Author's Note: And heeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrrreeeeeeeeeee's chapter three! Sorry for the delay. Chemisrty is the suckiest subject over to be invented by science. _ I have a headache. Read the fic and enjoy and review!
Thalia: And since it comes from her own little twisted mind, it's very weird and nothing is explained yet.
I'll get around to it! Sheesh!
Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing. * These are thoughts. * ~These~ are for emphasis.
PART THREE
Heero sat in one of the stylish black leather armchairs, arms crossed over his chest and his back ramrod straight. He wore a brooding expression and only by force of will kept from glancing at the steps every other minute. Quatre and Trowa wondered around the large common room of the basement, speaking too softly for him to make out the words, but Quatre was blushing pinkly almost the entire time. Heero didn't really care, being preoccupied with the events prior to the current situation.
* What's wrong with Duo? * The question haunted him. It wasn't at all like the Duo he knew to have a panic attack, and that was definitely what it'd looked like. Duo had seemed unshakable in his mental health, despite the slight delusion he had, calling himself the God of Death. His trainer, the one who'd built Deathscythe, surely must've done extensive mental health testing to make sure a breakdown couldn't happen on the battle field.
Nonetheless, Duo had just had some sort of attack or fit on the stairs. The recollection of Duo huddled on the step, breathing rapidly and shaking, evoked an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach. Akin to the anxiety before a battle, but different, making it hard to breath around the sudden constriction in his chest. He shifted slightly in his seat, trying not to be obvious about his discomfort.
His nerves were stretched taut, like a guitar string tuned too tight. That in and of itself wasn't unusual; being a gundam pilot was a job with a high stress level. But it was the fact that he had no real ~reason~ at the moment. He was as safe as he could conceivably be, Wing was going to be repaired - by no one but himself, of course - and he was getting an opportunity to observe these other pilots, whom he'd be working with and possibly relying on. It was as good as it got.
And yet...
There had been something... odd about the house when he first arrived. He could recall the details perfectly, from the wind-scoured outer walls to the way the hundreds of windows seemed so dark and bleak. The shadows had grown deeper in that moment, wider, darker, more ominous...
* Masaka. *
There were footsteps on the stairs. He turned, expecting to see Duo or Wufei returning, and feeling consternation rise in him. Why had Wufei almost come out and openly forbid Heero's presence? He was going to ask this, but instead of the other two pilots it was the tall bearded man who appeared to be the leader of the men working for Quatre. Heero stood, gliding over to where Quatre and Trowa were standing near a sculpture.
"You've got company," he said in a low tone.
Quatre appeared startled, and looked over at the bearded man. His brow furrowed slightly in puzzlement.
"What is it Rashid?" he asked when the man had reached them.
"Quatre-sama, I would like to speak with you," Rashid said, glancing down at Trowa and Heero. "In private."
"Whatever you have to say to me, you can say it in front of them. We're all in this together," Quatre replied.
Rashid frowned disapprovingly, but didn't press the issue. * Quatre is naive, and trusting. Could be a liability. * thought Heero. But he also noted that his men respected his judgement and obeyed his orders with little or no question. Such loyalty spoke a great deal about the slight blonde's abilities.
"Quatre-sama, a situation has emerged. The Maguanacs are needed elsewhere," Rashid said, obviously hedging the issue. Quatre's expression turned worried and slightly annoyed, more at the fact Rashid wasn't being completely open than at the announcement itself.
"All of you?" he asked.
"Yes. You should stay here, though, and work out a strategy against OZ," Rashid added in an almost paternal tone.
"I see," Quatre remarked, tone uninterpretable. "When are you leaving?"
"As soon as the men have their machines fully loaded. I trust you pilots know your way around mobile suit hangars well enough to handle the repairs yourselves," the older man addressed this to Heero and Trowa. He didn't wait for a response before continuing to Quatre. "If there is an emergency, you know how to contact us."
"Thanks for letting me know, Rashid," Quatre said with a small affectionate smile. "Good luck, and be careful, all of you."
"We always are, Quatre-sama," Rashid replied, then bowed. He turned to go, but not before shooting warning glances at Heero and Trowa. When he was gone back up the stairs, Heero gave Quatre a long look, waiting to see if the blonde would explain.
"I have no idea, Heero," Quatre interpreted the look. "I didn't know the Maguanacs had business other than mine to take care of here on Earth."
"Then do you think it is wise to let your men go without fully understanding why?" Trowa asked in his even tenor.
Quatre smiled slightly.
"You two may think it's naive of me, but I trust them completely," he said. "And you must trust them to a point as well, or you wouldn't have come here."
* He's perceptive. * Heero thought.
Then the sounds of footfalls on the stairs again made the trio turn. It was Wufei and Duo, both looking windblown and disgruntled. Heero noted that in the back of his mind in order to plan more cooperative teams for future missions, but he was mainly concerned with the well-being of Duo. He really had wanted to go along, observe the braided boy more - to better gauge what was going on with him, of course. It didn't make sense that Wufei would stop him from going. What had gone on between them that would leave them upset?
"Duo, are you feeling better?" Quatre asked, his lighter expression fading to worry again.
"Yeah, man. Wu-man was right, I guess. All I needed was some fresh air," Duo replied, a winning grin replacing the frown on his face. In contrast, Wufei's similar expression deepened.
"Don't call me that, Maxwell," the sloe-eyed youth snapped as they approached.
"I saw that Rashid guy in the hall as we came back down. What did he want?" Duo queried, his indigo eyes flashing with curiosity, and perhaps a flicker of alarm.
"He and the Maguanacs are leaving to take care of some situation which he didn't want to explain," Trowa said.
"That's right. And they're going to be using the hangar for a while. We probably won't be able to start work on your gundams until tomorrow," Quatre added.
"Well, that's all right. I mean, it's free parts, man. I think we can force ourselves to wait another twelve hours," Duo remarked good-naturedly. "In the meantime, why don't you finish showing us around?"
"If you're feeling up to it, I guess we can go on. Just follow me and I"ll show you to your rooms," Quatre said, but he kept his frown until Trowa gripped his shoulder lightly when Wufei and Duo had turned away.
As Quatre led them down yet another hallway, Heero watched Duo speculatively. * He's tense as well. And something isn't right. What went on between him and Wufei? *
He stopped himself. Why did he keep returning to that? What did he care if the baka had gotten in a fight with the Chinese pilot? He shook himself. He really ~must~ be under stress, not being able to concentrate like this. He'd have to try and get some actual sleep tonight to function on full capacity tomorrow. If Duo had another attack, he'd have to be ready to - to do what the situation warranted.
That night, he couldn't sleep at all. The rest of the tour had been sedate, and he'd gotten his pack from Wing's cockpit after they'd all been given rooms. He found it odd that the only bedrooms being used were in the basement, but supposed it made sense, it being the part of the house that was the coolest and most insulated from the wind. They'd made dinner for themselves in the massive kitchen, but carefully avoided mentioning Duo's little attack when they got to talking later on. Well, it was mainly Quatre and Duo who talked, and neither seemed willing to say anything, the former out of politeness and the latter out of embarrassment.
He tossed on the lush bed, unaccustomed to the softness. He tried to will his brain waves into a sleep pattern, but he found he couldn't concentrate. He was wired, and he didn't know why. And he couldn't get the picture of Duo on the steps out of his head.
* Don't worry about it now. Wait till the morning. *
He heaved a sigh and rolled onto his stomach, burying his head under his pillow, determined to rest.
He was in the middle of the desert. Dust and sand swirled around him on the gusts. He sweated in the sudden heat. He heard a slinking, shuffling sound and looked behind him.
The people in the line were of all ages, sizes, sexes, and colors. They were all dead. He didn't know how he knew. But he knew they were definitely not alive. Their eyes were empty and the sand they kicked up made long trails down the sides of the dunes. They all dragged their feet towards the same direction. He followed the line of them to where they were headed, but he couldn't see where the line stopped, and when he looked the other direction he couldn't see where it began.
"Hey," he said to the nearest dead person. "Where are you going?"
The dead man gave no sign he had even heard. He kept shuffling along, a horrible jerky gait, like that of a badly-puppeted marionette. They all moved like that, like they were controlling themselves from far away. He furrowed his brow and was determined to get one to acknowledge him. He quickly moved to the man, the sand burning his bare toes, and grabbed onto the man's arm.
"I said, where are you going?" he repeated.
The man paused in the line, the other dead behind him stumbling and bumping into each other. He turned toward Heero and looked with glassy eyes at him. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but only a dry hissing came out, along with the smell of carrion. Disgusted, he let go quickly. The man kept walking, and the line began to move again, quickly closing the gap that had formed.
Jingling and tinkling behind him. It was the girl again. He turned.
She stood exactly as she had before, her eyes burning into him, seeing ~him~ and not the facade of calmness he inflicted upon himself.
"Why can't they hear me?" he asked, slightly dazzled by the light reflected from her jewelry.
"They are lost," she responded simply.
That didn't make sense.
"What?"
"They are lost," she repeated with a glance over his shoulder. Her eyes widened and she pointed, the bangles encircling her wrist emphasizing the motion with percussive jangling.
A sick, gut-twisting fear rose up in him, and he knew - he ~knew~ - that the dead were encroaching. He whirled, ready to defend himself.
He was alone, not even near the chain of the dead. The wind howled louder here, blowing the sand more and more rapidly. The sky was rapidly growing darker with dust. He tried to run, looking for shelter. He could smell the rotting breath of the dead in his nostrils, making it that much harder to breathe through the sand. He fell down the unstable shifting mound, getting silica in his mouth and nose. With impossible speed, the sand flowed over him, burying him in heated heavy grit. He tried to claw his way out, but he couldn't breathe. It got heavier and heavier, and he was choking on it, drowning in it, dying with his lungs filled to bursting with sand -
Heero woke on his bed, struggling out of the covers, gasping raggedly for breath. He coughed as if he was really hacking the stuff up. He coughed so hard he gagged, and had to run for the private adjoining bathroom. He retched into the toilet, still coughing uncontrollably. After what seemed an unbearable eternity, he managed to calm himself. He caught his ragged breath before standing on knees left weakened when the adrenalin had left his system. He slowly stood and flushed the toilet, thoroughly disgusted with himself. He washed his face and rinsed out his mouth in the sink, then stared into the large mirror.
He was shirtless, wearing only his spandex to bed, and his hair was sweaty and even more tussled than usual. His eyes were still fear-dilated. He looked pale in the flourescent light., like all his blood had left him. Dark purple marks circled his eyes like bruises, and the light hung strangely, creating shadows in the hollows of his cheeks and eye-sockets. He looked like a corpse.
A tremor, barely noticeable, passed through him, and he looked away from his reflection.
* How often have I had nightmares lately? *
He honestly didn't know. Sometimes, like tonight, he'd wake up and not know why, or have only a half-formed idea. And he could almost never recall his dreams when he had. But something was sharper, clearer tonight; something ~made~ him remember. He could still feel the weight of the sand all around him, crushing him, and there was no air, nothing to breath, so heavy and thick -
He choked again, almost as if he was reliving the moment. And suddenly he was aware how ~small~ the bathroom seemed. And just beyond those walls were thousands of tons of sand, waiting to pour in on him and suffocate him -
He realized he was being irrational. Wing's cockpit was utterly more cramped, and he knew that the walls wouldn't just give way and let the desert rush in and bury him. But even as he fought to get a reign on this claustrophobia, he was running out of the bathroom and into the dark bedroom, stumbling over the various furniture on the floor as he made his way to the door. He had to get out, had to get away from this hole in the ground that would swallow him whole if he stayed another second!
He gripped the door handle as if it was a lifeline and turned with enough force to twist the knob off.
It wouldn't budge. It had been locked from the outside.
END PART THREE
::gasp!:: Another cliff-hanger? Already? Damn, I hate it when I do that!
Thalia: Hn. It's what you get for going it on your own.
Psyche: We really should step in on the next part.
Eros: I agree. This should be interesting.
Hey! You guys can't do that!
Thalia: Who's going to stop us? ~You?~
Thalia, Eros, and Psyche: ::crack up laughing::
_ Just get around to fishing for compliments, would you?
Eros: RRREEEEEEVVVVIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEWWWWWW!!!!!!!
Thalia: And since it comes from her own little twisted mind, it's very weird and nothing is explained yet.
I'll get around to it! Sheesh!
Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing. * These are thoughts. * ~These~ are for emphasis.
PART THREE
Heero sat in one of the stylish black leather armchairs, arms crossed over his chest and his back ramrod straight. He wore a brooding expression and only by force of will kept from glancing at the steps every other minute. Quatre and Trowa wondered around the large common room of the basement, speaking too softly for him to make out the words, but Quatre was blushing pinkly almost the entire time. Heero didn't really care, being preoccupied with the events prior to the current situation.
* What's wrong with Duo? * The question haunted him. It wasn't at all like the Duo he knew to have a panic attack, and that was definitely what it'd looked like. Duo had seemed unshakable in his mental health, despite the slight delusion he had, calling himself the God of Death. His trainer, the one who'd built Deathscythe, surely must've done extensive mental health testing to make sure a breakdown couldn't happen on the battle field.
Nonetheless, Duo had just had some sort of attack or fit on the stairs. The recollection of Duo huddled on the step, breathing rapidly and shaking, evoked an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach. Akin to the anxiety before a battle, but different, making it hard to breath around the sudden constriction in his chest. He shifted slightly in his seat, trying not to be obvious about his discomfort.
His nerves were stretched taut, like a guitar string tuned too tight. That in and of itself wasn't unusual; being a gundam pilot was a job with a high stress level. But it was the fact that he had no real ~reason~ at the moment. He was as safe as he could conceivably be, Wing was going to be repaired - by no one but himself, of course - and he was getting an opportunity to observe these other pilots, whom he'd be working with and possibly relying on. It was as good as it got.
And yet...
There had been something... odd about the house when he first arrived. He could recall the details perfectly, from the wind-scoured outer walls to the way the hundreds of windows seemed so dark and bleak. The shadows had grown deeper in that moment, wider, darker, more ominous...
* Masaka. *
There were footsteps on the stairs. He turned, expecting to see Duo or Wufei returning, and feeling consternation rise in him. Why had Wufei almost come out and openly forbid Heero's presence? He was going to ask this, but instead of the other two pilots it was the tall bearded man who appeared to be the leader of the men working for Quatre. Heero stood, gliding over to where Quatre and Trowa were standing near a sculpture.
"You've got company," he said in a low tone.
Quatre appeared startled, and looked over at the bearded man. His brow furrowed slightly in puzzlement.
"What is it Rashid?" he asked when the man had reached them.
"Quatre-sama, I would like to speak with you," Rashid said, glancing down at Trowa and Heero. "In private."
"Whatever you have to say to me, you can say it in front of them. We're all in this together," Quatre replied.
Rashid frowned disapprovingly, but didn't press the issue. * Quatre is naive, and trusting. Could be a liability. * thought Heero. But he also noted that his men respected his judgement and obeyed his orders with little or no question. Such loyalty spoke a great deal about the slight blonde's abilities.
"Quatre-sama, a situation has emerged. The Maguanacs are needed elsewhere," Rashid said, obviously hedging the issue. Quatre's expression turned worried and slightly annoyed, more at the fact Rashid wasn't being completely open than at the announcement itself.
"All of you?" he asked.
"Yes. You should stay here, though, and work out a strategy against OZ," Rashid added in an almost paternal tone.
"I see," Quatre remarked, tone uninterpretable. "When are you leaving?"
"As soon as the men have their machines fully loaded. I trust you pilots know your way around mobile suit hangars well enough to handle the repairs yourselves," the older man addressed this to Heero and Trowa. He didn't wait for a response before continuing to Quatre. "If there is an emergency, you know how to contact us."
"Thanks for letting me know, Rashid," Quatre said with a small affectionate smile. "Good luck, and be careful, all of you."
"We always are, Quatre-sama," Rashid replied, then bowed. He turned to go, but not before shooting warning glances at Heero and Trowa. When he was gone back up the stairs, Heero gave Quatre a long look, waiting to see if the blonde would explain.
"I have no idea, Heero," Quatre interpreted the look. "I didn't know the Maguanacs had business other than mine to take care of here on Earth."
"Then do you think it is wise to let your men go without fully understanding why?" Trowa asked in his even tenor.
Quatre smiled slightly.
"You two may think it's naive of me, but I trust them completely," he said. "And you must trust them to a point as well, or you wouldn't have come here."
* He's perceptive. * Heero thought.
Then the sounds of footfalls on the stairs again made the trio turn. It was Wufei and Duo, both looking windblown and disgruntled. Heero noted that in the back of his mind in order to plan more cooperative teams for future missions, but he was mainly concerned with the well-being of Duo. He really had wanted to go along, observe the braided boy more - to better gauge what was going on with him, of course. It didn't make sense that Wufei would stop him from going. What had gone on between them that would leave them upset?
"Duo, are you feeling better?" Quatre asked, his lighter expression fading to worry again.
"Yeah, man. Wu-man was right, I guess. All I needed was some fresh air," Duo replied, a winning grin replacing the frown on his face. In contrast, Wufei's similar expression deepened.
"Don't call me that, Maxwell," the sloe-eyed youth snapped as they approached.
"I saw that Rashid guy in the hall as we came back down. What did he want?" Duo queried, his indigo eyes flashing with curiosity, and perhaps a flicker of alarm.
"He and the Maguanacs are leaving to take care of some situation which he didn't want to explain," Trowa said.
"That's right. And they're going to be using the hangar for a while. We probably won't be able to start work on your gundams until tomorrow," Quatre added.
"Well, that's all right. I mean, it's free parts, man. I think we can force ourselves to wait another twelve hours," Duo remarked good-naturedly. "In the meantime, why don't you finish showing us around?"
"If you're feeling up to it, I guess we can go on. Just follow me and I"ll show you to your rooms," Quatre said, but he kept his frown until Trowa gripped his shoulder lightly when Wufei and Duo had turned away.
As Quatre led them down yet another hallway, Heero watched Duo speculatively. * He's tense as well. And something isn't right. What went on between him and Wufei? *
He stopped himself. Why did he keep returning to that? What did he care if the baka had gotten in a fight with the Chinese pilot? He shook himself. He really ~must~ be under stress, not being able to concentrate like this. He'd have to try and get some actual sleep tonight to function on full capacity tomorrow. If Duo had another attack, he'd have to be ready to - to do what the situation warranted.
That night, he couldn't sleep at all. The rest of the tour had been sedate, and he'd gotten his pack from Wing's cockpit after they'd all been given rooms. He found it odd that the only bedrooms being used were in the basement, but supposed it made sense, it being the part of the house that was the coolest and most insulated from the wind. They'd made dinner for themselves in the massive kitchen, but carefully avoided mentioning Duo's little attack when they got to talking later on. Well, it was mainly Quatre and Duo who talked, and neither seemed willing to say anything, the former out of politeness and the latter out of embarrassment.
He tossed on the lush bed, unaccustomed to the softness. He tried to will his brain waves into a sleep pattern, but he found he couldn't concentrate. He was wired, and he didn't know why. And he couldn't get the picture of Duo on the steps out of his head.
* Don't worry about it now. Wait till the morning. *
He heaved a sigh and rolled onto his stomach, burying his head under his pillow, determined to rest.
He was in the middle of the desert. Dust and sand swirled around him on the gusts. He sweated in the sudden heat. He heard a slinking, shuffling sound and looked behind him.
The people in the line were of all ages, sizes, sexes, and colors. They were all dead. He didn't know how he knew. But he knew they were definitely not alive. Their eyes were empty and the sand they kicked up made long trails down the sides of the dunes. They all dragged their feet towards the same direction. He followed the line of them to where they were headed, but he couldn't see where the line stopped, and when he looked the other direction he couldn't see where it began.
"Hey," he said to the nearest dead person. "Where are you going?"
The dead man gave no sign he had even heard. He kept shuffling along, a horrible jerky gait, like that of a badly-puppeted marionette. They all moved like that, like they were controlling themselves from far away. He furrowed his brow and was determined to get one to acknowledge him. He quickly moved to the man, the sand burning his bare toes, and grabbed onto the man's arm.
"I said, where are you going?" he repeated.
The man paused in the line, the other dead behind him stumbling and bumping into each other. He turned toward Heero and looked with glassy eyes at him. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but only a dry hissing came out, along with the smell of carrion. Disgusted, he let go quickly. The man kept walking, and the line began to move again, quickly closing the gap that had formed.
Jingling and tinkling behind him. It was the girl again. He turned.
She stood exactly as she had before, her eyes burning into him, seeing ~him~ and not the facade of calmness he inflicted upon himself.
"Why can't they hear me?" he asked, slightly dazzled by the light reflected from her jewelry.
"They are lost," she responded simply.
That didn't make sense.
"What?"
"They are lost," she repeated with a glance over his shoulder. Her eyes widened and she pointed, the bangles encircling her wrist emphasizing the motion with percussive jangling.
A sick, gut-twisting fear rose up in him, and he knew - he ~knew~ - that the dead were encroaching. He whirled, ready to defend himself.
He was alone, not even near the chain of the dead. The wind howled louder here, blowing the sand more and more rapidly. The sky was rapidly growing darker with dust. He tried to run, looking for shelter. He could smell the rotting breath of the dead in his nostrils, making it that much harder to breathe through the sand. He fell down the unstable shifting mound, getting silica in his mouth and nose. With impossible speed, the sand flowed over him, burying him in heated heavy grit. He tried to claw his way out, but he couldn't breathe. It got heavier and heavier, and he was choking on it, drowning in it, dying with his lungs filled to bursting with sand -
Heero woke on his bed, struggling out of the covers, gasping raggedly for breath. He coughed as if he was really hacking the stuff up. He coughed so hard he gagged, and had to run for the private adjoining bathroom. He retched into the toilet, still coughing uncontrollably. After what seemed an unbearable eternity, he managed to calm himself. He caught his ragged breath before standing on knees left weakened when the adrenalin had left his system. He slowly stood and flushed the toilet, thoroughly disgusted with himself. He washed his face and rinsed out his mouth in the sink, then stared into the large mirror.
He was shirtless, wearing only his spandex to bed, and his hair was sweaty and even more tussled than usual. His eyes were still fear-dilated. He looked pale in the flourescent light., like all his blood had left him. Dark purple marks circled his eyes like bruises, and the light hung strangely, creating shadows in the hollows of his cheeks and eye-sockets. He looked like a corpse.
A tremor, barely noticeable, passed through him, and he looked away from his reflection.
* How often have I had nightmares lately? *
He honestly didn't know. Sometimes, like tonight, he'd wake up and not know why, or have only a half-formed idea. And he could almost never recall his dreams when he had. But something was sharper, clearer tonight; something ~made~ him remember. He could still feel the weight of the sand all around him, crushing him, and there was no air, nothing to breath, so heavy and thick -
He choked again, almost as if he was reliving the moment. And suddenly he was aware how ~small~ the bathroom seemed. And just beyond those walls were thousands of tons of sand, waiting to pour in on him and suffocate him -
He realized he was being irrational. Wing's cockpit was utterly more cramped, and he knew that the walls wouldn't just give way and let the desert rush in and bury him. But even as he fought to get a reign on this claustrophobia, he was running out of the bathroom and into the dark bedroom, stumbling over the various furniture on the floor as he made his way to the door. He had to get out, had to get away from this hole in the ground that would swallow him whole if he stayed another second!
He gripped the door handle as if it was a lifeline and turned with enough force to twist the knob off.
It wouldn't budge. It had been locked from the outside.
END PART THREE
::gasp!:: Another cliff-hanger? Already? Damn, I hate it when I do that!
Thalia: Hn. It's what you get for going it on your own.
Psyche: We really should step in on the next part.
Eros: I agree. This should be interesting.
Hey! You guys can't do that!
Thalia: Who's going to stop us? ~You?~
Thalia, Eros, and Psyche: ::crack up laughing::
_ Just get around to fishing for compliments, would you?
Eros: RRREEEEEEVVVVIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEWWWWWW!!!!!!!
