Hymn

by Joon and Poe

COMPLETE! Part 1:Fated Storms Arc. A Tale of Love, Loyalty and Friendship. AU, Yaoi. Duo's life is never the same after it is touched by death, mystery and romance. He finds within himself and his comrades courage to face demons real and inside each soul.

3. The City in the Sea

part three: the city in the sea

Shattering like the fragile glass of the peace they had once created together. The pacifist ways of the once bright kingdom were slipping away, breaking hard on unforgiving earth. They were sheep- lost without their shepherd. Now the wolves of injustice preyed openly upon them, ripping at their limbs and swallowing their hearts. Their smiles faded and the luster in their eyes died away, plunging the skies into darkness, thieving love from babes.

So much time had passed, crept by unnoticed by those beyond the reaching walls. Time was the enemy, time masked the tracks of a murderer who continued to out wit his every advance. Slipping through his fingers. Too much time had passed.

Heero returned to outer space. Boarding a shuttle to the past, losing the trail of the Beast, failing his mission. He was no closer to finding Relena's killer than he had been at the beginning- farther if possible. This monster was clever. Too clever, it evaded him at every turn, taunting the perfect soldier with a quick flick of its tail before it rounded another corner and disappeared into the shadows. He had never failed a mission before. Self loathing was not an unfamiliar emotion, but this- failure was a frightening thing. It would not let his rest- always biting at his subconscious, nipping at his thoughts, reminding him with such a raw violence of his defect. And now, sitting motionless in the vacant shuttle, alone with his thoughts, he wanted to scream. He wanted to scream his throat dry, just scream and scream and scream.

~ooO*Ooo~

The week had drawn to an end and still he did not have the answer he had been chasing for the last several days. He continually avoided Relena's futile tries to dredge up the subject, but it was getting harder and harder to pacify himself. Her innocent question had birthed within him so many others. *Why do I fight? Why does it hurt so much? Am I doing the right thing?* and of course, *What do I love?* He wished idly for a distraction, anything. Wufei was scheduled to arrive that evening, but evening was so far away for a Duo without anything to do.

This sucks, he muttered to himself. Boredom was not something he handled well. He had played several practical jokes on Quatre of late, earning him several Yuy worthy death glares from Trowa, but the fun had run its course and he found himself with nothing but an irritated Magunac and tremendously dull cat to amuse him. What time is it?

Five minutes later than the last time you asked, said Abdul with a painfully forced patience.

So that would make it?

Nearly three o'clock, he rasped through clenched teeth. Is there anything else I can do for you Master Duo?

said Duo with a shake of his head, accidentally smacking the snoozing cat with the end of his braid, winning him a well deserved scratch on the nose. Abdul smirked to himself and took his leave of the swearing American.

Before he could exact his revenge on the dull feline he picked up the subtle sounds of a car on the drive way. Wufei was not due to arrive for several more hours, and so Duo, curiosity aroused, left the cat to its boringness and leapt down the stairs, and the halls, through the front door just in time to see a taxi pulling away from the estate leaving a rather disheveled looking Heero in the drive.

Hey Heero, he greeted the other pilot with an enthusiastic wave and wide grin. You look like shit.



Duo supposed that was the only response he could expect from Heero. Even a hn' was asking a lot today from the looks of it. He watched with a fascinated air as Heero half carried, half dragged his bag to the looming doors of the Winner estate. He looked like he had not eaten, let alone slept in days. It was unlike him to be in this state. He kept his mind and body finely tuned for the good of the mission- but now, he was a mess.

You want some help? Duo asked, already knowing the answer.

I don't need any help, was Heero's curt reply.

Suit yourself, Duo said with an exasperated huff. I'll tell Quatre your here. Without waiting for another cold hn' Duo bounded up to the library, where Quatre and Trowa could usually be found.

he called from the door, earning him weary glances from four quiet eyes. Heero's here, he continued, noting both pilots still held him in contempt. he looks kinda stressed. *That's putting it mildly,* his mind sang sarcastically.

Hearing this, Quatre rose to his feet, followed by Trowa, both crossing the room quickly and descending the lush carpeted stairs.

Duo, could you go to the kitchen and ask Maurice to have some tea and soup brought to Heero's room?

Yeah, no problem.

With that, Duo was off, winding his way through the agonizingly long and unfamiliar halls of Quatre's grand home. He quickly relayed Quatre's request to the butler, Maurice, and set off again in search of Heero's room. His mind swirled with tattered thoughts and off-set images of Heero, staring back at him with a cold look of defeat in his nebulous eyes. Something had happened to him, and damned if Duo was not going to find out what it was.



Are you all right?



Quatre crossed his arms over his chest. Heero could be so impossible at times. He wanted to beat the feeling into him with the butt of his own gun. Quatre's pacifist beliefs swiftly chased the menacing violent thoughts from his mind, replacing them with a pure concern for the well being of his comrade. He knew pestering Heero about the current state of himself would only get him a omae o korosu' and a death glare, better to wait until he had a warm meal and decent rest. Newly resolved, Quatre tugged gently on the sleeve of Trowa's navy turtle neck.

If you need anything Heero, just ask.

Heero nodded stiffly, and Quatre left the room with Trowa less than a step behind him. Pausing only to offer Maurice a soft smile in the hall, Quatre made his way back to the library.

What do you think happened?

Trowa responded only with a shrug at first, followed by a quiet He'll tells us when he's ready.

Quatre sighed That might be never.

~ooO*Ooo~

a cheery voice sang from behind him. Heero turned from where he sat in the sill of the tall window to face bright violet eyes and a cheeky smile. Feeling better?

Heero nodded, not quite sure why he was allowing himself to indulge Duo in this line of questioning, or why he responded positively. He was not feeling better. How could he? He could hardly bring himself to acknowledge that he was feeling, let alone feeling better, or alive. Feelings only got you into trouble, made you venerable. soldiers had no room for feelings, and that was what he was- a soldier. That is all he had ever been. The kill- born and bred for it.

You want something to eat?

Heero's mind twinged with a memory of french toast, and Duo. He nodded again, meaning it this time. Sliding off the sill, he ran a hand through his disobedient hair and followed Duo into the labyrinth that was the Winner mansion.



Morning passed smoothly enough, Wufei had arrived late the previous night and gone straight to bed, rising at dawn to wander the grounds and find his way back in time for breakfast. The meal passed mostly in silence, excluding Duo's senseless chatter and several threats from the Chinese pilot. He would never admit how much he enjoyed their little spats. Duo was the only one who seemed unaffected by the wars, though deep down, he knew it was an act. The smiles, the jokes, it was how he copped. It was his way of reminding them all of just how human they used to be.

~ooO*Ooo~

A bloodless orange glow flickered across alabaster cheeks, dancing in phoenix tinted eyes. Translucent burning eyes the color of the trembling flame of the majestic candle's light. The lonely figure lie across a thick, lush rug of crimsons and blacks, memorizing the flight of the blazing wicks- drinking in hungrily the color and shape of each delicate flame. Thin color starved fingertips glided through the fire, releasing the scent of burning flesh into the paralyzed air.

Plum-colored silk clung like a second skin to the form in the fire light, cascading down the slender back and pale legs of the phoenix-eyed figure. Sinuous folds of the enchanting silk stretched across the rug beneath, catching shadows in its frigid embrace, warping the darkness into the veins of the sparkle licked body before its luminous tendrils.

It's so innocent, so desired. So deadly.

Just like you.

Have you good news for me koneko?



The quiet one rolled over, back pressing softly into the warm tickle of the rugs woven fibers. Ruby eyes met cloud-blue with feral intensity, searching every curve of the other's thin shell. Tell me.

Deadly fingers ran along sun-colored strands of long velvet tresses, as quiet laughter poured from the throat. The sound twirled in the motionless air before fading to a whisper in the back of her mouth.

It's time.

~ooO*Ooo~

Baka! Get down here!

*Great,* he thought to himself, *and I was just about to fall asleep!*

You're going to want to see this! came Wufei's irritated response from the bottom of the stair case, followed quickly by a frustrated sound from Duo as he stomped down the hall.

This had better be important Wu, or I swear- but he was unable to finish his threat. He took in the scene before him in a sleepy gulp. The other pilots were gathered around the television set which cast out the glow of an all too familiar setting.

The Sanc Kingdom rejoices tonight as the heir to the Peacecraft monarchy ascends to the throne.

Duo's jaw-dropping desperate question was answered by his companions with mere silence as they impatiently listened to the perky voice of the young reporter.

Tonight, on the eve of Lord Peacecrafts death, a girl hidden from the eyes of the people has emerged from the decay of this lost kingdom.

A daughter? Quatre whispered more to himself than the others. Relena had a sister? he then quieted himself and stared into the eerie glow of the television.

The Prodigal daughter, Upir Peacecraft rose from the ashes of her native lands to guide her frightened people through the darkness left in the wake of their slain princess. Vowing her loyalty, and promising her heart, this young Peacecraft has tonight taken Sanc into her arms.

The body's not even cold. Dishonorable. Wufei shook his head with his eyes downcast, still listening to the reporters unjust prattle.

Miss. Peacecraft has declined comment as of now, but scheduled a press conference for the day after next. Here to speak with us now is Miss. Peacecraft's right hand man, or rather woman, Dorothy Catalonia, granddaughter of Duke Dermail of the Romefellar Foundation. Tell us Miss. Catalonia, does this fortunate turn of events promise to bring peace to the people? Will Romefellar and the Sanc kingdom form an alliance the will bring this war to its close?

Duo's heart leapt into his throat as the camera focused on the smirking face of the daughter of Romefellar. She stood elegantly, dressed in a sleek black dress which clung to her ample breasts and kitten hips. Her insincere smile lingered as she turned to offer a response to the oblivious brunet beside her.

Change is at hand, she said in a calm icy tone. that much is certain.

Miss. Catalonia, will Miss. Peacecraft be the sovereign who leads the Earth and space to peace? Can this young princess unite the Earth sphere and the colonies?

Miss. Peacecraft, said Dorothy with a glimmer of something evil in her cloud-blue eyes. Will answer all of your questions. After that was said, Dorothy turned from the prying eye of the camera. With a toss of golden hair and swish of ebony clad hips she was gone, leaving the flustered reporter to blush and wrap up her story in an embarrassed flutter of incoherent words no one was really paying any attention to.

Oh my, Quatre breathed in a voice no higher than a whisper.

Trowa remained motionless, as did Heero. Wufei shook his head, mumbling something about justice, and Duo bit hard on his bottom lip.

~ooO*Ooo~

Relena's usually calm exterior was visibly shed. Her big indigo eyes were larger if possible and mirrored the confusion and distress of the violets they stared into.

Her name's eww-peer or something like that.

Did you see what she looked like? asked Relena with a dumbstruck pang of curiosity.

Duo shook his head. But this is the freakiest part, Dorothy Catalonia spoke on her behalf.

Relena's jaw dropped.

They called her young Peacecraft, so she must be around your age, Duo said in a low voice. She's holding a meeting with the press in two days.

I have a sister? Relena asked no one in particular. What did Dorothy say?

She said change was at hand.

This can't be good.

~ooO*Ooo~

Heero, what are you planning to do? Quatre's voice crept sheepishly across the gap between himself and said pilot.

I'm going back to the Sanc kingdom. Something's not right here.

You're leaving?



Quatre let out a heavy sigh. He knew there was no stopping Heero once he had given himself a mission. But going back would not solve anything. It would only make it hurt more. There was nothing they could do, they were powerless.

Quatre, Heero, it's starting! Trowa's muffled voice called from down stairs, drawing both from the quiet room and to the couch where the others sat, eyes glued to the screen.

The cameras focused on the majestic throne room of the Sanc palace. Elaborate decorations hung on the walls and draped across the tall windows, accenting and lighting the vast room with a soft crimson tinted light. The rows of chairs lining the stretching walls were packed with murmuring politicians and frightened looking world leaders. Onlookers pushed and crowded behind the dark carved doors, trying to catch the merest of glimpses.

Hastily, the whispers were silenced. The camera's angle shifted to rest on the unmistakable silhouette of Dorothy Catalonia as she approached the podium before the congregation. This time, she was dressed in vibrant reds of timeless elegant cuts. Her long gown flowed loosely beneath her waist, brushing the marbled floor with every calculated step. The sloping neck and thin fitting sleeves drew on the curve of her collar bone and thin yet strong arms. She was so beautiful and strangely alluring despite the coldness of her eyes and menacing grin of her painted lips.

She held her quiet as all those in the room held a collective breath, savoring the mousy squeaks of fear and unease she invoked.

May I present to you, she said in a throaty purr. the sovereign of the Sanc kingdom, Upir Peacecraft.

Polite applause filled the walls, easing the tension in the room. Then they saw her, only her profile at first, a tall lean girl with long slim legs and perfect posture. As she came closer, the crimson light spilled across her form. She was clad in flowing silks the color of beautiful plum blossoms, a tender pale purple, almost ivory in the rich sunlight. Her face, slightly hidden by ringlets of a ravishing autumn color, was ashen and smooth as porcelain. Her breathtaking fae curls hung in gentle folds just below her elbows, accenting the fairness of her skin. She held her feather soft fingers clasped in front as she ascended the crimson dressed steps before the throne. She turned, revealing liquesent ruby eyes shadowed by a stray strand of identically colored hair which she swept away with the lightest of touches.

Dorothy's smile softened as she offered the princess a graceful curtsy. The corners of the sovereigns plum painted lips twitched slightly, casting a secret smile to the downcast eyes of the golden haired girl.

Thank you, thank you all. Her voice was low, quiet, yet carried to the ears of all who listened.

The media was impatient. Miss. Peacecraft, Miss. Peacecraft! they cried, flashing harsh camera light in those fiery eyes. Are you truly the daughter of the fallen Peacecrafts? one voice questioned over the others.

Upir smiled, seemingly amused. Yes, I am.

Can you prove it? the cocky reporter asked.

Upir nodded. I can, she gestured to her left with a steady hand. An elderly man in a sterile white coat took several even steps forward. Doctor Rodin, the princess said with a trained calm.

Rodin bowed his head in respect, then addressed the crowd. Through DNA testing, I have discovered this woman to be directly related to the Peacecrafts. Rodin did not answer further questions, he retreated back into the shadows beyond the reach of the crimson light.

Miss Peacecraft, if you are the daughter of the throne, why have you not come to claim your blood right before now?

At this, Upir lowered her eyes. Was Relena not doing well as your ruler?

Of course she was, said a distant voice.

Then you have answered your own question sir. I saw no reason to intervene.

Why didn't you ever attempt to meet her? She died never knowing about you.

Upir laughed quietly. Sir, until recently, I did not even know about me.



If I had all the answers sir, there would not be a war raging beyond the borders of this kingdom. Had I all this truth, my sister would still be alive, and you would not need me now.

Th- thanks Miss. Peacecraft, stuttered the reporter, at a rare loss for words.

Upir bowed, lidding her torrid eyes. If you will please excuse me, she said, not lifting her glance.

The camera came again to the face of the perky brunet reporter from the earlier broadcast. She tried her best to summarize the conference, but again, no one seemed to pay her any mind. All were transfixed by the enchanting princess who took her leave, and vanished into the white noise around her.

((When the Hours flew brightly by,))

Quatre turned off the television. He rubbed tiny circles on his temples with his fingertips, trying to clear his ever so confused mind.

I can't believe this, Duo said so softly no one heard.

She's so young, Quatre observed for lack of better words.

So was Relena, said Trowa. perhaps younger.

Heero and Wufei did nothing more than stare at the blank television screen. *Can this be real?* they both seemed to be asking within themselves. Perhaps it was the lack of Relena's smiling face greeting them from the throne, perhaps they had not yet accepted that she would never sit there again, but this felt so wrong. How could this girl hope to fill the shoes of a princess as pure and loving as Relena? How could she ever come close? They never even had the chance to say goodbye.

~ooO*Ooo~

That went well, said the quiet one with a deliciously stray laugh.

All the players are in place, the stage is set, Dorothy purred into the ear of her companion. Now we wait. We watch, and wonder- what will Upir do, now that the act is her own?

This is her show koneko, the quiet one replied. let us enjoy the. . . entertainment.

~ooO*Ooo~

I'm coming with you. There was strength, resolve, determination, and yes, stubbornness in his words as he crossed his arms over his chest and stood his ground.

No, you're not.

Yes, I am.

Duo snatched up his bag and began stuffing his scattered belongings into its deep pockets.

You are not coming, Heero said sternly, biting off each word more fiercely than the last. He stared straight into those violet eyes, willing Duo to back down. No such luck.

I am coming, said Duo as forcefully as Heero. like it or not, *I* am your partner, and this is *our* mission. He continued to gather his things, moving with a trained efficiency.

Heero snorted under his breath.

I heard that!



The flight back to the Earth was dull and uneventful. Heero buried himself in some bit of pirated information or another, while Duo was left to stare into the endless space beyond his small circular window. Space was excruciatingly boring.

He had stopped trying to read over Heero's shoulder, and his nose still ached from the punch that had earned him. He had memorized the shuttle's in case of emergency booklet, and counted the rows of uncomfortable seats more times than he cared to acknowledge, later contenting himself with counting the minutes until he would be free of this tiny tin can of a shuttle.

~ooO*Ooo~

You seem distracted. Do you want me to go? Trowa's low voice snapped Quatre from his thoughts and back into the realm of the living.

No, of course not.

What's wrong? Trowa had seen this look on his koi's face too many times to disregard it. Something was bothering him, he could not hide it.

Have you noticed they never actually said she was Lord Peacecrafts daughter? noticing the confused look in Trowa's visible eye, Quatre continued. They call her the daughter of the throne, and that doctor only said she was related to the Peacecrafts. Trowa had to smile at this. Quatre's insights never ceased to amaze him. She seems so- fake. Like a doll. And why has there never been mention of her before? Don't you find that odd?

Trowa said slowly.

Why would the Peacecrafts have not recognized her before? It's almost like they didn't want anyone to know about her. But now that they're all dead, she's come into the light. I don't trust it.

Trowa nodded. Quatre had never been wrong before, not about anything this important. Trowa trusted him blindly. And yet, blind faith is the crutch of fools.

~ooO*Ooo~

Duo lie on the golden sands of the dreamscape, watching the clouds puff and twirl in the warm summer sky.

She doesn't look anything like you, he said with disdain. she's taller, and she's got red hair and eyes. It's kinda creepy if ya ask me.

Her eyes are red? Relena asked curiously.

Yeah, their just like her hair. The exact same color.

How odd.

Odd is putting it nicely. This whole thing freaks me out. Duo rolled over onto his stomach, propping himself up on his elbows. His eyes met with Relena's as he continued. Your step-father never mentioned anything about you having a sister?

Relena shook her head. As far as I knew, Milliardo was my only living relative. He's fighting a war, I guess he couldn't come back to baby-sit the kingdom.

Duo thought on this for some time before speaking again. Why wouldn't they have told you about her? Do you think Zechs knew? Relena shrugged, and Duo resumed voicing his thoughts. Think there was something wrong with her? Why else would they have kept her a secret?

You forget that they kept me a secret too. Had my step-father not been assassinated, I may have remained one as well.

This time Duo shrugged, he supposed Relena's theory made more sense than his own. All this war had made him paranoid. He failed to see the purity in people now. There seemed to be lots of conspiracies looming behind the eyes of the seemingly innocent these days. Perhaps war had tainted him.

How do you think she found out?

Maybe when I died, her guardians told her. From what you've told me, Sanc was beginning to collapse again. Maybe they thought she could save it.

~ooO*Ooo~

Wake up.

Heavily lidded eyes opened cautiously, meeting with impatient prussians.

We have a mission.

I know, I know, Duo said through a loud yawn, rubbing absently at his sleep dusted eyes. He quickly pulled on fresh cloths, and ate a hasty breakfast- downstairs in time to avoid the Yuy death glare, and start the day on the rightist of feet- though being confined to the small guard's room with a grumpy Heero did not always put the bounce in his step.

They had returned to Sanc under this guise, transferred to the palace from some remote base within the kingdom. Having known Relena made covering their tracks easy. Hacking had not been a problem, nor had acquiring documents and uniforms proved difficult. Now came the hard part- hiding within the ranks of the imperial guard until the truth was attained, whatever it may be.

Duo made fast friends among the other guards, while Heero used his soldier's techniques to get himself closer to Upir. Time passed slowly in this kingdom, and information seemed further from their fingertips than they had expected. Heero lapsed again into battle mode, and Duo was left without anyone to talk to, except of course, Relena's ghost. She was as much a part of this mission as Duo himself. Her familiarity with the inner workings of Sanc proved extremely useful time and again.

Since their arrival, Upir had not made a move to betray anything but a poised, intelligent and compassionate ruler. Her words were always carefully chosen and beautiful. Her manors were impeccable, and she remained as perfectly groomed as she had been when she had first addressed the population. Being always accompanied by Dorothy, getting near her was close to impossible, but trust Heero to find a way around that which is deemed undoable. It did not take long to find himself in her good graces.

She attended peace talks, and took fallen countries into her embrace. She built luxurious stays for widows and orphans of the war, reaching and caring for the people as Relena before her. She never raised her voice, hardly ever above a whisper. Many of the guards speculated, as guards will, about this. Some supposed she was ill, and that seemed to explain her low words and patient steps. Some said she was shy, just nervous about running the government of Sanc, and of course there were the few who blamed it on aliens or Oz, or some rare demon. But there was nothing to indicate the latter. Upir made no move to ally herself with Oz or rather, Romafeller. Made no move to involve herself or her people in the war- she brought no harm or danger to this serene, sun-embraced realm.

All I want for this hallow place, she had said in a radiant moment. Is peace, and happiness. I want to fulfill my sisters dream.

((And not a cloud obscured the sky,))

M'lady, the delegation from Romefellar has arrived.

Upir thanked him in a hushed tone from where she stood before the panes of the mist dappled window.

Yes my lady?

Come and see this. She pressed the petal soft pads of her fingers against the glass of the frigid window, watching O'Riane's reflection approach.

What am I looking at? he asked after trying to follow her gaze for several minutes but coming up empty handed. As he cocked his head from one side to the other his long chestnut braid swung with the motions.

Upir found herself mildly fascinated by the devil-may-care attitude of Inan O'Riane. He was always wearing that ridiculous grin, and that braid which she imagined must be longer than her own ruby tresses when undone, and though he did not look Irish as his name suggested, there was a certain leprechaun quality about him.

It's beautiful, ne? she said finally, tracing invisible designs on the frosty window with her outstretched fingers.

Yeah, it's nice.

Just nice, O'Riane?

*Slick Duo,* his mind chided. *If you blow it now, Heero'll really kill you!* More than nice I guess, he said, trying to cover his blunder. This place has come a long way since you showed up. Complements, he had discovered, were almost always a direct line to the heart- or at least the ego.

Upir smiled thinly. This place O'Riane, has much further to go.

Duo was not feeling so confidant now. He was Shinigami, the God of Death, he destroyed, he stole souls- this undercover nonsense was not really his strong point. The last time he tried to pull off one of these harebrained schemes, he had been caught swiftly by a young Oz recruit named Hilde Schbiker, and though they had become allies in the end- he was not quite willing to take that chance with a woman shadowed by none other than Romafeller's daughter.

Um, ok, he said awkwardly. The representative guys are waiting for ya in the conference room. With that, he bowed deeply, offered a cheeky grin, and took his leave of the silent princess.

K, that was. . . interesting, he mumbled to himself as he made his way back to his station. Four hours till you can go back to sleep, he told the more impatient side of his mind as he stood stiffly in the still corridor. After holding this station for the last three days, he knew when and which servants crossed the floors of cleaned the tapestries, exactly how long it took them, and substantial amounts about their personal lives. It was a gift, Duo had a face people trusted, they wanted to confide in him before they even knew his name. The younger servants looked up to him, ecstatic to have someone to talk to as they went about their daily regiments, Duo also, was terribly grateful for company and fresh faces, it made the gathering of important' information quite pleasurable.

Ello Inan, articulated a small accented voice behind him.

How's it goin' Grey? Duo asked the small boy in his usual cheery tone. Big day huh? Lots of big shots round the castle.

Grey nodded, his dusty blond hair falling in his pale eyes. The delegation is very demanding.

What'd you mean? Duo asked, arching a curious brow.

Well, they, Grey paused, tracing little circles on the marbled floor with his foot. He was by far the youngest servant in the palace, hardly eleven years of age. He had been born into bondage, his parents served the Peacecrafts long before their fall, leaving him to struggle and clean up the desolation caused by the Alliance. He had worked among servants for longer than he could remember, and so, knew the best of the gossip, and the age old techniques of the underdog. they have all sorts of odd requests.

Like what? Duo was now more than curious.

They all wanted rooms in the west wing, and asked to have meals alone, they don't want to attend the banquet in their own bloody honor. Grey was visibly irritated now. Having no doubt spent days preparing for the arrival of the representatives, he found it quite maddening now that they wanted nothing more than a chat and solitary dinner.

How many of them are there?

Only three, said Grey, but you think they would have sent someone with manners.

Duo laughed, brightening Grey's mood slightly. His laugh was infectious, you could not help but smile when he let such a pure sound escape him.

I'm sure it'll all work out buddy, Duo said, clasping a reassuring hand on the boy's shoulder, earning himself another smile. just stay out of trouble k?

Grey nodded happily and scampered off, bent on making the best of his time now that he did not have to pamper the antisocial Romafeller delegation.

Three hours and fifty minutes till you can go back to sleep.

~ooO*Ooo~

Upir Peacecraft: No information available.

All his inquires, all his searches turned up nothing. Not a whisper, not a shadow of the ruby-eyed princess before she ascended to the throne. Not a scrap of knowledge of past lingered in the air. Before her miraculous resurrection, Upir Peacecraft had not existed. He tried searching for records of a red haired girl her age in any form of foster care of near by orphanages. Nothing. She simply did not exist. No fingerprints, no records with any doctor excluding the illusive Doctor Rodin, who had since, disappeared. The only link, the only lead, was Dorothy Catalonia.



Now he knew he would not get any work done- not with Duo back in the all too small room they shared. He closed his laptop and opted to read from the tattered book on his night stand. The pages were yellowing, and the cover was missing, making the aged binding seem destitute beyond the poorest of the L2 colonies. The edges were torn and the spine worn from handling. Heero lied back on his bed and allowed the book to fall open to the page of its choosing.

What are you reading? Duo asked, unable to contain his curiosity at the moth-eaten book. He had rarely see Heero read from anything other than his laptop or a college issue history book, let alone a binding so well loved it seemed it might disintegrate at a harsh touch. Heero did little more than look up from the musty page before him as Duo inquired quizzically of the words he read.

Oh, come on, Duo pleaded, plopping down on the bed beside his silent companion. He wore a small pout and aura of dignified curiosity.

Heero sighed inwardly. It's Poe, he said quietly.

Duo asked with a surprised grin and that up-to-no-good look in his glittering eyes.

Baka, it's not all poetry, Heero said, letting his voice betray some of his annoyance. He wasn't just a poet.

Duo thought he should tread lightly or Heero might use up his ten sentence allowance for the day. But then again, Duo had never really been one to heed a warning.

So he wrote other stuff? Like what? he asked, lying on his stomach beside Heero and resting his chin in his hands.

Stories, news articles, things like that.

Duo commented softly. What are you reading now?

Heero looked from Duo and back to the page resting in his lap. He had nearly forgotten he had been reading at all as Duo had crawled onto the bed and sprawled beside him. The Murders in the Rue Morgue.

Will you read it to me? Duo asked shyly, fidgeting a little. He cast his eyes down, like a child expecting a scolding, or awaiting rejection.

Heero smiled invisibly and began to read. . . .such a man would be to me a treasure beyond price. . .

Duo closed his eyes, breathing in the sound of Heero's deep soothing voice and the scent so uniquely his.

. . . Had the routine of our life at this place been known to the world, we should have been regarded as madmen- although, perhaps, as madmen of a harmless nature. Our seclusion was perfect. We admitted no visitors. Indeed the locality of our retirement had been carefully kept a secret from my own former associates; and it had been many years since Dupin had ceased to know or be known in Paris. We existed within within ourselves alone.

It was a freak of fancy in my friend (for what else shall I call it?) to be enamored of the Night for her own sake; and into this bizarrerie, as into all his others, I quietly fell; giving myself up to his wild whims with a perfect abandon.

Duo lowered his head onto the pillow, so close to that warm soft voice, mesmerized by each sound that escaped his throat. Savoring every word- treasuring this tale as it slid so delicately from Heero's tender lips.

. . . Then we sailed forth into the streets, arm and arm, continuing the topics of the day, or roaming far and wide until a late hour, seeking, amid the wild lights and shadows of the populous city. That infinity of mental excitement which quiet observation can afford.

At such times I could not help remarking and admiring (although from his rich ideality I had been prepared to except it) a peculiar analytic ability in Dupin. He seemed, too, to take an eager delight in its exercise- if not exactly in its display- and did not hesitate to confess the pleasure thus derived.

Without thinking about the consequences of his actions, Duo curled himself against the muscular curves of Heero's body, tucking his face into the arch of his neck, feeling the tones of his voice dance into his own skin as he spoke. Heero leaned into Duo, silently encouraging the embrace as he continued to read;

. . . His manner at these moments was frigid and abstract; his eyes were vacant in expression,

~ooO*Ooo~

Quatre paced around the library. Back and forth- back and forth. He was losing his patience. Coffee was the only thing keeping him upright by this point and he could feel the shaking of his hands steadily increasing. He lost track of the hours, only the lack of sunlight on the broad windows informed him of the lateness of night.

I think I've found something.

Quatre's senses clicked into place as the hopeful words crossed Trowa's lips.

What is it? Quatre asked, lowering himself into the chair beside the other. He was amazed to see the late hours and lack of nourishment had no visible toll on the Heavyarms pilot. Trowa was so strong, simply being by his side gave Quatre unspeakable volumes of comfort and eased his tense nerves.

Apparently, Relena's mother was hospitalized in critical condition a little less than two years before Relena was born. There's no cause listed, and her recovery was not documented.

Quatre listened attentively to Trowa's soothing voice, leaning against him and resting his head on the taller boy's shoulder, feeling the vibration of his low words against his skin. He felt Trowa shift slightly, almost uneasily.



he responded flatly. about seven months after being released, a woman fitting her description gave birth to a premature baby girl. Two pounds, nine ounces, red hair, and eyes, he trailed off, letting his words hang in the air. chance of survival is listed as improbable and there's no record of the child after that night.

This can't be a coincidence, we have to tell Heero and Duo.

Trowa nodded and began attaching his findings to an encrypted message later sent to Heero. What do you make of all this? he asked quietly, stroking the hair of the exhausted boy beside him.

((My soul, lest it should truant be,))

Quatre simply shook his head, warping his arms around Trowa's waist. He buried his face in the crook of his neck and released his mind to the embrace of sleep.

Trowa smiled thinly and gathered Quatre into his arms.

~ooO*Ooo~

Do you think it wicked of me? Have I become- desensitized? Perhaps war has driven us all to this breaking point. We are all just broken soldiers inside, aren't we? Do you think I've gone mad?

We all have a purpose in this dying world. Along the way I think I have lost sight of mine. There was a time when I embraced my destiny, loved it even. But I did not know what love was. I followed the path blindly, knowing in the end I would find the answers I seek. And now, with fate so close, I'm unsure of how to continue.

Perhaps war has tainted me- made me weak. The blood is so thick, and I have bathed in it for so long. I know death. I have felt the breath of eternity on the back of my neck. I have taken life, and given hope. Can you wash away my blood with your own? Will you bleed for me, koneko? Will you believe in me?

Soft lips closed over those of the quiet one. The kiss was tender and hungry, gentle and desperate all at once. The tips of pale fingers danced over the neck so close to those lips, tracing delicate soothing circles along the exposed flesh.

I will give you my everything, Dorothy whispered against the indulgent skin of hushed lips. You can have it all.

~ooO*Ooo~

Wake up! Hurry little one.

Wh- what's going on? Duo shielded his sleepy eyes against the bright flame of Father Maxwell's candle. He could feel the warmth radiating from the tiny blaze, nipping at his moon-kissed skin.

There is no time to explain, run little one, run! Father Maxwell scooped Duo into his arms and carried him hastily towards the darkened hallway, the bantam fire's light their only guide.

What about you? Duo cried, struggling to untangle himself from the priest's strong embrace.

Do not worry about me, little one. You have to go, now!

Duo clutched the cross around his neck, trying desperately to draw strength from its frigid silver arches. I don't want to leave you! his muffled cry disappeared within the folds of Father Maxwell's robes as he tried to quiet his own pained sobs.

A deafening explosion sounded outside the church, shaking the very foundation of the hallow sanctuary and illuminating the night sky with a bloodied flash. Father Maxwell broke into a run, still holding the small child tightly in his arms. Taking a sharp corner and nearly losing his balance, Father Maxwell came upon a small window, scarcely large enough for a teenage girl. He stopped at the window and released the trembling child, kneeling beside him he whispered in a frightened hush;

Run little one, run and don't look back. He reached into his robes, pulling a small tattered binding from a deep hidden pocket. He tore a page from the book, folded it swiftly and tucked it into the collar of the boys pajamas. Hurry, please.

The little boy wrapped his arms around the neck of the priest, hugging him tightly as his frail arms would allow. Good bye papa,

Father Maxwell tried his best to smile, but was not met with much success. He again lifted the child into his arms, hoisting him onto the sill of the tiny window. Obediently, Duo crawled through the window and hit the ground running, turning only as another brilliant light shone through the window only to be replaced by thick rivulets of living blood. A small scream welled within the child but did not escape. Real men don't cry out loud.

He did not look back again. He ran, and ran until his legs gave out, dropping him into the damp grass of an unfamiliar park. He swallowed the hurt, the fear, the anger, replacing them with a silent prayer.

At morn- at noon- at twilight dim- Maria, thou hast heard my Hymn. . .