G O D F O R S A K E N

C H A P T E R T H R E E







"No live organism can continue for long to exist sanely under conditions of absolute reality; even larks and katydids are supposed, by some, to dream. Hill House, not sane, stood by itself against its hills, holding darkness within; it had stood for eighty years and might stand for eighty more. Within, walls continued upright, bricks met neatly, floors were firm, and doors were sensibly shut; silence lay steadily against the wood and stone of /hill House, and whatever walked there, walked alone."

-Shirley Jackson (Haunting of Hill House)











'O God, why hast thou forsaken me?'

















The past is a curious thing. Contrary to popular belief, it is not unchangeable. It is, in fact, constantly being redone and refined. Why? Because sometimes something happens that is too painful for Time to bear. World War I and II were two such events. So was Vietnam. So was the fall of the Silver Millennium, for that matter. These events are called "temporaries". There are beings under the rule of the angels called "tampermasters", and their job is to slip and slide whichever way through time and right some of the many wrongs man has created.

They fix many things, and are hailed throughout the heavens as creatures of remarkable resource, courage, and infinite compassion for the humankind and all of the other mortals that inhabit the realm most call "reality", which may or may not be an accurate name for where they are. Yes, they fix many, many wrongs.

But there are some wrongs out there so terrible and utterly heart-clenching that the tampermasters cannot reach them. These events are suspended in time, forever burned onto the plate that Time wields to protect the flow of life and death. These events are of course, the ones that need to be changed the most. They are the ones whose effects stretch over the centuries, withstanding the onslaught of Time.

There have been two of these dread events. One was when the world was created and the one hundred and fifteenth male took up with Chaos, thereby inviting all things opposite of God into the universe. The other was several thousand years ago, when the fated savior of this reality was destroyed in a heartbeat. The enemy? Herself.

Oh, the heavens wept on both those days. The pits of Hell rejoiced. Man carried on in its beautiful, terrible way. Some angels argue that inviting Chaos was not necessarily a bad thing, when you look at what humankind has created. They created the hanging garden of Babylon. They created artists like Picasso and Mozart. Their minds reached to the clouds and beyond. But, the others argue back, look at what those men do with their minds. They create weapons of mass destruction. They kill millions of people. They do awful things to innocent people. But for freedom, the other usually cries. Look what they do for freedom! Look what they do for hate, the other responds savagely. The beauty, says the first desperately. The horror, replies the second.

The first event can be argued either way, as shown. Most agree that "reality" would be a better place without Chaos, however. It is on the second topic the debaters fall silent. So much pain spawned from that day. Pain which was, of course, restricted to a select few, but that select few were the joint rulers of the universe. Their pain carried into the distant reaches of space and beyond. Most new angels wonder why the singing falls silent on the thirtieth of June and why the foul, rotten sound of demons' joy floats to their ears.

What happened so long ago on this day that you are silent, they demand.

Sad eyes turn to them, and then are cast to Earth. Let us show you, they say sadly in unison.

On this day so long ago, there was a young woman. She was a creature of Light, one of our own. She had spent her entire existence protecting her earth so that her craving for justice might be satisfied. It never would be, and she knew that, so she fought with a vigor that might surprise someone that didn't know her. She had a family. She had a fiancé. She had a wonderful future daughter. She had loving friends. Her birthday came that fateful year, and the crown was presented to her (for she was a princess of great importance). The very moment the Gem of Power was placed into her crown, her heart cried out when the Gem's powers were at their peak. In order for all to go well on coronation, you must be of sound heart, and she was not. Half of her surged up to meet the crown and the responsibilities of monarchy, but the other half drew back in lamentation for the childhood she was never allowed to have. A terrible, terrible thing happened then. Her soul was split into two pieces. The One Who Should Not Have Been stared at herself in something like horror. The rightful woman stepped forwards, but then everything was gone. The Gem shattered into hundreds of shards, which entered each woman. Not knowing what else to do, the rightful woman sent her sister to sleep and escaped to the country called England, where she set the Gem to work at building a mansion where she would hide her sister until she found a cure. We lost track of her several years ago, and evil has been growing on Earth. For all we know, she is still out there looking for a cure. No one knows.

The younger angels snort, and laugh about "being almost taken in", but those sad eyes turn to them and they become silent. The eldest angel continues with one sentence.

There are many, many wrongs being done in that mansion, he says sadly, and then is silenced by a look from the others. The day of mourning moves on, but this time with more curious looks towards Earth.

Wrongs? How so? Why were they being done, and what could the rightful princess be doing in a house made of a holy jewel?







The stairs moaned loudly under Serenity's feet, and the shadowed wheeled wildly around her golden head. She drew her shawl more tightly around her shoulders and continued up the stairs. There was a low cry, and Serenity shivered. This house terrified her.

She came up to the stop of the dusty red carpet and looked fleetingly at the tall, imposing grandfather clock. The shadows swirled across it, and the dials began to spin. Serenity clenched her eyes shut, and then opened them again. The cuckoo bird shot out of the little door; its yellow head hanging at an odd angle.

Serenity gasped and took a step backwards, almost tumbling off the top step. She stepped sideways, away from the steep stairwell, and pressed her back against the cold banister, trying to breathe. There was the sound of something creaking, and her eyes widened in horror as the cuckoo's head righted itself. There was a sickening crack, and then the head spun around to stare her right in the eye.

"Time's almost up Rightful One! Time's almost up! Hickory dickory dock, the princess ran up to the lock! Into the room she came but left not the same! Hickory dickory dock!"

Horror reared its ugly head inside her chest, making her entire body tremble as if she were about to fly apart-but there would be no blood, she thought with a wrenching shudder of heart. A tear ran down her cheek, drawing blood. She gasped and felt at the front of her blouse. Her fingertips came away crimson. Strangling her cry before it erupted from her mouth, she flew down the hall to the locked door at the end. She could still hear the bird laughing behind her.

"Run, run, as fast as you can! You'll never catch her, she knows the Sleep- Bringer Man! One, two, be not true! Three, four open the door! Five, six, find the sticks! Sevens, eights, find their mates! Nine, ten, begin again!"

There was a pause, and then it let out a blood curdling scream. New tears razored down Serenity's cheeks, and the bird laughed again. "YOU'LL NEVER FIND HER SERENITY! YOU'LL NEVER GET WHAT YOU WANT! NEVER! THE BLOOD HERE FLOWS TOO THICK TO LEAVE NOW! SHE'LL FIND YOU, AND WHEN THEY DO YOU'LL BE SORRY YOU EVER MURDERED HIM!" It screamed again, and then erupted into laughter. "YOU'LL NEVER GET ME, YOU BASTARD! YOU'LL NEVER GET ME YOU STUPID BRAT! BED-TIME NOW AND NO RUNNING! IT'S TIME FOR-"

Serenity slammed the entry shut and pressed her back against the heavy oak, trying her very best not to cry. What was that bird? What was it??? What was it saying, and why? There had never been a cuckoo there before! Ever! And what was wrong with it, that it would act like that?

It was then she noticed the cold. She lifted her frozen eyelashes up, and gazed solemnly at her room. There was nothing in the room, except for a pallet laid out on the floor in the northern corner. Well, that was a lie. There was a large, ornate dresser in the center of the eastern wall. The mirror now had two ripples in it, right when HER hands had come through. She gazed at her mirror for a while longer, and the turned the mirror away. After the confrontation with the bird, the last thing she needed was a first liquid, and then a scarred and screaming face pushing its way through her mirror.

She crossed to the tall pedestal in the center of the room and paused about three feet away from it. Her teeth sunk down on her lower lip, drawing what used to be her blood. It didn't belong to her anymore, she thought sadly. Then she frowned. She had no business thinking like she was. It was purely for survival. Serenity became aware of the wet cloth pressing against her chest, and looked down to see that the scarlet stain had spread. Was it really just for survival anymore? Yes. It was. She would die without doing what she had to do. Or end up like the other you, the back of her mind commented.

She closed her eyes and walked across the ground, ignoring the frost that had crept along the floorboards until it now had the look of an intricate masterpiece. Her eyes fell upon the blood red dagger laying on the ice pedestal and shuddered. Reaching out, she almost stopped, but then forced herself to pick it up. It was now, or her friends would do it for her.

Eyes closed, she positioned the dagger above her heart. Sweat beaded on her forehead, and then she slid it into her chest with a pained cry that reverberated throughout the room. Her mouth opened, and some blood leaked out of the corners. She felt the horrible sucking motion, and the dagger began to warm up and shimmer with power. Was it deep enough? No. She pulled it further into her heart, and then felt it slide smoothly into the groove that she had created many years before.

Black energy crackling with red veins erupted from the wound on her chest, and she screamed in the kind of pain that scratches ugly memories onto the gravestone of time. Suddenly it was over. The world became white for one moment, but she simply waited patiently. The part of her that was still screaming in agony began to dissipate. The silver haired woman watched in utter disinterest as the thing she disdainfully called "emotions" was carried away in a crimson ocean of pain and blood. Then all that was left was ice.

Serenity looked coolly at the knife and carefully extracted it from her chest. She crossed the room to a silver bar, on which hung a red towel. Taking the towel, she wiped the blood from the dagger and placed it back on the pedestal. It glowed briefly, and she smiled frostily.

She always got what she wanted.





Duo's head snapped up when he heard the shriek. Minako, who had been "entertaining him" with a monotonous account of how she had once beaten a Formula 1 racer at a racing game-never mind the fact that the racer had allowed her to win. The walls seemed to buckle around them, and the air swarmed with living things.

Those things, whether they were devils or angels, brushed past him, touching his hair, whispering soundless words of caution and horror into his ears. Minako's dead blue eyes were focused unflinchingly on the peeling white paint that hung in strips from the ceiling. Duo's mouth opened in horror as spider webs woven with the strength of time and evil appeared bit by bit in the corners of the walls. The rich maroon chair he was seated in became dusty and worn, the springs showing through in several places. Faces pushed themselves out of the wall, crying tears of rubies and crystals. He felt something warm drip on the top of his head, and he looked up to see a woman smiling down at him, rivers of blood streaming from her eyes, which were a dark, terrible blue.

Then suddenly she was gone, the spider webs had disappeared to whichever hell that they came from, the bodies were gone, the voices were gone, and Minako's blank eyes were focused on him. Her face was expressionless, but something about her posture implied curiosity.

"Are you uncomfortable?" she inquired without feeling.

Still trying to recover his breath, he shook his head and struggled to overcome the previous moment's horror. Once he was sure he wasn't going to die from terror, he made one resolve: to find out what the hell was going on, and then to stop it.

"Hello Minako," came a musical voice from the doorway.

Duo cringed. If there was any one person he was truly frightened of, it was Serenity. Her hard, cold hands. The prints of blood her fingers had left on his palm. The animated, cold blue marbles of her eyes. The long silver streamers of silky hair that marked her as a formidable opponent.

There was something in the way those eyes watched him that made him feel like she was just waiting. Just biding her time. Measuring how much life flowed through his veins. How much she could take.

He forced himself to smile and stand. Gently taking her hand and taking great pains not to press to hard, he bowed over her outstretched hand. "Serenity," he murmured.

Her laugh grated over his ears like spoiled bells. "Oh Duo, no need for such formality. Please, sit down. I regret for the scream earlier. There are some particular ailments in this household, and the only cure is, I'm afraid to say, rather painful. They are recovering this minute, even though the disorder is for life."

"Many things are for life," he agreed, pulling out a chair for the-rather small, he noticed-woman. Maybe her presence just daunted him, which would most likely be the reason for his heart shriveling in revulsion and fear when the woman's face came into sight. That such a small, cold face could elicit such a great fear from someone so used to the evils of the world.... It was unimaginable, Duo thought in semi-shock as he seated himself once more.

Serenity smiled a perfect, tiny smile at him. "Have you enjoyed your stay here much, Duo Maxwell?"

"As much as can be expected," he said with a false smile, which he was certain that the two women caught.

Serenity's own smile didn't falter. "I'm so glad....."





A loud gasp escaped Quatre, and his left hand gripped the cloth above his heart. The world spun unsteadily around him, and he stumbled and fell to the floor. He dragged himself upright and sat up against the walls, laboring for a steady heart.

He didn't understand! This house had seemed so inviting when they had first entered, and then Duo got that carefully blank look on his face that was usually reserved for a mission-and undercover mission. Duo's expression earlier in the week meant that behind the mask he was evaluating and re-evaluating everything and everyone that he came across. And then Duo had met Serenity, and not even he could keep the terrified look from his face as he made the hasty retreat.

Quatre had been confused at first, and now cursed himself for it. How had he missed it? The house radiated evil like no other he had ever encountered, and he had encountered such great evil in his lifetime. His heart gave another frantic beat, and then suddenly the attack was over. He crawled to his feet and had just made it to where he was unbending his knees to stand upright when another beat tore through his head like a bullet.

He cried out in pain and clutched the sides of his head, moaning in pain. The beat came again, and he crumpled onto his side. The pains came faster and faster, until his muscles were just locked into a fetal position. He cried out in the frail hope that someone would hear and rescue him.

Someone did hear.

A harsh toe kicked into his side. "Get a hold of yourself," a harsh female voice commanded.

Quatre rolled over and looked up into a beautiful, even though horribly scarred face. Brilliant blue eyes shone like beacons down at him. Pink lips were twisted into a furious scowl. Quatre tried to stand, but she stepped down on his chest. Not uttering even a sound, she cocked her head and smiled.

"Lesser of the two," she murmured, and then gave a bitter laugh. "She would say so." Transferring her gaze to the paralyzed blonde on the dusty carpet, her eyes hardened.

"What are you doing in this hallway?" she asked softly.

Quatre prepared and answer, and then felt it. He struggled towards a revelation like a blind man climbing slowly through a vacuum into a truth that just may be more horrifying than the path towards it. The silence draped over them like a rotten cloak, and he reached out a timid hand to touch her knee. The instant he touched her flesh, she jerked back, blue eyes wide and amazed.

"No one's touched me since-" she stopped, shook her head, and then smiled. "Who are you?"

His voice tried to rise from his throat, but his mind strangled it before it could. Don't, his mind was saying, this woman is not someone you want to know. But if not her, than who? Quatre asked himself. Serenity? I hardly think so, he decided, remembering the look of utter terror on Duo's face.

"It doesn't matter," she said finally, giving him a calculating look. "What does matter is this. You need to keep a closer eye on your friends. The one with the brown hair- not the smart one, and not the one that never speaks and still doesn't hear- the other one," she made a gesture with her hand, and Quatre knew who she meant.

"Hiiro," he gasped. "Something's happened to Hiiro? What? Tell me!" he shouted, making a grab for her ankles.

She kicked him, and stepped out of his reach. "Don't touch me," she said viciously. "For all I know, you're a trap in my way. I mustn't let myself get sidetracked," she whispered to herself, hand tightening around some object in her fist.

"Who are you?" he managed to croak.

The woman looked back at him surprised that he was still there. Then her expression cleared and for one instant he saw someone- a more innocent Serenity- but then the moment was gone, and a cruel, derisive smile was quirking her lips.

"Ask your braided friend, although you already know," she breathed.

Then she turned her back on him, and he saw her for what she truly was. He tried so hard to hold it in, but in the end the fear overwhelmed his common sense and he screamed in sheer terror. Quatre backpedaled into the elevator and slammed his hand down on the buttons-he didn't care which ones, as long as they took him away from the creature walking away from him.

The rusting iron gates screeched closed, and right as the metal coffin shuddered to a start, the woman turned around and smiled at him. Giving him a little wave, she turned back around and walked right into the mirror.

Silver waves from her passage spread towards the golden frame, and then pooled over it onto the floor. Reality howled in protest. The walls buckled, the air rippled, the carpet became a row of dead roses, men and women began to rise from the floor, shrieking and laughing, and then the mirror screamed with the woman's voice. The scream turned to laughter, and then Quatre's head was below the floor.

Duo, Wufei, and Trowa, who had heard the scream, found him huddled in one corner of the elevator, sobbing in terror. Duo ran right towards him, but somehow Serenity beat him towards the blonde. She knelt beside him and stroked his head.

"What happened?" she asked softly.

Quatre's cries increased, and the three pilots exchanged a worried look. It was one thing for Quatre to overreact, but it was entirely a different subject when a man who has seen death and war in spades frightened so badly that he was reduced to tears. The hallways echoed with the sound, reaching back to them with dead, rotting hands and laughing at them with what seemed to them a man's voice.

Serenity's head raised, and then she looked upwards, to the tall spire reaching up through the middle of the mansion. One of the serving men had said that there was a house at the top, where a wizard lived. Duo didn't believe the stories, but now......

The silver haired lady nodded her head once at Makoto, who inclined her head and exited the room without a sound. She followed Makoto's progress with her eyes until she could no longer be traced. Then she instantly returned her attention to Quatre. Her hand moved down from his head to the back of his neck.

"What happened?" she asked again.

This time Quatre raised a tear-stained face to look into Serenity's concerned one. "You know," he said hoarsely. "You made her that. You did that to her, and she did this to you. You'll never have each other, you'll never have life, you'll never have death, and you'll never have the wings you need to stand back up!" He began to laugh, a frightening contrast to the tears still racing down his cheeks. "You're crippled! The cost outweighs the benefit! You lose this time, madams," he hissed out before the tears came back, a hundredfold more powerful now.

Then he suddenly slumped to the floor. Wufei's katana was instantly at Serenity's white throat. Duo saw something there, and he tried to edge closer, but Serenity's eyes flicked towards him, freezing him in his tracks. Those pale eyes slowly slid back to Wufei's obsidian ones, and she smiled charmingly.

"He was in pain," she said placidly. "I was helping him. Minako, find Haruka and assist him to his room. Ami, Rei, come with me. We have some matters to discuss with Makoto. Dismissed," she said walking away down the hall. Ami and Rei glanced at each other, shared a satisfied look, and then followed their lady.

Wufei frowned. "Let's get Quatre to his room. There's no telling what these women will do to him," he said bluntly.

Duo turned to him in amazement. "You've finally realized too? That there's something seriously wrong here? That something big is going on?"

The Chinese man frowned. "I didn't realize until today," he confessed. "Not until Quatre screamed, and then confessed to Serenity that he saw something that she does not want seen. And then that echo. It was not Quatre's crying, it was some other man laughing, whom Serenity sent Makoto to quiet. Then there were those screams earlier, and then situation with Hiiro. Yeah, I'd say there's something up here. Come on, help me," he commanded.

The two men picked Quatre up and headed towards the stairs. As they neared the elevator, Quatre began to thrash wildly. Trowa moved in front of them and pointed the way to the next staircase. They climbed it, the aging house creaking beneath them. As they continued down the dimly lit halls, Duo heard Quatre murmur something. He leaned closer to catch the last bit of it.

"-lesser of the two evils of the house. O God, why hast thou forsaken me and mine?" The last part was a whimpered plea for an answer- any answer.

And it was an answer a grim faced Duo couldn't provide.

But he knew someone who could.





~*~

I watched them through the mirror. The one whose name was Nanashi, but whom they called Trowa, was walking in front of them like a beacon, lighting their way. As they passed my mirror, he turned his head and looked right at me, and almost reached out to touch the mirror. I readied my blade. Then a hurried exclamation from the braided one drew him away.

Studying the braided one with new interest, I watched as the three men deposited the blonde in his chambers on his bed. I felt mildly ashamed of sending him into that state, but how was I to know that he could see me for what I was?

I tried to twist my head around to see I if could see what he could- but as was expected, I could not. I would be forever blind to myself and other like me- if there were any. The rage exploded in me like a red-hot poker being thrust onto my soul, branding me forever.

Picking up the nearest vase, I hurtled it at the wall and watched with pleasure as it shattered upon impact and showered to the sleek hardwood floors in a rain of glass. Feeling somewhat satiated, I crossed what had been my daughter's room to her closet and removed the dress. Despite the age, the material glistened the same way that Serenity's did when she moved. It turned a light gray at my touch, however. The despair settled around me like a cloak, which shortly became a reality. I covered the cloak with something more fitting- the burning crimson of rage and the velvety blackness of death- and then slipped out of my rags and into her dress.

It was the slightest bit too small, so the hem didn't collapse in a heap about the floor around me. It just brushed the wood, which made me smile. Yet another difference. But did it matter? No. I cast off my three cloaks- just for the night- and stepped into a ballroom somewhere between dreams and reality.

Raising my hands to my mouth, I called out, and the dead rose from the floor to join me in my dance.

~*~