Disclaimer: The boys (or girls) aren't mine. Plot is, though! Yay!
A/N: Warnings: Yaoi, dark stuff, as in suicide, drugs, child abuse and the like, and AU as stated previously. This is NOT meant to be angst, either. Invoke compassion, yes, invoke pity, no. Got it? Great!
SUPER DUPER thanks to my betas, Mistress Koishii and Mlaine! They're spectacular!
Black Reflection
Chapter 1
Breaking the Glass
Heero was thirteen and about to slit his wrist again when the boy crashed through his skylight.
Well, maybe that's not the place to start. The beginning was probably when J killed Heero's parents, seven years before. That's most likely the best place to start. It will clarify things better.
He was six when his Uncle J took a revolver and blew out his mother and father's brains. At the time, Heero had been in school, silently enjoying the first grade and his bright green finger-painting project. When he came home, he was swarmed by the clicking cameras of the press since he was the only offspring of the double homicide victims; J had played the protective uncle. During the trial, J had been found innocent, and was quietly given custody of his dear nephew, Heero Yuy.
That was when the murderer had started "training" him. Centralized around sensory depravation, Heero was given rice and soup every day, and lived in a cream colored, windowless room with a constant temperature. It did have a skylight, which showed the flickering night sky to him as he lay on his plain white bed, but there was no chance to meet other children. He was alone. J would come in through the locked door and teach him or beat him on random days. Every day, Heero was taught how to kill.
Time went on. Heero Yuy, on paperwork, was home schooled by his Uncle J, as his guardian said he didn't trust the public and private systems that had failed his nephew's parents. In reality, J wasn't even his real uncle, and the man was using his ward as a long-term science experiment.
Eventually, he forgot how to paint. He forgot colors, and music, and laughter. But the shadow of them remained in his soul. J came to trust the boy's expressionless, stony face and left the weapons in Heero's cream and white room for extra practice. And he practiced extra.
Then, Heero had a dream, and realized he didn't know how old he was. He'd asked his uncle, whose emotionless eyes looked him over like the experiment he was.
"I thought we'd gone over this before," J had said. When Heero shook his head, the man nodded. "Very well. You're thirteen. The lesson's over." With that, J walked out the door, locking it behind him.
Heero had stared at the dazzling sun coming through the skylight for a long time after that. Thirteen. His brain translated it into every language he knew so far; Arabic, Italian, Japanese, English, Chinese, German… the list went on. How many thirteen-year-olds were fluent in several languages? What were other children his age like? Was he a child?
Heero had never seen a thirteen year old before.
It came to him that, in all his years, never had he achieved anything. He was barricaded inside his cell, the whispers of blue and red and green touching his soul. Every day, his shirt was white and his pants were khaki. He'd had dreams of something called pizza. And through it all, he'd just survived, not knowing there was another way out than through the eternally locked door.
What was it like to die?
Without a second thought, Heero grabbed one of the daggers and sliced his wrist expertly, to be astonished at the shade of the liquid coming out. Excited, he'd bandaged his wrist and hid it from J.
He'd been doing this for two months now, opening and closing the wound to see the crimson liquid, which his brain called red blood, spill out of his skin. It wasn't beige. It wasn't white. It was…beautiful.
So, every fifth night, Heero rolled up his shirt sleeve, a knife in his right hand. He was too excited to notice the loud thunk on the roof.
But when the skylight crashed down, a screaming boy falling with the shattered glass, Heero noticed. The knife went flying into the wall next to his bed, barely missing the flying figure that landed, moaning and bloody, on his white mattress. Heero cursed in his brain. Miscalculated for speed again. He needed more practice.
"Unnngh…" the boy moaned, and Heero, fascinated by the red now on his sheets, approached. Curious, he noticed the boy's clothes were… black, his brain called it. It was the darkest thing he'd ever seen. His pursed lips were a pale pink, and his hair was a long, chestnut rope, shards of glass embedded within. Heero pulled out a piece, and noticed the gold and red glints in the braid.
Heero was confused. How had someone just dropped onto his roof and crashed through his window? And where was he anyway? Heero had no idea where his room was located. Was this one of J's tests? Was he supposed to kill the black-clad boy? His brain reasoned the best way to find out would be to ask.
"Hey," Heero said, and the boy's body shivered. He pulled out some more glass from the boy's clothing and hair. When he realized there was some glass in the boy's skin, Heero pulled him off the mattress and onto the floor, pulling out the slivers. "Hey. What are you doing here?" The boy only whimpered more, eyes shut tightly.
Heero pulled the boy's shirt off and pulled the glass out from his back, noticing absentmindedly a silver cross hanging around his neck. When the boy began to bleed more and the glass was out, Heero pulled off his own shirt, ripped it, and bandaged the slender kid. After that, he took care of the boy's legs, which had considerably messed-up scars on the ankles. Luckily, the boy's black sneakers had stopped the glass from getting into his feet.
When that was done, he stared at the intruder, who was shivering. Heero frowned. His room was at a constant 68 degrees Fahrenheit, so it could be the temperature. He pulled the sheets off the bed, rolled them up, and placed them in the garbage can. After putting new sheets on the mattress, he dropped the boy on the bed unceremoniously and covered him with the blankets. Heero, in all honesty, had no idea what to do now, so he retrieved his dagger from the wall and put it back on the weapons shelf, staring at the shivering figure.
What was he supposed to do now? Heero frowned. J wouldn't be back tomorrow (it was one of the reasons he always chose this night to slit his wrist), so it looked like the boy would be staying the night, and possibly the next day. He was too confused to think straight. A boy had crashed through his skylight, and was now shivering in his bed.
Being practical, Heero grabbed a blanket and curled up on the floor, asleep within seconds.
He woke up to the sound of angry muttering.
"…window breaking under my feet…stupid shitty caulking nowadays. Couldn't hold a cat," the voice grumbled, and Heero sat up to see the boy shaking his fist at the gaping hole in his ceiling. It was still night, and Heero was obscured by the foot of the bed.
"Hey," Heero said, and the shadowed boy jumped out of the bed in surprise.
"Holy shit, man, don't scare me like that," the boy began, but trailed off, his voice growing softer and softer. Eventually, he managed to clear his throat. "Eh…hiya. I just…er…"
"You fell through my window," Heero stated clearly and coolly, and rose from the floor, folding the blanket at the same time. "Why are you here?" The boy looked around uncomfortably, and his gaze soon latched onto the weapons rack along the wall.
"Whoa…into weapons, eh," the boy chuckled, looking over at Heero as he approached the case. "Pretty impressive. I haven't seen a knife this sexy in years." Heero looked at the boy, confused. What did sexy mean? It was obviously some sort of adjective, and assumably a flattering one… "Zoning out? Alrighty then! I'm one of the best at that." The boy stared at the wall. Heero was hopelessly confused. What was 'Zoning out'?
"Who are you," Heero asked, and the boy instantly snapped out of his catatonic state to smile at him.
"Call me Duo! I run, I hide, but I never lie," the boy said, and made to bow, but winced. "Eheheh…I'm in pain, too."
"That seems like a stupid thing to me, to not lie," Heero said. "Stupid, and dangerous."
"Hey, man, if you've got some way to shove me out, go ahead," Duo snapped. "I don't need to sit here and listen to this shit."
"Yes you do. You can't get back up to the window injured, and the door doesn't open," Heero stated. The boy's shadowed eyes flicked over to the handleless entrance in the wall. "You're trapped in here, just like me." The boy slumped back onto the bed, apparently from the pain of his wounds.
"Thanks for bandaging me," Duo said, and his hand crept up to the silver cross around his neck. "Sorry I broke your window."
"It's better that way," Heero said, and walked towards the bathroom. He felt like taking a shower.
"Hey, wait! You're just gonna leave me in here," the boy asked, and Heero turned towards the confusing entity lounging on his bed.
"You want to take a shower with me?" Heero asked, perplexed by the boy. Why would anyone want to take a shower with him? The braided boy blushed.
"You're nasty," he grumbled. "No, I just don't want to get killed when your parents come in or something. I'm not exactly looking forward to death, ya know? Not yet, at least." Heero tilted his head to the side.
"Duo, you're weird," he said, and after grabbing some clothes walked into his bathroom and took his shower. When he returned, the boy was climbing back into his ripped black pants. "Want a new pair of pants?"
"Gaaah," Duo yelled in surprise, and fell onto the floor, barely catching himself. "What the hell is your problem? Scaring little kids like that…" the boy tilted his head to the side, giving Heero an appraising look. "How old are you, anyway? What's your name?"
"Heero. I'm 13," he replied, and Duo grinned.
"I'm 13 too! Cool," he yelled, obviously delighted, and Heero just stared at the other boy's upraised hand, just standing in the air for no reason he could think of. "Umm…not a high-five kind of guy?"
"High five? What's that," Heero asked, and Duo's mouth dropped open.
"You have been in this room waaay too long," he said, and put on his pants. "A high five's when you slap hands with someone. It's like a physical kind of hooray, I guess." Duo noticed his blank look on the word 'hooray'. "Happy moment?" Still nothing. "Alright, I was excited, right?" Heero nodded. "Well, excited is kind of like happy. Happy's when you're…pleased with something?" Duo scratched his head.
"I think I get it," Heero finally said. He watched the bandaged boy appraise his tattered black shirt. "I could give you a shirt." Duo shook his head.
"Nah. I'll be good," Duo shrugged. "So, what's up with the weapons?"
"What about them? I use them," Heero asked, confused. Was there something strange about having an assortment of firearms and knives, along with a few swords, in a bedroom? He voiced this opinion, and Duo shook his head again.
"You are one twisted kind of kinky," he said, drawing out the words that were foreign to Heero. "No, that's not normal. It's kind of illegal for you to have guns and shit at our age."
"I've had them for a while, though," Heero shrugged, and grabbed his favorite sword. Steel with a simple leather hilt, it had perfect balance, and he sharpened it weekly. "What knife did you want? The one you called… sexy, was it?" Duo was blushing again, and looked up at the fading stars to avoid discussion of his reaction.
"Ermm, yeah," Duo finally said, and moved towards the case. Immediately, he pulled out one of Heero's favorite knives. It was curved a bit, but the hilt continued opposite the arc, making a wave effect. Duo flicked it expertly in his hand. "It's really nice." Heero nodded.
"Take it when you leave, then," he shrugged. "I've got plenty. Actually, you should probably take the whole set." Heero reached in and pulled three identical knives from a drawer, along with four sheathes. Duo gaped at him.
"Wow! Remind me to break your window more often," he yelled, and shocked Heero by flinging his arms around the human experiment. "This is called a hug! It's what you do when you're really, really happy and want to thank someone when you don't have anything for them!" Duo was jumping around the room with him, laughing, and something snapped inside Heero. The braided boy didn't notice.
"I'm gonna take you to the ocean some time, and we'll go swimming, and then we can go use the knives," Duo was saying, jumping around laughing, until his silver cross whacked Heero in the nose. "Oh! Sorry." He started giggling, and pulled it off, grinning. "Here! I can give you my cross!" Heero eyed it doubtfully.
"What is it," he asked. "What's the ocean like? What are we going to use the knives on, anyway?" Duo shrugged, bouncing on Heero's bed. Apparently, he healed ridiculously fast.
"My cross? I got it from Sister Helen before she died. The ocean's really, really big. You really haven't left this room, have you? It's lots of water, and it comes in big waves onto a beach, which is lots of sand by the water. I don't know what we can use the knives on, but it'd be fun," Duo grinned. "Why don't you get out of here with me? If I can make it out bandaged and all that, you sure as hell can." Heero blinked at the excited boy.
"I…I don't know," he finally said. Heero suddenly frowned. "Why'd you fall through my skylight, anyway? What were you doing on the roof?"
"Running. So, wanna leave with me?" Duo asked, and for the first time, Heero noticed his eyes were a stunning violet- another color he'd never glimpsed before.
"The skylight's twenty feet up," Heero stated. "You can't get out." Duo smirked.
"Well, aren't you a pessimist. Wanna come, or no," he asked, and stopped bouncing by pulling into a tuck mid-air. Heero shook his head, brown hair curtaining his eyes.
"I can't. J would kill me. And you," he said, and sat back on the floor, Duo's cross clutched in his hand.
They were silent, staring through the glassless window to unreachable stars.
"I'll get you out," Duo finally said. "Seems pretty sucky to be stuck in a room all the time, with weapons for company." Heero didn't look over at the other boy, who yawned. "Go to sleep. You'll be out in a week, I guarantee it!" Silence ensued again.
"…Duo?" Heero's voice was almost quivering. It sounded like he was cold.
"Huh? Need something…Oh, shit, I'm still taking over your bed! Sorry," his voice came over, and the young figure in torn and frayed black clothing climbed off the bed, scratching his head. "It's your room, after all. Sorry, Heero." Heero sat motionless on the floor, blue eyes glazed as he stared through the hole in his ceiling.
"Are you an angel," he finally asked. It was one of the few things he remembered clearly from his life before the room. His mother had constantly spoken of beautiful creatures that fell from heaven to help those in need. Duo shook his head.
"Nah. Death, maybe, but not an angel," he said, and paused, eyes crinkled. "Are…are you?" Heero shook his head, and Duo shrugged, feeling foolish. "Well, get in the bed already, or I'm going to take over again." Heero frowned. That made no sense.
"It's big enough for two. You get one side, I get the other," Heero stated, and still fully-dressed climbed into one side of the bed.
"Why the hell are you so nice? You got plenty of reasons to just kill me," Duo asked, sliding into the other side. Heero's eyes were still intent on the night sky.
"I don't know what nice means. I'm polite, and logical," he stated, a verbal shrug-off. "If those two make 'nice', I guess I am." For the first time, Heero noticed how warm the bed was with someone else in it. Instinctively, he moved towards the source of the heat. His room was always less than tepid, including the bed.
"Well okay then," Duo murmured cheerily, and put his arms around the other boy. "You all right?"
"I'm warm," Heero stated, scooting closer to Duo.
"Warm's always good," Duo said, curling as close as possible with a yawn. "This is comfy. I've been sleeping on cots and concrete too long…" Heero didn't know what either of those were, and just remained silent, falling asleep with the stars in his eyes.
When he woke up, his arms were around a pillow, a rapidly cut smiley face beaming at him through the covers. Heero frowned, and looked around. Had it been a dream?
No, the skylight was broken, and, of all things, knife holes graced the wall closest to the opening. Clearly, the braided boy had used them to climb the vertical plane. There were occasional shards of glass glinting on the floor, and the weapons case looked ransacked, although only the four knives Heero had given freely were missing. Heero's sword was leaning against the wall, and the two ice picks Duo had used still hung on the ceiling.
And most importantly, Duo's silver cross hung around Heero's neck.
For most of the day, Heero lay in bed, staring up at the blue sky. For the first time in so long, he could hear birds up above, cooing. He could listen to the windy sky whistle past the rooftop. And, for the first time in seven years, he watched the light blue of morning fade to black without the glare of glass between them.
The arrival of the stars was interrupted when J entered the room, frowning.
"What happened," he asked, as close to yelling as Heero's Uncle ever got.
"A boy fell through my skylight," Heero stated, still in bed. J slapped him hard across the face, and as usual Heero took it without a sound. This seemed to make J even angrier, and he pulled the boy out of the bed, mechanical eyes shining malevolently.
That was possibly the worst beating he'd ever had, leaving him with broken ribs, bruises, and blood oozing down his body. But it could also have been the best, as the police took just that moment to barge in through the unlocked door after an anonymous tip.
As soon as J saw the guns aimed at him, he gave up. He went off without resisting arrest, just shooting one venomous glare at each and every officer. When J was officially "neutralized", the cops finally looked over at Heero. The first officer to say anything spoke one word.
"Shit."
"God, we gotta get him to a hospital, ASAP," another said, but paramedics soon flowed into the room, whirling over Heero's multiple injuries.
By now, of course, Heero was almost comatose, from both the injuries and being flung into a world of blue and red, black guns and gold badges. As the paramedics pulled him onto a stretcher, he didn't make a sound. It was only after he'd been taken out of the penthouse elevator, which traveled from Floor 32 and down to the ground floor, and wheeled out to the busy city streets swarmed with reporters behind yellow police tape that he made a noise.
"Duo," he muttered, catching the glint of chestnut and black out of the corner of his eye as hefell unconscious.
x...x
My first post ever! If I'm not formatting correctly or something, please tell me! And since I've already finished Ch. 2, I'll be putting it up as soon as I have the time. Thanks for reading!
Lu
