NOTES:: Warnings -there's probably some minor language, and it's kind of sad, especially a bit at the end, but I believe that has it's own separate warnings. This is kind of Relena friendly too. Read, enjoy. ^_^
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The Most Bittersweet Gift part 8
Moments later Heero emerged from the kitchen with two plates, and instructions from Relena to cheer him up. To his surprise he didn't have to force-feed Duo to get him to eat, although had scowled with uncharacteristic distaste at having Heero interrupt. Heero didn't allow this to detract from his best efforts at cheering up the cool, distant ex-pilot. He had now been trying for the past several minutes to draw Duo into some form of communication and it wasn't going as he had anticipated and hushed up, mind wandering.
Glancing around the room Heero's eyes settled onto the stereo, and with a twitch of a smile he stood and made his way over, flipped it on to the soft, easy music he was used to listening to for relaxation, slow songs. Going back over to Duo he pulled the other to his feet, setting the notebook aside and ignoring the confused face, as well as the glare he received for the troubles. He pushed the couch back, then the coffee table, before holding out his hand to Duo. "Dance with me."
Duo rolled his eyes, "Come on Heero, you're being ridiculous. If you want to dance with someone Relena..."
"I want to dance with you, not Relena," Heero said, pulling Duo against him. Duo sighed and pushed back, only to find himself in the steel embrace Heero usually adopted when he wanted something, and so without much choice Duo found himself caught up in the movements of the slow song, Heero's arms about his waist, so he threaded his own arms around Heero's neck and clasped them at the nape. He moved for a moment silently, and then looked up at Heero. "Why are you doing this?"
"Why not? Just a couple more songs, then I'll let you go back to your gloom and doom and pouting."
Duo smirked, a real smile, even if it was a smirk, and then let his face fall into the natural countenance he usually didn't allow to show. Leaning in he rested his body against Heero's, head tucked easily under Heero's chin, and fell into step as Heero rested his cheek atop the head.
"Your beautiful," he whispered, smoothing a hand up the back and releasing the hair, letting his fingers fan it out along the shoulders. Duo for once didn't protest, only murmured a, "So are you." Neither realized that one song slowly turned into two, two into four, four into eight, until the hours passed and they broke apart for a contented sleep somewhere near 11 at night, only to draw back together once in slumber for the still orchestra of the night to play.
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~Journal Entry 11~
Sometimes I just wish I could die, I wish that I would drop over right there and not have to think, not have to feel, not have to function, not have to lie. NO-NO-NO-NO!!!! I am not lying...I am not lying...I am not lying...why do my words lack conviction now? They never did before, never, throughout all my years of telling myself I'm not lying, I'm only surviving, only making others feel better...why now? Living on the streets I had to lie to myself, I did it all the time, only it wasn't a lie. It was hiding. I could hide, right. I'm Duo Maxwell. I run, I hide, but I never lie. Yep, that's me in a nutshell. (God, not ten days ago I would have looked at that simple little phrase and my imagination would have supplied a darling little picture of me in a nutshell, pressing against the sides, trying to get out. Nope, not anymore. This time the word nutshell makes me think of wood, and thinking of wood makes me think of a coffin, and thinking of coffins...yep, you got it. I see myself lying in a coffin, dressed in some ridiculous outfit that Quatre picked out for me, no doubt. And what is there about me, as my coffin sits, neglected, gathering dust...nothing. Where are all my friends, why are they not here, what's happened that no one came to see me off, why have I been abandoned...again?)
Oh, enough of that, where was I? Oh yeah, not lying. And you know what, it's not lying, it's hiding. The truth is in there, yes, but you obviously don't want it hard enough. Why face the truth when the truth is I'm terrified and I'm alone? I'm so hungry my stomach and mind stop wanting the food, accepting I won't be getting it? When I get it I can't eat it, it makes me sick to my stomach, but I have to? Why face the truth when the only people who have ever seemed to really want me die, because of me, because I'm Shinigami and I can't keep anyone alive, not even my dearest and only friend? Solo, I failed you, I know I have, and I hope you can forgive me? You promised me, do you remember that? You promised as long as I was Duo, we would always be together. Have you kept it...Have I? I don't even know anymore. Oh god, but I miss you, I really do. I have others, I have tentative friends, I have friends who have proved time and time again they will always be there, I have...Heero. I have Heero.
I really have him, I have him, he's mine, MINE. And it's not a cruel thought I'm torturing myself with, it's not a dream in the middle of the night where you vanish as soon as I whisper your name, it's not a ghost, or an illusion, or a hallucination. You are there, flesh and blood, in my arms, in my heart.
Sweet whispers of midnight silk, ye gods, how have I, a mere mortal, claimed your fallen angel?
We all wear masks...unfortunately I can no longer hide behind it. It's cracking, there is imperfection, there is a flaw. Mask or not, I'm still good at hiding. You don't see how my hands shake, do you? You don't see the pain as I move? I must be doing something right...right? I write, that's about all I do now, not in this ratty, tatty old thing, which has been to hell and back along with me. No, I wrote in all those wonderful notebooks that Heero got me, and there is a never-ending supply of them, or pens, pens of all colors of the rainbows. How in gods name does one write with a yellow pen? I don't know, but I have one, hell, I have three, they looked so cheerful. And red and blue and green and orange and white (white!) and gold and silver and violet...and Prussian blue. That's my favorite, I'm saving it to write in here, I don't care my hand writing is so sloppy only I can read it, who else would read it anyone? But as I was saying, I write, in those notebooks, filling them up with the pens and markers and colored pencils you bought me. You never knew that, did you? I love to write, I love to draw, and I think I'm pretty good. You do so too, you never say it, but I can see it as you look over my shoulder or let me prop myself up on your back as you read a book, or let me settle my head in your lap as I review something I've done. It hurts to write now too, using things like pens or pencils, not colored pencils, but regular pencils, but it's not as often. I keep my fingers loose by typing...on his laptop no less. He didn't even bat an eye when I asked if I might be able to use it occasionally. He handed it over, as well as a pile of disks, and told me, it's all yours.
I think it was worth it to you, to see the looks on my and Relena's face. She almost died of laughter, I started laughing, and then you joined in, unable to keep it back. And you know what, damn-it; I think that psycho-bitch has somehow wormed her way into my mind, and perhaps even a small portion of my heart. After all, she's only really guilty of one thi...no, I have to admit it, she's guilty of two things. One, her biggest one, was falling hopelessly for MY Heero, but that's corrected now, and she has seen her mistake. The other one, which really isn't so teeny, tiny compared to the first since she was excused from it, is the girl, er-woman, is a complete and total TWIT!! I mean, come on, when I first met her I saved her life and then she stopped me from shooting the person trying to kill her (THANK GOD). I give her a gazillion of points for that little thing, and I'll also give her a couple for the insanity measure (she's gotta have a screw loose somewhere upstairs, ne?) and a couple more for the style. Not my thing, jumping in front of the God of Death to save someone...who was trying to kill you I might add...but hey, it was original.
Duo Maxwell-Shinigami
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"Duo, are you alright?" Relena asked softly, watching discreetly from the doorway as the once careless boy settled himself with the utmost care onto the bench's cushion he was angling for. Within minutes he had spread open a notebook, the kind without lines to Duo's delight. Hell, she'd even received a hug when Heero brought that home. Of course, Duo didn't hear her, he wasn't meant to. He was too busy watching as Heero pulled weeds from the garden, notebook forgotten, the only thing obstructing his view was the screen on the patio where he had settled. Duo looked so wistful now, like there were a million things he had wanted to do and none of them were in reach anymore...and sadly, it was quite true. She now knew this Duo Maxwell, and by god, if there was anything she could of done to keep this mystery alive, even if for only a day longer, then she would have done it. Already her stay had extended an extra day, and seemed to be moving to that extra one again. No one said anything, and she wasn't ready to leave. She might have been a good friend to Duo, if there hadn't been a demigod in the way. That wasn't there any longer, but the rift between them still existed. Duo leaned forward a bit to see what Heero was doing, Heero looked up, smiled tenderly, and Relena lifted the camera she had bought two days ago. Snapshots frozen in time, Heero would treasure them some day. She wanted to gather the other pilots, but Wufei was away on some remote colony some where making sure some terrorist was making good on claims to have enough arms to blow the entire universe apart. Doubtful, but one still had to check. He was on his way back, but he would be here in a week, Duo only had three days left. He knew it, she knew it, Quatre had told her that's what the doctor had predicted so he and Trowa knew it. Perhaps Wufei knew it. Heero didn't know it; at least she didn't think so.
He didn't act like he did, but he could have, he was funny that way. Duo was funny that way as well, they deserved each other. Duo certainly knew it, he had to, it was his body that was dying, it was his body failing. Another thing that Relena noticed was the hair, the hair was getting thinner and thinner everyday. There were wisps of it here, wisps of it there, he didn't seem to notice.
"Hey guys," Relena called, opening the glass sliding door. "I thought you might want something to drink...and a snack. I have fudge brownies." Relena scowled mentally at hearing herself say that, knowing the words would sound like some cheesy sitcom from way back when, before the colonies, but it was worth it.
Duo immediately perked up, but looked to Heero for permission first. Heero looked cross, then sighed and came in, nodding his head at Duo as he passed to wash his hands in the kitchen sink. Coming back out he found Relena holding back the brownie until Duo took his pills, which presented a funny scene really. Duo relented, but only after Heero took his brownie and raised a suggestive eyebrow. Whatever the meaning Duo gave his full attention to Heero and popped back both pills with a swallow of chilled milk. Whatever he meant to say was cut off as Heero broke off a bit of the fudge brownie and fed it to Duo's mouth. Relena made a tactical retreat to the kitchen, and her camera.
"Lena, what's this?" Heero asked, holding up the fully automatic camera that had been hastily placed in a kitchen drawer. Relena bit her lip and tried to remember if the film was new or if she still had one picture left to take. The film was new.
"Camera, obviously, what's it look like. I though it might be nice to have around the place, you never know," Relena explained, political poker face intact.
Heero studied it, turning it over, checking the view, the zoom, the lens, the picture size option, the lightless flash, and then he smiled. "I like this, where did you get it?"
Relena sat a little easier in the chair, "If you really like it, you can have. I'll pick myself up another one; the film in it hasn't been used."
Not even protesting, it was the Perfect Soldier style, Heero nodded and lifted the camera up to look through it. "Everything is so beautiful through the camera lens," he explained, snapping several pictures of things just in the kitchen, common ordinary things. "I've always been fascinated by cameras, that one instant in time that you catch someone's soul, catch something's beauty." Relena nodded silently and he passed thanks over his shoulder and left carrying the camera, mumbling something about Duo being asleep in the bathtub.
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NOTES:: [tear stain] --this signifies a place on the paper where a tear has blurred either the writing or it has fallen onto the paper and dried there.
Warnings-language, possibly, I haven't read through it in so long. Probably humor sprinkled here and there, sad, and it's mostly journals, as at this point Duo isn't up to much else. Sorry about the small cliff hanger, send in reviews to jumpstart my motivation.
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The Most Bittersweet Gift part 9
"I swear, Relena," Duo muttered from where he was laying down on the couch, head titled back slightly over the edge, giving everything a skewed view. "I swear, if I see that damn camera one more time I am going to break it over his thick head, which will hopefully break the camera."
Relena sighed and patted Duo's knee reassuringly from where she sat next to him, silently studying the pictures Heero had had her drop off to be developed earlier. She had to admit the pictures were excellent, taken from the viewpoint of someone with a steady hand and a lot of patience. He must have waited at least a good half hour to get just the one she was looking out, having stood silent holding the camera long enough for Duo to get up and gather the strength to wag a finger at him, no doubt threatening to come over and do something very similar in nature to what he was threatening to do now. The picture was sweet and humorous, catching Duo off-guard and in the brief minute before he gave up and was trying hardest to bend Heero to his way.
Duo was silent and Relena glanced over, seeing his controlled and even breathing, noticing the slight hitch to each breath. Heero had mentioned that Duo didn't look his best, and Relena silently agreed as she watched Duo struggle to right himself, then struggle to catch his breath, then struggle to stand, then struggle to stay standing. It was a cycle, but only if he's feeling especially tough would he consider upping the dosage of pain pills, and even then it's an inner battle to admit the weakness. "I'm...going to go...do something. I'll...be in the bedroom," Duo managed. Relena let him do it on his own. She would have preferred it that way for her; she knew he did for himself.
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~Journal Entry 12~
I barely have the strength to keep these up. Just barely. I look down and see my handwriting, always so neat and precise, although the letters were a bit looped here and there, and now...now I'm lucky I can get this many words out on the paper without giving up. But I persevere. I have come to a conclusion; there is one thing in my life I will ever truly regret, and that is never having tried to write something for someone else. There's a book in me somewhere, maybe a silly dithering thing, or perhaps a war story, not just A war story, but MY war story. If for no other reason than to be remembered. I suppose that's the greatest fear after dying, that there will be nothing to remember you by as the years pass and people eventually forget, until you're not even a distant memory, your grave overrun and trodden over, forgotten, never to feel the caress of another flower's petal against the earth at the bed or to have someone look at the name and say, yes, I knew this person, and I sure do miss them. With a book someone will remember, with a book there is record of your being a unique individual who made something of who you are and you alone. Sure, my name might be handed down as a gundam pilot, I might be remembered that way, but why should I? So much pain and suffering and I am remembered for helping that along. Perhaps this disease is my penance I pay. Oh, if that were true I would accept each ache and pain, each stuttering breath, each forced morning of willing myself out of bed, each second of every minute of every hour of every day that I live in discomfort with open arms. If I suffer like this, and my friends, those I love most, escape the pain and heartache and sheer terror that comes with the memory and our past...if only my death would make it right. I would gladly die a thousand million times over for just one of the pilots. For Quatre's shattered innocence and the faith he struggles to embrace now that he is freed, for Trowa's painful and silent past, for the boy who used to call himself Nanashi, no name, who took a name. I would gladly take this for Wufei, who I fear may be one of the last truly good and noble souls left on this planet. For Heero, who doesn't even realize the pain he has because there is no scale to judge it.
How do you feel sorrow over a childhood when the word's only real meaning comes straight from a dictionary? I even had a childhood, not a great one, mind you, but it was a childhood. I can't answer that question, I'm not sure anyone can, I'm not even sure if I'm asking the right question anymore. I had hoped to at least get 20 Journal's, one to mark every year of my life I guess, but I don't have 20 days left. Since I have to take breaks or my hand gets cramped and the words start to whirl in front of my eyes, each time I begin again I will start a new journal. I suppose I'm cheating, but if I don't tell, you won't, right?
Duo Maxwell
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~Journal Entry 13~
Dear Heero,
Two days. Two days, 48 hours, 2880 minutes, 172800 seconds, approximately of course, it could be several hours earlier or later, but that is my countdown until I meet my maker. I don't know what will happen after that, sometimes I wonder if I truly care, but I do know if I have consciousness, I'll know I'll miss you. Not that comfortable to the newly bereaved, I bet, but it's what I have to offer. I don't know if I mentioned or not what my palm held somewhere else, but I think I should just mention it briefly in passing. Basically it was I would meet someone who had a large impact on my life, I would lose them in some way, but my presence would not be forgotten. No big deal, ya know, but just thought I should say that to open where I'm going next. I'm sure you remember when I read your palm, well, I never told you, but you have the most beautiful life. It's full of triumph and recovery and self-sacrifice and caring and loving. You shape your own destiny, you're palms make me want to cry, to see such a human being reflected like I have in you. It's there, and one day you'll find it. But beside the fact that you have beautiful palms, you have beautiful hands. The hands themselves are just beautiful. I want to hold them, to be held by them, to feel their gentle caress on my skin. They showed who you were, the deep woven lines, the knotted muscle, the roughened calluses that just never seem to go away. You have the hands of an artist; I bet you didn't know that. I've always had a hand fetish, which is why I always seemed to want your touch. I love hands, yours especially...
Maxwell
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~Journal Entry 14~
Dear Heero,
I'm only facing this because of you, you know. The only reason I'm fighting each day to live, fighting for that one extra second, the two extra seconds is for you. I'm not saying I would have killed myself, although I would be lying if I said it had never crossed my mind. What I'm saying is that if it weren't for the fact you were here and I could see you everyday and see your face light up with a smile one more time, or hear you murmur 'baka' in my ear [tear stain], then I would have given up my will and let Shinigami claim me as his own. Though...though I wish that there were some way to make what he have something more, something permanent. Perhaps if we were still together, if we hadn't drifted after the war, maybe then I would have that permanent brand on my heart that claimed me for yours. And...and a guy can dream, maybe a gold band on my finger, a promise ring. The best I can do now is know that the last few days were mine with you, and that your eyes lit up when you saw me, and that you can still hold me close as this sickness devours me from the inside out, and that you still can still run your fingers through my hair and love the feel despite the fact that most of it's falling out [tear stain]. And through you I found an unexpected, and I'll admit, at first completely unwanted, friendship. Get past the first few layers and I guess Relena's not that bad. I just...if I had one wish, one wish, it would be that you always find happiness in life. And if that meant me always in your arms, by your side, then so be it and I don't go before my time. But if it were something else, I would gladly pass up that one wish to give it to you."
Maxwell
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~Journal Entry 15~
Dear Heero,
I know you're going to be the one to find this, or perhaps Relena will, but I'm sure she'll give it to you, but I hope this is found before you decide to do something with all my things. I know I don't have much, but they are my things, and I want them taken care of for me, and of course, I want the right things to go to the right people. Just for you to know, there is a will in my duffel bag that I brought with me, you just have to lift up the platform on the bottom and it's there, also, Quatre has a copy in one of his many vaults in case something happens to this one, the original. But in there you'll see all my monetary assets will be directed either to charities or orphanages or programs designed to help people get back on their feet after the war. I know you guys don't need any more money, you probably went the same route I did, taking a little from Oz here and a little from Oz there. It's not like Quatre can use it, and Trowa is like part of Quatre's life, so he wouldn't need it. Wufei both has what was leeched from Oz, if anything, as well as the decent salary he is making in his job. So that clears that up. I don't have any property, I sold it all when I received the news, and there's really nothing else major left to part with besides what I carried with me and what I gathered during that time and while I was with you. So...
In the closet with the stuff I've been doing lately, all those notebooks you've bought and stuff like that, I've taken the time to slowly create memory books for each one of you. Just little things in there really, my thoughts and feelings and pictures that I think the person would like and little mementos that might remind them of something or that might be funny or sweet. Each of them has the name to the person that it goes to on the cover, I would like for you to make sure that they get these. All the other things that I've been doing lately, the scribbles, the stories, the cartoons or drawings, any of that stuff, you decide what happens to it. You can do whatever you want with them, throw them out or keep them or give them to the others to see if they want any or try and publish something (yeah right, like that would ever happen). This journal...either keep it, or burn it, no one else needs to see any of this stuff. Don't be too hasty to do something with my few books I have in that bag, I have things stuck between pages, so go through them before you decide. Beyond that, everything else that I have as a person, it's your choice. All right, I think that's everything.
D.M.
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~J. Entry...16~
Heero, have I said I love you, yet? Because if I haven't, I want you to know. I can feel death breathing down my neck, and the smell is acrid, biting, and I think death can smell my fear because the more fear I feel, the more it hurts, the closer death looms. Just for the record, babe, I don't recommend dying a slow, painful death. Ha ha...still joking, but no, I mean it. If I had known it would feel this way I would have ended all my misery and pain long ago. I hope you're glad I didn't. But I do love you, I'll always love you, I think I was meant to love you like this. There's never been anyone else. Not in all the time since you disappeared was there someone else. I dated, don't get me wrong, and I made out with a couple people (all guys). But there was always something there between us that I didn't understand. No matter how they wanted me, at a certain point they would break off and look at me...and that was it. It's almost as if they could feel you're claim on me, even though you didn't want me anymore. It's almost as if they knew...just knew that I belonged to someone else. That really messed up my life, or at least that time in my life. Maybe it's my fault somehow...maybe I messed up somewhere along the way to make them recoil...to force them to draw back and decide, you know, I don't think I want this anymore. For the longest time I wondered if maybe they could see what I was beneath everything else, or maybe...maybe when I touched them they could feel the blood on my hands even if it wasn't there in reality. Is that why you can touch me? Is it because you're hands are as bloody as mine?
Do you want to know what I'm afraid of? It's not the dying, although most people are afraid of that, are afraid of the pain of dying. No, I have two fears that haunt me right now. One of them is where am I going to go. I'm no angel, that's for sure, so if there really is a heaven and hell, I don't think I'm good enough for heaven. But what if I'm not bad enough for hell? What if neither wants me, where will I be? The other fear is where will you be, you and all the other guys? Their faith is different; I don't know how this is going to work out, not really. Maybe I won't see any of you ever again.
And if I do go to hell...what will greet me once I'm there. My nightmares have changed, I'm afraid to close my eyes unless it's a drugged sleep. I see thousands and thousands of people who I've killed greeting me when I do, and they kill me every night for all of eternity. Is there pain once you're dead? I hope not. I'll tell you one thing though...I have a feeling I will see you again some day. Maybe there is such a thing as reincarnation; maybe we'll be together in another life. Maybe...oh, I have to go get something for this pain, I can't breathe and I'm beginni...
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Duo stood up slowly and pushed away from the bed, moving towards the kitchen. Halfway down the hall a wave of dizziness washed over him and he braced himself for support against the wall. Taking a deep breath a pain shot through his side and up, catching him off guard and with a whimper his knees buckled under him. Lifting his head slowly he tried to stand and saw the faint image of Relena as he was washed in darkness.
Relena put a hand over her mouth and let out a shout for Heero, who dropped the dishes he was putting away and located the source of the disturbance. The tightening hold of fear gripped his stomach as he directed Relena to call for help and he dropped to his knees, pulling Duo up and into his lap, checking for a pulse and to make sure he was breathing. Just a fainting spell, he reassured himself, rocking the body subconsciously, just a fainting spell.
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The Most Bittersweet Gift part 8
Moments later Heero emerged from the kitchen with two plates, and instructions from Relena to cheer him up. To his surprise he didn't have to force-feed Duo to get him to eat, although had scowled with uncharacteristic distaste at having Heero interrupt. Heero didn't allow this to detract from his best efforts at cheering up the cool, distant ex-pilot. He had now been trying for the past several minutes to draw Duo into some form of communication and it wasn't going as he had anticipated and hushed up, mind wandering.
Glancing around the room Heero's eyes settled onto the stereo, and with a twitch of a smile he stood and made his way over, flipped it on to the soft, easy music he was used to listening to for relaxation, slow songs. Going back over to Duo he pulled the other to his feet, setting the notebook aside and ignoring the confused face, as well as the glare he received for the troubles. He pushed the couch back, then the coffee table, before holding out his hand to Duo. "Dance with me."
Duo rolled his eyes, "Come on Heero, you're being ridiculous. If you want to dance with someone Relena..."
"I want to dance with you, not Relena," Heero said, pulling Duo against him. Duo sighed and pushed back, only to find himself in the steel embrace Heero usually adopted when he wanted something, and so without much choice Duo found himself caught up in the movements of the slow song, Heero's arms about his waist, so he threaded his own arms around Heero's neck and clasped them at the nape. He moved for a moment silently, and then looked up at Heero. "Why are you doing this?"
"Why not? Just a couple more songs, then I'll let you go back to your gloom and doom and pouting."
Duo smirked, a real smile, even if it was a smirk, and then let his face fall into the natural countenance he usually didn't allow to show. Leaning in he rested his body against Heero's, head tucked easily under Heero's chin, and fell into step as Heero rested his cheek atop the head.
"Your beautiful," he whispered, smoothing a hand up the back and releasing the hair, letting his fingers fan it out along the shoulders. Duo for once didn't protest, only murmured a, "So are you." Neither realized that one song slowly turned into two, two into four, four into eight, until the hours passed and they broke apart for a contented sleep somewhere near 11 at night, only to draw back together once in slumber for the still orchestra of the night to play.
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~Journal Entry 11~
Sometimes I just wish I could die, I wish that I would drop over right there and not have to think, not have to feel, not have to function, not have to lie. NO-NO-NO-NO!!!! I am not lying...I am not lying...I am not lying...why do my words lack conviction now? They never did before, never, throughout all my years of telling myself I'm not lying, I'm only surviving, only making others feel better...why now? Living on the streets I had to lie to myself, I did it all the time, only it wasn't a lie. It was hiding. I could hide, right. I'm Duo Maxwell. I run, I hide, but I never lie. Yep, that's me in a nutshell. (God, not ten days ago I would have looked at that simple little phrase and my imagination would have supplied a darling little picture of me in a nutshell, pressing against the sides, trying to get out. Nope, not anymore. This time the word nutshell makes me think of wood, and thinking of wood makes me think of a coffin, and thinking of coffins...yep, you got it. I see myself lying in a coffin, dressed in some ridiculous outfit that Quatre picked out for me, no doubt. And what is there about me, as my coffin sits, neglected, gathering dust...nothing. Where are all my friends, why are they not here, what's happened that no one came to see me off, why have I been abandoned...again?)
Oh, enough of that, where was I? Oh yeah, not lying. And you know what, it's not lying, it's hiding. The truth is in there, yes, but you obviously don't want it hard enough. Why face the truth when the truth is I'm terrified and I'm alone? I'm so hungry my stomach and mind stop wanting the food, accepting I won't be getting it? When I get it I can't eat it, it makes me sick to my stomach, but I have to? Why face the truth when the only people who have ever seemed to really want me die, because of me, because I'm Shinigami and I can't keep anyone alive, not even my dearest and only friend? Solo, I failed you, I know I have, and I hope you can forgive me? You promised me, do you remember that? You promised as long as I was Duo, we would always be together. Have you kept it...Have I? I don't even know anymore. Oh god, but I miss you, I really do. I have others, I have tentative friends, I have friends who have proved time and time again they will always be there, I have...Heero. I have Heero.
I really have him, I have him, he's mine, MINE. And it's not a cruel thought I'm torturing myself with, it's not a dream in the middle of the night where you vanish as soon as I whisper your name, it's not a ghost, or an illusion, or a hallucination. You are there, flesh and blood, in my arms, in my heart.
Sweet whispers of midnight silk, ye gods, how have I, a mere mortal, claimed your fallen angel?
We all wear masks...unfortunately I can no longer hide behind it. It's cracking, there is imperfection, there is a flaw. Mask or not, I'm still good at hiding. You don't see how my hands shake, do you? You don't see the pain as I move? I must be doing something right...right? I write, that's about all I do now, not in this ratty, tatty old thing, which has been to hell and back along with me. No, I wrote in all those wonderful notebooks that Heero got me, and there is a never-ending supply of them, or pens, pens of all colors of the rainbows. How in gods name does one write with a yellow pen? I don't know, but I have one, hell, I have three, they looked so cheerful. And red and blue and green and orange and white (white!) and gold and silver and violet...and Prussian blue. That's my favorite, I'm saving it to write in here, I don't care my hand writing is so sloppy only I can read it, who else would read it anyone? But as I was saying, I write, in those notebooks, filling them up with the pens and markers and colored pencils you bought me. You never knew that, did you? I love to write, I love to draw, and I think I'm pretty good. You do so too, you never say it, but I can see it as you look over my shoulder or let me prop myself up on your back as you read a book, or let me settle my head in your lap as I review something I've done. It hurts to write now too, using things like pens or pencils, not colored pencils, but regular pencils, but it's not as often. I keep my fingers loose by typing...on his laptop no less. He didn't even bat an eye when I asked if I might be able to use it occasionally. He handed it over, as well as a pile of disks, and told me, it's all yours.
I think it was worth it to you, to see the looks on my and Relena's face. She almost died of laughter, I started laughing, and then you joined in, unable to keep it back. And you know what, damn-it; I think that psycho-bitch has somehow wormed her way into my mind, and perhaps even a small portion of my heart. After all, she's only really guilty of one thi...no, I have to admit it, she's guilty of two things. One, her biggest one, was falling hopelessly for MY Heero, but that's corrected now, and she has seen her mistake. The other one, which really isn't so teeny, tiny compared to the first since she was excused from it, is the girl, er-woman, is a complete and total TWIT!! I mean, come on, when I first met her I saved her life and then she stopped me from shooting the person trying to kill her (THANK GOD). I give her a gazillion of points for that little thing, and I'll also give her a couple for the insanity measure (she's gotta have a screw loose somewhere upstairs, ne?) and a couple more for the style. Not my thing, jumping in front of the God of Death to save someone...who was trying to kill you I might add...but hey, it was original.
Duo Maxwell-Shinigami
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"Duo, are you alright?" Relena asked softly, watching discreetly from the doorway as the once careless boy settled himself with the utmost care onto the bench's cushion he was angling for. Within minutes he had spread open a notebook, the kind without lines to Duo's delight. Hell, she'd even received a hug when Heero brought that home. Of course, Duo didn't hear her, he wasn't meant to. He was too busy watching as Heero pulled weeds from the garden, notebook forgotten, the only thing obstructing his view was the screen on the patio where he had settled. Duo looked so wistful now, like there were a million things he had wanted to do and none of them were in reach anymore...and sadly, it was quite true. She now knew this Duo Maxwell, and by god, if there was anything she could of done to keep this mystery alive, even if for only a day longer, then she would have done it. Already her stay had extended an extra day, and seemed to be moving to that extra one again. No one said anything, and she wasn't ready to leave. She might have been a good friend to Duo, if there hadn't been a demigod in the way. That wasn't there any longer, but the rift between them still existed. Duo leaned forward a bit to see what Heero was doing, Heero looked up, smiled tenderly, and Relena lifted the camera she had bought two days ago. Snapshots frozen in time, Heero would treasure them some day. She wanted to gather the other pilots, but Wufei was away on some remote colony some where making sure some terrorist was making good on claims to have enough arms to blow the entire universe apart. Doubtful, but one still had to check. He was on his way back, but he would be here in a week, Duo only had three days left. He knew it, she knew it, Quatre had told her that's what the doctor had predicted so he and Trowa knew it. Perhaps Wufei knew it. Heero didn't know it; at least she didn't think so.
He didn't act like he did, but he could have, he was funny that way. Duo was funny that way as well, they deserved each other. Duo certainly knew it, he had to, it was his body that was dying, it was his body failing. Another thing that Relena noticed was the hair, the hair was getting thinner and thinner everyday. There were wisps of it here, wisps of it there, he didn't seem to notice.
"Hey guys," Relena called, opening the glass sliding door. "I thought you might want something to drink...and a snack. I have fudge brownies." Relena scowled mentally at hearing herself say that, knowing the words would sound like some cheesy sitcom from way back when, before the colonies, but it was worth it.
Duo immediately perked up, but looked to Heero for permission first. Heero looked cross, then sighed and came in, nodding his head at Duo as he passed to wash his hands in the kitchen sink. Coming back out he found Relena holding back the brownie until Duo took his pills, which presented a funny scene really. Duo relented, but only after Heero took his brownie and raised a suggestive eyebrow. Whatever the meaning Duo gave his full attention to Heero and popped back both pills with a swallow of chilled milk. Whatever he meant to say was cut off as Heero broke off a bit of the fudge brownie and fed it to Duo's mouth. Relena made a tactical retreat to the kitchen, and her camera.
"Lena, what's this?" Heero asked, holding up the fully automatic camera that had been hastily placed in a kitchen drawer. Relena bit her lip and tried to remember if the film was new or if she still had one picture left to take. The film was new.
"Camera, obviously, what's it look like. I though it might be nice to have around the place, you never know," Relena explained, political poker face intact.
Heero studied it, turning it over, checking the view, the zoom, the lens, the picture size option, the lightless flash, and then he smiled. "I like this, where did you get it?"
Relena sat a little easier in the chair, "If you really like it, you can have. I'll pick myself up another one; the film in it hasn't been used."
Not even protesting, it was the Perfect Soldier style, Heero nodded and lifted the camera up to look through it. "Everything is so beautiful through the camera lens," he explained, snapping several pictures of things just in the kitchen, common ordinary things. "I've always been fascinated by cameras, that one instant in time that you catch someone's soul, catch something's beauty." Relena nodded silently and he passed thanks over his shoulder and left carrying the camera, mumbling something about Duo being asleep in the bathtub.
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NOTES:: [tear stain] --this signifies a place on the paper where a tear has blurred either the writing or it has fallen onto the paper and dried there.
Warnings-language, possibly, I haven't read through it in so long. Probably humor sprinkled here and there, sad, and it's mostly journals, as at this point Duo isn't up to much else. Sorry about the small cliff hanger, send in reviews to jumpstart my motivation.
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The Most Bittersweet Gift part 9
"I swear, Relena," Duo muttered from where he was laying down on the couch, head titled back slightly over the edge, giving everything a skewed view. "I swear, if I see that damn camera one more time I am going to break it over his thick head, which will hopefully break the camera."
Relena sighed and patted Duo's knee reassuringly from where she sat next to him, silently studying the pictures Heero had had her drop off to be developed earlier. She had to admit the pictures were excellent, taken from the viewpoint of someone with a steady hand and a lot of patience. He must have waited at least a good half hour to get just the one she was looking out, having stood silent holding the camera long enough for Duo to get up and gather the strength to wag a finger at him, no doubt threatening to come over and do something very similar in nature to what he was threatening to do now. The picture was sweet and humorous, catching Duo off-guard and in the brief minute before he gave up and was trying hardest to bend Heero to his way.
Duo was silent and Relena glanced over, seeing his controlled and even breathing, noticing the slight hitch to each breath. Heero had mentioned that Duo didn't look his best, and Relena silently agreed as she watched Duo struggle to right himself, then struggle to catch his breath, then struggle to stand, then struggle to stay standing. It was a cycle, but only if he's feeling especially tough would he consider upping the dosage of pain pills, and even then it's an inner battle to admit the weakness. "I'm...going to go...do something. I'll...be in the bedroom," Duo managed. Relena let him do it on his own. She would have preferred it that way for her; she knew he did for himself.
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~Journal Entry 12~
I barely have the strength to keep these up. Just barely. I look down and see my handwriting, always so neat and precise, although the letters were a bit looped here and there, and now...now I'm lucky I can get this many words out on the paper without giving up. But I persevere. I have come to a conclusion; there is one thing in my life I will ever truly regret, and that is never having tried to write something for someone else. There's a book in me somewhere, maybe a silly dithering thing, or perhaps a war story, not just A war story, but MY war story. If for no other reason than to be remembered. I suppose that's the greatest fear after dying, that there will be nothing to remember you by as the years pass and people eventually forget, until you're not even a distant memory, your grave overrun and trodden over, forgotten, never to feel the caress of another flower's petal against the earth at the bed or to have someone look at the name and say, yes, I knew this person, and I sure do miss them. With a book someone will remember, with a book there is record of your being a unique individual who made something of who you are and you alone. Sure, my name might be handed down as a gundam pilot, I might be remembered that way, but why should I? So much pain and suffering and I am remembered for helping that along. Perhaps this disease is my penance I pay. Oh, if that were true I would accept each ache and pain, each stuttering breath, each forced morning of willing myself out of bed, each second of every minute of every hour of every day that I live in discomfort with open arms. If I suffer like this, and my friends, those I love most, escape the pain and heartache and sheer terror that comes with the memory and our past...if only my death would make it right. I would gladly die a thousand million times over for just one of the pilots. For Quatre's shattered innocence and the faith he struggles to embrace now that he is freed, for Trowa's painful and silent past, for the boy who used to call himself Nanashi, no name, who took a name. I would gladly take this for Wufei, who I fear may be one of the last truly good and noble souls left on this planet. For Heero, who doesn't even realize the pain he has because there is no scale to judge it.
How do you feel sorrow over a childhood when the word's only real meaning comes straight from a dictionary? I even had a childhood, not a great one, mind you, but it was a childhood. I can't answer that question, I'm not sure anyone can, I'm not even sure if I'm asking the right question anymore. I had hoped to at least get 20 Journal's, one to mark every year of my life I guess, but I don't have 20 days left. Since I have to take breaks or my hand gets cramped and the words start to whirl in front of my eyes, each time I begin again I will start a new journal. I suppose I'm cheating, but if I don't tell, you won't, right?
Duo Maxwell
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~Journal Entry 13~
Dear Heero,
Two days. Two days, 48 hours, 2880 minutes, 172800 seconds, approximately of course, it could be several hours earlier or later, but that is my countdown until I meet my maker. I don't know what will happen after that, sometimes I wonder if I truly care, but I do know if I have consciousness, I'll know I'll miss you. Not that comfortable to the newly bereaved, I bet, but it's what I have to offer. I don't know if I mentioned or not what my palm held somewhere else, but I think I should just mention it briefly in passing. Basically it was I would meet someone who had a large impact on my life, I would lose them in some way, but my presence would not be forgotten. No big deal, ya know, but just thought I should say that to open where I'm going next. I'm sure you remember when I read your palm, well, I never told you, but you have the most beautiful life. It's full of triumph and recovery and self-sacrifice and caring and loving. You shape your own destiny, you're palms make me want to cry, to see such a human being reflected like I have in you. It's there, and one day you'll find it. But beside the fact that you have beautiful palms, you have beautiful hands. The hands themselves are just beautiful. I want to hold them, to be held by them, to feel their gentle caress on my skin. They showed who you were, the deep woven lines, the knotted muscle, the roughened calluses that just never seem to go away. You have the hands of an artist; I bet you didn't know that. I've always had a hand fetish, which is why I always seemed to want your touch. I love hands, yours especially...
Maxwell
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~Journal Entry 14~
Dear Heero,
I'm only facing this because of you, you know. The only reason I'm fighting each day to live, fighting for that one extra second, the two extra seconds is for you. I'm not saying I would have killed myself, although I would be lying if I said it had never crossed my mind. What I'm saying is that if it weren't for the fact you were here and I could see you everyday and see your face light up with a smile one more time, or hear you murmur 'baka' in my ear [tear stain], then I would have given up my will and let Shinigami claim me as his own. Though...though I wish that there were some way to make what he have something more, something permanent. Perhaps if we were still together, if we hadn't drifted after the war, maybe then I would have that permanent brand on my heart that claimed me for yours. And...and a guy can dream, maybe a gold band on my finger, a promise ring. The best I can do now is know that the last few days were mine with you, and that your eyes lit up when you saw me, and that you can still hold me close as this sickness devours me from the inside out, and that you still can still run your fingers through my hair and love the feel despite the fact that most of it's falling out [tear stain]. And through you I found an unexpected, and I'll admit, at first completely unwanted, friendship. Get past the first few layers and I guess Relena's not that bad. I just...if I had one wish, one wish, it would be that you always find happiness in life. And if that meant me always in your arms, by your side, then so be it and I don't go before my time. But if it were something else, I would gladly pass up that one wish to give it to you."
Maxwell
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~Journal Entry 15~
Dear Heero,
I know you're going to be the one to find this, or perhaps Relena will, but I'm sure she'll give it to you, but I hope this is found before you decide to do something with all my things. I know I don't have much, but they are my things, and I want them taken care of for me, and of course, I want the right things to go to the right people. Just for you to know, there is a will in my duffel bag that I brought with me, you just have to lift up the platform on the bottom and it's there, also, Quatre has a copy in one of his many vaults in case something happens to this one, the original. But in there you'll see all my monetary assets will be directed either to charities or orphanages or programs designed to help people get back on their feet after the war. I know you guys don't need any more money, you probably went the same route I did, taking a little from Oz here and a little from Oz there. It's not like Quatre can use it, and Trowa is like part of Quatre's life, so he wouldn't need it. Wufei both has what was leeched from Oz, if anything, as well as the decent salary he is making in his job. So that clears that up. I don't have any property, I sold it all when I received the news, and there's really nothing else major left to part with besides what I carried with me and what I gathered during that time and while I was with you. So...
In the closet with the stuff I've been doing lately, all those notebooks you've bought and stuff like that, I've taken the time to slowly create memory books for each one of you. Just little things in there really, my thoughts and feelings and pictures that I think the person would like and little mementos that might remind them of something or that might be funny or sweet. Each of them has the name to the person that it goes to on the cover, I would like for you to make sure that they get these. All the other things that I've been doing lately, the scribbles, the stories, the cartoons or drawings, any of that stuff, you decide what happens to it. You can do whatever you want with them, throw them out or keep them or give them to the others to see if they want any or try and publish something (yeah right, like that would ever happen). This journal...either keep it, or burn it, no one else needs to see any of this stuff. Don't be too hasty to do something with my few books I have in that bag, I have things stuck between pages, so go through them before you decide. Beyond that, everything else that I have as a person, it's your choice. All right, I think that's everything.
D.M.
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~J. Entry...16~
Heero, have I said I love you, yet? Because if I haven't, I want you to know. I can feel death breathing down my neck, and the smell is acrid, biting, and I think death can smell my fear because the more fear I feel, the more it hurts, the closer death looms. Just for the record, babe, I don't recommend dying a slow, painful death. Ha ha...still joking, but no, I mean it. If I had known it would feel this way I would have ended all my misery and pain long ago. I hope you're glad I didn't. But I do love you, I'll always love you, I think I was meant to love you like this. There's never been anyone else. Not in all the time since you disappeared was there someone else. I dated, don't get me wrong, and I made out with a couple people (all guys). But there was always something there between us that I didn't understand. No matter how they wanted me, at a certain point they would break off and look at me...and that was it. It's almost as if they could feel you're claim on me, even though you didn't want me anymore. It's almost as if they knew...just knew that I belonged to someone else. That really messed up my life, or at least that time in my life. Maybe it's my fault somehow...maybe I messed up somewhere along the way to make them recoil...to force them to draw back and decide, you know, I don't think I want this anymore. For the longest time I wondered if maybe they could see what I was beneath everything else, or maybe...maybe when I touched them they could feel the blood on my hands even if it wasn't there in reality. Is that why you can touch me? Is it because you're hands are as bloody as mine?
Do you want to know what I'm afraid of? It's not the dying, although most people are afraid of that, are afraid of the pain of dying. No, I have two fears that haunt me right now. One of them is where am I going to go. I'm no angel, that's for sure, so if there really is a heaven and hell, I don't think I'm good enough for heaven. But what if I'm not bad enough for hell? What if neither wants me, where will I be? The other fear is where will you be, you and all the other guys? Their faith is different; I don't know how this is going to work out, not really. Maybe I won't see any of you ever again.
And if I do go to hell...what will greet me once I'm there. My nightmares have changed, I'm afraid to close my eyes unless it's a drugged sleep. I see thousands and thousands of people who I've killed greeting me when I do, and they kill me every night for all of eternity. Is there pain once you're dead? I hope not. I'll tell you one thing though...I have a feeling I will see you again some day. Maybe there is such a thing as reincarnation; maybe we'll be together in another life. Maybe...oh, I have to go get something for this pain, I can't breathe and I'm beginni...
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Duo stood up slowly and pushed away from the bed, moving towards the kitchen. Halfway down the hall a wave of dizziness washed over him and he braced himself for support against the wall. Taking a deep breath a pain shot through his side and up, catching him off guard and with a whimper his knees buckled under him. Lifting his head slowly he tried to stand and saw the faint image of Relena as he was washed in darkness.
Relena put a hand over her mouth and let out a shout for Heero, who dropped the dishes he was putting away and located the source of the disturbance. The tightening hold of fear gripped his stomach as he directed Relena to call for help and he dropped to his knees, pulling Duo up and into his lap, checking for a pulse and to make sure he was breathing. Just a fainting spell, he reassured himself, rocking the body subconsciously, just a fainting spell.