Chapter 1: Fallen Angel

Life is something people should cherish. You can only live it once then it's all over. Unless you believe in that life after death bullshit, which is something humans foolishly invented to quench their fear of death. Heaven and Hell. Heaven, a disillusioned place that is said to be the holy land for all people that have not sinned. A place where fabled creatures such as angels exist. I once believed in all of this hogwash they feed you in the bible. But once you've experienced the death of a loved one you start to second guess the teachings. You view life in a new light. You think that perhaps the creator of this book or the priests of the church haven't felt the agonizing pain that sears through your heart. Hell is the only ending for all creatures that walk upon this earth. It is the only place these lunatics didn't try and sugar coat for you. Hell, a place where you spend all eternity repenting your sins for there is no human alive that hasn't been graced with the knowledge of guilt. Hell is our sanctuary. My name is Duo Maxwell, ex-gundam pilot of Deathscythe Hell, and born on the L2 colony. These are my thoughts.

- Shinigami

Duo smiled faintly before closing his journal. Sometimes he wondered why he kept one, wasting his time on writing down silly thoughts. Though deep down he knew why he did it. It was the only thing keeping him sane now. Life had started to go downhill for him after the war. Not to say is his life was perfect then but at least he had friends to share his hardships with. Now loneliness is the only thing that greets his door. Once the war had ended he had lost contact with most of the other pilots.

Quatre and Trowa were the only ones he knew were doing well these days. Quatre is now the owner of his own billion dollar corporation. He had inherited the money from his late father, using it to fund a medical research facility. He said it was the final request from his dying sister, Iriya. Trowa is traveling with the circus troupe but uses all of his free time to visit Quatre. Those two were always an item during the war but now they didn't have to hide their growing relationship. The gundam pilots are known as heroes, no one is allowed to mess with them, not even the press.

Just a few days ago he hadn't received a video-mail from Quatre. This was odd considering he made sure to send one everyday, knowing that Duo enjoyed the communication. He had returned to the comfort of journal writing since Quatre didn't seem to have time for him anymore. It scared him how much he had come to realize that he needed the surroundings of his friends. He didn't need such company when he had lived on the streets as a child. He had grown too attached and he hated to admit it.

With a frown and a brief sigh, he stood up from his chair, making his way to the bathroom. Standing in front of the mirror in his porcelain carved bathroom, he studied his own reflection. His eyes were a dull purple, glaring back at him through the glass. Stringy, chestnut brown hair that once held a vibrant, glistening look to it now hung limply in a sloppy braid. His features were gaunt showing that he had lost quite a bit of weight and there were dark circles around his eyes, emphasizing his lack of sleep.

He hadn't slept for weeks, the same nightmare filling his mind every single time he closed his eyelids. It was the nightmare from his childhood. The one where he could see the death; quite vividly, of his guardians, Sister Helen and Father Maxwell, being killed right in front of his eyes.

An angry look burned in his eyes as he reached for the sharp object sitting on the counter next to the sink. Now he would begin his daily ritual. Laying the cold, glinting item on the pale skin of his wrist; just below the blue vein that was visible, he slid the knife down hard. It pierced through his skin, blood flowing freely as he sliced his skin from the far left to far right. Gripping the butcher knife tightly in his hand, he leaned against the wall, slowly sliding down to sit on the floor. With the depth of his incision and the amount of blood oozing from the wound he could tell he had cut a little bit too deep this time.

His breathing was becoming labored as well as his vision blurred around the edges. He didn't know what had come over him. Sliding the knife that deep into his skin was something he hadn't intended on doing. Or perhaps unconsciously he was ready to die and leave this world without a second glance. There was nothing left for him here except the one person that could never love him. The death grip he had on the knife began to slacken as it slipped from his lax fingers, landing in the pool of blood that was quickly gathering around him. The buzzing that held his ears captive clouded his mind and made the things around him hard to understand.

Suddenly he felt someone shaking him. Hard jolts that he barely felt through his numb body caused him to wonder what or who could be bothering him. Focusing blank indigo irises upon the faint outline of someone's face, he tried to recognize who it was but his life was still flowing from his wrist, making it hard for him to process anything quickly. A stern yet wavering voice spoke to him through the haze.

"Duo……Duo! Speak to me!" "Duo! Don't you dare do this to me!"

That voice. Duo had heard it before but he couldn't get his mind to wrap around it. He was fading. Just before he slipped into the darkness; a picture of the last person he would ever see at his death bed came into focus, the one person he had fallen in love with.

"Heero……?"

His eyes soon closed as the black void claimed him. The sound of a deafening scream echoing in his ears before he heard no more.

"DUO!"