Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Ashes to Ashes ❯ To Look Death in the Eye ( Chapter 1 )

Author's Notes: I hope this story is well received, so please leave me a review to let me know if you liked it. I changed just a few details about the death camps to accommodate the story, the big one being about the inmates having their hair cut when they arrived, mainly because I couldn't bring myself to get rid of Duo's braid, and I couldn't imagine any of the guys without their gorgeous locks, so please forgive me for that. Otherwise a lot of the details are pretty much the same. Other characters will come in later as well. Please read and review. This is a Work In Progress, and I'm not sure yet of all the details. But if you have any questions, email me or leave them in a review.

Warnings: mild yaoi later on, language, violence, anti-religious statements, death of main characters eventually

 

It was dark. Dark as night. The only light afforded to them was the tiny cracks of light that shown through little gaps in the boards as the train bumped and rattled down a creaky track. The world outside flashed by at an astonishing pace, but only those fortunate enough to be near the breaks in the warped wood could see it.

The air was stifling hot. It had been for five days now. The heat waves seemed to be trying to stuff the entire world into one cramped, stinking boxcar. The press of smelly, sweaty bodies made the air only thicker still.

Somewhere in the middle of the crush of dozens of damp bodies, a boy stood, leaning heavily against his neighbor. His dark brown hair hung limp over his flushed face, but dark blue eyes flickered from within them, observing even in the muted light. He leaned against the body next to him. The man was either unconscious or dead; he really didn't care to know which. Don't think, just keep yourself upright using the person next to you…

The train was silent except for the creak and clatter of the wheels on the tracks. Talking had ceased three days ago, and now the surroundings were nothing more than a silent mass of half-dead corpses. Five days with no food. Five days with no water. Five days not knowing where they were going or what was going to be done with them. It was enough to drive a person mad. For Heero Yuy, for that was the young boy's name, it was simply a mind game. A game their captors played to drive the inhabitants of the boxcar mad before finally delivering them to their final destination, whatever that would be. A box full of starving, half-crazed zombies was better than a mob of panicking, awake human beings. But he'd show them. He'd show them the damage one person could do. They would see what it was like to mess with Heero Yuy, to see what a stupid idea it was to snatch him up from the streets and fling him into this ruckus.

Sweat dripped down his face as he silently brooded. Night was coming on fast, and it went from being ungodly hot to being ungodly cold. The bodies did hardly anything for warmth, only serving as barriers between the biting wind and the other side of the train. The thin shirt and pants he wore hardly protected him from the wind's sting. He could barely move, his limbs feeling as if they were freezing. Not a pleasant feeling.

Sometime, it must have been around midnight, the train suddenly slowed, then screeched to a halt, the jerk throwing nearly everyone off balance. Heero steadied himself against the person he had been leaning on, eyes focused on the single boxcar door, ready for anything.

The door suddenly rolled open, light from a flashlight catching him squarely in the face, making him throw up one limp hand to shield his eyes, making it impossible to see who was behind the light. “Out!” ordered a stern, clipped voice. “Everyone who is not dead out!”

There was a mad scramble, if one could call a stumbling, jerking, slow mass a mad scramble, towards the boxcar door. Heero found himself swept up with the dozen or so people out of the car's seventy-five or so inhabitants. He slipped out of the car, his feet hitting the gravel beneath them and nearly giving out. He shifted himself up to steady himself, but someone grabbed him by the arm and shoved him into the crowd of people again. “Move it, stupid Jew! Get into a line!”

Heero gritted his teeth in anger. He wanted to sock the sneering man right in the nose of his fat face, but the crush of people surrounding him prevented him from doing so easily. There were more people on the gravel road now, from each of the train's twenty-five boxcars. A crowd of frightened, starved civilians, clinging tightly to each other, some crying, some just staring at nothing. A pathetic group of innocent people who had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time being the wrong religion.

“I said, straight line!” the man barked, and Heero suddenly became aware of several dozen men around them, all wearing brown uniforms and carrying flashlights and big guns. He growled softly, but he was shoved into a line by several stampeding people trying to obey. An order came to march, and the line straggled forward, taking Heero unwillingly with it.

The air nipped at his bare arms and face, kissing the sweat from his forehead, making him unconsciously shiver. The line moved slowly but steadily down towards an iron gate, down a slippery slope of gravel and rocks. They halted before it. Somewhere beyond the gate, a tall chimney rose high above the squat buildings. Black smoke belched from it, showering bits of ash down onto the rough dwellings inside the gate. The air was thick with a rancid smell, like overcooked meat.

The line was moving a bit slower now. Heero realized as they reached the gate, there were three lines being formed. The uniformed men were separating the crowds. Women to one side, men to another, and a third group being pushed in a completely different direction. The third line seemed to be composed mainly of older people, younger children, and invalids. A few women were in the crowd, clinging to babies and small children. There was much screaming and crying amongst the crowds as families were separated, wives and husbands ripped apart, brothers and sisters pulled away from one another. The uniformed men swung their guns, beating at hands and faces that tried to stay together, yelling and cursing.

Heero shivered. His own family, his aging grandfather, was not in this crowd. He was probably still back at their little house, waiting for Heero to return. He had run away many times before. His grandfather probably didn't even think much about it. He probably figured Heero would be back when he felt like it.

A rough hand grabbed him by the collar and wrenched him from the crowd. He found himself in the grip of a blond man. Bright blue eyes stared at him from a tanned face. Heero stared right back. It had never occurred to him that he might not be counted as an adult. Would he be sent into the line with the younger children? He could see death written on the faces of those in that line, condemned to die, and they knew it.

“How old are you?” the blond soldier demanded, gazing down at him.

“Fifteen,” Heero replied, his voice soft but powerful, the one word conveying the strength he was hiding behind his small frame.

The blond man smiled just a bit. Heero held his eyes with his own, glaring defiantly. If they were going to kill him, he wouldn't go down without a fight. He'd take this one out with him, and more if he could before they caught him with their guns.

“From now on, you're sixteen if you want to live.” The man gave him a shove into the line of men.

Heero stared in surprise, but he didn't have much time before the guards were shoving him along. He followed the line inside, flanked by guards with barking dogs all the way. They shoved the group of men inside a tiny room. “Strip!” they ordered.

Heero's eyes widened in surprise. What the hell?

“Now!” they ordered. “Anyone with clothes on in one minute will be shot!”

Not a great incentive, but an incentive nonetheless. Heero growled softly, but he followed everyone in the mad scramble to remove clothing, depositing them on the ground, shamefully averting his eyes from everything and everyone around him, who seemed to be doing the same thing.

Suddenly the crowd was herded into another room. All doors were shut, and then a torrent of water fell from holes in the ceiling. Sudden screams filled the room. Heero found himself covered with freezing cold water that made his teeth chatter. The water pittered in droplets on his head, the full spray washing over him, cleansing away the sweat and filth from his naked body. He laughed softly to himself as he titled his head back to dampen his hair. They starve them, separate them, and then clean them, all before delivering them into their final fate. What an ironic, little game. He swallowed a mouthful of water, something he hadn't tasted in five days. It soothed his parched tongue and filled up his empty belly with its wonderful coldness.

As abruptly as it had started, the water turned off, and the crowd was herded into the next room where a shirt and pants were shoved into his hands, along with a pair of shoes. “Put these on!” came the order.

Dripping wet, Heero slipped on the clothing. It clung to his damp skin like wet paper. The pants were about the right size, but the shirt hung down to almost his knees, the long sleeves covering his hands. The shoes were two different sizes. One was too small and one was too big. Walking seemed almost impossible. It was limp and drag, limp and drag nearly every step. But he didn't have any time to consider finding a new pair before the group was herded outside into the freezing night.

“You are now all inmates of the work camp Auschwitz. If you work hard, you will stay alive. If you do not work hard, you will die. It's that simple.”

Heero gritted his teeth, his hand clenching into a fist by his side. Who were these jerks who thought they would do such a thing to him and these other innocent people? How could they think they could get away with this? He would make them sorry… He clenched his hands by his side, glancing around to make sure no one else was in the way, then took a deep breath. If he was going to die, he was going to take two or three of them down with him. He took a step towards one of them-.

Someone grabbed him from behind, arms looped under his, restraining him rather effectively. A soft snarl escaped from his lips, and he struggled against the hold, but it was extraordinarily strong, and he could not break it. He turned his head as much as he could to see the idiot that had a hold on him, fully intending to inflict some major damage on the offender.

Narrow, black eyes peered back at him in a rather commanding look out of an Oriental face. Heero found himself frozen by the power behind the gaze. It was not one of fear like all the other people surrounding him. It was a look of wisdom and a fiery spirit burning behind black orbs that gazed back at him.

“Live today, fight tomorrow,” the young man responded, softly so only Heero could hear.

Heero let out a soft hiss and struggled against him. “Let go.”

“Only if you don't do anything rash,” the Oriental teen replied.

Heero struggled harder, but the boy only held him tighter. A silent battle of wills issued between them for several seconds, both glaring into each other's eyes, neither willing to give. But finally Heero relaxed in the boy's grip and nodded slowly. The Oriental boy studied him a moment, then let him go, careful not to hurt him. They both stood still for a moment before the Oriental teen gave him a tiny, tight smile. “I'm Chang Wufei.”

Heero watched him a moment, then slowly muttered, “Heero Yuy.”

Wufei nodded slowly, then turned his head forward to where one of the soldiers was speaking again, ordering people into two lines. His eyes stayed forward as he spoke to Heero. “Stay with me. We shall overcome, my friend. But you cannot act without thinking.”

Heero nodded and slowly moved to stand behind him. “Where are you from?” he asked softly, keeping his voice low so the guards would not hear him.

“Southern Germany. You?”

“Same.”

“You're a Jew?”

Did this boy have any tact at all?

“Yes. You don't look Jewish.”

“I'm not,” the Chinese boy said with a shrug. “My family was harboring Jews who were trying to escape to Switzerland. Someone turned us in.”

“Oh.”

“You don't talk much, do you?” Wufei questioned, smiling thinly again.

Heero gave him a slight glare. Wufei shrugged and turned forward again. “Suit yourself.”

Heero crossed his arms over his chest and glared at the ground for a moment before someone grabbed Wufei in front of him and pushed him down into a chair. It was just then that Heero finally figured out what they were in line for. There was a man sitting at the table with a list of numbers in front of him. As Wufei held out his right arm, the man took it and started to write on it with a strange sort of pen that left blue marks on the soft, yellow skin. Wufei looked away, his eyes closed, his teeth clenched firmly, obviously forcing himself to be quiet. Heero watched in horror. At the other line, there was a young man getting a number written on the inside of his arm, tears running silently down his face. How could they do this to them? Give them a number, take away their freedom…

The soldier controlling the line pulled Wufei up as the man finished writing on his arm. The next moment, Heero found himself grabbed and shoved down in the hard-backed, wooden chair.

“Right arm,” the tattoo man ordered in a weary voice that indicated how tired he really was, how many times he had said that in what must have been the longest time in his life.

Heero glared angrily at him. How could he follow these butchers of innocents? How could he sit there and take away their names, their pasts, their lives? He looked up to see Wufei standing nearby, watching him. He gave him a slight glare, but a sudden click behind him of a gun cocking was a startling reminder of his precarious position. He hastily held out his right arm, gritting his teeth in silent, seething anger. How dare they… How could they…

A sharp burning sensation in his arm drew his attention. He looked over to the man who was busy writing on his arm with the same pen, wiping away blood as it appeared. Heero gritted his teeth harder. The pain was enough to make him want to whimper, but he would not allow that. He was strong. He could take it. Even Wufei had kept quiet, and there was no way Heero was going to let Wufei be the only one to not make a sound at this cruel treatment.

It was over soon, and Heero found himself pushed to his feet. The guard shoved him in the direction Wufei had been pushed moments earlier. Heero looked around for the Chinese boy, spotting him watching him from where he was being herded into another line. Heero moved over to the line and stood behind him again, his teeth clenched in anger.

Wufei's eyes were focused forward, but he spoke to him in a soft voice. “If we team up, we may be able to survive. Agreed?”

“Yeah,” Heero said, just as soft.

“Stay behind me,” Wufei told him. “They're separating people.”

Heero nodded just a bit, looking straight forward in anger. He would make them sorry they captured Heero Yuy. He would take out as many of them as he could so they couldn't do this to people again.

One soldier walked by him and thrust two thin blankets into his hands. Heero took them without thinking about it. His mind was already full of ways he could take out some officers with him… If he died, it was for the greater cause…

He almost walked into Wufei who had come to a stop outside of a nearby barrack. It was a squat, little building that looked very much like it might fall down at any time. It was made of rough wood and brick, looking rather haphazard, like it wasn't sure why it was there or why it was staying upright.

“You two, inside,” ordered a guard nearby who was separating people into groups to put in barracks. “Find a spot. Move!”

Heero debated jumping him, but a hard nudge on his arm stopped him. Wufei gestured towards the door with a pointed look in his eyes. Heero caught his eye and nodded once, and they moved over to the door. The guard pushed them inside, then slammed the door behind them, plunging them into darkness.

As their eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light, Wufei and Heero surveyed the room forlornly from their spot just inside the door. Nearly every bunk seemed to be occupied by at least four people, and they all glared at them, as if daring them to try to join them. Heero glared back.

“What are we going to do?” Wufei asked from next to him where he was clutching his blankets securely to his chest.

Suddenly someone moved towards them. A baby-faced teenager, with a long braid down his back and large, violet eyes smiled at them. “Hey!” he said in a bubbly sort of voice. “Do you two need a bunk?”

Wufei nodded slowly while Heero merely observed the other boy in silence.

“I have a completely free bunk, aside from me. You two are welcome to join me.”

“Very well,” Wufei agreed. “Come on, Heero.”

The two followed after the braided boy to a nearby bunk.

“We're on the top one,” the boy said, hoisting himself up onto the headboards of the lowest bunk and clambering up. Heero followed after him, tossing his blanket up onto it to use both hands. Wufei followed after him.

The bed was made of hard, wooden slats. The braided teen had spread one blanket out over it, obviously trying to make it more comfortable. Heero slouched down on the bed. The ceiling was rather low, and he couldn't sit up straight, or he would smack his head. Wufei perched next to him, dark eyes on the braided stranger.

The boy smiled at them, his eyes shining even in the dim light. “Inmate number J56322, Duo Maxwell, at your service.”

“Chang Wufei,” said the Chinese boy, holding out his hand to shake.

“Cool.” Duo shook the hand, then turned to Heero. “You?”

“Heero Yuy,” Heero replied after a moment's pause.

Duo nodded, then stretched a bit. “Well, it's late. We have to get up at three, so you might want to try to sleep.”

“Three?” Wufei asked in surprise.

“Yeah. Roll call takes forever. Now, at least, I have a group again for roll call.”

“A group?”

“Yeah. My other bunk partners were… chosen… a few days ago. So I had to find another bunch of people to stand with. It wasn't fun. They didn't like me. But now that I have you two, we only need two more people. That shouldn't be that hard to find.”

Heero studied Duo with silent interest. This boy was probably the same age as them, yet he didn't seem very bitter like most people around them. He was friendly and caring and didn't seem to mind sharing all these details with two complete strangers. And he seemed to know a lot about the camp, which would be helpful.

“How long have you been here?” he questioned.

“Hmm… I couldn't tell you exactly, since I don't have a calendar, but… At least ten months.”

“Almost a year?” Wufei found this encouraging. If Duo could survive that long, it must be possible.

“Yeah. Something like that.” Duo smiled brightly, laid down and pulled his one blanket over his body. “Come on, I'm tired.”

Heero and Wufei lay down, pulling their blankets over themselves. Wufei drifted off almost immediately, but Heero stayed awake for a while, staring at the ceiling. Duo knew how to survive, and he probably knew how the camp worked so he could find a way to… to… What was he was trying to accomplish anyway? One person couldn't make a huge difference… But, if he could take out the leader of the camps… He could break this place down…

It grew darker and darker, until he couldn't see anything anymore. Around him, he could hear quiet breathing, snoring. Some people were crying. Others were speaking what sounded very much like prayers. Prayer. He hadn't prayed in forever. His grandfather was a staunch Jew, praying several times a day, celebrating all the feast days with all the tradition they deserved. He had pleaded with Heero to pray with him. Pray for the Messiah to come. He had done it to please his grandfather, but the whole idea had seemed foolish to him. How could anyone trust in anything they couldn't see? No Messiah had come, and no Messiah was going to come. These hopeless fools who prayed devoutly to God every night, praying for Him to save them from this living hell… If God really existed, this whole thing wouldn't have happened. No caring God would let humans do this to other humans…

He didn't know how long he thought before he drifted off to sleep. But the next thing he knew, Duo was shaking him gently awake. “Heero? Hey, Heero! Wake up!”

“'M `wake.”

“Good. Let's go.”

Duo was off the bunk before Heero even had both eyes open. Wufei was gone the next moment. Heero scrambled off the bed. Around him, dozens upon dozens of men were getting up, some in various states of undress, all hurrying to get up and head for the door. He looked around, trying to find his new friends in the crowd.

“Don't get lost.” Duo grabbed him by the collar and pulled him along with him towards the door, Wufei by his side. “I don't want to have to find you later. It's absolute hell trying to find one person.”

Heero pushed Duo's hand away from his shirt, but he followed along.

“We're going to be separated for work duty, most likely. I work in the organization detail. Most likely you two will be picked for manual labor. Digging trenches, building more barracks, so on and so forth, etcetera,” Duo told them as he led them out the door. It was still dark outside. The stars glittered high above them, like tiny diamonds taunting them because they couldn't reach. Heero looked up at the stars, glaring at them, as if they were the source of all this turmoil. He almost walked into another inmate.

“Watch it, brat,” the bigger man snapped, giving Heero a shove that nearly knocked him backwards.

“What's your problem?” Heero snapped, regaining his balance and glaring into the man's glittering, brown eyes.

“Little babies like you,” the man hissed. “You cause problems and get the rest of us in trouble.”

Heero balled up his fists, ready to sock the man in the middle of his flabby face, but Duo suddenly darted in front of him, pushing Heero back a few steps. “Leave him alone, Tubarov. He hasn't done anything wrong.”

The man snorted softly and glared at Duo. “Bitch,” he snarled. He spat at Duo's feet and stormed away.

Heero hissed and moved to race after him, but Wufei grabbed his arms. “Don't.”

Heero growled, struggling. “That bastard! Let go!”

“Leave it!” Duo ordered, straightening his shirt. “He's always like that. He'll be gone soon.”

“What do you mean?” Heero asked, shrugging out of Wufei's arms, standing down from attack mode.

“He's only been here for about four months. He works in the kitchen detail, which is how he's been able to keep up so much weight. For some reason he hates all people younger than him. Which is pretty easy, considering he's probably a hundred or so.” Duo shrugged and brushed his hair back a bit with his hand. “Just ignore him. Come on. We better hurry.”

Heero and Wufei followed after him. Everyone around them seemed to be lining up in groups of five. Duo shoved his way through the throngs of people, pulling Heero and Wufei after him. He came to an empty space and motioned for them to line up behind him. “We'll be here for a while. Whatever you do, don't move. They'll come soon to count us, give us breakfast, and then choose their work details. Don't talk to me til the food comes, all right?”

Heero and Wufei nodded. Duo turned and faced forward, standing up straight, his hands at his sides, like a soldier at attention. They mimicked him, staring straight ahead. Wufei became aware that two people were standing behind him, but he didn't dare turn around to check who.

Minutes turned into an hour, and then two. The wind blew, ruffling their hair and clothes, making everyone, even Duo, shiver. Heero's legs were starting to feel like jelly, his knees aching like fire, his body feeling frozen. But still he stood, eyes on Duo's long braid, his fists clenched at his side. His eyes threatened to close, but he would not let himself fall asleep.

After almost three hours of standing still in the worst torture Heero was sure he had ever been through, a group of soldiers appeared on the horizon. They surveyed the lines of men. Heero sucked in a breath. The soldier who had pulled him out of line the day before was in the group, glancing over the lines now with a bored look.

One soldier, this one a woman with glasses and braided, brown hair, walked along the rows, counting the groups. She passed by Duo without a second glance. However, the bored soldier was watching her, and, when she passed Duo's group, looked at Heero in slight surprise. Heero shifted his eyes just a bit, and their eyes met. The soldier's ice blue eyes narrowed a bit. Heero's narrowed as well in a tight glare, holding the soldier's eyes. The tension between them nearly crackled with electricity. Heero saw him shift his grip on his gun.

After a few minutes, the counting lady motioned two men forward. They hurried off in one direction. Heero wondered where they were going, but they soon returned, carrying between them a huge kettle. They set it down by the group of soldiers, then moved back into line.

Duo reached for a bowl he had hanging from a string on his waist, glancing back at Heero and Wufei. “Breakfast. You'll probably get your bowls at lunchtime. You'll have to keep them. It's the only one you'll get. Til then, you can share mine.” He moved over to the cauldron, joining a group of people already scrambling around it.

Heero glanced back at Wufei, catching his eye. Wufei gazed back at him a moment before Duo returned, his bowl full of something thick that was some color between green and white and had the consistency of mud. He lifted the bowl to his lips and swallowed a few mouthfuls before wiping the brim of the bowl and handing it to Heero. “Here, drink a little. I'll warn you now, it's gross.”

“Thanks for the warning,” Heero said, lifting the bowl towards his face. It was slightly warm and smelled like a bog, but he put the bowl to his lips and opened his mouth.

Something filled his mouth and almost made him choke. There were things in it that were not food! He could taste cloth pieces, chips of wood, glass… He choked and coughed, spitting out the mouthful and retching violently. Thankfully, his stomach was empty, so there wasn't much to get rid of.

Duo's hand went over to gently touch his back. “I know it's horrible, but it's all you're gonna get. Come on, try again.”

Heero looked up at him, glaring slightly. “This is not food.”

“I know,” Duo said with a slight shrug. “Don't have to tell me twice. But you're going to have to eat it, or you'll never make it through the workday. Come on. Hold your nose and swallow.”

Heero did as Duo suggested, pinching his nose shut and swallowing a thick mouthful. It threatened to come up again, but he forced it down.

“Good,” Duo encouraged. “Another one.”

Heero swallowed two more mouthfuls. Duo nodded. “Great. I know it's icky, but you get used to it.” He took the bowl from Heero and handed it to Wufei with the same instructions. Wufei took it and swallowed, having just about the same reaction as Heero. Duo fussed like a mother hen between them, making sure they both ate and didn't throw up.

Once the bowl was empty, Duo took it back, wiping it clean on the side of his pants. “Good. Looks like we don't get coffee this morning, but I don't think your stomachs would handle it anyway. Lunchtime you'll probably get some bread, which should help. Now, let's line up again so we can get our jobs.”

Heero and Wufei nodded, looking forward again. Heero's mind wandered even as his body stayed rigidly in place. There was no way this could be real, but it had to be. How were they expected to live on a diet of sludge and glass? And work? He had no problem with working, but being forced to work on a practically empty stomach while being threatened with almost certain death was not the way he had planned to live his life. And he was pretty sure no one else did either. They were just normal people, trying to live the one life they were given to the fullest. They could not help how they were born, what they looked like, or how they were brought up. And yet, these people standing before them with their guns had taken away their quality of life to imprison them for no more than the simple fact that they were different. Wasn't that what the American Civil War was about so many years ago? Well, there would be no civil war to help them. Everyone was afraid they would be sent to this hellhole and killed too.

The air nipped at his face and stung his body through his thin, cotton clothing. His forever-messy brown hair whipped about his face again, slapping him like a rebuke for letting his mind wander. The soldier with the blond hair was watching him again. Heero gave him a slight glare, his hands clenching at his side. He would make them all sorry for what they'd done. When he got ahold of them, they would regret ever messing with Heero Yuy!