Sorry this took so long, schoolwork
needed to be done…
Absolute Zero
Continued
6. Waking Hour
Consciousness…fast, sudden, harsh; he's awake now. He can think now. 'I'm lying on my back. This isn't hard, it's soft. This isn't where I was before.' Memory…just as fast, worse than waking, worse than the feeling of being yanked back to life; he remembers what was done to him. He remembers the pain. He doesn't like pain. He hates pain. The old man causes pain. 'I can make him feel pain…' he realizes. 'I will make him feel pain.'
"Yes Heero, let's go kill the old man." Heero's voice reverberated wearily off the walls, a tired, patient sigh.
"Shut up, little boy. Just shut up. I'm not going to play with you now so just shut up." He rolled over and curled up slightly. The rubber soles of his shoes offered no resistance to the movement of his feet; they had been removed. Finally he had silence. Finally he could just rest.
"Hey, you're awake!" Unsure of what he felt at the sound of Duo's voice – annoyance, relief – he stared blankly at the wall, either not realizing or not acknowledging that he wouldn't be getting any rest after all. Duo smiled encouragingly into his face. He averted his eyes; he didn't know what was happening but he knew that something was happening when he looked into the eyes of others. As always, Duo tried to position his head so he was looking right into the other boy's eyes. Of course, Heero looked away again so he moved again. This continued until it reached its usual conclusion; Heero closed his eyes.
"Call me crazy but I think I'm startin' to get a kick outta that." Heero's brows furrowed.
"Why won't you leave me alone?!" His eyes snapped open just in time to see Duo's head explode.
His eyes snapped open. Duo was still sitting there.
"So, are ya hungry or somethin? Trowa went and got some pizza…" Though nothing showed on his face, Heero was thoroughly shocked. He could have sworn on his life that Duo had just died. He could have sworn… that he had just killed Duo. He was glad that he hadn't. 'Long-hair is my friend. The boy says I can't trust anyone. I trust him. I trust him.'
"Don't you ever smile?" A pang of guilt stung his chest. He had thought of smiling now, as Duo – Long-hair – often did. And he had made himself remember. Mary hadn't deserved to die. Why did he feel guilty? He didn't even know if he had done it.
"Oh, you don't need to doubt yourself!" Duo said reassuringly. "Of course you killed her! You did a nice job of it too." Heero blinked, confused. 'Why did he say that?' he wondered. 'Why did he say that to me?' Duo's gaze was inquisitive.
"What could he possibly be thinkin' about…?" The words bumped into the young teen's skull dully. It seemed as though everything was trapped in slow motion. 'Did I hear his thoughts?' his own thoughts swirled drowsily in his mind, leaving trails of unfinished feelings and musings around his head. 'No,' he told himself. 'Long-hair didn't say that to me. I didn't kill him. And he didn't say that. Why am I seeing things that aren't happening? Why am I hearing things that aren't real?'
"Uh…we had to bring ya home…" Duo murmured. He knew it was pointless to try to talk to Heero. Heero hadn't been much of a conversationalist before and now that he couldn't even speak…it was a complete waste of time. Still, he opened his mouth to try again. Not one word had passed his lips before Heero gasped suddenly, his breath caught in his throat. Immediately he stood and started towards the bed Heero was lying on. He reached out and as his hand neared the messy-headed boy, the short, fine hairs on his arm began to rise as though a magnet was hanging over them. Before he could further question the cause of that, something new caught his attention. Heero's mocha-colored hair was fluttering furiously in a wind that existed only around him. His clothes, too, flapped upward wildly, being blown by a force whose presence was known only because of this. Even as Duo backed away he struggled to pull something, anything, any words at all to his mouth. He watched as the two Prussian blue orbs he had tried earlier to look into widened, saltless tears forming at their corners. Heero found himself panting heavily. The power surging through his body was too great. He couldn't contain it. He couldn't control it. Helplessly he clutched the blankets under him as his body rose into the air. Light circled him, enveloping his body. The air came to life, crackling with electricity and power, the hum of raw energy heavy on his ears. He took no notice as Duo sputtered out his name. His head was numb with pain but as he rose higher, it faded and disappeared, as though a great pressure was being relieved through an outlet. Warmth spread through his entire being, countering the icy wind whipping over him. He allowed himself to uncurl from his protective ball, encouraging the heat to rush through him faster. It pounded through his veins, pushed forward by his ever-faster beating heart. Hanging there above the bed, his arms and legs extended to their fullest, his own power pulsating about him, a sensation that felt new but was one he had experienced before came over him. Duo was insignificant as he tripped over himself and fell into a corner. The worry he could sense from him meant nothing as the infant smile grew on his lips. But the fear, the fear that he felt from Duo when his mouth opened, when he began to laugh out loud, just for the sheer pleasure of it – Duo's fear meant something to him. His eyes opened. Through the snake-like strings of electricity and the clusters of light he could see the small American stuffed into a corner, staring at him, horror unobstructed, clear in his eyes. His smile faded. The braided boy twitched as though to run as a hand stretched toward him. A voice dripping with remorse whispered into his ear.
"Duo…" He jumped as a violent tremor shook its way down his spine. Heero's eyes closed. His aura of power disappeared. Silently, he fell onto the thick, down blankets. Bone-breaking quiet filled the room. Shaking, Duo waited. He waited. He held his breath. Finally, slow, steady breathing reached his ears. Heero was alive and so was he. His blue eyes stared wildly at the motionless figure on the bed. A muffled yelp escaped his mouth as he lunged for a nearby lamp, the sound of the door opening playing on all his nerves. He sighed at the blonde's raised eyebrow.
"Is Heero awake yet?" Quatre asked. Duo said nothing. He merely let his head fall into his hands, quiet, relieved laughter shaking his torso. Quatre looked from Duo to the bed then back to Duo.
"Did I miss something?"
***
Every time Duo tried to explain to the others what he had seen, his jaw locked and his brain froze. The whole experience was so overwhelming to him (who, after all, had ever seen anything like that?) that he could find no words to adequately describe it. All he could get out were the words "light" and "electricity" with "the floating" added occasionally.
"Let's have him explain that and what happened at J's lab." Wufei suggested. "Maybe he'll never speak again."
"I can't…you just…it was…you…you just had to be there! You just had to see it with your own eyes. I can't describe it…" He shook his head, defeated.
"Check…" Trowa's calm voice announced.
"What are you doing?" Wufei raised an eyebrow and stared at Trowa. "Why are you playing with…him?" Trowa made no effort to respond. Quatre looked over at the chess board on the coffee table then the two players. One moved its castle.
"Check…mate…" Trowa's eyes widened. He searched the board. Not only was his king trapped, there was not one other piece he could move. He had lost. His opponent looked off to the side. He scratched his arm.
"Wow, he really beat ya, didn't he?" Duo leaned over the board, examining it thoroughly.
"If you lost to him, that doesn't say much for your chess skills."
"No," Trowa agreed. "It doesn't say much for my skills…" Perplexed, he stared at Heero. When he'd set up a game and out of curiosity, had sat Heero down in the chair to play, he hadn't expected to lose. He hadn't even held back. He had thought he was winning. But he had lost. There was something very suspicious about it, however. Through the game, it had seemed Heero was always two steps ahead of him. He was sure it was only his imagination but as it turned out, it had been very real.
"That's amazing!" As usual, Quatre had an optimistic view about the whole thing. "Why don't you try again, Trowa?"
"I think I will…" The green-eyed boy moved the pieces back to their respective starting positions. His was the first move. His hand hovered over his pawn. Heero was staring at him. It felt as though a weight was sitting on his head. He looked completely focused. He looked calm. He looked like he knew what Trowa was doing. What he was thinking… Was that it? Was that what was bothering him? Was Heero…reading his mind? His fingers began to close on the pawn's head.
"Are you sure you want to move that piece, Trowa?"
"No, I'm not sure. What will you do if I move it?" Trowa questioned himself in his own mental conversation.
"Move it and see."
"You'll move those pawns there…then move your rook." He outlined other possible strategies then settled on moving a different pawn. Heero moved a seemingly random pawn. Trowa's projection of Heero moved it with meaning and purpose.
"It's your move." the image informed him. Trowa nodded then pushed another piece forward. Heero moved a bishop. The mercenary didn't understand. He couldn't see what the plan was. Another turn passed. It cycled back to him. Hesitantly, he moved. Heero's bishop took a pawn.
"Checkmate." The near-autistic boy had won a second time and this time, in only four moves. Duo let out a long, low whistle.
"He killed ya, man! You didn't even get a chance." The plan was perfect; there was no warning because before the checkmate, his king was not in danger. And after the checkmate, there was nothing he could do to save his king. When he looked up, Heero was still staring at him.
"Are you reading my thoughts, Heero?"
"Do you think I am, Trowa?"
"You are. You have to be."
"Are you giving me too much credit?"
"You have telekinesis; I wouldn't be surprised if you had telepathy."
"Do I really have telekinesis?" The chess pieces began to slide over the glossy board. Trowa watched.
"Did I really win?" Trowa's emerald eyes blinked. The pieces whirled insanely, forming a small cyclone.
"Are you really sitting there, Trowa?"
"What?" Nervousness rose in the third pilot's chest as the playing board lifted into the air. Wind whipped around him, exposing the eye that had previously been covered. His heart beginning to speed up, he searched for the other three pilots as he felt himself begin to rise; they were not there. The chair came with him but drifted off into another direction, leaving him stranded above the floor. Heero's eyes narrowed. His voice echoed darkly in Trowa's head.
"Are you really there, Trowa?" Trowa swerved to avoid objects circling around the room. Why did he remain where he was while everything else spun around the room?
"Why are you dodging things, Trowa?"
"I don't want them to hit me." Heero smiled. Somehow, it seemed friendly, like one of Quatre's smiles. In a somewhat patronizing tone he spoke.
"They won't hit you, Trowa!" he said. "They'll pass through you. You're not real!" Stunned, the Heavyarms pilot let himself drift. He failed to perceive the chair headed in his direction. Only enough time was free for him to gasp and make a feeble attempt at moving, an attempt which resulted in no fruit for all its labor. An incredibly strong gust of wind passed over him as he lifted his arms, bracing for impact. When he looked around, he could see that the chair has passed by him and was continuing its cycle around the huge room. No, the chair had passed through him.
"Are you real, Trowa?" The lights sparked and went out. Now illuminated only by the moon outside, the room became a much more dangerous place; he could no longer see anything that might be flying at him. He could see, however, the steady, dark blue eyes reflecting what tiny amount of light there was.
"Yes." The answer was more of an act of defiance than a response.
"You have no memory of your past."
"It was an accident."
"Are you real? Were you ever born?"
"Yes -."
"Are you sure you're real?" All other sound was drowned out as more and more things passed him. More and more things passed through him.
"You have no name."
"Stop it…" His arms flailed of their own accord, trying to stop things from sliding in and out of his body, trying to make himself solid again.
"You have no past."
"Shut up!" He kicked out at a picture, a lamp, a table – he kicked at them and tried to wave them away. His arms and legs connected with nothing. His internal organs groaned as the objects invaded them, sped right through them as though they weren't there. But he continued to fight; he would not have his identity taken from him.
"You have no future." He cried out as his heart caught on a book cover and was yanked from his chest cavity.
"You…" Another organ joined the myriad of spinning articles, having been ripped from inside him by the leg of a table.
"Are…" His eyes watered as the wind dried them out. He couldn't see. He was blind. There! There's something there! Move out of the way, push it away, get out of the way now; don't let it hit you!!! Panic filled him when he sensed an object coming toward him and nausea washed over him when it passed through him.
"Not…" His brain couldn't handle the stress; it knew that there should be contact. It was used to the idea of being hit. It demanded, if something unavoidable was moving at the body, that contact be made. And when there was no contact, it became confused. Trowa was disoriented.
"…Real." He clawed furiously at the air. He was drowning, drowning in a storm of wind and nausea. Passing objects ripping him to shreds, he howled, he gave a cry of pain and over-stimulation. Water forced his eyes closed. His missing heart still pounded like mad against his shattering rib cage. No air, there was no air, he couldn't breath, he was drowning, he was dying, he was disappearing bit by excruciating bit and his throat swelled from over use as he called out for someone, anyone, all his knowledge and training, his mind, his life torn from him by the pencils and cups and even chairs shooting right through his head until –
"Hey Trowa, if you're not gonna eat this then I am." Trowa blinked a few times. Duo was standing over him, staring at him a bit impatiently. In his hand he held a slice of steaming pizza. But more importantly, Duo was standing in front of him, in front of Heero. 'I see…' the young soldier thought calmly. 'I must have looked into Heero's eyes and when Duo stepped in front of me, it severed whatever connection there was. If he hadn't, I could have died of mental stress…' He was tempted to smile. 'Duo just saved my life and doesn't even know it.'
"Thanks, I'm not hungry." Saying nothing further, he stood – but there was no floor under him. His voice did nothing for him as he plummeted into everlasting darkness, lost for all eternity, gone forever, trapped, unable to move, unable to breathe, unable to see, unable to exist, into the darkness where no one he had come to know was real, where he had no past, where he truly had no future, where he had no hope, where he had nothing, where there was nothing, the darkness in which he was nothing, in which nothing could survive, and in which he would surely die, lonely, forgotten, faceless, nameless, the darkness that would consume him, that would envelope him, that would kill him quietly, painlessly, and erase him from the minds of all the world.
"Hey Trowa, if you're not gonna eat this then I am." His body shook violently at the sound of Duo's voice. Just as before, the loud-mouthed boy was standing between the two of them, between Trowa and Heero, holding that same slice of pizza. He couldn't believe it. That feeling of death had been so real. He had been sure that everything had ended, that he had died. Hesitantly he pushed against the floor with his foot. The floor was solid. A glance around Duo at Heero confirmed that Heero had not been talking to him nor was he looking at him. His knees weak, he stood; for all the torture his mind had been trained to take, his body still could not handle shutting down then coming back so quickly. Without a word he walked away. He alone knew that he had been wrong. Before, he believed that sensation of nothingness had been only an illusion. But he corrected himself now. He knew that for a moment, though only an instant, shorter than the time it would have taken him to draw breath – for that moment, he had really been dead.
***
Later, after Trowa had gone to bed, Wufei had left on some personal business, and Duo had decided to make a few reparations to his gundam, Heero was left alone once again. Quatre was keeping mild watch over him but to the semi-autistic boy, he was by himself, stranded, isolated – alone. He sat on the floor, examining the chess board. Only moments ago he had understood it all. He had known that it was a game of strategy. Everything had been so clear. Every movement had meaning, every piece was a possible future in itself. But now that there was no opponent, now that there was no one whose thoughts and actions needed to be deciphered and sorted, all his understanding of what the game was had faded. It was merely little clear pieces sitting on a clear board; the pieces weren't even made of crystal anymore. He didn't bother to look up as Quatre approached him; the other boy walking toward him was unimportant. What was important however was the fact that the young blonde sat across from him and looked directly where his eyes would be if his head were not down. The graceful, well learned blonde Arab, known to many as Master Quatre, sat there with silent aggressiveness, challenging Heero not to a game of chess but to a game of the mind. It was dangerous, he knew, to dare Heero to look him in the eye, to be so audacious as to delve deep into the hole of Heero's imagination where he would undoubtedly end up. As well as he knew that, he knew it was something he had to do. He had to know exactly and for himself what it was about Heero he had come to fear so. Slowly the Prussian blue eyes rose to meet his. Quatre's body jumped slightly but he refused to retreat; there was no backing out now. Heero looked to him as he would have at any other time before the Incident. He seemed to be waiting for Quatre to speak. Timidly he opened his mouth.
"I already know why you're here." Heero's words sent another shiver down Quatre's back.. He spoke.
"What really happened to you that day, Heero? Why did you change so much?" The intense blue eyes closed.
"What happened to you that day, Quatre? That day you killed all those colonists?" His eyes reopened. Quatre was sick to his stomach.
"You didn't answer my question."
"You didn't answer mine." They were in a stalemate.
"You're not really Heero, are you?"
"When have I ever really been Heero Yuy?"
"You know what mean. You're not pilot 01 are you?"
"Do you enjoy games, Quatre?" Quatre blinked. That question was unexpected.
"Yes, sometimes games can be relaxing."
"Would you like to play a game with me?" The fourth pilot recognized those words immediately. He knew he was in danger but how could he save himself? This was Heero's domain; he had no power here.
"I'm already playing a game with you. And when I beat you, you're going to give back the real Heero."
"Quatre…" Quatre was surprised at the softer tone Heero's voice had taken. "I am the real Heero." A somewhat mournful look came over his face.
"You can't fool me anymore. I know you're not him."
"You don't understand. This is me, the Heero under all the training. This is the person you get when you take away the guilt of all the people I killed. I am the real Heero." There was silence.
"Heero…?" Quatre reached forward. With a deafening roar, everything around him shattered into a thousand glass shards and dropped into darkness.
"Game over…" a little boy giggled. "You lose."
Quatre slid on his side across the carpet and slammed into the wall. As he coughed in pain, crimson red liquid splattered his face and clothes. He managed to take one last blurred look at Heero through his tear-filled eyes before his mind emptied and shut down and he slipped into unconsciousness, letting the darkness consume him.
Heero was still awake. He stared at Quatre, now a limp and lifeless bleeding doll propped lightly against the streaked wall. The realization of what had happened was slowly beginning to sink in. Somehow, a way that he was not completely sure of, he had done that to Quatre. He hadn't meant to. No, he hadn't meant to hurt the yellow haired boy. He was sorry. He hadn't meant to…he hadn't meant to… But lamenting the action did not erase it. It could not be erased now. It wasn't what he would call "bad" yet; he could tell that Quatre was still alive. Yet how he had done this was a question that needed to be answered. He looked calmly at his hand. It was clean, slightly calloused and rough from handling gundam controls and guns and swinging and dodging – toughened and strengthened by things of which his mind held no knowledge. As he looked at this unfamiliar appendage however, he could feel the strength inside it. It was more than physical strength. There was great power there and it was swelling up; maybe his hand would explode. Without warning there was pain. It caught his body in its entirety. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't blink. He could not move. Someone had driven railroad spikes into his every joint and socket; his body was paralyzed with the numbing sensation. He trembled for a moment, cold having overrun him, until the sensation was no longer a burning pain but a soothing warmth. His body loosened. He sighed. This was the same feeling he'd had before. This was just how he'd felt before…before what? He couldn't remember. But it wasn't important now. His breath came in short, quiet gasps as he stood.
"What…?" he wondered aloud. His hand raised slightly, his arm outstretched completely. His fingers were pointed at Quatre. All he had to do was will it…all he had to do was think it…it would happen… it would happen automatically and he wouldn't even have to move… He winced.
"What am I…?" Faint, broken memories floated freely around his head. 'I'm not supposed to be able to do this…I'm not supposed to have these…these…powers…' His fingers splayed. The power grew. Would he really do it? Could he bring himself to do that?
"Do it, Heero. He is nothing. His life is meaningless. Do it, Heero, kill him." A tiny, malicious smile was trying to form on his lips. Hungrily he watched Quatre curl and twitch, the pain bringing him back to consciousness. The smirk won as he felt Quatre's body giving under the pressure. Blood squirted randomly from the open wounds on the frail body. His eyes widened, trying to draw in everything, trying to see everything that was happening to Quatre, to his victim, his prey… Louder and louder, harder and harder, faster and faster, his heart hammered inside his chest, the smirk grew to a maniacal grin, his lungs jumped to keep air flowing through him, to keep oxygen pushing past the thickening level of adrenaline, to keep him from suffocating in his own excitement, from being smothered by his want, his need for blood, his need to see Quatre die, his need to kill Quatre – He laughed, softly at first then louder, then filled with more and more pleasure as the tiny creature writhed, screaming, begging for its life. He blinked. He was still awake. Quatre was twitching on the floor. Blood was everywhere now. It was so thick he could smell it. The person from whom the blood had oozed tried desperately to escape as he moved closer. He knelt by Quatre. The carpet was wet and warm. It was easy to lift Quatre but once he had him and was standing again, he had no idea what to do. 'What to do?' he wondered. 'What to do with the boy I almost killed?' Warm liquid rolled down his arm. Quatre was crying again. He knew why. He could feel the pain that he had caused. There was something inside him that enjoyed knowing he had the ability to do that to someone. Something inside him, something that had been buried deep before but was now rising to the surface, enjoyed knowing how easily he could take life. But he would not take the life of…a friend. Feeling as though he should say something he tried to speak but found himself unable to form the words. He closed his eyes and cleared his mind, knowing the feeling he wanted to convey but ignorant of the correct way to do so.
"Tell him you're sorry." The voice pricked his nerves, making him tense and pivot immediately, a reflex his mind had buried but his body still knew all too well. His balance wavered; his body was used to shooting then rolling for cover. He couldn't do that now.
"You want him to know you didn't mean it, right?" There he was again. There he was – that person, that person whose name was always so close to his thoughts yet never close enough to put into his mouth. There he was – that person who pulled him back into the light when darkness threatened to take him. There he was again. There he was. He was back to give him guidance. Heero needed guidance, too; his powers were moving rapidly beyond his control and he had just barely found out that he even had any powers.
"Just tell him you're sorry. You can't do much more than that." Heero retreated a step. "Don't panic, Heero." The apparition made no effort to reassure Heero that it wouldn't harm him; it knew already that Heero did not fear it. "You're awake now. And if you work hard enough, you can control anything while you're awake, just like you would in your dreams." He smiled. Heero hesitated.
"What about the boy?" Both the question and its answer were felt, not voiced. Heero watched the figure kneel and pick up a green ball that had bumped gently into its legs, rolling briefly over its bare feet.
"Sometimes children need to be played with, Heero." A smile was flashed his direction but the faced sobered quickly. "Sometimes children need to be disciplined."
"Who are you?" He received another smile.
"I'm whoever you want me to be, Heero. If you want my name, my name is whatever word comes to mind when you think of me. The only important thing is to remember that I'm always here to help you -."
"…Heero?" Duo was standing in the doorway holding a grease-stained towel which he'd been wiping his hands on. His eyes were slightly widened. Heero didn't realize the implications of him standing there holding Quatre, who was still bleeding profusely. Without a word he walked to Duo and handed Quatre to him. He looked away; the mere thought of what he had done, what he had nearly done, made him sick to his stomach. 'What am I…? I'm not supposed to do these things…" The answer came to him as he listened to Duo's footsteps heading quickly in another direction. 'I am…awake.'
Later, everyone was in their own beds, asleep. None of them watched visions of death play across their vision over and over like ancient, time-worn movies stuck on a loop. No one else relived all the pain they'd ever felt in their lives. There were no other people who were tortured and tormented by a sick and sadistic child requesting a playmate for his horrid, gruesome games. No one but Heero suffered in that house, in that calm, quiet forest, on the outskirts of that silent city, under the muted, drowsy stars. No one else's eyes leaked tears at random, vague and muffled cries of pain and despair hidden deep within them. Pain seized no one else's body out of the blue. No one else was yanked suddenly from their sleep. Strange, undefined memories washed into no one else's mind, making their heads pound. Everyone else was asleep. Everyone else was lying peacefully in their own beds. Everyone else was dreaming of stray thoughts that had gotten off their leashes and had not been gathered and sorted by their owners. Everyone else was asleep. They would not notice the young, confused boy climbing uneasily from his bed. They would not notice that same boy backing away from the jeering child sitting on his pillow, an image that only he saw. They would not notice as he bumped into another bed and saw the person laying in it, crammed to one side, his leg dangling almost to the floor. They would not notice if he took refuge there, squeezing himself onto the opposite side, despite the generous amount of space the mattress offered. They would not notice all these things because they were asleep. But Heero was still awake.
*Hmm, does anyone notice any emphasis on any words?*