Okays…. This one is also for Corinna-sama, to whom I owe all inspiration. I would have stopped writing the entire fanfic (shhh!) if she hadn't written to me.
The God of Death was dying.
Even Heero, almost oblivious to emotions, felt a tug at his consciousness, and dashed it away. There was nothing he could do but keep walking, carrying his burden carefully in two damp arms.
Duo shivered, causing a sharp flinch in Heero, who had somehow let an inner shield drop. What could Heero give to Duo, anyway? Nothing.
His shoes?… There was an odd, new mentality to Heero. Though it wasn't logical, somewhere, he hoped shoes would save Duo.
Shoes. He was relying on shoes.
Carefully, he set Duo down in the slight shelter of a taller tree, tearing off his shoes with an alien frantic gesture. Placing them on Duo's blue-white feet was difficult, but Heero managed.
/because I can do anything for you. I WILL do anything for you, precious Shinagami/
Perhaps it was the cold, perhaps the shock of finding the one he had lost, but Heero did not dwell on this thought as he once would have.
Continuing down the path to his borrowed car, Heero felt strange, prickling sensations in the soles of his feet. Looking down told him that the skin was being worn off, too used to the comfort of shoes.
/Wufei would call me weak/ mused Heero, resuming his previous pace, tracking blood onto the unforgiving forest floor. Pebbles took their chance to embed themselves in the opened flesh, which he took without flinching.
Four hours later, Heero slumped gratefully into the passenger's seat, fingering the tacky faux tiger-fur coverings.
"Duo-kun," Breathed the once-pilot of wing-zero, "Wake up. Wake up now."
Gently, Heero shook Duo's cold shoulders.
So cold… Heero glanced back at his own fingers, now wandering across the dashboard, unfeeling and completely colorless.
It was difficult to rev up the engine, and Heero wasn't surprised that the truck sputtered uselessly. Everything was to cold, living or machine, to work.
Seeing as Duo wasn't waking, Heero quietly changed from the frigid, damp clothes to a spare set of spandex, discarding the usual guns from the heap. Ice still tore mercilessly at his own form, and he wrestled desparately with it, attempting not to feel, but ending up curling in an unbearably frigid ball. Shivering, he sidled up to Duo, and merely felt colder still wherever they ceased to touch.
"Wake up." Pleading, Heero pressed a firm hand onto Duo, as if willing his eyes,
/those beautiful, long-lashed eyes/
-to open.
Which, of course, they didn't. Howling with dissatisfaction, Heero tried to do the first thing that came to his mind (He HAD to stop that sort of thing. He was supposed to be an incredible strategist, and not all of it due to the Wing Zero.)
Pressing palms harshly on Duo's back, Heero dug his thumbs into pressure-points, trying to massage and warm the body before him.
/if only it weren't so _COLD_/
Heero's body trembled, then, perhaps in fear for Duo and perhaps merely because the cold was so difficult to withstand, and he was surrounded by it, choked by it as it bit into his chest.
Slowly, Duo's eyes emerged from behind the thin shield of eyelids to stare in wonder at the world.
"Heero?"
"Duo! It's good you're awake. I'm not so good with comatose, you know." Heero managed his first wry, almost-smile.
"I… I'm cold. I'm cold, Heero…" Gasped Duo sharply, realizing it, and eyes all the wider.
"I know." Heero managed an almost-soothing voice, straining it from somewhere within his library of deadpan, monotone clichés and favorite phrases.
"So… so very cold…" Duo drew a trembling, rasping breath of wintry air.
"I know." It was quickly getting old, this phrase.
(AN: AKKK!!!! I'm talking like Yoda, curse it! Doodlebugs to it all![can you believe that 'doodlebugs' is somehow already in the spell-check dictionary? I thought that was MY word…])
Heero slid back into the driver's seat, pulling the corpse-like Duo into his lap, curling arms around him in an attempt to shut out the frosty atmosphere.
Disparingly, Heero turned the key to the ignition, praying silently.
God, high upon a cloud in heaven, must have found the time to listen, then, because the Perfect Soldier _did_*not*_ pray. The Perfect Soldier was almost considered a god himself, be it blasphemous or not. The Perfect Soldier had never needed help. But when, at long last, he prayed for something as seemly trivial as the engine to start, God felt the cold trapped in his mortal body, and the desparation with which Heero fought the odds for the boy in his lap. And thusly, He took pity on the creature.
Down onto America, where the rain was falling softly onto a car roof, an engine gave in to the miracle and started easily.
"You can sleep, now, Duo. We're going home."
The God of Death was dying.
Even Heero, almost oblivious to emotions, felt a tug at his consciousness, and dashed it away. There was nothing he could do but keep walking, carrying his burden carefully in two damp arms.
Duo shivered, causing a sharp flinch in Heero, who had somehow let an inner shield drop. What could Heero give to Duo, anyway? Nothing.
His shoes?… There was an odd, new mentality to Heero. Though it wasn't logical, somewhere, he hoped shoes would save Duo.
Shoes. He was relying on shoes.
Carefully, he set Duo down in the slight shelter of a taller tree, tearing off his shoes with an alien frantic gesture. Placing them on Duo's blue-white feet was difficult, but Heero managed.
/because I can do anything for you. I WILL do anything for you, precious Shinagami/
Perhaps it was the cold, perhaps the shock of finding the one he had lost, but Heero did not dwell on this thought as he once would have.
Continuing down the path to his borrowed car, Heero felt strange, prickling sensations in the soles of his feet. Looking down told him that the skin was being worn off, too used to the comfort of shoes.
/Wufei would call me weak/ mused Heero, resuming his previous pace, tracking blood onto the unforgiving forest floor. Pebbles took their chance to embed themselves in the opened flesh, which he took without flinching.
Four hours later, Heero slumped gratefully into the passenger's seat, fingering the tacky faux tiger-fur coverings.
"Duo-kun," Breathed the once-pilot of wing-zero, "Wake up. Wake up now."
Gently, Heero shook Duo's cold shoulders.
So cold… Heero glanced back at his own fingers, now wandering across the dashboard, unfeeling and completely colorless.
It was difficult to rev up the engine, and Heero wasn't surprised that the truck sputtered uselessly. Everything was to cold, living or machine, to work.
Seeing as Duo wasn't waking, Heero quietly changed from the frigid, damp clothes to a spare set of spandex, discarding the usual guns from the heap. Ice still tore mercilessly at his own form, and he wrestled desparately with it, attempting not to feel, but ending up curling in an unbearably frigid ball. Shivering, he sidled up to Duo, and merely felt colder still wherever they ceased to touch.
"Wake up." Pleading, Heero pressed a firm hand onto Duo, as if willing his eyes,
/those beautiful, long-lashed eyes/
-to open.
Which, of course, they didn't. Howling with dissatisfaction, Heero tried to do the first thing that came to his mind (He HAD to stop that sort of thing. He was supposed to be an incredible strategist, and not all of it due to the Wing Zero.)
Pressing palms harshly on Duo's back, Heero dug his thumbs into pressure-points, trying to massage and warm the body before him.
/if only it weren't so _COLD_/
Heero's body trembled, then, perhaps in fear for Duo and perhaps merely because the cold was so difficult to withstand, and he was surrounded by it, choked by it as it bit into his chest.
Slowly, Duo's eyes emerged from behind the thin shield of eyelids to stare in wonder at the world.
"Heero?"
"Duo! It's good you're awake. I'm not so good with comatose, you know." Heero managed his first wry, almost-smile.
"I… I'm cold. I'm cold, Heero…" Gasped Duo sharply, realizing it, and eyes all the wider.
"I know." Heero managed an almost-soothing voice, straining it from somewhere within his library of deadpan, monotone clichés and favorite phrases.
"So… so very cold…" Duo drew a trembling, rasping breath of wintry air.
"I know." It was quickly getting old, this phrase.
(AN: AKKK!!!! I'm talking like Yoda, curse it! Doodlebugs to it all![can you believe that 'doodlebugs' is somehow already in the spell-check dictionary? I thought that was MY word…])
Heero slid back into the driver's seat, pulling the corpse-like Duo into his lap, curling arms around him in an attempt to shut out the frosty atmosphere.
Disparingly, Heero turned the key to the ignition, praying silently.
God, high upon a cloud in heaven, must have found the time to listen, then, because the Perfect Soldier _did_*not*_ pray. The Perfect Soldier was almost considered a god himself, be it blasphemous or not. The Perfect Soldier had never needed help. But when, at long last, he prayed for something as seemly trivial as the engine to start, God felt the cold trapped in his mortal body, and the desparation with which Heero fought the odds for the boy in his lap. And thusly, He took pity on the creature.
Down onto America, where the rain was falling softly onto a car roof, an engine gave in to the miracle and started easily.
"You can sleep, now, Duo. We're going home."