Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Gundam Wing character and I'm not making a profit by writing this. This is purely for pleasure!

Warnings: Language, yaoi, eventual lemon, angst, attempted suicide, silliness

ARTISTS: Hey, if you can draw, I would really like to see a picture done of Heero and Shinigami curled up on the couch together. I tried to draw it myself, but I couldn't get it to come out right. Will anyone else draw it for me??? . . . . . Please???? *gives puppy dog eyes*

This fic completely disregards Endless Waltz.

Chapter 8: Even in Death

Duo's POV

Panic. Warmth. Terror and heat. Screams, burning flesh, pain. Trapped. I couldn't-wouldn't?-find the way out. What was holding me back? Everything was engulfed in angry hot flames and I couldn't seem to move. I couldn't help. I could only watch and scream and thrash, trying to get away. To move forward, to run away, to try and save them, but I was still too small, too weak, to scared to do anything but watch them burn and-

Awake.

I was awake. I took a deep, shaky breath. There was no smoke in the air. No crackling fire. No terrified screams. No blistering heat. Only the sound of Heero's soft breathing above me and the feel of his strong hands pressing me into the bed.

"I'm awake. You can get off me now."

Immediately I felt his weight roll of me to his side of the bed.

"That's the fifth time in the past eight days. The other three you didn't even go to sleep," Heero said quietly into the dark. I looked at him and noticed his right I was darker than the other. I'd probably hit him again in my sleep.

"Yeah," I said tiredly.

"Duo, you need to get over this. It's gone. You can't hold onto it forever."

"I know . . ."

"Do you really?" he asked me.

"Of course I know that!" I yelled back, angry now. I jumped off the bed and began to back in front of him. He sat up and watched me calmly. "I'm not an idiot, Heero. It's just a cheep piece of wood, right? Who the hell would fucking care about a piece of junk like that?! Why-" Suddenly I couldn't continue and I dropped to my knees, burying my face in my hands. Tears leaked through my fingers, but I didn't care. I hardly even noticed when Heero knelt down beside me, gathered me into his arms, and rocked me as I cried.

"Why-" I choked out, "Why does it have to hurt so much?"

I pulled back slightly and found myself looking into serious Prussian blue eyes.

After a moment, he asked, "Did you cry when they died?"

I pulled back even more, appalled and angry that he was suggesting that I didn't care about them when they died. His arms tightened around me, though and wouldn't let me leave the comfort of his embrace.

"How dare you as-"

"Did you cry when they died?" he asked again.

"No . . ."

"Then why are you crying now over a silly necklace, when you wouldn't even cry over their deaths?"

I stared back at him, speechless.

"Duo," he continued, "I may still be new to these emotions, but even I know the purpose of mourning. If you want my opinion, I'd say you never really grieved properly for those you lost. Instead, you convinced yourself that as long as you had that cross, they were never really dead. Just . . . gone somewhere. And when you lost the cross, you felt as if you lost them again too."

I wanted to deny his words. Of course I knew my friends were dead! They'd died years ago, damn it! I would've had to be a fool not to have understood that. This wasn't what this was about at all! This was about me losing my fucking cross! But when I opened my mouth to tell him that, I couldn't seem to say anything. Then, as if from far away, I could hear myself saying, "I . . . I don't want to live without them . . . I . . . . don't want to live without Solo . . . or Father Maxwell . . . . or Sister Helen . . . I should have been there with them. I should have DIED there with them."

I couldn't bear to look at him anymore. I loved him, but the pain was just too much. I didn't know if I could keep going like this. I wasn't even sure I wanted to try.

Suddenly, I felt Heero's arms release me. Then his hands were under my chin, forcing me to look at him.

"Do you wish to die?" he asked softly.

Tearing my chin out of his grip, I squeezed my eyes shut, tears leaking out to join the others.

"Yes."

He considered my words for a moment, then carefully lifted me off his lap and sat me down on the floor. Standing up, he moved to the dresser and rummaged around for a moment and then returned to stand in front of me.

"Stand up, Duo."

I did, too distraught and confused to do anything but obey.

Then he held out his hands. In his left was a tiny, dull cardboard box that fit in the palm of his hand. In the right rested Heero's sleek, shiny black handgun.

"Duo, if you want to kill yourself, I wont stop you. But know this: I wont live without you either. I'll follow you, even in death."

Tentatively I reached out and touched the gleaming, black metal. It was cold, and it's promise of death and the end of my pain was as siren's song: alluring and irresistible. The end was so close I could almost taste the bitter smell of death as I picked up the gun and caressed its smooth, glossy surface.

How could I be so lucky? I was presented with a way to end everything and Heero, my love, would follow me. Even in death, I would never be parted from him!

Slowly, almost reverently, I brought the gun up to my head. Heero's face was expressionless before, like it used to be during the war. Then my eyes were drawn away from his, down to his other hand that still held the small, ugly box out towards me. I studied it for a moment. There was nothing special about it. It was small enough to fit comfortably in Heero's hand and, because of its size, I decided it must be pretty light. There were no markings on the box to give me a clue to its contents.

Finally, my curiosity won out and I reach to take the box. Before I could touch it though, Heero withdrew his hand, the little box disappearing from sight.

I hissed at him in anger. Obviously the box was meant for me! What right did he have not to give me what was mine?

"Don't toy with me, Heero!"

"It's a choice," he said simply. "If you want to find out what's in the box, you have to chose to live, Duo."

"What the hell kind of choice is that?"

"Choose carefully. If you take the gun choose to surrender to the pain and take the easy way out. Take the box, and you choose to live here and now, in the present. Not the past. You choose to be the strong, brave, courageous person I know you are and survive the pain with me."

My mouth dropped open in shock. What I really taking the easy way out? But then, just a couple of months before, I had stopped Heero from doing the exact same thing, hadn't I? I'd told him that Quatre, Trowa and Wufei would be devastated by his death, but wouldn't the same hold true for my death too? Quatre, the brother I never had, would be shattered to find out that after all we'd gone through, Heero and I still ended up taking our own lives. Trowa would end up trying to comfort Quatre while dealing with his own grief. And Wufei . . . the proud, honor bound warrior would be hit just as hard. Sure, I didn't always see eye to eye with him and I got on his nerves all the time . . . but no one, not even Heero knew how close Wufei and I had come to being lovers. I never understood how you could love two people at once, but I proved it could be done. Wufei . . . he would be hit the hardest.

"Duo . . ." Heero's voice crack on my name, bringing me back to the present. The gun was still pressed painfully tight to my temple. Tear were running silently down Heero's cheeks and his eyes-no longer expressionless-seemed to shine brightly with repressed emotion.

"Duo . . . I . . . I l-love you."

Suddenly I heard a loud thump and I looked down to se Heero's gun lying at my feet.

"I-I want to live, Heero."

Saying those words was like breaking a dam inside of me. Everything I'd been repressing over the years just seemed to pour forth and I found myself back on the floor with my face pressed against Heero's throat, his arms locked tightly around me and I knew that no matter what, I'd never be alone again.