Disclaimer: Again, nowt mmiiiine. Poop. :( Song here also by Jewel -
called 'I'm Sensitive'
Authors Note: A little bit... different. ;) You can take it anyway you
wish. There's at least 5 majorly different ways of interpereting this... I just hope you
like it! Feed the author! Please review? Arigato!
"Uh Heero? Did the house have a-a chimney?" Quatre asked timidly, gazing up into the sky before him. Heero's brow furrowed slightly.
"No. Why?" The blond looked over at him, then back up at the sky.
"Because, uh, well, there's smoke coming from the direction of the house and " Before Quatre could finish his sentence, Heero had taken off at a run, Trowa and Wufei not far behind. Blinking once, Quatre shot a quick look at them, the sky and his general surroundings, before running after them. The four pilots ran as fast as they could to their last safe-house, each building scenarios of what could have happened in their heads. Quatre was desperately hoping his braided friend was alright when he bumped into Trowa's back, who had stopped dead. Stumbling back a bit, the blond stepped around the taller man to see what had stopped him. His mouth fell open as he saw the burning mass of what used to be the Gundam Deathscythe. There was a strangled noise from his left, and Quatre could see Heero staring at the warping metal before him, shock and some degree of horror etched deeply into his usually unemotional face. On his other side, Quatre noticed the normally subdued Chinese pilot blinking uncomprehendingly at the Gundam. Abruptly Heero began to move again, running to the house. The other pilots pulled themselves together marginally to follow him again.
Heero ran, his mind a jumble of unintelligible thoughts, which were bouncing through him in waves of panic and horror. He refused to believe no. Duo was fine. Nothing could've happened to him now. Not now, after all the fighting and conflict was finally over and they could be free. Not now that he could walk out into the world and be the cheerful person he was without the horrors of war pressing on his shoulders. Running up the stairs to the porch of the secluded house, Heero barreled into the door, not even pausing enough to use the door-knob. The lock gave way, and the door swung open. Inside, the room was dark, but Heero's sharp eyes scanned it desperately. He stepped cautiously into the room, able to feel his heart pounding in his chest, almost drowning out all surrounding sounds. Suddenly a shadow detached itself from the wall, and Heero was able to make out a lithe figure. He exhaled sharply, his whole body flooding with relief. He didn't even notice as his other team mates crowd into the doorway, fixing solely on the darkness-shrouded figure before him. He opened his mouth to speak, only to be shushed gently. The figure moved to sit down in one of the chairs, facing away from the pilots, seemingly totally calm as it looked out the window. Behind Heero, Wufei reached for the light switch in the wall, and flicked it on. The room flooded with light, and Heero got a brief glimpse of just the long braid long red braid Red?
Then the figure swung about in the chair, and Heero's startle eyes were pierced with glowing green ones, full of mirth and something else. Quatre gasped, Trowa backed into a wall, and Wufei dropped into a defensive position.
"Who the fuck are you?" The Chinese man hissed. "And where the fuck is Duo?" The green eyes slid easily from Heero's to Wufei's, before trailing over the man in a lazy contemplation. The Chinese man, as well as the other three pilots, stared at the person before them. He looked exactly like Duo, except the long silky hair was no longer a shiny chestnut colour, but a flaming red. His violet eyes were now a glowing green, which pinned them all in turn with a slightly curious, however studying glance. There was also very little of the hyperactive teen they knew in the eyes of this man. The mischievous sparkle was still there, but there was now something underlying it. Something very hard. Something that had a sharp edge.
Ripping his eyes away from the hypnotic gaze, Heero looked at the man in full. He was still dressed in Duo's priestly garb, and sat languidly in the chair, reminding Heero of a cat in some chilling way. In one hand was a manila folder, long fingers idly taping it's surface. The Perfect Soldier was, for once, at an utter loss. He couldn't seem to make himself move or react, or to even get a coherent thought to grace his mind. Somewhere in the back of his mind, their was a part of him demanding to know why he wasn't doing something, and why he was letting Wufei handle the situation. Finally his body seemed to unlock, jerking backwards a step as the red-haired person rose and glided across the room towards them. Glided wasn't exactly the word. It was somewhere between gliding and slinking, moving with a grace that not even Duo possessed. He seemed totally unconcerned as Wufei tensed and prepared to attack, only pausing for a few moments, just meters before them. He brought the manila folder up in front of him, then slowly opened his hand, letting it and it's contents slip away. Tens of sheets fell from his fingers, gliding to the floor all around and littering the area with them. An uncanny smile swept across his lips and then he was gone, somehow swept past them, through the door and into the night.
Dumbstruck, it took the four young men some time to regain their senses, and when they did, a certain amount of chaos erupted in the small room. Quatre blinked rapidly a few times then slid bonelessly to the floor, trying to keep himself from passing out in a dead faint. Trowa squatted down and picked up a couple of the sheets of paper, studying them intently. Wufei moved forward into the room, looking around and then letting off a string of swear words in various languages.
"What the fuck just happened? Was that Maxwell?" He demanded, scowling furiously.
In the end, it was Wufei's question which finally snapped Heero back to reality. His unemotional face slid back down, and he tried to assess the situation. Unknown entity may or may not be threat to team. Presumably missing team-member. Shit.
"Heero?" He turned at his name, pinpointing Trowa as it's origins. He stepped over to the brown-haired pilot, who stood up and passed him the sheets he had been studying. Heero looked at them for a few seconds before taking in what was on them. Pencil sketches. One was of Wufei doing some sort of material arts move, a look of concentration artfully detailed on his face. The clothes on him rippled and swayed, making the picture seem alive. The other was another detailed drawing of Heero's own Gundam in action. Blinking down at the pages, Heero abruptly turned and began picking up and looking at the other pieces of paper.
More sketches. Every one of them detailed and beautiful and almost alive. They differed in subject widely. Some were of the pilots, in battle, at home, at play. Others were of the Gundams and their weapons. Some were of other people, other places, other scenes. Heero found one of a woman with a small baby cradled in her arms. Another of an old man begging on a corner. Another of two women standing on a street corner, obviously prostitutes. Each of them seemed to tell the character's life story, depicting them in such a way that Heero thought he knew much about all of them - just from the one picture. He continued around the room until he had picked them all up, oblivious to the other three watching him. When he had finished, he stood abruptly, looking down at the papers like he didn't know where they came from and then turning to Wufei and shoving them into his hands. Heero walked stiffly from the room, heading towards the one he shared with Duo. Behind him, Wufei glanced through the pages, eyes widening with every one he looked at.
Heero looked around the bedroom, scrutinizing every part of it. A CD was playing from the corner, the female voice sounding slightly hollow in the room for some reason. Eyes finally lighting on the paper on the desk beside his laptop, he went over and picked it up. Scanning over the first few lines, his face went white and abruptly sat down, beginning to read from the beginning again. After he had finished, he read it again. And again. Finally he put it down quietly and stared blankly at the wall for a few minutes.
"Heero?"
I have this theory that if we're told we're bad / Then that's the only idea we'll ever have
"Heero? W..what's going on?" Quatre asked hesitantly, his open face
flickering between confusion and anxiety. The Arabian crept over to stand next to Heero,
looking down at him. Heero picked up the letter and pushed it at the blonde, before
returning to staring at nothing. Quatre shot a worried look at the silent young man and
then turned his attention to the letter. By half-way through it, tears were running down
his face, and when he had reached the end, he collapsed on the ground again, sobbing hard
– the letter clutched in one hand.
"Quatre? What's wrong?" Trowa asked, entering the room and seeing the two
pilots. Kneeling down beside Quatre, he gently pulled the letter from his grasp, rubbing
his shoulder comfortingly. The hand he was using moved less and less as he read through
the words before him, until it fell away entirely.
But maybe if we are surrounded in beauty / Someday we will become what we see
Trowa stood up and left the room, the two pilots behind him in the same positions as when he entered. Hands slightly trembling, he handed the letter to Wufei, who was still looking through the pictures. Setting them down carefully, he cast a glance at Trowa before beginning to read. When he was finished, his face was stony and emotionless, but his fist was clenched up so hard it had turned white. He put the letter down on top of the drawings and went to the nearest wall, plowing his fist into it unmercifully, his knuckles splitting and specks of blood spraying across the wall. Then suddenly his taught body sagged, falling against the wall, his forehead hitting it and his eyes clenching shut.
Heero walked out of the bedroom, leaving Quatre sobbing on the floor, and through the living room, ignoring Wufei and Trowa. He walked out the front door and stopped. Closing his eyes briefly and then looking out at the forest and the star-filled sky. He remained looking stonily ahead, while over to his right and slightly behind him a long-red-headed young man lent against the wall, looking at the same sight.
"Who are you?" Heero asked, straining to keep his voice steady. The other boy shrugged.
"I am what I am."
"Who are you?" He repeated, clenching his teeth. The red-head looked over at him
with the eerily glowing eyes and considered him for a moment.
"I think you know." This was greeted by silence. "Death needs no introduction."
I'd rather see the world from a different angle / We are everyday angels / Be careful with me cause I'd like to stay that way.
