lying face down in the snow. He searched for a shoulder, an arm, something, and found only white coldness. For a horrifying moment the thought that perhaps there was no body dominated the boy's already overworked mind. Maybe it hadn't been a dream. Maybe Duo had really died and someone had found the body and beheaded it and put the head here just to torment Quatre…Then he realized what he thought was snow and ice beneath was actually a white garment over freezing skin.
Shocked by the coldness of the skin, Quatre quickly searched out a pulse. There it was, thumping away beneath his nearly numb fingers. Relief flooded through him. Duo was alive! He was alive, and those three agonizing days were all just part of a horrible nightmare. Somehow he managed to lift Duo, surprised and concerned by how little he weighed. He shouldn't be thin enough for Quatre to feel his ribs so clearly though the cloth. Yes Duo had always been thin, but this was too thin! And it was Duo, it had to be!
Hefting his load, Quatre began to head back in the direction of the safe house. The temporary break in the storm ended, snowfall closing in around him. Visibility plummeted to near zero and Quatre could only hope he was heading in the right direction. Winds attempted to send both the boy and his burden tumbling into a deep snowdrift. He could almost swear Duo was gaining weight with each passing moment. He stumbled often but was pushed onward by occasional glimpses of the dark shack.
When what seemed to be hours passed without any sign of the safe house, Quatre felt the beginnings of panic creep up on him. He stopped and looked around, but the whiteness of the snow was identical everywhere he looked. He wasn't even sure he had turned his head. The blank curtain was blinding. He felt that maybe he truly was blind. It was followed by a feeling of vertigo, leaving him more disoriented than ever and unsure of which way was up. Even though he was a Gundam pilot trained to keep his head in tough situations, he'd never experienced such a total feeling of helplessness.
Just as he was about to give in to the panic, Duo moaned. The sound helped clear his head a little. Then he was treated to the sight of the safe house, barely a meter away. Sighing with relief, the boy hurried to the shack. He nearly banged into the wall in his haste.
Snow flung in through the open door coated everything in the small room. Quickly he staggered through the door and deposited his burden on the couch. He fought against the wind to close the door, wondering briefly why no one else had. Then again, even with the door shut and the winds kept mostly outside, the place was still freezing. The others were probably huddled up under their blankets pretending they weren't cold.
Quatre shrugged out of his coat and draped it over the still form of Duo. Trusting that he was still alive, he hurried to fetch a blanket. A noise stopped him. Glancing back, he saw Duo trying to rise. In a flash Quatre was at his side, pushing him back down onto the couch. Duo broke free of the blond's numb fingers and stood. When he raised his head Quatre gasped.
"Duo!?"
Quatre couldn't do anything but blink; shock paralyzed his body. He had known, deep down inside, that Duo was dead and buried. He knew that in the back of his mind, even if he refused to acknowledge it as truth. By denying the knowledge, Quatre had attempted to turn back time, reverse events until Duo was no longer dead but alive and happy. He knew that now, reluctantly admitted it. And yet the person before him was Duo. The violet eyes were the same, although the happy glint was missing. The chestnut hair was Duo's, unbound and soaked with snow. The posture was Duo's after a particularly bad mission. Dried blood traced a line from temple to chin and coated the back of a hand.
Despite what his eyes were saying, Quatre's mind couldn't or wouldn't grasp the fact that this was Duo. Belying its earlier disbelief, the boy's mind screamed that the Duo he knew was gone and never coming back.
Still gazing sadly at the petrified boy, the apparition reached with a blood-encrusted hand to pull a long pole from the folds of his white robe. He held it out before his body. A curved blade sprang into existence, forming a wicked scythe. Quatre gazed at the weapon, the glint of light on the silver blade mesmerizing him.
The spell was broken when his Uchuu no Kokoro gave a painful thump. Limbs jolted to life and Quatre scrambled backward. His back hit the hard resistance of a wall, then slid along it as he shuffled sideways. Duo didn't move. Quatre forced himself to breathe, then dashed down the short hallway and into his and Trowa's room.
The tall boy lay still, sleeping beneath the blanket. Quatre threw himself onto the other boy, shaking with silent sobs. While his limbs seemed to be under his control, his voice was not. Apparently, neither was his heart; it thumped wildly, drowning out outside noise.
A strangled sound emerged from Quatre's throat when he realized Trowa wasn't responding. Fumblingly Quatre found the teen's steady heartbeat. Eyes wild he resumed his efforts. His Uchuu no Kokoro thumped again and forced him to turn around.
Duo stood in the doorway, slowly shaking his head as if to imply the hopelessness of Quatre's situation. Quatre shivered, suddenly reminded of the cold. He shuddered again but complied as the long-haired boy beckoned for him to follow. Duo led the way back to the couch, stopping on the far side of it. Quatre halted at the other end, eyes fearfully watching every move the other made.
Finally in control of vocal chords, the blond spoke. "What's going on?" Not the brightest of questions, but it was all he could manage.
In response Duo hung his head and slowly shook it. Quatre blinked, slightly surprised at the repetitive motion. When he opened his eyes again Duo was gone.
"…Ninmu…" The voice came from behind, soft and sad.
Quatre whirled around in time to see the upraised scythe, silver glinting in the fading light. Time slowed, allowing the following moments to etch themselves deeply into his memory.
His Uchuu no Kokoro thumped, leaving the terror-stricken boy gasping for breath. The scythe fell lower, closer to his throat. Quatre stumbled back into the couch. His Uchuu no Kokoro gave another painful beat. The cold metal slashed down, gaining on Quatre's flesh. Another agony-laced pulse pushed the boy off the couch. Scythe curved up again, blade glinting certain death. Quatre gasped, desperate for air after another beat. Time sped up and the boy's Uchuu no Kokoro gave another thump as the scythe ripped through flesh.
Quatre gasped, but his punctured lung was quickly filling with blood. The blade hadn't touched his heart, unfortunately. It was pretty much safe to assume that the other pilots were under the same enchanted sleep Trowa was; no one would hear his cries. Instead of a quick death, he had been sentenced to a slow one by drowning in his own blood.
Through the red haze of pain Quatre saw Duo standing above him. His hands hung loose by his sides, the scythe hidden from view once more. Quatre's vision wavered with each beat of his Uchuu no Kokoro. The pulses grew ever softer and farther apart, but the pain remained. The dying boy focused on his friend's sad violet eyes until his sight went dark and he could no longer see.
Quatre's Uchuu no Kokoro gave one last beat, then stilled.
~~~
"…Kanryo…"
Duo stood over Quatre's empty body, eyes filled with regret. Blood coated the floor around the fresh corpse and splattered the couch. It mingled with the melting snow, turning the white stuff pink and red. Placing a hand in the pool of blood and snow, Duo whispered a few words. The liquid seeped from the couch and pulled away from Quatre's clothes. It gathered under Duo's hand, where it clung and stained the flesh red. The teen rose, looked a moment more at his former friend then turned away.
He seemed to be on auto-pilot, his feet carrying him into the room that was now solely Trowa's. Duo placed one bloody finger over Trowa's heart and drew a rune. Then he moved to the room that used to be his. Wufei stood by Heero's bed, eyes empty and staring. On the bed sat Heero, frozen with hands on the ever-present laptop. Duo drew the rune over both hearts. His eyes lingered even as he walked out the door.
Once outside, he whispered the rune's name, then turned and melted into the snow.
Three runes written in blood sank though cloth and blazed for a moment on skin. They faded, leaving only faint red smears to mark their existence. The enchanted sleep lifted, leaving only slightly disoriented boys behind.
~~~
"You're sure then?"
"Aa." Heero's eyes remained trained on the laptop's screen.
Wufei turned and walked out of the room. He didn't know where he would go. If the weather were any better he would have gone out to where he had stashed Nataku. However, there was nothing he could do about the weather. He didn't want to admit that he disliked the idea of venturing out into the frozen world beyond the flimsy walls of the shelter. Wufei became angry with himself and stormed across the hall to pace the kitchen.
He didn't see the body.
~~~
After Wufei left, Heero continued typing. Soon, though, his fingers slowed and he grew still. There were no missions, and it wasn't likely there would be any. What could any of them do here in the middle of nowhere to help in the war? They hadn't seen anyone, much less any OZ personnel or rebel groups. Heero was annoyed. He should be fighting, one way or another, to end the war, not sitting in this shack doing nothing but slowly freezing to death.
Death.
Duo had died, though not of the cold. He killed himself, the idiot. It had been obvious that the braided boy had not liked this place, but to go so far as to kill himself? If he had felt the need to kill himself he should have done it while fighting, and taken an OZ base down with him.
Well, no help for it now. But there was something strange about Duo's death, something that bothered him. Of all the people Heero had killed or seen killed, none of their eyes had changed. Only Duo's eyes had changed colors, and Heero was fairly positive it was impossible for eyes to change colors so dramatically and so quickly.
Another thing bothered Heero's mind. Duo had seemed the last person who would commit suicide. After all, he was the very one who attempted to lecture Heero after he self-destructed. The braided boy had appeared to thoroughly enjoy life, even as terrible as it sometimes became. There were also the words Duo had spoken after dinner on the night he took his life and flung it into the white oblivion outside this shack.
'Hey buddy, guess what? I'm gonna send your soul to the master so he can torture it along with mine! You'll be writhing in agony for the rest of forever!'
What had he meant by that? What was this business with souls? Who was this master Duo spoke of? And writing in agony for the rest of forever? Four good questions, no good answers.
Heero felt a twinge of regret as he admitted to himself that he could have answered some of those questions if he had just confronted Duo after hearing that cryptic little speech. Heero felt a larger twinge of regret when he acknowledged the fact that he really and truly could have prevented Duo's suicide. He had been awake while the braided one had stood over his bed, hesitating. He had felt the brush of disturbed air as Duo ran from the room. He had seen the flash of reflected light bouncing off the blade of the knife that had no doubt been intended for him.
He had known all this, seen all the signs, yet had done nothing to prevent the loss of the pilot. Heero felt little to no remorse over most of his actions. However, he could not help but berate himself for being a total and complete idiot for not stopping the braided teen from killing himself. He had helped to reduce their forces by a good measure; Duo had been a competent pilot, even if he had proved to be a nuisance at all other times.
And the worst part was Heero had allowed all this to happen for his amusement. He had suspected that something was wrong with Duo when he had caught the braided boy pausing over the containers of food, glass bottle in hand. He had known something was wrong when Duo hadn't wanted to eat. But Heero had allowed Duo to go on thinking that he knew nothing about what was happening. Heero had wanted to see what the braided one would do if left alone. Would he crack and confess everything, or was he tough enough to go through with his plan? Those were the questions Heero had wanted answered and had pursued those answers against all common sense. He was at fault.
And now it was too late to redeem himself.
~~~
Trowa woke buried beneath the blankets like a hibernating animal. He yawned and stretched, cracking a few joints. He shook himself, trying to hasten full awareness. Then again, within a few moments of being fully awake he'd be ready to sleep again; there was nothing to do in this miserable shack of a safe house. Still, he should get up and walk around, exercise his stiff muscles. Besides, he needed to use the bathroom.
Sighing, the boy heaved himself out of his bed, reluctant to leave the warm cave he had made for himself but in desperate need of a toilet. He paused, deciding it was much too cold to walk around without the protection of the blanket. Trowa snatched up the thick fabric and wrapped it around his narrow shoulders, insulating himself. He was already wearing his jacket, but dammit, it was cold! He was not so crazy as to imitate Heero, who seemed impervious to the weather, hot or cold.
Even through the blanket and jacket Trowa felt frozen fingers dancing over his skin, reveling in the raising of gooseflesh as they stole away his precious body heat. He shuffled out of his room and paused in the hallway. The door to the bathroom was just across the hall, but the tall boy couldn't force himself to cross the gap. Irrationally, he found himself thinking that Duo's corpse was still on the tiled floor in the midst of an ocean of blood. Although he pretended not to be disturbed by the sight of his friend's dead body he was horrified. What could possibly have forced the manic Duo, of all people, to commit suicide?
Trowa shook his head. The stress of not knowing why any of them were here, combined with Duo's death, must be getting to him. Duo was buried outside, and the bathroom was clean. He wouldn't walk into the small room and find Duo, wedged between the sink and bathtub, knife loosely clutched in his hand, surrounded by a pool of blood. He would find an empty bathroom. The grout between tiles would be stained a dark brown, but that could have been from dirty boots.
This was pathetic. Here he was, a professional terrorist and trained pilot, afraid to go to the bathroom alone. It was truly pathetic. Trowa had seen hundreds, more likely thousands of dead bodies in his life. He had never been haunted by any of them in his waking hours. One suicide shouldn't trouble him this much.
That thought firmly fixed in his mind, Trowa strode across the hall and yanked open the bathroom door. Empty. Clean. He had hardly felt more relieved in his life. Shaking his head, the boy closed and locked the door. Nerves, that's all it was.
When Trowa emerged from the bathroom, snugly wrapped in his blanket, he felt much better, not only because he had relieved the pressure in his bladder. He had entered the scene of the suicide, stood on the very tiles Duo must have stood on as he did the deed, and come out safe. Trowa was unreasonably pleased with himself.
Aimlessly wandering, the boy heard the faint clacking of computer keys as he passed Heero's room. That guy was relentless; he'd contact one of the scientists and demand answers or die trying. Sometimes he just didn't know when to stop. But then again, that might be why he was such a powerful fighter; he never gave up. As Trowa passed the kitchen he heard muttered Chinese curses. Wufei was pacing from one end of the small space to the other, back and forth, back and forth. Trowa stood for a moment, watching. When Wufei turned and began stomping back toward the door he looked up and gave the taller boy a curt nod in greeting, never missing a pace, never silencing the curses.
Trowa continued on, into the space that passed for a living room. The only bit of furniture was the couch Wufei slept on, nothing more. Quatre had to be in there; Trowa had passed every other room in this small place. He wondered what the other boy was doing. There wasn't much that could be done, but perhaps Quatre had thought of something interesting. If not, he could always go back to watching Wufei pace. Trowa entered the "living room" automatically glancing at the couch.
All thoughts screeched to a halt. The blanket dropped to the floor unnoticed. Cold air gleefully attacked Trowa's exposed hands and dove under his collar, but the boy didn't seem to care.
He'd found Quatre.
~ Tsuzuku ~