A Lost Soul:
I threw another black shirt into the suitcase, and realized that what I was doing was pointless. Of course, I had known before, but it only had just hit me. Wiping the tears from my eyes, it was time to face facts. This was one hell of a mystery, and one that I intended to solve.
It was strange; my shoulders barely felt any weight added onto them, and yet, here were these....wings. They weren't supposed to be real, but if the wings were real, then what else was real, I wondered. However, there was no time to be sitting to trifle over that, I thought, walking into the bathroom to look in the mirror.
"What the hell?" I hissed into the mirror, which stood back at me, reflecting...absolutely nothing?
I looked up, behind, and down. Uh huh, I was still there, in my black- winged entirety, just not in the mirror. This was great, just great, now I was a vampire, but it was impossible, I realized, after thinking for a minute.
I fingered my silver cross that hung around my neck, and I wasn't bursting into flame or anything, proving once and for all that I wasn't a vampire, but then what was I? One moment I was just a guy who hears 'voices' and the next I'm a winged freak. I examined the wings for the first time. They felt like velvet, and were soft as well, not to mention that they were a part of me. I got quite a shock when I ran my finger down the edge, and saw blood drip down my arm. It was as sharp as the blade of a sword. I could really hurt someone if I wasn't careful, but then again, what kind of company would I attract with these things, anyway?
I couldn't go downstairs, because Trowa had already clearly expressed his opinion on that idea, and I had caused Quatre to faint, which, I'm sure, speaks for itself. But, on the other end of the spectrum, I couldn't very well go outside to face the public. Within 24 hours they'd have me in pieces on top of an operation table. I slumped down onto the floor, unable to think at the moment. It was much, too much to handle.
The best thing to do was probably to go downstairs and reassure Trowa and Quatre of their safety before they called the whole damn militia on me. That's what I would do in their situation, I thought with a sad and helpless chuckle.
I slowly walked out of the room and made my way down the stairs, but I didn't see either of them. They were probably in the living room. I came to the downstairs landing and Trowa lifted his head up to stare fearfully at me as I looked ashamedly at him through the doorway. Trowa was attending to the blond, who was on the couch with a damp towel over his forehead, and it seemed that he was awakening from his fall.
I watched as he stirred, but Trowa refused to take his eyes off me, for even a second.
"Hm? Trowa.?" Quatre's sleepy voice upon awakening trailed off in silence when he noticed my presence. I thought a little about what I should say, but the truth was that there was no right way to say 'I have huge black wings and I don't know why.'
"I'm sorry," I choked and was on the verge of tears. It was always so hard to be accepted, "I don't know what's happening to me." I looked down at my hands and my cut finger, and by running my hand over it, accidentally opened the cut up again. I let a silent tear run down my face. The cut didn't hurt, but I did.
I didn't notice, but Quatre was feeling sympathetic rather than fearful, and was having an unspoken conversation with the manager, almost asking permission to accept me. And despite Trowa's protests, Quatre sat up to speak.
"Well, Duo, it seems that we'll have to keep you inside for a while, don't you think so Trowa?" Quatre nudged the stoic man, and he nodded reluctantly.
"But you don't even know what I am.." I protested without thinking. It didn't seem believable that anyone would want of their own free will to keep me safe, especially like this.
"And do you?" Trowa asked quickly.
"Well, no." I answered truthfully.
"Then there's nothing left to discuss. I trust you, Duo. You aren't the type who would lie." Trowa looked at Quatre, who was beaming at him with pride.
I grinned. "You're the best, Tro!" I exclaimed.
Quatre slowly got up, and proceeded to walk over next to me, marveling at my wings up close, but maybe a little too close. He extended a slender finger towards my right wing, "May I...?"
"No, Quatre, don't!" I jumped away, startling the blond, and quickly held up my own finger, which had traces of fresh blood along it, to explain, "They're sharper than knives. I found out the hard way."
"Oh." Quatre said, and we all looked at each other for a minute or two. The silence was awkward and consuming; we all were feeling awkward.
"Maybe you can help me," I suggested, collapsing casually onto a small lounge chair and letting my wings drape over the back. They sat on the couch across from the coffee-table that divided us.
"We'll try." Quatre motioned gently, glad, at least, that I wasn't an enemy, or at least, so I thought.
"I don't know anything about these wings except that I have been dreaming about having them in my mirrored reflection for years, and now, I don't have any reflection at all!" I explained with a sigh, while both my friends widened their eyes in disbelief.
"You're kidding, right?" Trowa raised an eyebrow.
"No, I'm quite serious, but I'm not a vampire or anything." I answered, and Quatre got up for a minute, rummaging through a few things in a pile by the couch, and quickly found a mirror. I shot up from his seat, and modeled myself in front of the mirror, while the two onlookers stared in disbelief at the mirror, which showed absolutely nothing.
"How can you be so sure that you're not a.a vampire?" Quatre stuttered.
"Ummm..I don't drink blood, I love sunlight, and I wear this," I showed them my silver cross that I brought out from underneath my red turtleneck and black leather jacket. Two faces agreed silently that I wasn't a vampire, but this whole idea was still crazy.
Quatre was sitting, and seemed to be thinking very intensely.
"What's wrong Quat?" I asked, and the Arabian looked up at me with knowing blue eyes.
"This might sound a little silly, but I've always been interested in the supernatural, and I used to do investigations on this sort of thing, but had given up on ever finding anything. That's probably why I was so shocked when I saw you, Duo. In my last year of research, I was busy with an old English document that had something to do with this sort of thing. They all said I was crazy to actually believe it, but everything else in the document was so accurate in every other way that I couldn't help but wonder..."
"What did it say?" I asked eagerly.
"It said that only beings with a soul AND a physical body can be reflected in a mirror." We both stared at the blond in confusion before he started again, "Assuming that vampires have no soul, and only a physical body, it would make sense that they were not reflected in a mirror."
"But, ummmm, Quatre, I have a physical body..."
"Maybe you don't." Quatre replied, very confident in his answer. Very confident, I thought, considering that it wasn't possible. It was pretty obvious that I had a body; I was standing in front of them. What more proof did he want?
Trowa was very skeptical, you could tell from his face, but he wouldn't say anything. My guess was that he had been friends with Quatre for a long time and didn't want to insult his intelligence or something like that. He was very polite during the whole conversation, all things considered.
"I really don't understand how that makes sense. You can see me, right?" I asked. This was edging on sarcasm, but I didn't want to seem too rude, even though the idea was completely ridiculous. However, maybe it was time that I learned the most unbelievable of ideas are often times the best.
"May I touch your wing?" Quatre asked again, with hand out-stretched. I thought we had already been through this. If he had an obsession with my wing, it would have been helpful to know.
"You'll get cut." I told him. He shrugged as if to say 'maybe not', and reached his hand out farther. I waited to feel his touch, but nothing happened. He reached out farther, to what should have been my wing, but it went THROUGH?!?!
He pulled back abruptly and looked at his hand, almost as if to verify what he had just seen with his very own eyes.
"I suspected as much." Quatre mumbled ominously. I was still trying to swallow the fact that his had actually had gone through my wing. It wasn't real?
Great, first a vampire, now a ghost...why don't they just accuse me of witchery while they're at it?
"But look!" I held up my bleeding finger in protest, "I bled! I'm real!"
"Does it hurt?" Quatre asked.
"What?!"
"Does it hurt, Duo?" he repeated the question. I looked at my finger and back at Quatre. It was a little scary, but now that he brought it up, he was right. I didn't feel a thing. It didn't hurt when I cut myself, or when I had accidentally opened it up earlier. I touched the cut, and traced a second finger along the edge of my wing. Nothing...yet, when I brought it to my face, it was bleeding. I looked up with frightened eyes, which told Quatre, who was shaking his head sympathetically, that he was indeed right.
"...an illusion?" I almost whispered. The blond nodded back. I sighed heavily, sinking deeper in the chair, well as far as I could sink, considering I wasn't really there. Who the hell would do this to me? I'm nothing more than a 'soul', now. What did I ever do to deserve this?
"It's alright, Duo. It's a lot better than being a vampire." Trowa added, hopeful that he'd be able to help in some way.
"That's debatable," I muttered, "I'm going to go upstairs and..uh, go to sleep, I think. That's what started this whole mess. Maybe it'll get me out of it." I was talking to myself at this point, and Trowa watched silently as I made my way up the stairs. Quatre was looking sympathetically at me as he bit his lip, I noticed. He wanted to help me, I knew, and I wished he could, but something told me that this time around, I needed to be able to help myself first.
I collapsed on the bed, and closed my eyes, immediately falling to sleep. The dream had been waiting for this opportunity, and it caught me as soon as it was able.
I felt myself being swept into a deep void of slumber, and fell through a violet darkness, stopping only to fall on the worn wood of the mirror room floor.
"Ouch!" I said instinctively, and brightened considerably. I could feel again! I was real! I looked at my hands, and my cuts hurt! This was great! (how many times do you get to say that?) I felt wings behind me, and smiled once more. Even though I hadn't returned to normal, but this was more normal than anything I had felt in the past couple of hours and grinned as I dusted myself off to get up.
My grins at my injuries must have seemed a little awkward to the angel on the other side of the room, who I immediately noticed was staring at me when I got up; a slightly bemused look hanging on his normally serious face.
"You came." He smiled slightly at me, but didn't stir from his position.
"More like, ungracefully thrown down from a void of darkness." I didn't notice I actually said that out-loud until I looked over at the angel again, and blushed slightly. He was really stunning in the moonlight.
"It's your dream, am I right? That means, if you came here, you must have wanted to. That's how things work in dreams."
"Oh." I answered, and stared at him, with his white wings, and almost posed a question with my stillness.
"You don't know who you are, do you?" I was taken a bit aback by the question, but did not move my eyes from his face. Beautiful, cobalt blue ones awaited an answer. I was dying to know who I was, who he was. I needed to know my identity. If I was going to be some type of demon, or what have you, I might as well know and make the best of it. What confused me most, though, was that he knew me. I certainly didn't know him, as much as I may have liked to. It's always pretty creepy when that happens, dream or not.
"My name's Duo Maxwell, but that's not what you're talking about, is it?" I walked a little farther over, and looked in the mirror, where I was reflected in full. No loss of physical body here? The angel said that we couldn't leave, but I was hardly expecting for this. My dreams were reality, and reality was a dream? It didn't make sense!
"Duo, I'm the reason they are putting you through all this." The angel stepped forward so the light was hitting him from the side. "Kill me."
I couldn't believe what was happening. What was he talking about? I had to forget about the death wish, and focus onto the first statement. He couldn't be held responsible for anything that was happening to me, not if 'they' were hurting me. Wait, what was I saying? 'they'?
"Just hold on a minute, who or what AM I, anyway?"
This seemed to strike a soft spot in the angel because he cringed a little, and a face of sadness spread across his face. I was hesitant to edge him further when he didn't answer immediately. He seemed to really care about me, and had even asked for me to kill him in return for my well-being. I didn't even know him. What was wrong with me?
"You are Shinigami, Duo. They brought you here so that you would kill me, so do it." The angel clenched his teeth and fists, looking away, almost as if in remembrance.
"Listen to me! I have no intention of killing you, but you're being very difficult to talk to. Would you just tell me what's going on?" He nodded, finally realizing what he was putting me through, thank goodness.
"You don't remember me," The angel backed away, it seemed, to hide his tears, and looked up out of the shadows. "Your people took your memories away from you. That day still haunt's me. It's my fault, Duo.."
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _flashback _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
"Shinigami will be here any minute, boy." The demon Treize spat bitterly, "He will decide your fate!" Black boots kicked the white-winged prisoner in the gut and he fell face-forward onto the ground. Heero gasped in pain, but still refused to give them the satisfaction of crying. He would never cry.
Heero had already been beaten badly, and tortured in many ways for what his people, the angels, had done to the demonic race. It wasn't his fault that his side was the victor of the battle, but the innocent are always the ones who pay.
Heero slowly staggered to his feet, which was difficult, considering his arms and wings were bound, making it difficult shifting weight. Treize was snickering to his demonic followers that rallied behind the angel soldier, and swung a sharp wing around to hit Heero squarely in the leg, below his tight shorts, and blood sped down the pale skin. The hundred-some demons who had gathered in the throne room were laughing at his expense, and all Heero could do was look backward and glare. They had no sense of honor, or pride to treat him thus. Heero could only guess at how cold-hearted this 'Shinigami' must be to allow this to happen before he was pushed to the front of the throne room and fell to his knees, weak and dizzy from loss of blood. "Enough." a young voice choked through tears, looking on from behind a door, through the laughter of the demons in his throne room. "Enough!!" the boy screamed, revealing himself to the mass of shocked demons before him.
The whole room hushed immediately and Treize stepped forward to meet the young man with a cold smile, and a polite bow.
"My lord, we have brought you a criminal. You are to decide his fate." The demon Treize smirked at Heero, who was on his knees, not fully recovered from his last blow.
The violet-eyed boy with a long braid still had tears streaming down his cheeks as he looked at the suffering angel, but he looked at Treize with eyes of fire, and extreme hatred crossed his features.
"Shut up," he yelled scornfully at the still smirking Treize, "You take a boy from the battlefield, and expect him to atone for sins of his people. Can't you see he's injured?" a slender hand pointed at the suffering angel, "What kind of a sick game is this?"
"This is war, my lord," Treize stood up from his bow, "we were meant to fight, and be fought with. This 'boy' is our enemy, and must be the first to know."
"War is not a game," the amethyst-eyed boy hissed softly as he walked past the military leader, "..dumbass."
Treize narrowed his eyes at the young Shinigami who knelt down beside the angel, and began to untie his hands and wings from bondage. Heero looked up, conscious again, into the demon's face, violet orbs wide with concern.
"Did they do this to you?" a tenor voice broke into Heero's head. It was so soothing. Heero nodded weakly, and the boy finished with the knots. The ropes slid from Heero's arms and body, while the braided one clenched his fists and outspread his wings in anger.
"Damn them!" He said to himself, as he looked up at snickering demons all around, "Damn YOU!" Shinigami screamed.
An offended Treize's eyes narrowed, "That's quite enough, my lord. You are much too naïve to be knowledgeable in these circumstances. Why don't you go back to your room?" An icy, commanding coldness laced his voice as Treize stepped forward.
"No, Treize, this has gone on long enough! I will not stand aside while you fight meaningless battles, not anymore!" violet eyes shone with tears as a determined Treize inched closer.
"I've had just about enough of you! Demons are becoming weaker and weaker, and it's because WE have a weak LEADER! It's not the angel's fault. Let him leave, for all I care. The problem was right here all along!" Whispers erupted around the room as Treize stepped even farther forward, so that he was within striking distance of the young Shinigami, who had stopped crying, and stood up as tall as he could against the military leader who was easily two feet above him. He had no intent of moving.
Heero looked on in amazement. Shinigami had freed him. It didn't make sense, from all angles. They must have brought him up to be ruthless and uncaring, just as he had been raised by the angels, and yet, this Shinigami had the courage to do something Heero could never do. The braided demon with violet eyes had stood up for what was right..and now, was about to pay the price. It should have been me, Heero thought guiltily, it's my fault....
Shinigami flicked his wings in and out once nervously as Treize loomed above him ominously, and raised his hand to deliver a first blow to the unwavering boy.
He swung, and Shinigami cringed, ready to receive, but an unlikely angel stepped between the two and was slapped down onto the floor beside the demons. Heero wiped the blood from his mouth and stood up to face them both.
"You dare interfere!" Treize shouted, and struck a painful blow with his wings like double-edged swords into the submissive skin. Heero struck the ground, making it clear that he was in no condition to get up again. And although he was still conscious, another hit like that would surely mean his death.
Treize was infuriated, arms poised, ready to strike the final blow.
"Stop it, Treize!" The braided demon yelled firmly. Heero's eyes opened wide. He was ready to die. Shinigami knew this, too. Heero had asked for his death when he came between them. Why, then, did this young boy care to save him? It would mean nothing.
"Well, if you insist on being on his side, I suppose you'll both have to suffer," Treize replied sweetly, in the most malicious of ways, "You will both die."
"You forget, Treize, I am immortal." The violet-eyed boy stated.
"Even immortals can die." Treize hissed as he went after Shinigami with a sword that he pulled from a sheath hidden underneath his robes, and struck him through the heart.
The amethyst eyes whitened with shock as he fell slowly to his knees. The carpet below Shinigami was soiled with fresh blood, and empty eyes fell to the ground in lifelessness.
Treize laughed heartily to all his demon followers who laughed in consequence, and Heero stood in front of the murderer. Shinigami had given his life for him. It didn't seem real, and yet it was.
"Y..you killed him.." Heero stuttered at the cold eyes of the demon standing before him, glancing down at the corpse of the one who had given his life for him.
"No, fool! You killed him. But it doesn't matter, his soul lives on. That's the problem with immortals," Treize snorted indignantly, "But you," he grinned evilly, "will suffer a fate worse than death. You'd like it if I killed you, wouldn't you, now?"
He searched Heero's face for answers, but all he received was a hateful glare from the angel.
"I know!" Treize contemplated, "We'll lock you up somewhere you'll never be able to escape from, even by death. You will suffer there for the rest of your life, entirely secluded from everything. Isn't that wonderful, gentlemen?" He searched the demonic audience for approval and received a rallying cry from every creature in the room. They all wanted revenge. The death of Shinigami was not enough to quench their thirst.
"It seems as if your fate is sealed, boy." Treize said as he flicked his hand nonchalantly, and a pair of fairly large demons took Heero in their grasp, dragging the struggling angel out of the room.
The door shut with a loud slam and Treize smirked and sat himself upon the throne that was meant for Shinigami, who was still laying in a pool of blood on the floor. He was handed a glass of wine, and he held it up to the demons.
"A toast....to a new era, where the demons may rule again!" He lifted the glass to his lips and chuckled egotistically.
Cries of revenge and of evil could be heard throughout the dark halls where Heero was still being dragged off through. He had stopped struggling by now, realizing there was no hope of escape. He was still thinking about Shinigami, as he would be for the next 15 years, the blood, the tears, the violet eyes. What had he done...?
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ end flashback_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
TBC
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Thanks to all my reviewers. Here's what I have to say:
Luna_Chan: Thanks so much! ^-^ I hope this chapter wasn't too weird. Thanks for writing a review! Matchbox: Thanks so much for reviewing again! I'll deal with where Duo will go in the next chapter. I have a plan, finally *phew* I hope this chapter wasn't too much to swallow. Xangel: I'm so glad you like it!! One of the best fics on the site? Thanks!!!! I'd hardly say so, but I'm trying my best *smiles*. I'm sorry, I like torturing Duo, and all the other characters....but I have a weakness for happy endings! *wink* Maxwellscurch: I'm glad you like it. I think this chapter totally threw off the 'well rounded' plot, but you have helped convince me that this story is worth something, so I intend on going all the way with this one. I have a plan. Thanks for reviewing. Antigone: I loved reading the play, 'Antigone'! It's one of my favorites....talk about drama and angst, eh? Thanks for the complement, and thanks for reading! K: I'm not going to touch on the Heero issue in the 'real world' for a while yet, I don't think. The 'voices' come later, too. I have to deal with background first, before any of that part of the plot comes into play, but I hope it's soon! Thanks for reviewing! Elle-FaTe2x1: Thanks so much! I hope you liked this chapter, and I hope it wasn't too weird, because I was in a really depressing mood when I wrote this. Thanks for reviewing!
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O.o Whoa..that was weird.
Please review! I need to know if I'm still sane.
Thanks so much!!
I threw another black shirt into the suitcase, and realized that what I was doing was pointless. Of course, I had known before, but it only had just hit me. Wiping the tears from my eyes, it was time to face facts. This was one hell of a mystery, and one that I intended to solve.
It was strange; my shoulders barely felt any weight added onto them, and yet, here were these....wings. They weren't supposed to be real, but if the wings were real, then what else was real, I wondered. However, there was no time to be sitting to trifle over that, I thought, walking into the bathroom to look in the mirror.
"What the hell?" I hissed into the mirror, which stood back at me, reflecting...absolutely nothing?
I looked up, behind, and down. Uh huh, I was still there, in my black- winged entirety, just not in the mirror. This was great, just great, now I was a vampire, but it was impossible, I realized, after thinking for a minute.
I fingered my silver cross that hung around my neck, and I wasn't bursting into flame or anything, proving once and for all that I wasn't a vampire, but then what was I? One moment I was just a guy who hears 'voices' and the next I'm a winged freak. I examined the wings for the first time. They felt like velvet, and were soft as well, not to mention that they were a part of me. I got quite a shock when I ran my finger down the edge, and saw blood drip down my arm. It was as sharp as the blade of a sword. I could really hurt someone if I wasn't careful, but then again, what kind of company would I attract with these things, anyway?
I couldn't go downstairs, because Trowa had already clearly expressed his opinion on that idea, and I had caused Quatre to faint, which, I'm sure, speaks for itself. But, on the other end of the spectrum, I couldn't very well go outside to face the public. Within 24 hours they'd have me in pieces on top of an operation table. I slumped down onto the floor, unable to think at the moment. It was much, too much to handle.
The best thing to do was probably to go downstairs and reassure Trowa and Quatre of their safety before they called the whole damn militia on me. That's what I would do in their situation, I thought with a sad and helpless chuckle.
I slowly walked out of the room and made my way down the stairs, but I didn't see either of them. They were probably in the living room. I came to the downstairs landing and Trowa lifted his head up to stare fearfully at me as I looked ashamedly at him through the doorway. Trowa was attending to the blond, who was on the couch with a damp towel over his forehead, and it seemed that he was awakening from his fall.
I watched as he stirred, but Trowa refused to take his eyes off me, for even a second.
"Hm? Trowa.?" Quatre's sleepy voice upon awakening trailed off in silence when he noticed my presence. I thought a little about what I should say, but the truth was that there was no right way to say 'I have huge black wings and I don't know why.'
"I'm sorry," I choked and was on the verge of tears. It was always so hard to be accepted, "I don't know what's happening to me." I looked down at my hands and my cut finger, and by running my hand over it, accidentally opened the cut up again. I let a silent tear run down my face. The cut didn't hurt, but I did.
I didn't notice, but Quatre was feeling sympathetic rather than fearful, and was having an unspoken conversation with the manager, almost asking permission to accept me. And despite Trowa's protests, Quatre sat up to speak.
"Well, Duo, it seems that we'll have to keep you inside for a while, don't you think so Trowa?" Quatre nudged the stoic man, and he nodded reluctantly.
"But you don't even know what I am.." I protested without thinking. It didn't seem believable that anyone would want of their own free will to keep me safe, especially like this.
"And do you?" Trowa asked quickly.
"Well, no." I answered truthfully.
"Then there's nothing left to discuss. I trust you, Duo. You aren't the type who would lie." Trowa looked at Quatre, who was beaming at him with pride.
I grinned. "You're the best, Tro!" I exclaimed.
Quatre slowly got up, and proceeded to walk over next to me, marveling at my wings up close, but maybe a little too close. He extended a slender finger towards my right wing, "May I...?"
"No, Quatre, don't!" I jumped away, startling the blond, and quickly held up my own finger, which had traces of fresh blood along it, to explain, "They're sharper than knives. I found out the hard way."
"Oh." Quatre said, and we all looked at each other for a minute or two. The silence was awkward and consuming; we all were feeling awkward.
"Maybe you can help me," I suggested, collapsing casually onto a small lounge chair and letting my wings drape over the back. They sat on the couch across from the coffee-table that divided us.
"We'll try." Quatre motioned gently, glad, at least, that I wasn't an enemy, or at least, so I thought.
"I don't know anything about these wings except that I have been dreaming about having them in my mirrored reflection for years, and now, I don't have any reflection at all!" I explained with a sigh, while both my friends widened their eyes in disbelief.
"You're kidding, right?" Trowa raised an eyebrow.
"No, I'm quite serious, but I'm not a vampire or anything." I answered, and Quatre got up for a minute, rummaging through a few things in a pile by the couch, and quickly found a mirror. I shot up from his seat, and modeled myself in front of the mirror, while the two onlookers stared in disbelief at the mirror, which showed absolutely nothing.
"How can you be so sure that you're not a.a vampire?" Quatre stuttered.
"Ummm..I don't drink blood, I love sunlight, and I wear this," I showed them my silver cross that I brought out from underneath my red turtleneck and black leather jacket. Two faces agreed silently that I wasn't a vampire, but this whole idea was still crazy.
Quatre was sitting, and seemed to be thinking very intensely.
"What's wrong Quat?" I asked, and the Arabian looked up at me with knowing blue eyes.
"This might sound a little silly, but I've always been interested in the supernatural, and I used to do investigations on this sort of thing, but had given up on ever finding anything. That's probably why I was so shocked when I saw you, Duo. In my last year of research, I was busy with an old English document that had something to do with this sort of thing. They all said I was crazy to actually believe it, but everything else in the document was so accurate in every other way that I couldn't help but wonder..."
"What did it say?" I asked eagerly.
"It said that only beings with a soul AND a physical body can be reflected in a mirror." We both stared at the blond in confusion before he started again, "Assuming that vampires have no soul, and only a physical body, it would make sense that they were not reflected in a mirror."
"But, ummmm, Quatre, I have a physical body..."
"Maybe you don't." Quatre replied, very confident in his answer. Very confident, I thought, considering that it wasn't possible. It was pretty obvious that I had a body; I was standing in front of them. What more proof did he want?
Trowa was very skeptical, you could tell from his face, but he wouldn't say anything. My guess was that he had been friends with Quatre for a long time and didn't want to insult his intelligence or something like that. He was very polite during the whole conversation, all things considered.
"I really don't understand how that makes sense. You can see me, right?" I asked. This was edging on sarcasm, but I didn't want to seem too rude, even though the idea was completely ridiculous. However, maybe it was time that I learned the most unbelievable of ideas are often times the best.
"May I touch your wing?" Quatre asked again, with hand out-stretched. I thought we had already been through this. If he had an obsession with my wing, it would have been helpful to know.
"You'll get cut." I told him. He shrugged as if to say 'maybe not', and reached his hand out farther. I waited to feel his touch, but nothing happened. He reached out farther, to what should have been my wing, but it went THROUGH?!?!
He pulled back abruptly and looked at his hand, almost as if to verify what he had just seen with his very own eyes.
"I suspected as much." Quatre mumbled ominously. I was still trying to swallow the fact that his had actually had gone through my wing. It wasn't real?
Great, first a vampire, now a ghost...why don't they just accuse me of witchery while they're at it?
"But look!" I held up my bleeding finger in protest, "I bled! I'm real!"
"Does it hurt?" Quatre asked.
"What?!"
"Does it hurt, Duo?" he repeated the question. I looked at my finger and back at Quatre. It was a little scary, but now that he brought it up, he was right. I didn't feel a thing. It didn't hurt when I cut myself, or when I had accidentally opened it up earlier. I touched the cut, and traced a second finger along the edge of my wing. Nothing...yet, when I brought it to my face, it was bleeding. I looked up with frightened eyes, which told Quatre, who was shaking his head sympathetically, that he was indeed right.
"...an illusion?" I almost whispered. The blond nodded back. I sighed heavily, sinking deeper in the chair, well as far as I could sink, considering I wasn't really there. Who the hell would do this to me? I'm nothing more than a 'soul', now. What did I ever do to deserve this?
"It's alright, Duo. It's a lot better than being a vampire." Trowa added, hopeful that he'd be able to help in some way.
"That's debatable," I muttered, "I'm going to go upstairs and..uh, go to sleep, I think. That's what started this whole mess. Maybe it'll get me out of it." I was talking to myself at this point, and Trowa watched silently as I made my way up the stairs. Quatre was looking sympathetically at me as he bit his lip, I noticed. He wanted to help me, I knew, and I wished he could, but something told me that this time around, I needed to be able to help myself first.
I collapsed on the bed, and closed my eyes, immediately falling to sleep. The dream had been waiting for this opportunity, and it caught me as soon as it was able.
I felt myself being swept into a deep void of slumber, and fell through a violet darkness, stopping only to fall on the worn wood of the mirror room floor.
"Ouch!" I said instinctively, and brightened considerably. I could feel again! I was real! I looked at my hands, and my cuts hurt! This was great! (how many times do you get to say that?) I felt wings behind me, and smiled once more. Even though I hadn't returned to normal, but this was more normal than anything I had felt in the past couple of hours and grinned as I dusted myself off to get up.
My grins at my injuries must have seemed a little awkward to the angel on the other side of the room, who I immediately noticed was staring at me when I got up; a slightly bemused look hanging on his normally serious face.
"You came." He smiled slightly at me, but didn't stir from his position.
"More like, ungracefully thrown down from a void of darkness." I didn't notice I actually said that out-loud until I looked over at the angel again, and blushed slightly. He was really stunning in the moonlight.
"It's your dream, am I right? That means, if you came here, you must have wanted to. That's how things work in dreams."
"Oh." I answered, and stared at him, with his white wings, and almost posed a question with my stillness.
"You don't know who you are, do you?" I was taken a bit aback by the question, but did not move my eyes from his face. Beautiful, cobalt blue ones awaited an answer. I was dying to know who I was, who he was. I needed to know my identity. If I was going to be some type of demon, or what have you, I might as well know and make the best of it. What confused me most, though, was that he knew me. I certainly didn't know him, as much as I may have liked to. It's always pretty creepy when that happens, dream or not.
"My name's Duo Maxwell, but that's not what you're talking about, is it?" I walked a little farther over, and looked in the mirror, where I was reflected in full. No loss of physical body here? The angel said that we couldn't leave, but I was hardly expecting for this. My dreams were reality, and reality was a dream? It didn't make sense!
"Duo, I'm the reason they are putting you through all this." The angel stepped forward so the light was hitting him from the side. "Kill me."
I couldn't believe what was happening. What was he talking about? I had to forget about the death wish, and focus onto the first statement. He couldn't be held responsible for anything that was happening to me, not if 'they' were hurting me. Wait, what was I saying? 'they'?
"Just hold on a minute, who or what AM I, anyway?"
This seemed to strike a soft spot in the angel because he cringed a little, and a face of sadness spread across his face. I was hesitant to edge him further when he didn't answer immediately. He seemed to really care about me, and had even asked for me to kill him in return for my well-being. I didn't even know him. What was wrong with me?
"You are Shinigami, Duo. They brought you here so that you would kill me, so do it." The angel clenched his teeth and fists, looking away, almost as if in remembrance.
"Listen to me! I have no intention of killing you, but you're being very difficult to talk to. Would you just tell me what's going on?" He nodded, finally realizing what he was putting me through, thank goodness.
"You don't remember me," The angel backed away, it seemed, to hide his tears, and looked up out of the shadows. "Your people took your memories away from you. That day still haunt's me. It's my fault, Duo.."
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _flashback _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
"Shinigami will be here any minute, boy." The demon Treize spat bitterly, "He will decide your fate!" Black boots kicked the white-winged prisoner in the gut and he fell face-forward onto the ground. Heero gasped in pain, but still refused to give them the satisfaction of crying. He would never cry.
Heero had already been beaten badly, and tortured in many ways for what his people, the angels, had done to the demonic race. It wasn't his fault that his side was the victor of the battle, but the innocent are always the ones who pay.
Heero slowly staggered to his feet, which was difficult, considering his arms and wings were bound, making it difficult shifting weight. Treize was snickering to his demonic followers that rallied behind the angel soldier, and swung a sharp wing around to hit Heero squarely in the leg, below his tight shorts, and blood sped down the pale skin. The hundred-some demons who had gathered in the throne room were laughing at his expense, and all Heero could do was look backward and glare. They had no sense of honor, or pride to treat him thus. Heero could only guess at how cold-hearted this 'Shinigami' must be to allow this to happen before he was pushed to the front of the throne room and fell to his knees, weak and dizzy from loss of blood. "Enough." a young voice choked through tears, looking on from behind a door, through the laughter of the demons in his throne room. "Enough!!" the boy screamed, revealing himself to the mass of shocked demons before him.
The whole room hushed immediately and Treize stepped forward to meet the young man with a cold smile, and a polite bow.
"My lord, we have brought you a criminal. You are to decide his fate." The demon Treize smirked at Heero, who was on his knees, not fully recovered from his last blow.
The violet-eyed boy with a long braid still had tears streaming down his cheeks as he looked at the suffering angel, but he looked at Treize with eyes of fire, and extreme hatred crossed his features.
"Shut up," he yelled scornfully at the still smirking Treize, "You take a boy from the battlefield, and expect him to atone for sins of his people. Can't you see he's injured?" a slender hand pointed at the suffering angel, "What kind of a sick game is this?"
"This is war, my lord," Treize stood up from his bow, "we were meant to fight, and be fought with. This 'boy' is our enemy, and must be the first to know."
"War is not a game," the amethyst-eyed boy hissed softly as he walked past the military leader, "..dumbass."
Treize narrowed his eyes at the young Shinigami who knelt down beside the angel, and began to untie his hands and wings from bondage. Heero looked up, conscious again, into the demon's face, violet orbs wide with concern.
"Did they do this to you?" a tenor voice broke into Heero's head. It was so soothing. Heero nodded weakly, and the boy finished with the knots. The ropes slid from Heero's arms and body, while the braided one clenched his fists and outspread his wings in anger.
"Damn them!" He said to himself, as he looked up at snickering demons all around, "Damn YOU!" Shinigami screamed.
An offended Treize's eyes narrowed, "That's quite enough, my lord. You are much too naïve to be knowledgeable in these circumstances. Why don't you go back to your room?" An icy, commanding coldness laced his voice as Treize stepped forward.
"No, Treize, this has gone on long enough! I will not stand aside while you fight meaningless battles, not anymore!" violet eyes shone with tears as a determined Treize inched closer.
"I've had just about enough of you! Demons are becoming weaker and weaker, and it's because WE have a weak LEADER! It's not the angel's fault. Let him leave, for all I care. The problem was right here all along!" Whispers erupted around the room as Treize stepped even farther forward, so that he was within striking distance of the young Shinigami, who had stopped crying, and stood up as tall as he could against the military leader who was easily two feet above him. He had no intent of moving.
Heero looked on in amazement. Shinigami had freed him. It didn't make sense, from all angles. They must have brought him up to be ruthless and uncaring, just as he had been raised by the angels, and yet, this Shinigami had the courage to do something Heero could never do. The braided demon with violet eyes had stood up for what was right..and now, was about to pay the price. It should have been me, Heero thought guiltily, it's my fault....
Shinigami flicked his wings in and out once nervously as Treize loomed above him ominously, and raised his hand to deliver a first blow to the unwavering boy.
He swung, and Shinigami cringed, ready to receive, but an unlikely angel stepped between the two and was slapped down onto the floor beside the demons. Heero wiped the blood from his mouth and stood up to face them both.
"You dare interfere!" Treize shouted, and struck a painful blow with his wings like double-edged swords into the submissive skin. Heero struck the ground, making it clear that he was in no condition to get up again. And although he was still conscious, another hit like that would surely mean his death.
Treize was infuriated, arms poised, ready to strike the final blow.
"Stop it, Treize!" The braided demon yelled firmly. Heero's eyes opened wide. He was ready to die. Shinigami knew this, too. Heero had asked for his death when he came between them. Why, then, did this young boy care to save him? It would mean nothing.
"Well, if you insist on being on his side, I suppose you'll both have to suffer," Treize replied sweetly, in the most malicious of ways, "You will both die."
"You forget, Treize, I am immortal." The violet-eyed boy stated.
"Even immortals can die." Treize hissed as he went after Shinigami with a sword that he pulled from a sheath hidden underneath his robes, and struck him through the heart.
The amethyst eyes whitened with shock as he fell slowly to his knees. The carpet below Shinigami was soiled with fresh blood, and empty eyes fell to the ground in lifelessness.
Treize laughed heartily to all his demon followers who laughed in consequence, and Heero stood in front of the murderer. Shinigami had given his life for him. It didn't seem real, and yet it was.
"Y..you killed him.." Heero stuttered at the cold eyes of the demon standing before him, glancing down at the corpse of the one who had given his life for him.
"No, fool! You killed him. But it doesn't matter, his soul lives on. That's the problem with immortals," Treize snorted indignantly, "But you," he grinned evilly, "will suffer a fate worse than death. You'd like it if I killed you, wouldn't you, now?"
He searched Heero's face for answers, but all he received was a hateful glare from the angel.
"I know!" Treize contemplated, "We'll lock you up somewhere you'll never be able to escape from, even by death. You will suffer there for the rest of your life, entirely secluded from everything. Isn't that wonderful, gentlemen?" He searched the demonic audience for approval and received a rallying cry from every creature in the room. They all wanted revenge. The death of Shinigami was not enough to quench their thirst.
"It seems as if your fate is sealed, boy." Treize said as he flicked his hand nonchalantly, and a pair of fairly large demons took Heero in their grasp, dragging the struggling angel out of the room.
The door shut with a loud slam and Treize smirked and sat himself upon the throne that was meant for Shinigami, who was still laying in a pool of blood on the floor. He was handed a glass of wine, and he held it up to the demons.
"A toast....to a new era, where the demons may rule again!" He lifted the glass to his lips and chuckled egotistically.
Cries of revenge and of evil could be heard throughout the dark halls where Heero was still being dragged off through. He had stopped struggling by now, realizing there was no hope of escape. He was still thinking about Shinigami, as he would be for the next 15 years, the blood, the tears, the violet eyes. What had he done...?
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ end flashback_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
TBC
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Thanks to all my reviewers. Here's what I have to say:
Luna_Chan: Thanks so much! ^-^ I hope this chapter wasn't too weird. Thanks for writing a review! Matchbox: Thanks so much for reviewing again! I'll deal with where Duo will go in the next chapter. I have a plan, finally *phew* I hope this chapter wasn't too much to swallow. Xangel: I'm so glad you like it!! One of the best fics on the site? Thanks!!!! I'd hardly say so, but I'm trying my best *smiles*. I'm sorry, I like torturing Duo, and all the other characters....but I have a weakness for happy endings! *wink* Maxwellscurch: I'm glad you like it. I think this chapter totally threw off the 'well rounded' plot, but you have helped convince me that this story is worth something, so I intend on going all the way with this one. I have a plan. Thanks for reviewing. Antigone: I loved reading the play, 'Antigone'! It's one of my favorites....talk about drama and angst, eh? Thanks for the complement, and thanks for reading! K: I'm not going to touch on the Heero issue in the 'real world' for a while yet, I don't think. The 'voices' come later, too. I have to deal with background first, before any of that part of the plot comes into play, but I hope it's soon! Thanks for reviewing! Elle-FaTe2x1: Thanks so much! I hope you liked this chapter, and I hope it wasn't too weird, because I was in a really depressing mood when I wrote this. Thanks for reviewing!
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O.o Whoa..that was weird.
Please review! I need to know if I'm still sane.
Thanks so much!!