Author: shatteredmask
Warnings: AU, OOC?, violence, drugs
Pairings: very mild 12
Spoilers: none that I know of, since it's AU it really doesn't tie in that well
Rating: R, mainly for the violence
Disclaimer: sadly I do not own gundam wing or any of the characters... if I did I probably wouldn't be sitting around writing fanfics...
Notes: ok, so this is the first fanfic I've written, so if you do R&R please don't be too harsh! . Anyway, like I said before, I'm not really good with summaries, so read the prologue, it's not too long, I promise!

I hate how I have to rob people, can't really help it though. I know it's stupid that I steal only from the richer people, leaving the poor and unable to defend themselves alone. I've been cutting it a little close on the payments, but I can't help it, I used to be one of those poor guys. I wish I could be like everyone else in that aspect. Then I'd be able to make the payments at the due time, or even before, relief much sooner. I can't do that though. I wish I could just stop doing this job.

In a way I guess I could. I used to live on the streets and I'd rather go back to doing that then sleep in the nice little room that I sleep in now. It's not like I couldn't just leave and never come back, David doesn't care enough about me to even send someone back out to look for me and bring me back. I need the fix though, can't live without it. That's the one thing that keeps me comin' back, keeps me robbing people, and keeps me letting David use me. If it weren't for the fact that I wouldn't get my fix if I hurt him, he'd be in mass pain by now. I know how to fight. If I ran away and didn't get my fix I could deal with being deeply depressed and having suicidal thoughts, I had those a lot even before David found me.

But I'm afraid of the pain. This drug makes me feel great, on top of the world, never felt better, but its got one hell of a hangover. I know I'm addicted. I'm very well aware of that fact. Curse David for making me that way, I could just leave and go to a hospital and steal the damn drug, if David hadn't been smart enough to make his own. He's the only person in the world who knows how to make the drug and I'm too scared of the pain to just run away and deal with it. He forced me to get hooked and I can't get out. He knows that and I can't do anything to piss him off or he'll stop me from having my fix. I need my fix. So that's why I steal from people and stain my conscience by doing anything and everything he makes me do.

I can't live without my fix. I know that I could just kill myself and escape that way but, dammit I'm too young to die. I know that that's a really overused cleshe' but its true. I'm only fifteen. Man I wish that I'd never gotten into this mess but in a way I guess it's my fault. My choice to accept the first fix.

After I lived in the orphanage for so long and no one ever adopted me, I was pretty down. The nun who took care of me was the only person who actually acted like she cared. She was the only one who actually... No, shut up Duo, no on could ever love you; obviously they wouldn't keep leaving you if they did. I even gave her a gift, a metal cross that I had spent months smoothing out the edges and cutting my fingers up on. She had said she loved the cross which made me feel good but when the gangs had burned the church down, she had died along with any hope of having her adopt me.

I know that sounds stupid, but I honestly thought they would adopt me, that they cared enough to do that, after all, she was the only one who stood up for me when the other kids used to make fun of me and I cried in the closet. She comforted me, held me as I cried. I picked the cross off of her corpse when I got back to the church. Every one of the people in that church died. The nuns, Father Maxwell, Sister Helena, and all the other children. But not me. I was the only one who survived.

I had been out using the spending money they had given me to buy them Christmas presents, a nice pair of earrings for Sister Helena, and a metal crucifix for Father Maxwell. I buried them under the place where the church used to stand. On the first payment I had to make for my fix I was running short on money and I spent two days in agony before I dug the presents back up and pawned them to meet the payment by the end of the day. David made me lose them by making me meet the payment. He made me lose myself by taking away my cross.

It's not like this was the first time that someone important in my life died. When I had lived on the streets before the church found me, a boy named Solo had found me, those had been the good days, he was always running around with me as we stole food for the younger people in his little group, I would say gang, but Solo truly did not run a gang, he would never have helped burn that church down. A plague hit our area, I knew Solo had caught it and I had went into a hospital to steal the antidote. When I made it back he didn't look so good, he would not take the antidote. He told me to give it to the other kids in the group, that I was in charge now. I begged him to take it and cried when he shook his head no. Boys don't cry he had said. I had noticed that he seem to be getting sick and I hadn't acted quick enough. I had known and I had been too late to save him. He died in my arms and it was all my damn fault. All mine. I had given the other kids the antidote never taking any for myself. Pity, the rest of the children died. But not me. I survived.

The church found me before I managed to let myself starve to death. They had asked what my name was. Before Solo died he had said that he would be with me even after he died, I know it was kind of childish but I thought I would become two people so I said my name was Duo, I was only five, what would you expect? I have no recollection of what my original name was nor do I care. I also have no recollection of my parents who were also killed in a fire, my dad was a secret agent of a sort, the story goes that he told my mom and the government killed them, how I escaped being only three I don't know.

I do remember staring into the fire after I was outside, hearing the screaming. The continual screaming that echoed in my head. I saw my mother crawl out of the house, I ran to her, I have no clue what she said to me, she died in my arms as well and I ran away before anyone came by to find anything. They both died. I didn't. You can't kill Shinigami, unfortunately. She, Sister Helena, and Solo die over and over again when I sleep. It's always nightmares here. I never sleep without a dream.

I never have returned to that part of town. I also don't know if that is the true story or not, I hid in a tree at their funeral and heard two people who lived near us talking. They said that that was the rumor. It makes me feel even worse that I don't even know for sure why they died. After that I was on the street again when the church burned down. The man who basically owns me now was walking down the street, he must have heard me crying or something; he came down the alley and comforted me and convinced me to come with him. I decided to go with the nice old man to his house and stay the night, then leave.

When I got to his house his grip suddenly became too hard to be that of a gentle leading one. He pulled me inside the house and threw me into a small empty room. He frequently sent people into the room to beat me and ask me if I was ready to take the shot and have relief from the pain. It was so cold and my whole body ached. I lasted three days. Three days of agony without any bruises. He was great at hurting without leaving any bruises. I had broken bones I know, but after I had accepted my first fix he had had a medic do a rough job of setting them. I never cried though. Solo also taught me that lesson. Boys don't cry. I tried not to cry after he and Sister Helena died, I really did, but I couldn't help it. At least I managed to not cry when I first got to David's.

Those times also come back to haunt me in my sleep, I wish I could forget, but I can't. And so I had been stealing from people for the past two years to make the payments. I hate lying. Of all the things I can do; I can't lie. I may be very misleading sometimes but I just can't lie. My boss uses that to an advantage, he can ask me anything he wants and I have to answer or I won't get my fix and I can't lie.

I need my fix. I'm all alone in this stupid craphole and I can't do anything about it. I hate feeling helpless; I hate having to be so dependant on anyone but myself. When I lived on the streets I didn't need to depend on anyone but me. Now I'm completely dependant on my boss and there's nothing I can do about it. He knows that, he uses me; I hate being used almost as much as lying. But still there's nothing I can do about it. I need my fix. Can't live without it.

so... that's the prologue! please R&R!! PLLEAAAAAASSSE!!