Part III –
**********************************************************************************************
"Sit still," Heero ordered, pressing down on Duo's shoulder to emphasize his point.
"I would if you'd stop trying kill me with that goddamn sponge," Duo groused. Heero ignored him and continued to clean the long gash across his forehead, caused by a piece of falling debris during the explosion.
Nothing was said of what was happening when Heero found him. Things like that were easily pushed aside.
Duo kept up his protests, trying even Heero's patience. "Stop complaining," he said tersely as he finished. "Consider yourself lucky that you suffered only one minor head wound instead of dying like you should have in that blaze."
Instantly, Duo's whole demeanor altered, the boy grinning widely at his partner. "This coming from the guy who self-detonated and only got a concussion and a few broken bones?" he laughed, one eyebrow raised in amusement.
Heero put the medical supplies back into the bathroom, coming out with a scowl on his face. "That's no excuse to engage in suicidal behavior for no purposeful reason."
This only caused Duo to laugh harder. "It ain't suicidal if you can't die!" he said cheerfully.
Receiving a glare in return, Duo continued. "There's something special about us. All five of us, actually, but us two in particular. I mean, how many times were there when we should have died only to miraculously survive?"
Heero looked at him oddly. "I thought you didn't believe in miracles," he reminded him.
Duo stopped smiling and lay down on the mattress, facing upwards at the darkened ceiling, thinking back to the night before. "Whoever said it was a miracle?" he asked quietly.
"What do you mean?"
Realizing that he'd spoken his thought out loud, Duo only continued staring up, trying to count all the cracks he saw in the aging plaster.
He felt the mattress sag slightly and knew Heero was sitting next to him. He also knew he wouldn't give up until he explained himself, and Duo desperately wanted him to go away. He wanted everything to go away, to leave him so he could just go to sleep and perhaps never wake up.
"Maybe," he started, pausing for a second as he debated whether or not he had counted a particular crack, "Maybe we haven't died yet because we're already dead." Deciding that he had, he moved on with his mental calculations. "Maybe this is hell," he added on.
"This isn't hell," Heero's steady voice answered him.
"Oh, yeah? Well, it sure ain't heaven," Duo replied, smiling slightly at the ceiling. He let out a muffled gasp as Heero suddenly straddled him, framing his head with his hands and bringing his face to rest an inch away from his.
"This isn't hell," Heero repeated, and he bent down slightly to kiss the boy beneath him, pushing his way into his mouth before suddenly moving back to where he was sitting before.
Duo let out a deep breath. "Okay, so it's not hell," he amended. Even as his inner demons were screaming for him to stop, he went on. He'd learned how to drown them out long before. "But the fact that we're still here doesn't mean we're alive. Maybe we're dead and just lingering before we're…collected."
Duo risked looking at Heero for his response and saw him sitting absolutely still, staring intently at a dirty window. In his eyes there was a sorrow that Duo knew he wouldn't ever comprehend. He doesn't deserve to be here, Duo thought. Heero doesn't deserve any of this.
An idea appeared in his mind, one so horrible that Duo wondered where it could have come from. But he knew it had always been there, waiting for the opportunity to show itself. Just as he knew that no matter how much he wished to forget it, it would remain forever in the darkened corner of his soul where such things festered and grew.
"What a lot of wonderful things I know," he mumbled under his breath.
He sat up, glaring at the floor. No. No way. He wasn't going to do it. He couldn't. This was just one of his slightly psychotic moments, and if he let it pass everything would be fine.
But one hand was already reaching behind him, searching for the unfeeling piece of destruction he always kept tucked into the waistband of his pants when it wasn't in use.
A light sweat broke out over his body as he found it.
Beside him, Heero continued to sit stonily, glancing for a short moment at Duo before turning his head slightly to old, burnt door. Outside, it sounded as if a fight was breaking out, as well as another faint noise, one that Heero could not place but that sent chills up his spine.
Duo looked up at him, stopping, for the moment, his internal war. "Is it just me going crazy or do you hear footsteps?" he asked, relieved to be able to crawl back into hiding after his reluctant exposure.
Heero nodded.
"Rats, probably," Duo shrugged. An image of the two pictures flashed through his head. Rats. Just rats.
Putting the sound and the memory out of his mind, he focused on the more important matter at hand. Long, tapered fingers caressed the cool surface of the scythe he now wielded. The gun warmed beneath his touch, and Duo knew that if he was going to do something, he had better do it soon. Before he did something stupid. Before he succeeded in running away from whatever was causing him to grip the trigger.
Heero turned back to him, and Duo could see the confusion etched clearly across his face.
His eyes…
Damn it, it was his eyes!
Angels belong in heaven.
An arm snaked around Duo, something cold and hard pressing into his back.
Whispered words were breathed into his ear. "And demons belong in hell."
A child's laugh shattered the silence that followed.
***********************************************************************************************
"Why did you do it?"
The question is pushed out in a
rush, and hangs expectantly in the still night air. Immediately Clotho regrets
asking it.
Atropos looks up through her wispy bangs. She knows of only one reason that will satisfy him.
"He was waiting for me to," she explains shortly, but it is enough for Clotho. "Have I made you sad?" she asks.
It is difficult for Clotho to remember that, in the end, she is still only a little girl. However, he does not reply, for he does not know the answer.
Her restless mind soon comes to another matter. "Clotho?"
Sensing that he did not hear, she pulls at his hand. "Where do we go now?"
"To Lachesis, I suppose."
"She'll be pissed."
"She's always pissed," was the
tired response.
owari
***********************************************************************************************
Author's Notes: I'm going to try to write something sappy to make up for that. I really am. As for the ending, just like Pyromania, I'll leave you to draw your own conclusions. Any comments, questions, and anything else can be sent to rios_star@hotmail.com.