We reached the door that led out to the rooftop, and Trowa opened it. It was windy, and a little bit chilly even though fall was just beginning. We filtered out of the doorway, keeping close together and turning our faces away from the wind.

There were a man and a woman standing near the edge and talking to each other. I couldn't hear what they were saying over the wind, but the man's next word as he whirled around to face us and raised his gun at our group was perfectly clear: "Demon!"

I flinched, but the four around me were too surprised at the man's accusation that they thankfully didn't notice. It might have been the end of everything if they had.

"What are you talking about?" Quatre challenged, to my relief. I didn't know what to think; maybe he just said that to everyone who came, as a sort of test. I hoped. If not...

"What am I talking about? What am I talking about? What are you thinking, letting a demon in here?"

I started to slowly back towards the door.

"He's not! He's the one we told you about—who we saw fighting them!" Quatre came to my defense again.

Zechs—because that's who I assumed he was—relaxed only a little bit. "Well, he's either a demon or he's been fighting them recently and has blood still on him, which I doubt." His tone of voice changed back to anger as he realized that I was backing away, and he brought the gun to bear on me again. "Well?"

I was at the door, which was still open; I bolted back down the stairwell, pulling the door shut behind me. I darted down to the fifth floor, keeping my wits about me enough to realize that the sixth floor was no good. I flung the door open and heard it slam shut behind me as I pounded down the dark, deserted hallway. Choosing a door at random, I struggled with the knob for a moment, nearly losing myself in my nervousness, but I got it open and slipped inside.

Safe for the moment, I slipped down to the floor and pressed my back against the door while I tried to calm myself down. It would be the end of everything if I became so stressed out that I could no longer control the change; they would kill me for sure.

The last straw was hearing footsteps in the corridor outside. I panicked; my back spasmed painfully and I crawled farther into the room, trying to find a place to hide. It was dark, the windows boarded over, and I couldn't see much of anything. My breath hitching as my back spasmed again, I paused in the middle of the room and managed to get my shirt off before I ruined it—if I did manage to somehow get out of this situation, I didn't want to worry about running home and having to explain to Sister Helen why my shirt was missing. Of course (and I didn't want to think about it), I might not be able to go back to the church. I might have to flee this place, get away from this city entirely.

Thinking about that pushed me over the edge; my back ripped open, revealing the sign of my demonhood. It was painful, but like the pain of regular injuries I had learned to ignore it. I couldn't explain the change—I don't think anyone could—but the moment of pain was the only suffering. The wounds healed immediately, like any other wounds a demon received; they were hard to kill because of it. I hoped that meant I would be hard to kill too, because I had never tested the truth of it on myself.

I heard the door opening, and froze. My demon-self had much better night vision, so I was able to see that there was another door. I lunged for it and slammed it shut behind me just as the door to the hall opened.

"Duo? I know you're in here."

It was Heero; I breathed just a little bit easier. With him, maybe I had a chance of getting out safely. I heard him feeling around in the dark, and then his hand on the doorknob to the room I was in, turning it. I darted into the far corner, hoping that he wouldn't see me—a hopeless wish, because I knew he would be able to hear the sound of my ragged breathing.

"Duo?" he whispered as he pushed the door open. "Please, don't be upset. Zechs is just an asshole, he didn't mean anything by it."

I almost wanted to laugh, but I was too scared. So Heero thought that I had just ran because I was upset? That was fine, as long as he didn't realize the truth. I watched him as he carefully made his way over to my corner and dropped to his knees, reaching out for me. I was too scared to move, so I let his hands find me, let him wrap his arms around me—not caring what he would think as his hands encountered the wings protruding from my back.