A/N: Well.. Fei's pretty much off camera this round. Sorry for the short chapter, but the idea hit, and I wanted to "Vomit it onto paper" as my English teacher would say. I figure I might be able to get away with it as long as I update pretty frequently? -smiles prettily-

Disclaimer: Don't own Gundam.


Warm air, laced with the light scent of lavender, wafted around Wufei as he stood, contemplating, in a lively meadow. Gold-green stalks of grass swayed with the breeze, as if they were dancing; here and there, patches of purple stood out, lavender gypsies dancing in the sun. The particular spot where Wufei stood had clover and a type of daisy-forget-me-not hybrid growing on it, forming a type of defined area, almost circular in shape, about twenty metres in diameter.

Birds chirped, swooping here and there, catching bugs. Wufei reached out to touch one, beckoning it closer with one hand. As he reached to it, his palm upturned, the sunlight that filled the happy meadow touched upon his upraised wrist, lighting, contrasting, defining the angry edges of torn, defiled skin and muscle. The wound was fetid, oozing pus in a bloody goop that ran down Wufei's arms, dripping onto the ground at his feet. The bird to which he called circled over his head, screeching, and dove at his arm. Seizing a piece of flesh and tearing it from Wufei's arm, the bird landed and hopped away, to devour its prize. The stoic teenager watched it calmly, dropping his injured, dead limb to rest at his side. The bird, originally yellow, began to darken as it finished off its meal. It grew, as well, easily doubling its small size. Nearly black, it cocked its head and let fly a guttural cry, now a raven, and a death bringer.

XXXXXX

All of a sudden aware of his surroundings, Duo lets his memories catch up to the rest of his senses. He's in his bed. In his apartment. Trowa and Heero are in the room next to his. He waits for the sound of Wufei's even, slow breathing in the bed next to his own. Fei must have an amazing lung capacity; he can hold his breath for so long. When he sleeps, his inhalations are so slow and far between that sometimes Duo has to wait for upwards of two minutes before he hears one.

Duo's sensitive ears pick up a slight murmuring that comes from the living room, Trowa and Heero's appointed sleeping area. Why are Trowa and Heero here? Duo's mind jumps to the lack of sound in his own room: why isn't Wufei here? He slips a hand out from beneath his quilt, a gift from Fei, who always complained that Duo always had the thermostat cranked at night, and taps the bedside lamp. As light filters through the lamp cover, it illuminates Wufei's neatly made bed with a soft glow. It illuminates the high, white ceiling, and the white walls. It illuminates the clean, pine floor, and exposes the dark, wrong, and ugly smear on it at the foot of Wufei's bed. The room still smells of bleach, from the futile attempts made at removing the blood from the wood. His eyes sting and Duo blinks them, feeling a trickle of tears escape from each. Quatre hadn't wanted him to sleep in here, he remembers. They couldn't stop him in the end, he had told them he was sleeping in his own room, or he wasn't sleeping at all. He didn't want to sleep in the living room, or in one of Quatre's many guest rooms. He had wanted privacy.

Duo couldn't remember the last time he had cried. Maybe when Sister Helen and Father Maxwell had died. It was a long time ago, but the tearless time since had been all but made up for in the last five days. Duo keeps expecting to run out of tears one of these nights, but they just keep on coming. They ran down his cheeks, off his chin, small torrents of despair. The pain had almost numbed, but when he had learned that Wufei hadn't attempted suicide, it was replaced. A new kind of guilt had blossomed: he should have heard whoever had come into his home and assaulted his friend.

Something much, much more dangerous had also formed in him.

His tears now are ones of rage. Primal rage, dangerously out of control psychotic fury.

He wants to kill the fucker who has invaded his almost normal life, and damn to hell anyone who gets in his way. Fuck the Law, screw human rights. He will stab the filthy git himself. Part of Duo is very, very scared of this rage, but the rest of him embraces it, and will sit back and let it take over.

Shinigami grins from the depths of Duo's eyes and wraps his fist around Duo's heart and sharpens his scythe, hiding in the shadows, waiting to crawl out of the dark.


You know who makes my day? Reveiwers. I love you guys, and thank you for taking the time to inflate my ego.

S. Maldiva, SkittleGoddess, Kyokorain, Vitanie Tora, KokushibyouOni, SanzoGirl, one-hep-cat, Moonlit Eyes, and Smoogee.

You guys rock my hippy socks.