Genre: Fantasy/Romance/Drama

Pairings: 1x2 main, other

Disclaimer: Don't own nothin' but these words

Warnings: Yaoi, lemon, language, gross misuse of powers, reincarnation, evil Duo, cold Heero, Relena bashing (sort of), cruelty

The Demise of Death

One day, he opened his eyes and found himself . . . here. He had no idea where here was, why he was here, or how he'd gotten here. In fact he had no idea of anything at all, beyond that his name was Duo and that he was not quite normal.

With no way to mark the passage of time, he had no idea how long he'd been here since he woke. It felt like forever, each day an endless eternity that dragged on and on. He'd tried countless times to break free of his prison, tried to call for help. But he pounded and dug at the walls until his hands bled, screamed until he coughed blood and the stone did not give way, no one heard.

There were many, many dreams. He could never quite remember them when he woke. But they filled him with longing though they always left him vaguely unsettled. They were like the rest of his life. Try as he might he could not quite remember them. The memories always flitted just out of reach, dangling and taunting him, but vanishing ever he got close.

It was frustrating. There were times when he threw his head back and screamed, sobbing in anger, loneliness, and despair. He didn't know what he'd done to wind up here, but he wished someone, anyone would tell him his crime so he could tell them he was sorry and he wanted out.

How long . . . ? He was always hungry and thirsty, but he never died from starvation or dehydration. He always felt too cold but he never got hypothermia. Time passed, each day mindlessly blending with all the ones before. His only possession was the strange cross around his neck on its heavy chain that no matter how he tried he could not remove.

Closing his eyes and letting his head fall back against the stone, Duo heaved a sigh. He felt like crying. Not from depression or self pity. Strangely, he didn't exactly feel sorry for himself. He was angry and tired. But tears accomplished nothing, including making him feel better. So he swallowed them and stared out through the natural landscaping that had provided this cell with bars. Near as he could tell this was a mountain, and only during the last minutes of the day could he ever see the sun.

I want out. I want out. I want out, I want out I want out Iwantoutiwantout . . .

Around and around in his head until he thought he might go mad.

o0o 0o0

"Come on, Yuy!"

Startled out of his thoughts, Heero Yuy looked up just in time to see a great hulk of a youth flying at him. With lightning reflexes he'd never had to work at, he sprang aside and hurled the football to his nearest teammate. His aim was a little off - the ball landed on the soft turf with no one near enough to catch it.

His friends gathered around him, huffing and looking annoyed. "What the hell was that?"

Alex, one of his best wide receivers on their team. He glared at their appointed quarterback. Heero Yuy shrugged minutely, running a hand through his hair.

"For a second, I . . ." he began. Then he stopped. What could he say? For a second, he'd heard an endless litany, a plea for release and freedom.

Just like he'd been hearing almost every day for several months now. It was driving him crazy. A silent voice in his head, chanting at him. He couldn't hear it so much as feel it. His eyes drifted away from his friends, tracking over the university grounds.

Glewhyn University was one of the few academies on Earth that hosted both human and demon students. Most had either one or the other, though not because humans and demons did not get along. Mostly it was because they learned at different rates and found different things interesting. As such, it was the most prestigious university on the Western Hemisphere.

Heero belonged to a reclusive order known as Vale Priests. Renowned throughout the land for their strong purification abilities, they were called upon when demons suddenly turned on humans. Heero was barely a Vale Priest himself, taking the position when his adoptive father and mentor, Odin, died. Odin had been attacked by demons, mortally wounded. Heero had killed and purified the demons himself, though not in time to save the priest.

He closed his eyes momentarily. "I'm going," he said. He turned to leave the field.

"What? Hey!" Alex yelped. "You can't just go! What about our game? We're winning, Yuy!"

Heero said nothing more, no longer interested in the game. He could barely focus on anything. He was vaguely aware of one of his three best friends, Trowa, waving to the others as he jogged after Heero. He caught up easily and fell into step beside him.

"What?" he asked quietly.

He always spoke quietly. Heero pinched the bridge of his nose. "I can still hear it," he said by way of explanation.

By the look on his face, Trowa understood. "Have you talked to Quatre about it?" he asked.

"No. What good would that do?"

Trowa shrugged. "He's a seer. Maybe he could . . . tell you what it is. Why you're hearing it."

Sighing, Heero said nothing more as he returned to his dorm. Trowa followed, sitting himself down on the edge of the bed. Heero studied him for a moment. Then, "Go get him."

Nodding, Trowa rose and left. Heero grabbed his jacket off the chair and strapped on his thigh holster for his gun. It looked almost identical to a Glock .40, but it was far more powerful. A Glock could not kill a demon. This gun could. He almost felt bad about Trowa returning to find him gone, but not quite. He was tired of sitting still and doing nothing. He would find the source of that annoying voice.

And tell whoever it was to shut the fuck up.

o0o 0o0

Fingers clenched around the gold cross until Duo felt the cool metal break his skin. He hissed, releasing the cross to look at the small holes in his skin. Red. Crimson. It was nice. A nice change from the boring gray and brown of his surroundings. Even his clothes were a plain, boring dark brown. The bottoms of the pants were frayed and worn. The sleeveless shirt didn't fare much better.

Leaning back, he banged his head against the stone wall. Hard. So hard there was a sickening crack and his vision grayed out at the edges. He grimaced at the pain. Oooooookay, that was a bad idea. Raising a hand, he gingerly brushed the tender spot, relieved to find no blood. But it would probably be sore for a day or two . . .

Which was about as much as he had to look forward to. Fuck I hate it here. I don't know where this is, but I hate it. I want out. I want out I WANT OUT!

Leaning forward now, he dropped his hands to his lap and closed his eyes. His head fell to his chest, long hair forming a veil all around him. He used to keep it braided. Now it was tangled and dusty, and he didn't care anymore. He didn't care about anything. All he wanted was to step outside this cage. But the bars of stone were too close together, and though they were narrow they were deceptively solid. All he'd done was bruise, crack, rip, and break his knuckles trying to get free.

I want out. I just want out. What did I do that was so terrible I can't go out?

"Hey."

Duo's body gave a peculiar spasm, head jerking up at the sound of a voice. Something he'd not heard since waking here, and he no longer had any idea how long that had been. Years, for sure. It felt like a few hundred years. In fact it felt like a few hundred eternities.

But now, suddenly, inexplicably, there was someone standing on the other side of those nature-made bars, looking at him with an expression that hovered between surprised and pissed off. Eyes as cold and blue as cobalt glass. Golden-hued skin. Dark, unkempt hair that fit on him even though it was messy. He had a sutra around his neck and a gun on his thigh.

"Are you the one who's been calling me?" his unexpected visitor demanded.

Duo blinked. "Huh?"

"Shut up," the youth said.

Feeling completely frozen, Duo just stared up at him. He barely heard the words. There was someone here. He was stunned into motionlessness. The cobalt gaze on him was cold and hard for a moment, then it abruptly softened the slightest bit. He drew his gun from the thigh holster and aimed it at one of the stone bars. When he fired Duo heard the sound, but there was a slight ring to the explosion. The stone didn't shatter or anything like that. Instead it vanished.

Leaving a gap large enough for him to step through. The blue-eyed stranger took a step closer, sliding his gun back to its home and holding out one hand. "Come on," he said. "You might as well come with me."