Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Death's Promise [Book 1 of 3] ❯ Running ( Chapter 1 )
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: Kacfrog711 
Heero, beaten and dying in an enemy cell, starts hearing voices.... are they real or hallucinations?
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Supernatural / Romance / Horror / Drama / Angst | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 08.21.2002 | Pages: 4 | Words: 7.6K | Visits: 556 | Status: Completed
Heero, beaten and dying in an enemy cell, starts hearing voices.... are they real or hallucinations?
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Supernatural / Romance / Horror / Drama / Angst | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 08.21.2002 | Pages: 4 | Words: 7.6K | Visits: 556 | Status: Completed
A/N:
-Despite the title of this fanfic and the message behind it, I DO NOT CONDONE SUICIDE, HOMICIDE, PESTICIDE, OR ANY OTHER FORM OF KILLING. I'm just having fun toying with new ideas rather than accepting old stereotypes. I don't seriously believe a single word of anything I'm writing about death, God, Satan, or the afterlife, and I don't want you to, either. It's fiction, and it's meant to be enjoyed. My purpose is not to sway your beliefs or contradict them; it's to make you think what if? I don't want you to believe what I tell you; I want you to humor me. I want you to question old beliefs and come to your own conclusions, just like I'm doing. Most of all, I want you to enjoy what you're reading. It's meant to be fun, not real.
-Don't expect to see this fic finished, ever. If you have a problem with reading something that will never have an ending, please don't read on. (And, no, begging for an ending won't make me write one. Sorry. ...Although it might make me feel guilty.)
-I hate to use Japanese words in English fics, but I can't see a better way of doing this... When someone is speaking to or about a really important figure, he calls him [insert name]-sama. ...I just can't stand having all of that "master" or "mistress" business... (For those who may not know, "--sama" is suffix that gets the point of "extreme respect" across.) Sorry for the inconveniences this may cause, if any.
Warnings:
-AU (Heero is a Gundam pilot; the rest never were. I mean it, the entire rest of the cast is not in its normal roles.), blood, death, disturbing imagery, violence, cursing, sacrilege, angst, (very non-graphic ^_^;;;) yaoi (1+2 and 3+4), and some het mixed in here and there (though there's more of both in the later never-to-be-written two sequel books).
Summary:
Heero is captured, drugged, and being held in a waiting cell when he receives a few unexpected visitors: one of whom can help him escape... for a price. He accepts, and is tossed into a world of gods, lost souls, ethereal beings, and myseterious voices. (eventual 1+2 and 3+4)
Book One [of Three]: Death's Promise
by Kacfrog711
Chapter 1: Running
Heero groaned as whatever they had given him began to wear off. The numbness that was currently occupying his body began giving way to immeasurable pain, and every cut, bruise, and broken bone he had obtained in the past twenty-four hours began to throb with renewed vivacity. He could feel his heart thumping heavily in his chest, and its beats were echoed in his pounding head. Heero would have cursed the pain but was too sore to bother. Instead, the boy rattled the chains cutting into his wrists, which were attached to the wall somewhere above his head, trying to find a weakness in them. No such luck, Heero sighed and hung his head limply in defeat.
He had been caught. It'd taken a lot of them, and he'd killed many before they'd finally dragged him down, but they had still caught him, nonetheless. There was no excuse for it. Now the entire mission was a failure. Now the colonies had lost for sure. Now the war was as good as over, all because he had failed. He was so stupid! It was all over. He was a failure, a complete failure, and there was nothing he could do about it but sit in this cell and wait to die. Nothing he could do, he'd failed. He'd failed everything. He was worthless, useless. He had lived to see his failure and now he would die of it; he deserved no less. He had failed, and there was nothing he could do about it, about any of it. If only, though... If only...
That's when he heard the voice.
***
"Heero Yuy? I thought he was dead. Actually, I thought I saw him just a few minutes ago..." A young blonde boy stood, his head tilted back as he looked up at one of his superiors. The boy was dressed in flowing white robes, and twin ivory wings larger than the boy himself were neatly folded on his back. His glistening blonde hair seemed to shine like a halo as his sapphire blue eyes looked up in question.
His superior, a woman who appeared to be about twenty-nine, sat behind a golden pulpit, smiling down on the boy. She shook her short blonde hair once sharply, then answered in a resonating voice, "No, Quatre. You and I are speaking of two different people: the one you know, and the one currently on Earth."
"Oh." The child said in realization, then smiled brightly. It wasn't uncommon for more than one person to have the same name. Of course, it was usually something like, "Matthew Schmidt," not "Heero Yuy." Quatre shrugged. "Well then, when do I leave, Saint Lucrezia?"
The saint ruffled her feathery white wings as her head bent downwards to eye the book on the pulpit. Through small round spectacles that suddenly appeared on Lucrezia's nose in a small puff of mist, shimmering navy-blue eyes scanned the writing before her quickly; then, she spoke, "As soon as possible. It's a short-time deal on this one, Quatre. He just needs comfort in his last four, or maybe five, days."
Quatre frowned but nodded. Those were the worst sort of jobs. After he had died and been accepted into Heaven, Quatre had volunteered to be an angel because he had wanted to help people, to comfort them; what he hadn't realized was how often he'd be comforting sickly, often dying, men and yet be unable to help them. However, being an angel, he found the optimistic side of every situation he was put in. Replacing the small pout of a frown with a radiating smile, Quatre met his elder's eyes. "I'd be glad to do all I can for him before he joins us in Eternity." The two nodded, smiling, then waved a short good-bye. With that, Quatre spread his wings and jumped off into the crystal sky towards his gloomy destination.
***
He felt like shit again. It all came rushing back to him an instant, and with such force that, had he not been bodily chained to a wall, he would've been knocked over. What-- What had just happened? What had he just done? He had heard the voice, and then-- No. No, it wasn't real. That didn't really happen. "Wake up, Yuy, you're hallucinating." He cursed himself mentally. No one had come into his cell for hours. That little girl with those haunting eyes had never been there. He had been dreaming again. No one was there. He was alone. He was dying. What was worse, he had failed everyone and everything that had counted on him. Nothing could change that, especially not dream children.
That fated fight now seemed like hours ago. Someone had sabotaged Wing shortly before it. Heero couldn't believe it. How had he been so stupid as to let someone near his dear Wing? How had that someone managed to crack his security in the short time he was away? How had it happened?! But it had, and he'd paid the price for it. Heero'd fought on, despite not having a functioning beam saber, despite having no ammunition, despite losing all hope of winning. He couldn't fight forever; he knew that. So he self-detonated.
He was supposed to die in that battle. The whole base should've been taken out by the blast and he should've went down with it in a ball of light, melding into one with his shattered Gundam. What had gone wrong?! He had survived, and even the base had survived fairly intact. Maybe they even had his Gundam somewhere, piecing it back together like a puzzle of shrapnel, debris, and twisted metal. Who knew? Heero was no longer sure about anything he had once known. He had died, and then he had been awake, and soon after, the enemy had been trying to get him to reveal information. He hadn't, of course. Besides, he couldn't even think then; the pain had been so intense. They had pumped him full of some nasty chemicals that did God-only-knows to his system: at least one of which was a painkiller, another of which sped up his heart rate much too fast for Heero's liking, and yet another of which seemed to make him hallucinatory. It didn't matter what exactly those chemicals he'd been injected with were, though, because he had passed out soon after receiving them. He had then spent what had felt like days passing into and out of consciousness in that tiny room that smelled like needles.
So now he was here in a waiting cell. Waiting to be questioned, killed, or tortured, he didn't know or really care. This cell was his grave. If they didn't come back soon, he'd die here. If they did come back, he'd die somewhere else. Then THAT would be his grave. What did the location matter? Nothing mattered. He felt lifeless already. He couldn't even feel his arms anymore, suspended above him like they were. "Dead man hanging." The cold in the solid steel cell didn't even bother Heero, didn't even reach him. All his mind could process were self-loathing, cold numbness, and sharp bursts of intense driving pain. What's worse, he was at the mercy of his enemies and with no one on his side that could help him escape. No one on his side... He was as good as dead, and Heero was fully aware of this. Somehow, it didn't scare him as much as he thought it should. Nothing scared him anymore. Besides, it hurt too much to be scared. His heart pounded on in a dull rhythm all over his body. Heero counted the beats, but without a clock or watch, it wasn't much use. He estimated that his heart was going at least twice as fast as it should be, and that was enough to do permanent damage. He gulped in short gasps of air, but it didn't slow his bolting heart even marginally. Of all the ways to die, it would be of a heart attack from some unnamed drug? That was unexpected, to say the least. Heero gritted his teeth as another wave of pain rolled through his spine from fingers to toes. Then it was gone, but his heart wasn't so easily sated; it was really starting to making his chest hurt, like it would burst at any minute.
***
Quatre dropped smoothly through the ceiling of Heero's cell without a sound. His wings beat softly, stirring the dust up as he landed with swift grace. He stood there watching the panting captive for a moment, the angel's smooth pale skin in stark contrast to the dull metallic walls encompassing him. After a moment, the boy whispered, "Heero Yuy?"
The figure didn't stir, so Quatre tried again, his voice soothing but strong. "Heero?"
Stirring from his thoughts, the captive raised his dark head slightly and eyed the empty room suspiciously. His dark blue eyes scanned over the heavenly creature as if it were not there, and to Heero's eyes, it wasn't. "Hearing voices again, Yuy? It must be another side-effect of the drugs." He sighed, cutting his thoughts off. Thinking hurt. Everything besides doing nothing hurt. Hell, doing nothing hurt, too. He grimaced again as another wave of pain rolled from his right arm, through his spine, and into his legs. "That arm is definitely broken, and the painkillers are wearing off. Damn it."
Assured that the beaten boy in front of him was whom he was looking for, Quatre slowly walked over to him. His feet barely touched the ground as he walked, and it seemed as if the blonde flew across the metal floor without using his wings. He paused before Heero and laid a reassuring hand on the captive's shoulder. Heero inhaled sharply at the touch, then relaxed fully, now hanging by the chains that held his wrists in place. The angel frowned despite himself. This was such a terrible place and an awful situation to be in. He couldn't help but wonder how such a young boy like Heero had gotten himself into it. Sighing himself, Quatre walked slowly closer and embraced Heero, wrapping even his wings about the soldier in a shimmering white shelter or warmth and love. The angel remained there for some time, giving the battered soldier what little comfort he could provide, his thoughts centered on reassurance and peace. Heero seemed to relax, the pain barely visible in his features.
The blonde didn't move until he heard something coming from a far corner. Not retracting his warm embrace, the angel turned his head and strained his eyes into the darkness, trying to pick out a form. After a moment, Quatre recognized the sound as horses' hooves: one horse, at a light trot. The sound stopped after a few minutes, and the sound of someone dismounting followed. Squinting, the angel strove to determine who was coming. His eyes widened as realization dawned on him, and he only hugged his current charge more tightly as the figure approached.
A man in black clothing and a long black cloak walked softly towards the two. His face was completely in the shadow of his hood, and only the pale skin of his hands offset the dark figure. He paused when he was a few feet from the angel and said nothing. Quatre shook lightly, but tried to keep himself calm. He questioned the figure timidly, "Death-sama?" and the figure nodded his hooded head.
"Go on, Holy One. Get out of here." A voice that had an echo too rich for its youthful tenor tone resounded through the cool room, but Heero did not seem to hear it. The figure continued in a steady voice, pointing at an undisclosed point somewhere away from Heero, "Go back to your Father and leave us. Your work's done."
Quatre, still clinging to the chained boy his own age shook his head repeatedly, "No." At first, his voice failed him, so he repeated, "No, I-- I was told he had four days. Please allow me that much. Can't you see he needs the comfort?" The angel could not read the cloaked man's response since his face was still well-hidden, but he heard the crisp response as it echoed off the slick metal walls around them.
"You're right on one part, Holy Child: his thread ends four days from now. If you really want me to, I'll leave him and come back in four days, but what I find won't be pretty. If events run as I've been told they will, his soul will be shattered by then, his body broken far beyond what it is now, and his mind will be absolutely shredded, all way beyond repair. That's why I'm here now, to prevent all this. I don't want to be burdened with a broken soul on my hands when I can simply take it now and get it in one piece. And I'm sure you, Angel, don't want the guilt of a broken soul on your holy head, either, am I wrong?" Quatre turned his gaze away from the man in black and buried his face in Heero's neck, unable to verbally deny what he knew to be true. Seeing this, the cloaked figure added in a relatively gentle tone, "Believe me, it'd be best for everyone if he goes with me now rather than then. If I don't take him, what's in store for him in the next few days can't be amended by any small solace your Heavenly Self might provide."
Loosening his grip on Heero, the angel reluctantly stepped back. He visibly cringed when Heero groaned lightly in pain at the loss of the intangible comfort. Quatre looked sadly over at the dark figure. "I do believe you, Death-sama, but may I stay with him, or must I leave?"
A minute of consideration passed before the covered figure responded hesitantly, "You can stay, if you really must," he conceded, then finished darkly, "but I'm warning you not to interfere. Don't touch him again if you value your status as a child of God."
The angel nodded and stepped farther back from Heero in show of his agreement. As the dark figure approached Heero's unconscious form, Quatre questioned softly, "Will it hurt him?"
The figure paused in front of Heero, and turned towards the inquisitive angel. He spoke softly, his voice full of reassurance. "No. The release of his conscious soul is a gift compared to the pain he has endured in his past." Quatre nodded mutely and the darker boy turned back toward his goal. The figure examined Heero for a minute with his shadowed eyes, then placed a pale hand on the boy's chest, just above the line of Heero's tank-top. In response, Heero shivered at the freezing touch, his breathing speeding up for a short second before slowing down drastically; so much so that he was barely breathing at all. The cloaked boy felt the heartbeat under his hand slow gradually until it was only a light pulsing under his frigid fingertips.
The angel watched silently from under a strong-willed appearance. He held up his chin, and yet hugged himself, too. He knew what was happening; he had heard his fellows and souls in Heaven speak of it. However, he'd yet to see it for himself. After all, most angels left before Death was even close; angels and shades never interacted well, never mind the father of all shades himself. Quatre chewed his lower lip lightly in nervousness, desperately telling his feet not to run towards the boy he was supposed to be comforting or away from the omnipotent being in front of him. He was told not to interfere, and he wasn't about to. No matter how much he wanted to help, Death was right: there wasn't much he could do now.
His right hand still pressed against Heero's slowed heart, the cloaked boy pushed back his black hood. A shock of rich brown hair in a messy braid tumbled down his back, and the same hair fell forward slightly, just covering a pair of glowing violet eyes. He leaned forward until his lips were next to his victim's ear, then whispered in an intensely luring voice. "Look at me, Heero Yuy. Open your eyes." He sat back just far enough to watch Heero's face, then waited. When he got no reaction, he slowly pulled his hand back from Heero's chest.
***
As Heero's breath sped up again, his system began once more filling with hot pain. The strong voice ordered him to open his eyes, but why should he? It was just a voice. It wasn't real! He heard the same echoed voice whispering, "You don't want to leave yet. I know. You're too strong. But trust me, Heero Yuy, you want to leave. You need to leave now while you're still in one piece. Take this gift. Open your eyes." Voices, more voices, he really was going crazy! This one sounded far away, like the person speaking was over a mountain, and his voice was simply carried on the wind. Heero groaned as he felt his heart rushing much too fast to be normal. He clenched his fists in their cuffs, gritting his teeth. The pain in his chest was unbearable. Heero desperately tried to control his labored breathing and his pounding chest but to no avail; he was too weak now. "I know it hurts." There was that young male voice again, that far-off voice. What was it saying? The words seemed to meld together, blurring until all he could gather was the tone of them alone; but the tone was enough. He knew what the voice was saying, even though the pounding in his ears drowned the individual words out. "I can stop it. Just open your eyes, Heero Yuy, and I'll end the pain. I can make it go away, but you have to let me. Open your eyes."
***
The shadowed figure before him remained expressionless as Heero writhed in obvious pain. He hated to do this to the boy who'd been through so much already, but it was the only way. Like he had told Heero, he could stop the pain. One touch of his bloodless finger would calm Heero's heart back down to a dull throbbing. Though he hated it, he couldn't help Heero yet, not until he got what he wanted. As soon as Heero opened his eyes, he'd end the pain: an end from pain and a place in Eternity. Escape: it was Death's promise.
***
Heero was running. He didn't know where. "It doesn't matter, Yuy! Run! Run! Run!" The endless mantra ran through his head, speeding up. He could feel his heart racing as he ran, his lungs tight from lack of oxygen. Still, his mind screamed at him, "Don't look back! Run! Run! Faster! Faster! Run! Run! Faster! Faster!" He ran onwards, across the never-ending path. It was paved, and he could feel the warmth of it soaking into the soles of his sneakers. The hot pavement was smooth, and the endless running was making Heero's feet numb from it. His heart was throbbing with each step he took, drumming into a heated natural rhythm. The chanting continued in his mind, joining the percussion of his feet and pulse, creating a feral tribal music. The music pounded faster, the hypnotic chanting met the pace, and his heart continued speeding up with each labored long stride of his legs, with each pounding of his shoes' soles. "Run! Run! Run! It doesn't matter, run! Run, run, run! Faster, faster, run!"
***
"What are you doing to him?!" Quatre shouted, barely restraining himself. "You said you wouldn't hurt him!"
The shadowed figure turned on the angel with blazing violet eyes, "Disgusting creature, I told you not to interfere!" The angel shied back, muttering apologies as thin tears began creeping down his face. The violet-eyed shadow sighed, turning back to Heero. He couldn't apologize, Death made no apologies; everything he did was for a reason. Looking placidly at the boy in front of him, he spoke just loudly enough for the angel to hear. "I'm not hurting him, Child. The pain is from a drug his captors gave him." Then, he leaned forward again and began whispering more coaxing words into Heero's ear when Quatre interrupted again.
"Wh-- why won't you help him, Death-sama?" The words were soft, heartbroken, and full of tears: like that of a betrayed child. "He's hurting. It's killing him inside; I feel it."
Death remained staring at the boy in front of him, seemingly unmoved by the angel's heart-shattering tone. "I know that, Holy Child. And I'm trying to help him, but he won't listen." There was growing edge of frustration in the rich voice. "I can't take his soul prematurely unless he agrees, and I can't get him to agree unless he opens his eyes." Giving up the soft approach, he shouted down, "Open your eyes for me, Heero Yuy. Listen to my voice, and open your eyes."
"Why won't he listen?"
He sighed heavily at the angel's question, trying to keep himself calm. He wasn't used to an audience, and it was getting tiring. His voice restrained, he answered softly. "If I knew that, Angel, I'd be able to fix it." Death paused for a moment, thinking. "I don't think he believes me."
Quatre blinked in confusion, taking a few steps forward to get a better view of Heero. The captive was now sweating as well as breathing heavily; it sounded as if he had been running a marathon. A thick ropey tendon stood out on Heero's neck, and his jaw was tight with suppressed screaming. "What doesn't he believe, Death-sama?"
***
"Don't stop, Yuy. Don't stop, or they'll get you. Run! Run faster! They're on your tail, will you let them win? Never! (Run.) You are Heero Yuy! (Run.) You are a soldier. (Run.) You don't give up. (Run.) You fight. (You run.) Fight it, Yuy. (Run.) Fight them. (Run.) Don't stop running. Run! They want you to stop running! So run! The voices want you to stop your heart from beating, (Run.) stop breathing, (Run.) stop feeling, (Run.) stop living! Run! They're all against you now, Yuy. Run! You can beat them. Run! Just don't stop running! Run!"
Heero ran onward, through dreamscapes of summer forests, winter snowfalls, spring lakes, and autumn mobile suit bases. He ran, his heart threatening to explode with every step. He ran, his lungs threatening to squeeze into his stomach and never inflate again. He ran, his mind threatening him, warning him not to stop. He didn't know what he was running from, but he ran because his mind told him to. He ran on and on until he could no longer feel the muscles in his thighs, and still he ran. His eyes started watering, and then there were tears flooding down his cheeks, and then there was blood running twin rivers down his face where tears should be; but still, he ran. He couldn't stop running. His mind told him not to stop running. The voices wanted him to stop. He had to get away from those voices! The voices followed him, taunting him, all the voices! "Run!" his mind urged him. "Run, Yuy!"
"Who are you working for, kid?"
"Do you want the Colonies to win or not, Mr. Yuy?"
"Heero?"
"Open your eyes, Heero Yuy."
"Run!"
"What's it made of?"
"Sign it."
"It'll be okay."
"I can end it, end it all."
"Run, run faster! Don't let them beat you!"
"Just tell us or you'll regret it! Now, who are you?"
"Make your decision! This time, no one can do it for you."
"Okay, concentrate on me. I promise I won't yet leave you."
"It's all real! I'm real; you must believe what I'm telling you."
"This is your last chance; run!"
"This is your last chance, kid."
"This is your last chance, Mr. Yuy."
"Run!"
"This is your last chance, Heero; don't worry."
"This is your last chance, Heero Yuy, to open your eyes!"
"Run! Run! Run! Run!"
***
Shaking his head, Death responded solemnly. "He won't answer." The shadowy figure pulled his hood back over his violet eyes, still shaking his head. "There's nothing I can do if he doesn't want to die. I'll return in four days when he won't have that choice."
"What?" Quatre grabbed onto the shadowy figure's sleeve, "You can't be serious!" Death was not smiling. The angel quickly dropped his superior's sleeve, muttering apologies and backing away. His eyes were glossy with fear as he timidly glanced from Death to the violently shaking Heero. "I-- I-- I don't think I can help him anymore." He glared at Death, "You can't leave him like that!"
"Child..." the voice from the black expanse below the hood warned him.
"You said yourself what would happen if you leave him here, Death-sama! You-- you can't!"
The shadowed figure sighed in frustration, trying to ignore the fact that an angel was foolish enough to order him to do anything. "You think I WANT to leave him in that condition?" He gestured to the hanging captive who was muttering at one moment, then making choking sobs another, all the while breathing as if the air were thin. "I don't have a choice. I have a very important schedule to keep, and he's not on it for another four days. I will not let one soul cost the Eternity of hundreds of others. I can't. It's my responsibility not to." He turned his back on the angel sharply, then began concisely walking back the way he came. "It's out of my hands."
Quatre glanced from Heero to Death, then back. "De-- Death-sama, wait! Please, wait!" He called out, causing the shadow to pause. "Wh--what do I do? I-- I don't know how to help him." Qutare saw the hooded figure look away. "Please," He pleaded, "Please, Death-sama, if you have any mercy in you at all..."
***
Heero's head was throbbing faster than his heart now, and still he ran, swaying in his steps. "Run! Run! Run!" His mind urged him ever onward, the other voices losing all coherency underneath the shouting of his own mind. "Run! Run!"
"Shut up." He muttered, still running.
"Run!" It replied. "Run! Run!"
"Shut up." He spoke to the air in front of him as he felt twin droplets of liquid sliding down either side of his face.
"Run! Run!"
"Shut up!" He shouted, still running, as he put his hands over his ears, feeling the thick, hot stuff still spilling beneath his sweaty palms.
"Run! Run! Run! Run!"
"Shut up!" His steps were unsteady now, wavering back and forth as his running slowed to a clumsy jog. "Shut up!"
"Run! Run! Run! Run! Run! Run! Run! Run!" The chant continued steadily, throbbing in his bleeding ears, echoing in his pounding head, drilling into his mind with each syllable, each painful word of, "Run!"
"Shut up! Shut up! Shut uh--" He sobbed, falling to his knees on the hard black pavement. "Shut up." He buried his face in his bloody hands, smearing the thick red substance around his cheeks and eyes, then he desperately gripped his short hair and pulled it hard. "Shut up! Shut up!" His voice cracked, and he relaxed entirely, falling flat against the pavement and shaking. "Shut up. Shut up. God, shut up." He mumbling the litany it to himself, like the most sacred prayers, long after his mind had silenced its previous drilling chant. He lay on the road, sobbing, shaking, praying, as hot blood continued slipping from his ears. His eyes were bloodshot, no longer blue but a harsh burgundy, as bloody scarlet tears swelled in them then fell in thick plops onto the steaming pavement below. The blood slid into his mouth, but he said the prayer around it, blocking out the voices with his own cracked and broken pleading. "Shut up. Shut up. God, please shut up."
He seemed to lay there for years as the four or five different voices continued shouting, never gaining volume, never losing it, even after Heero was sure his ear drums had burst. Then, like a bullet of frozen wind, something piercing straight into his pounding heart, stilling it instantly.
The voices stopped.
***
The shadowed figure stood, his hood still obscuring almost his entire face. He stood an arm's length away from Heero: two icy fingers lightly pressed against the boy's sweat-slicked chest. Apparently, that was enough. Quatre sighed in relief at the sight. Heero was breathing slowly now, all of his muscles relaxed against the chains that held him upright. His face was slack but exhausted looking; his cheeks were wet, and his right ear had a slim trail of blood drizzling from it. The angel bit his lip as he felt Death's intense glare from underneath the hood. "Thank you," the blonde barely whispered.
"Well?" Death's tone held no spite, but was far from pleasant sounding. He didn't like this: going soft just because some angel asked him to pity some dying boy. Death couldn't be soft. He wasn't allowed to pity; he didn't have that right. "Now what?" When the angel didn't respond, he continued, "I can't stand here all night, Holy Child. I have souls waiting outside to attend to. They've been waiting too long already."
Quatre looked down guiltily. He had no idea what to do, but he couldn't let the body he had come to comfort suffer like that. "There-- there has to be something you can say that will make him open his eyes, Death-sama. There has to be." He stated nervously. "I just know it."
The dark figure laughed. "I'd like to know what exactly that 'something' is, then." He paused then added darkly, "Because if you don't come up with something in the next minute," Suddenly, and hourglass appeared in the middle of the cell's floor. It was carved with intricate designs and looked to be made from one large chunk of shiny black stone. Inside its glass, tiny beads of glowing purple sand began slipping downward. "Then I'm leaving, soul or no."
Aqua eyes danced around the room, searching for something, anything, that would give Quatre an idea. Finding nothing, he turned back to Heero and stared, begging the unconscious boy silently for answers. He ran through everything Death had said that had failed. Why wouldn't Heero listen to him? When Quatre had first come in, Heero had looked up. Then he had listened, so why not now? The hourglass' sand was spilling quickly. Well, it was worth a shot. Quatre walked hesitantly forward, motioning for Death to drop his hold on the boy. Reluctantly, the shadowy figure obliged. After a moment, Quatre whispered, "Heero?"
***
Numbness. Coldness. Peace. "I've never felt peace before. Am I dead? This must be what Heaven feels like."
Then it stopped. The coldness started getting warmer, and the relaxed feeling Heero once had had fled him.
A whisper, "Heero?"
He tensed. "Oh, God. Not again. Don't let them start again. I'm sick of running. I can't move. No more voices. It's starting to hurt again. No, I don't want to run anymore. No more voices."
"Heero? Wake up and it'll go away if you do," the voice said. That soft voice, it was the one that didn't yell, didn't hit, didn't laugh.
"I don't believe you." His mind whispered back, knowing fully that the voice couldn't hear him, but whispering anyway.
"It'll all go away, Heero. I promise. Just wake up."
Heero's mind was tired. He couldn't cry, couldn't scream; he was too exhausted. Why run anymore? "Submit, Yuy." His mind scolded. "You're a failure. You've lost everything and you've given up. You're an empty shell, useless. You have nothing left to lose." With a mental sigh, Heero slowly opened his eyes. At first there was nothing to see but a throbbing blur. Then, he could almost hear frantic whispering, but it didn't sound real. After a few moments of consciousness, he became aware of two distinct sensations. There was a cold, hard pressure on his chest in the shape of a hand; Heero knew he should be very alarmed about this, but he wasn't. It didn't feel human, and that was strangely comforting. Secondly, he felt something cool pressing against his left cheek, forcing him to look straight ahead; he distinctly felt a thumb under his chin, like cold silk, and determined that it was the second of twin unearthly hands. The sensations of the hands was lulling, and Heero felt himself drifting ever slowly back into unconsciousness when the hand on his chin jerked him into wakefulness with a jolt. He opened his dull navy eyes fully to come face to face with a pair of deep violet. After a minute of staring, he felt himself falling into the pools, going deeper into the black pupils that rested in the sea of lilac. When he thought he couldn't fall anymore, he heard a whispering chant, but the words were unintelligible, like no language he had ever heard; the chant was soft and dark, fluid in its rapidness, but, unlike the haunting chanting of his mind, this one flew softly over him, like a breeze over still water. Eventually, he became so hypnotized by the velvet chanting that he forgot where he was, who he was, and what was happening, submitting entirely, all too eager to choose the frozen sea over life. He fell asleep without realizing it; he was infinitely tired, and yet, somehow, he wasn't tired anymore.
***
Quatre's wide eyes remained glued to Heero. He watched as Death stared into his victim, their eyes seeming to melt into each other, unblinking. The shadowed figure's lips were moving, just barely, but no words seemed to leave them. After a short time, Heero sagged back where he was hanging with a final exhalation, eyes wide and unseeing. The shadowed figure, one hand still on Heero's chest, the other on his chin, pulled back slowly until he was a few feet away from the corpse he had been holding minutes ago. In each hand he held the chin and chest of a glittering figure, identical to the boy it had just been pulled from. A few seconds later, the glittering sheen faded into a semi-transparency, and Death let go, allowing the newly christened soul to stand on its own.
The angel's feet refused to move for a few minutes after, so he simply stood in the darkness, staring with unblinking eyes at the body of the boy he was supposed to be guarding. Clear, luminescent tears began slowly sliding down his silky cherub cheeks silently. The angelic child seemed to float as he walked over to the still body, then he sat down gracefully beside it. Ignoring the blood, Quatre rested his cheek on Heero's still chest and grieved there, silently.
Death simply stared at his newest work of art for a minute, waiting. Finally, the soul blinked, standing up straight and looking around to get his bearings. Blue and violet eyes locked, each searching for something, but not speaking. After a moment, though, the soul of Heero voiced his question. "Who are you?"
The cloaked figure smiled and held out a hand, "Call me Duo." Now that that trying ordeal was over and he was getting on his way (plus one non-shattered soul, no less), he was in a much better mood.
Heero frowned, not accepting the extended invitation as his eyes scanned the upper walls of the room. "How did you free me of the chains?" Then he looked to his own hands, noticing the cleanliness, and yet eerily pale appearance of them, "My wounds are healed." He looked up in obvious confusion. "What happened?"
Duo responded as any Grim Reaper would; with one heavily cloaked arm, he pointed towards the dead body, on which the angel was still crying. Heero's eyes widened slightly, and he looked back to his hands, then back to his dead body on the opposite side of the room, over and over again. Eventually, he said hesitantly without emotion, "I'm dead." The shadowed figure nodded once, still grinning. Heero nodded slowly to reassure himself, "That's me." Again, Duo nodded. "And you're Death?"
The cloaked man was about to nod again, but stopped himself, "Well, technically, yes. It's actually pretty complicated since you humans have a weird definition of the word 'death.' Well, actually, you're not quite human anymore... but the definition you know is the weird one I'm talking about." Seeing Heero's puzzled look, he finished, "Yes. As far as you're concerned, I would be Death." He bowed gracefully at the introduction.
Heero looked back to his body and, as if he hadn't noticed before, Heero gaped at the sight, "That's an angel?"
Standing, Duo nodded, "Yup."
As if entranced, Heero asked, "Why is he crying for me?" his blue velvet eyes never leaving the angel's back.
Duo answered with a shrug, "Who else would?"
Frowning, the soul began walking over towards the angel, his hand reaching out to place a reassuring pat on the angel's shimmering back. Before he could touch Quatre, though, Duo lunged at Heero, grabbing his wrist. "Hold it, Heero Yuy. You can't touch him, he's holier than thou." Duo smirked at his allusion.
Not amused, Heero didn't struggle but turned his head and spoke numbly, "He shouldn't be crying over me. My life isn't worth it."
"No offense, but what you think doesn't matter. He's a child of God." Duo explained, "One of the Pure Ones. Their job is to comfort humans, and if anyone not human and less pure touches him, the angel's as good as dead."
Heero raised an eyebrow, a small sign compared to the vastness of the confusion he was experiencing. "Angels can die?"
Duo tilted his head. "Now, I didn't say that. I said, 'as good as dead.' Angels aren't alive; so they can't really die, but they can fall. If one disobeys God, he becomes the lowest of God's children: human."
Heero's voice was somber. "I didn't know."
Death smiled a bit brighter, " 'Course you didn't, you've only been a soul for two minutes. I forgive you. But now you know, so don't let it happen, okay?" He released his grip on the soul's wrist and stepped back. "I hate to stop the small talk, but we've really got to be going."
Heero questioned, "Going?"
"Yeah," Duo walked to a wall adjacent to the one behind them and placed the flat of his palms on it. "There's a whole group of souls outside waiting for us. You were the last stop for my shift and it'll be dawn soon." The wall below his hands faded until there was nothing but air between the room and the grass field outside. "We have to make it through Limbo before dawn, and there's two stops for us to make, so let's get a move on."
Dumbly, Heero muttered, "THE Limbo?"
Nodding, Duo replied, "Yup. Limbo is the domain between Heaven, Hell, and Hephess; it's neutral territory, so to speak."
"Hephess?" Heero was getting very confused very quickly.
Duo paused, smiling, "What are you, a parrot?"
"Huh?"
His smile widened as he shook his head, "Hephess is my domain like Heaven is God's and Hell is Satan's. If I said any more about it, I'd just confuse you worse, so let's stop there for now, sound good?"
"Oh. Okay."
"Great." Duo looked poignantly in one direction, and suddenly the ground began rumbling. A few seconds later, a large black horse stood in their midst, silver reins and bridle clinking together. Duo easily mounted and began leading the horse outside into a large flat field, Heero following numbly behind him. Once they were through the wall, it began to reappear. Then, Duo shouted, "Oh! Almost forgot!" He guided the horse halfway through the faded wall and saw Quatre lying against Heero's still form. The angel had cried himself to sleep. Death smiled sadly, then turned back to Heero. "Wait here, I'll be back in a flash." He quickly dismounted and walked his horse back through the wall.
Quatre stirred as he felt a hand on his shoulder shaking him lightly. He opened his blurry eyes, rubbing at them, then looked up at Duo. "Oh. Oh! Oh, I-I'm sorry, Death-sama."
He smiled. "Hey, don't apologize. Come on, or you'll miss the ride: namely, me."
Smiling softly, the angel stood, but as he glanced down, his smile disappeared. "I don't want to leave him like that."
Duo sighed. "I know. But there's nothing we can do. Come on, Child." He tossed an arm around Quatre.
"Quatre, Death-sama." He blushed slightly, looking at his feet. It's not every day an angel speaks with one of The Three, and it was just beginning to seep into Quatre's mind who exactly he was speaking to. "My name is Quatre."
Death grinned, grabbed his horse's reins. "That would make me Duo, then, I guess." He laughed and guided both horse and angel back through the wall to meet Heero on the other side, who, like usual, was frowning.
"I thought you said you couldn't touch angels." Heero accused.
Death grinned, tilting his head to one side. "Uh, uh, I said YOU couldn't touch angels." He chuckled at the hard glare he received from Heero. Still grinning, he mounted his horse once more and began leading the way. "Let's get going. We have quite a walk." Quatre obediently followed, wiping stray tears on his white sleeves and sniffling.
Heero fell in line soon after. His eyes began constantly moving, searching around for anything that would be familiar, anything that would make sense. He looked behind him and saw the solid wall they had just come through. His body was on the other side, cold, still, and staring: empty. He really was dead. Honest-to-God dead. Heero shivered and kept glancing around, desperate for a friendly sight. Finding none, he sighed heavily and followed Death and the angel (who were chatting casually) towards "Limbo." Heero glared at the frozen grass in front of him as he walked. He was dead, why did he feel so cold? Well, he didn't really feel anything: his body was numb. He couldn't even feel his hands as he flexed them; but he couldn't suppress the shivers that kept running through his neck or the unsettling coldness of everything.
Unconsciously, the voice ran through his mind again. "Make your decision!" He had made his decision without a second thought. Now, though, he was having quite a number of second thoughts, but it was already much too late for them. Heero watched as his feet moved in front of him, barely registering that he was walking. He couldn't even feel his feet. He couldn't feel anything. He was completely (disturbingly) numb. Hesitantly, Heero held two fingers to his neck and waited. Nothing. Not only was there no pulse, but he couldn't even feel his own fingers pressed against his skin. The soldier sighed heavily.
"At least I'm not running anymore."
-Despite the title of this fanfic and the message behind it, I DO NOT CONDONE SUICIDE, HOMICIDE, PESTICIDE, OR ANY OTHER FORM OF KILLING. I'm just having fun toying with new ideas rather than accepting old stereotypes. I don't seriously believe a single word of anything I'm writing about death, God, Satan, or the afterlife, and I don't want you to, either. It's fiction, and it's meant to be enjoyed. My purpose is not to sway your beliefs or contradict them; it's to make you think what if? I don't want you to believe what I tell you; I want you to humor me. I want you to question old beliefs and come to your own conclusions, just like I'm doing. Most of all, I want you to enjoy what you're reading. It's meant to be fun, not real.
-Don't expect to see this fic finished, ever. If you have a problem with reading something that will never have an ending, please don't read on. (And, no, begging for an ending won't make me write one. Sorry. ...Although it might make me feel guilty.)
-I hate to use Japanese words in English fics, but I can't see a better way of doing this... When someone is speaking to or about a really important figure, he calls him [insert name]-sama. ...I just can't stand having all of that "master" or "mistress" business... (For those who may not know, "--sama" is suffix that gets the point of "extreme respect" across.) Sorry for the inconveniences this may cause, if any.
Warnings:
-AU (Heero is a Gundam pilot; the rest never were. I mean it, the entire rest of the cast is not in its normal roles.), blood, death, disturbing imagery, violence, cursing, sacrilege, angst, (very non-graphic ^_^;;;) yaoi (1+2 and 3+4), and some het mixed in here and there (though there's more of both in the later never-to-be-written two sequel books).
Summary:
Heero is captured, drugged, and being held in a waiting cell when he receives a few unexpected visitors: one of whom can help him escape... for a price. He accepts, and is tossed into a world of gods, lost souls, ethereal beings, and myseterious voices. (eventual 1+2 and 3+4)
Book One [of Three]: Death's Promise
by Kacfrog711
Chapter 1: Running
Heero groaned as whatever they had given him began to wear off. The numbness that was currently occupying his body began giving way to immeasurable pain, and every cut, bruise, and broken bone he had obtained in the past twenty-four hours began to throb with renewed vivacity. He could feel his heart thumping heavily in his chest, and its beats were echoed in his pounding head. Heero would have cursed the pain but was too sore to bother. Instead, the boy rattled the chains cutting into his wrists, which were attached to the wall somewhere above his head, trying to find a weakness in them. No such luck, Heero sighed and hung his head limply in defeat.
He had been caught. It'd taken a lot of them, and he'd killed many before they'd finally dragged him down, but they had still caught him, nonetheless. There was no excuse for it. Now the entire mission was a failure. Now the colonies had lost for sure. Now the war was as good as over, all because he had failed. He was so stupid! It was all over. He was a failure, a complete failure, and there was nothing he could do about it but sit in this cell and wait to die. Nothing he could do, he'd failed. He'd failed everything. He was worthless, useless. He had lived to see his failure and now he would die of it; he deserved no less. He had failed, and there was nothing he could do about it, about any of it. If only, though... If only...
That's when he heard the voice.
***
"Heero Yuy? I thought he was dead. Actually, I thought I saw him just a few minutes ago..." A young blonde boy stood, his head tilted back as he looked up at one of his superiors. The boy was dressed in flowing white robes, and twin ivory wings larger than the boy himself were neatly folded on his back. His glistening blonde hair seemed to shine like a halo as his sapphire blue eyes looked up in question.
His superior, a woman who appeared to be about twenty-nine, sat behind a golden pulpit, smiling down on the boy. She shook her short blonde hair once sharply, then answered in a resonating voice, "No, Quatre. You and I are speaking of two different people: the one you know, and the one currently on Earth."
"Oh." The child said in realization, then smiled brightly. It wasn't uncommon for more than one person to have the same name. Of course, it was usually something like, "Matthew Schmidt," not "Heero Yuy." Quatre shrugged. "Well then, when do I leave, Saint Lucrezia?"
The saint ruffled her feathery white wings as her head bent downwards to eye the book on the pulpit. Through small round spectacles that suddenly appeared on Lucrezia's nose in a small puff of mist, shimmering navy-blue eyes scanned the writing before her quickly; then, she spoke, "As soon as possible. It's a short-time deal on this one, Quatre. He just needs comfort in his last four, or maybe five, days."
Quatre frowned but nodded. Those were the worst sort of jobs. After he had died and been accepted into Heaven, Quatre had volunteered to be an angel because he had wanted to help people, to comfort them; what he hadn't realized was how often he'd be comforting sickly, often dying, men and yet be unable to help them. However, being an angel, he found the optimistic side of every situation he was put in. Replacing the small pout of a frown with a radiating smile, Quatre met his elder's eyes. "I'd be glad to do all I can for him before he joins us in Eternity." The two nodded, smiling, then waved a short good-bye. With that, Quatre spread his wings and jumped off into the crystal sky towards his gloomy destination.
***
He felt like shit again. It all came rushing back to him an instant, and with such force that, had he not been bodily chained to a wall, he would've been knocked over. What-- What had just happened? What had he just done? He had heard the voice, and then-- No. No, it wasn't real. That didn't really happen. "Wake up, Yuy, you're hallucinating." He cursed himself mentally. No one had come into his cell for hours. That little girl with those haunting eyes had never been there. He had been dreaming again. No one was there. He was alone. He was dying. What was worse, he had failed everyone and everything that had counted on him. Nothing could change that, especially not dream children.
That fated fight now seemed like hours ago. Someone had sabotaged Wing shortly before it. Heero couldn't believe it. How had he been so stupid as to let someone near his dear Wing? How had that someone managed to crack his security in the short time he was away? How had it happened?! But it had, and he'd paid the price for it. Heero'd fought on, despite not having a functioning beam saber, despite having no ammunition, despite losing all hope of winning. He couldn't fight forever; he knew that. So he self-detonated.
He was supposed to die in that battle. The whole base should've been taken out by the blast and he should've went down with it in a ball of light, melding into one with his shattered Gundam. What had gone wrong?! He had survived, and even the base had survived fairly intact. Maybe they even had his Gundam somewhere, piecing it back together like a puzzle of shrapnel, debris, and twisted metal. Who knew? Heero was no longer sure about anything he had once known. He had died, and then he had been awake, and soon after, the enemy had been trying to get him to reveal information. He hadn't, of course. Besides, he couldn't even think then; the pain had been so intense. They had pumped him full of some nasty chemicals that did God-only-knows to his system: at least one of which was a painkiller, another of which sped up his heart rate much too fast for Heero's liking, and yet another of which seemed to make him hallucinatory. It didn't matter what exactly those chemicals he'd been injected with were, though, because he had passed out soon after receiving them. He had then spent what had felt like days passing into and out of consciousness in that tiny room that smelled like needles.
So now he was here in a waiting cell. Waiting to be questioned, killed, or tortured, he didn't know or really care. This cell was his grave. If they didn't come back soon, he'd die here. If they did come back, he'd die somewhere else. Then THAT would be his grave. What did the location matter? Nothing mattered. He felt lifeless already. He couldn't even feel his arms anymore, suspended above him like they were. "Dead man hanging." The cold in the solid steel cell didn't even bother Heero, didn't even reach him. All his mind could process were self-loathing, cold numbness, and sharp bursts of intense driving pain. What's worse, he was at the mercy of his enemies and with no one on his side that could help him escape. No one on his side... He was as good as dead, and Heero was fully aware of this. Somehow, it didn't scare him as much as he thought it should. Nothing scared him anymore. Besides, it hurt too much to be scared. His heart pounded on in a dull rhythm all over his body. Heero counted the beats, but without a clock or watch, it wasn't much use. He estimated that his heart was going at least twice as fast as it should be, and that was enough to do permanent damage. He gulped in short gasps of air, but it didn't slow his bolting heart even marginally. Of all the ways to die, it would be of a heart attack from some unnamed drug? That was unexpected, to say the least. Heero gritted his teeth as another wave of pain rolled through his spine from fingers to toes. Then it was gone, but his heart wasn't so easily sated; it was really starting to making his chest hurt, like it would burst at any minute.
***
Quatre dropped smoothly through the ceiling of Heero's cell without a sound. His wings beat softly, stirring the dust up as he landed with swift grace. He stood there watching the panting captive for a moment, the angel's smooth pale skin in stark contrast to the dull metallic walls encompassing him. After a moment, the boy whispered, "Heero Yuy?"
The figure didn't stir, so Quatre tried again, his voice soothing but strong. "Heero?"
Stirring from his thoughts, the captive raised his dark head slightly and eyed the empty room suspiciously. His dark blue eyes scanned over the heavenly creature as if it were not there, and to Heero's eyes, it wasn't. "Hearing voices again, Yuy? It must be another side-effect of the drugs." He sighed, cutting his thoughts off. Thinking hurt. Everything besides doing nothing hurt. Hell, doing nothing hurt, too. He grimaced again as another wave of pain rolled from his right arm, through his spine, and into his legs. "That arm is definitely broken, and the painkillers are wearing off. Damn it."
Assured that the beaten boy in front of him was whom he was looking for, Quatre slowly walked over to him. His feet barely touched the ground as he walked, and it seemed as if the blonde flew across the metal floor without using his wings. He paused before Heero and laid a reassuring hand on the captive's shoulder. Heero inhaled sharply at the touch, then relaxed fully, now hanging by the chains that held his wrists in place. The angel frowned despite himself. This was such a terrible place and an awful situation to be in. He couldn't help but wonder how such a young boy like Heero had gotten himself into it. Sighing himself, Quatre walked slowly closer and embraced Heero, wrapping even his wings about the soldier in a shimmering white shelter or warmth and love. The angel remained there for some time, giving the battered soldier what little comfort he could provide, his thoughts centered on reassurance and peace. Heero seemed to relax, the pain barely visible in his features.
The blonde didn't move until he heard something coming from a far corner. Not retracting his warm embrace, the angel turned his head and strained his eyes into the darkness, trying to pick out a form. After a moment, Quatre recognized the sound as horses' hooves: one horse, at a light trot. The sound stopped after a few minutes, and the sound of someone dismounting followed. Squinting, the angel strove to determine who was coming. His eyes widened as realization dawned on him, and he only hugged his current charge more tightly as the figure approached.
A man in black clothing and a long black cloak walked softly towards the two. His face was completely in the shadow of his hood, and only the pale skin of his hands offset the dark figure. He paused when he was a few feet from the angel and said nothing. Quatre shook lightly, but tried to keep himself calm. He questioned the figure timidly, "Death-sama?" and the figure nodded his hooded head.
"Go on, Holy One. Get out of here." A voice that had an echo too rich for its youthful tenor tone resounded through the cool room, but Heero did not seem to hear it. The figure continued in a steady voice, pointing at an undisclosed point somewhere away from Heero, "Go back to your Father and leave us. Your work's done."
Quatre, still clinging to the chained boy his own age shook his head repeatedly, "No." At first, his voice failed him, so he repeated, "No, I-- I was told he had four days. Please allow me that much. Can't you see he needs the comfort?" The angel could not read the cloaked man's response since his face was still well-hidden, but he heard the crisp response as it echoed off the slick metal walls around them.
"You're right on one part, Holy Child: his thread ends four days from now. If you really want me to, I'll leave him and come back in four days, but what I find won't be pretty. If events run as I've been told they will, his soul will be shattered by then, his body broken far beyond what it is now, and his mind will be absolutely shredded, all way beyond repair. That's why I'm here now, to prevent all this. I don't want to be burdened with a broken soul on my hands when I can simply take it now and get it in one piece. And I'm sure you, Angel, don't want the guilt of a broken soul on your holy head, either, am I wrong?" Quatre turned his gaze away from the man in black and buried his face in Heero's neck, unable to verbally deny what he knew to be true. Seeing this, the cloaked figure added in a relatively gentle tone, "Believe me, it'd be best for everyone if he goes with me now rather than then. If I don't take him, what's in store for him in the next few days can't be amended by any small solace your Heavenly Self might provide."
Loosening his grip on Heero, the angel reluctantly stepped back. He visibly cringed when Heero groaned lightly in pain at the loss of the intangible comfort. Quatre looked sadly over at the dark figure. "I do believe you, Death-sama, but may I stay with him, or must I leave?"
A minute of consideration passed before the covered figure responded hesitantly, "You can stay, if you really must," he conceded, then finished darkly, "but I'm warning you not to interfere. Don't touch him again if you value your status as a child of God."
The angel nodded and stepped farther back from Heero in show of his agreement. As the dark figure approached Heero's unconscious form, Quatre questioned softly, "Will it hurt him?"
The figure paused in front of Heero, and turned towards the inquisitive angel. He spoke softly, his voice full of reassurance. "No. The release of his conscious soul is a gift compared to the pain he has endured in his past." Quatre nodded mutely and the darker boy turned back toward his goal. The figure examined Heero for a minute with his shadowed eyes, then placed a pale hand on the boy's chest, just above the line of Heero's tank-top. In response, Heero shivered at the freezing touch, his breathing speeding up for a short second before slowing down drastically; so much so that he was barely breathing at all. The cloaked boy felt the heartbeat under his hand slow gradually until it was only a light pulsing under his frigid fingertips.
The angel watched silently from under a strong-willed appearance. He held up his chin, and yet hugged himself, too. He knew what was happening; he had heard his fellows and souls in Heaven speak of it. However, he'd yet to see it for himself. After all, most angels left before Death was even close; angels and shades never interacted well, never mind the father of all shades himself. Quatre chewed his lower lip lightly in nervousness, desperately telling his feet not to run towards the boy he was supposed to be comforting or away from the omnipotent being in front of him. He was told not to interfere, and he wasn't about to. No matter how much he wanted to help, Death was right: there wasn't much he could do now.
His right hand still pressed against Heero's slowed heart, the cloaked boy pushed back his black hood. A shock of rich brown hair in a messy braid tumbled down his back, and the same hair fell forward slightly, just covering a pair of glowing violet eyes. He leaned forward until his lips were next to his victim's ear, then whispered in an intensely luring voice. "Look at me, Heero Yuy. Open your eyes." He sat back just far enough to watch Heero's face, then waited. When he got no reaction, he slowly pulled his hand back from Heero's chest.
***
As Heero's breath sped up again, his system began once more filling with hot pain. The strong voice ordered him to open his eyes, but why should he? It was just a voice. It wasn't real! He heard the same echoed voice whispering, "You don't want to leave yet. I know. You're too strong. But trust me, Heero Yuy, you want to leave. You need to leave now while you're still in one piece. Take this gift. Open your eyes." Voices, more voices, he really was going crazy! This one sounded far away, like the person speaking was over a mountain, and his voice was simply carried on the wind. Heero groaned as he felt his heart rushing much too fast to be normal. He clenched his fists in their cuffs, gritting his teeth. The pain in his chest was unbearable. Heero desperately tried to control his labored breathing and his pounding chest but to no avail; he was too weak now. "I know it hurts." There was that young male voice again, that far-off voice. What was it saying? The words seemed to meld together, blurring until all he could gather was the tone of them alone; but the tone was enough. He knew what the voice was saying, even though the pounding in his ears drowned the individual words out. "I can stop it. Just open your eyes, Heero Yuy, and I'll end the pain. I can make it go away, but you have to let me. Open your eyes."
***
The shadowed figure before him remained expressionless as Heero writhed in obvious pain. He hated to do this to the boy who'd been through so much already, but it was the only way. Like he had told Heero, he could stop the pain. One touch of his bloodless finger would calm Heero's heart back down to a dull throbbing. Though he hated it, he couldn't help Heero yet, not until he got what he wanted. As soon as Heero opened his eyes, he'd end the pain: an end from pain and a place in Eternity. Escape: it was Death's promise.
***
Heero was running. He didn't know where. "It doesn't matter, Yuy! Run! Run! Run!" The endless mantra ran through his head, speeding up. He could feel his heart racing as he ran, his lungs tight from lack of oxygen. Still, his mind screamed at him, "Don't look back! Run! Run! Faster! Faster! Run! Run! Faster! Faster!" He ran onwards, across the never-ending path. It was paved, and he could feel the warmth of it soaking into the soles of his sneakers. The hot pavement was smooth, and the endless running was making Heero's feet numb from it. His heart was throbbing with each step he took, drumming into a heated natural rhythm. The chanting continued in his mind, joining the percussion of his feet and pulse, creating a feral tribal music. The music pounded faster, the hypnotic chanting met the pace, and his heart continued speeding up with each labored long stride of his legs, with each pounding of his shoes' soles. "Run! Run! Run! It doesn't matter, run! Run, run, run! Faster, faster, run!"
***
"What are you doing to him?!" Quatre shouted, barely restraining himself. "You said you wouldn't hurt him!"
The shadowed figure turned on the angel with blazing violet eyes, "Disgusting creature, I told you not to interfere!" The angel shied back, muttering apologies as thin tears began creeping down his face. The violet-eyed shadow sighed, turning back to Heero. He couldn't apologize, Death made no apologies; everything he did was for a reason. Looking placidly at the boy in front of him, he spoke just loudly enough for the angel to hear. "I'm not hurting him, Child. The pain is from a drug his captors gave him." Then, he leaned forward again and began whispering more coaxing words into Heero's ear when Quatre interrupted again.
"Wh-- why won't you help him, Death-sama?" The words were soft, heartbroken, and full of tears: like that of a betrayed child. "He's hurting. It's killing him inside; I feel it."
Death remained staring at the boy in front of him, seemingly unmoved by the angel's heart-shattering tone. "I know that, Holy Child. And I'm trying to help him, but he won't listen." There was growing edge of frustration in the rich voice. "I can't take his soul prematurely unless he agrees, and I can't get him to agree unless he opens his eyes." Giving up the soft approach, he shouted down, "Open your eyes for me, Heero Yuy. Listen to my voice, and open your eyes."
"Why won't he listen?"
He sighed heavily at the angel's question, trying to keep himself calm. He wasn't used to an audience, and it was getting tiring. His voice restrained, he answered softly. "If I knew that, Angel, I'd be able to fix it." Death paused for a moment, thinking. "I don't think he believes me."
Quatre blinked in confusion, taking a few steps forward to get a better view of Heero. The captive was now sweating as well as breathing heavily; it sounded as if he had been running a marathon. A thick ropey tendon stood out on Heero's neck, and his jaw was tight with suppressed screaming. "What doesn't he believe, Death-sama?"
***
"Don't stop, Yuy. Don't stop, or they'll get you. Run! Run faster! They're on your tail, will you let them win? Never! (Run.) You are Heero Yuy! (Run.) You are a soldier. (Run.) You don't give up. (Run.) You fight. (You run.) Fight it, Yuy. (Run.) Fight them. (Run.) Don't stop running. Run! They want you to stop running! So run! The voices want you to stop your heart from beating, (Run.) stop breathing, (Run.) stop feeling, (Run.) stop living! Run! They're all against you now, Yuy. Run! You can beat them. Run! Just don't stop running! Run!"
Heero ran onward, through dreamscapes of summer forests, winter snowfalls, spring lakes, and autumn mobile suit bases. He ran, his heart threatening to explode with every step. He ran, his lungs threatening to squeeze into his stomach and never inflate again. He ran, his mind threatening him, warning him not to stop. He didn't know what he was running from, but he ran because his mind told him to. He ran on and on until he could no longer feel the muscles in his thighs, and still he ran. His eyes started watering, and then there were tears flooding down his cheeks, and then there was blood running twin rivers down his face where tears should be; but still, he ran. He couldn't stop running. His mind told him not to stop running. The voices wanted him to stop. He had to get away from those voices! The voices followed him, taunting him, all the voices! "Run!" his mind urged him. "Run, Yuy!"
"Who are you working for, kid?"
"Do you want the Colonies to win or not, Mr. Yuy?"
"Heero?"
"Open your eyes, Heero Yuy."
"Run!"
"What's it made of?"
"Sign it."
"It'll be okay."
"I can end it, end it all."
"Run, run faster! Don't let them beat you!"
"Just tell us or you'll regret it! Now, who are you?"
"Make your decision! This time, no one can do it for you."
"Okay, concentrate on me. I promise I won't yet leave you."
"It's all real! I'm real; you must believe what I'm telling you."
"This is your last chance; run!"
"This is your last chance, kid."
"This is your last chance, Mr. Yuy."
"Run!"
"This is your last chance, Heero; don't worry."
"This is your last chance, Heero Yuy, to open your eyes!"
"Run! Run! Run! Run!"
***
Shaking his head, Death responded solemnly. "He won't answer." The shadowy figure pulled his hood back over his violet eyes, still shaking his head. "There's nothing I can do if he doesn't want to die. I'll return in four days when he won't have that choice."
"What?" Quatre grabbed onto the shadowy figure's sleeve, "You can't be serious!" Death was not smiling. The angel quickly dropped his superior's sleeve, muttering apologies and backing away. His eyes were glossy with fear as he timidly glanced from Death to the violently shaking Heero. "I-- I-- I don't think I can help him anymore." He glared at Death, "You can't leave him like that!"
"Child..." the voice from the black expanse below the hood warned him.
"You said yourself what would happen if you leave him here, Death-sama! You-- you can't!"
The shadowed figure sighed in frustration, trying to ignore the fact that an angel was foolish enough to order him to do anything. "You think I WANT to leave him in that condition?" He gestured to the hanging captive who was muttering at one moment, then making choking sobs another, all the while breathing as if the air were thin. "I don't have a choice. I have a very important schedule to keep, and he's not on it for another four days. I will not let one soul cost the Eternity of hundreds of others. I can't. It's my responsibility not to." He turned his back on the angel sharply, then began concisely walking back the way he came. "It's out of my hands."
Quatre glanced from Heero to Death, then back. "De-- Death-sama, wait! Please, wait!" He called out, causing the shadow to pause. "Wh--what do I do? I-- I don't know how to help him." Qutare saw the hooded figure look away. "Please," He pleaded, "Please, Death-sama, if you have any mercy in you at all..."
***
Heero's head was throbbing faster than his heart now, and still he ran, swaying in his steps. "Run! Run! Run!" His mind urged him ever onward, the other voices losing all coherency underneath the shouting of his own mind. "Run! Run!"
"Shut up." He muttered, still running.
"Run!" It replied. "Run! Run!"
"Shut up." He spoke to the air in front of him as he felt twin droplets of liquid sliding down either side of his face.
"Run! Run!"
"Shut up!" He shouted, still running, as he put his hands over his ears, feeling the thick, hot stuff still spilling beneath his sweaty palms.
"Run! Run! Run! Run!"
"Shut up!" His steps were unsteady now, wavering back and forth as his running slowed to a clumsy jog. "Shut up!"
"Run! Run! Run! Run! Run! Run! Run! Run!" The chant continued steadily, throbbing in his bleeding ears, echoing in his pounding head, drilling into his mind with each syllable, each painful word of, "Run!"
"Shut up! Shut up! Shut uh--" He sobbed, falling to his knees on the hard black pavement. "Shut up." He buried his face in his bloody hands, smearing the thick red substance around his cheeks and eyes, then he desperately gripped his short hair and pulled it hard. "Shut up! Shut up!" His voice cracked, and he relaxed entirely, falling flat against the pavement and shaking. "Shut up. Shut up. God, shut up." He mumbling the litany it to himself, like the most sacred prayers, long after his mind had silenced its previous drilling chant. He lay on the road, sobbing, shaking, praying, as hot blood continued slipping from his ears. His eyes were bloodshot, no longer blue but a harsh burgundy, as bloody scarlet tears swelled in them then fell in thick plops onto the steaming pavement below. The blood slid into his mouth, but he said the prayer around it, blocking out the voices with his own cracked and broken pleading. "Shut up. Shut up. God, please shut up."
He seemed to lay there for years as the four or five different voices continued shouting, never gaining volume, never losing it, even after Heero was sure his ear drums had burst. Then, like a bullet of frozen wind, something piercing straight into his pounding heart, stilling it instantly.
The voices stopped.
***
The shadowed figure stood, his hood still obscuring almost his entire face. He stood an arm's length away from Heero: two icy fingers lightly pressed against the boy's sweat-slicked chest. Apparently, that was enough. Quatre sighed in relief at the sight. Heero was breathing slowly now, all of his muscles relaxed against the chains that held him upright. His face was slack but exhausted looking; his cheeks were wet, and his right ear had a slim trail of blood drizzling from it. The angel bit his lip as he felt Death's intense glare from underneath the hood. "Thank you," the blonde barely whispered.
"Well?" Death's tone held no spite, but was far from pleasant sounding. He didn't like this: going soft just because some angel asked him to pity some dying boy. Death couldn't be soft. He wasn't allowed to pity; he didn't have that right. "Now what?" When the angel didn't respond, he continued, "I can't stand here all night, Holy Child. I have souls waiting outside to attend to. They've been waiting too long already."
Quatre looked down guiltily. He had no idea what to do, but he couldn't let the body he had come to comfort suffer like that. "There-- there has to be something you can say that will make him open his eyes, Death-sama. There has to be." He stated nervously. "I just know it."
The dark figure laughed. "I'd like to know what exactly that 'something' is, then." He paused then added darkly, "Because if you don't come up with something in the next minute," Suddenly, and hourglass appeared in the middle of the cell's floor. It was carved with intricate designs and looked to be made from one large chunk of shiny black stone. Inside its glass, tiny beads of glowing purple sand began slipping downward. "Then I'm leaving, soul or no."
Aqua eyes danced around the room, searching for something, anything, that would give Quatre an idea. Finding nothing, he turned back to Heero and stared, begging the unconscious boy silently for answers. He ran through everything Death had said that had failed. Why wouldn't Heero listen to him? When Quatre had first come in, Heero had looked up. Then he had listened, so why not now? The hourglass' sand was spilling quickly. Well, it was worth a shot. Quatre walked hesitantly forward, motioning for Death to drop his hold on the boy. Reluctantly, the shadowy figure obliged. After a moment, Quatre whispered, "Heero?"
***
Numbness. Coldness. Peace. "I've never felt peace before. Am I dead? This must be what Heaven feels like."
Then it stopped. The coldness started getting warmer, and the relaxed feeling Heero once had had fled him.
A whisper, "Heero?"
He tensed. "Oh, God. Not again. Don't let them start again. I'm sick of running. I can't move. No more voices. It's starting to hurt again. No, I don't want to run anymore. No more voices."
"Heero? Wake up and it'll go away if you do," the voice said. That soft voice, it was the one that didn't yell, didn't hit, didn't laugh.
"I don't believe you." His mind whispered back, knowing fully that the voice couldn't hear him, but whispering anyway.
"It'll all go away, Heero. I promise. Just wake up."
Heero's mind was tired. He couldn't cry, couldn't scream; he was too exhausted. Why run anymore? "Submit, Yuy." His mind scolded. "You're a failure. You've lost everything and you've given up. You're an empty shell, useless. You have nothing left to lose." With a mental sigh, Heero slowly opened his eyes. At first there was nothing to see but a throbbing blur. Then, he could almost hear frantic whispering, but it didn't sound real. After a few moments of consciousness, he became aware of two distinct sensations. There was a cold, hard pressure on his chest in the shape of a hand; Heero knew he should be very alarmed about this, but he wasn't. It didn't feel human, and that was strangely comforting. Secondly, he felt something cool pressing against his left cheek, forcing him to look straight ahead; he distinctly felt a thumb under his chin, like cold silk, and determined that it was the second of twin unearthly hands. The sensations of the hands was lulling, and Heero felt himself drifting ever slowly back into unconsciousness when the hand on his chin jerked him into wakefulness with a jolt. He opened his dull navy eyes fully to come face to face with a pair of deep violet. After a minute of staring, he felt himself falling into the pools, going deeper into the black pupils that rested in the sea of lilac. When he thought he couldn't fall anymore, he heard a whispering chant, but the words were unintelligible, like no language he had ever heard; the chant was soft and dark, fluid in its rapidness, but, unlike the haunting chanting of his mind, this one flew softly over him, like a breeze over still water. Eventually, he became so hypnotized by the velvet chanting that he forgot where he was, who he was, and what was happening, submitting entirely, all too eager to choose the frozen sea over life. He fell asleep without realizing it; he was infinitely tired, and yet, somehow, he wasn't tired anymore.
***
Quatre's wide eyes remained glued to Heero. He watched as Death stared into his victim, their eyes seeming to melt into each other, unblinking. The shadowed figure's lips were moving, just barely, but no words seemed to leave them. After a short time, Heero sagged back where he was hanging with a final exhalation, eyes wide and unseeing. The shadowed figure, one hand still on Heero's chest, the other on his chin, pulled back slowly until he was a few feet away from the corpse he had been holding minutes ago. In each hand he held the chin and chest of a glittering figure, identical to the boy it had just been pulled from. A few seconds later, the glittering sheen faded into a semi-transparency, and Death let go, allowing the newly christened soul to stand on its own.
The angel's feet refused to move for a few minutes after, so he simply stood in the darkness, staring with unblinking eyes at the body of the boy he was supposed to be guarding. Clear, luminescent tears began slowly sliding down his silky cherub cheeks silently. The angelic child seemed to float as he walked over to the still body, then he sat down gracefully beside it. Ignoring the blood, Quatre rested his cheek on Heero's still chest and grieved there, silently.
Death simply stared at his newest work of art for a minute, waiting. Finally, the soul blinked, standing up straight and looking around to get his bearings. Blue and violet eyes locked, each searching for something, but not speaking. After a moment, though, the soul of Heero voiced his question. "Who are you?"
The cloaked figure smiled and held out a hand, "Call me Duo." Now that that trying ordeal was over and he was getting on his way (plus one non-shattered soul, no less), he was in a much better mood.
Heero frowned, not accepting the extended invitation as his eyes scanned the upper walls of the room. "How did you free me of the chains?" Then he looked to his own hands, noticing the cleanliness, and yet eerily pale appearance of them, "My wounds are healed." He looked up in obvious confusion. "What happened?"
Duo responded as any Grim Reaper would; with one heavily cloaked arm, he pointed towards the dead body, on which the angel was still crying. Heero's eyes widened slightly, and he looked back to his hands, then back to his dead body on the opposite side of the room, over and over again. Eventually, he said hesitantly without emotion, "I'm dead." The shadowed figure nodded once, still grinning. Heero nodded slowly to reassure himself, "That's me." Again, Duo nodded. "And you're Death?"
The cloaked man was about to nod again, but stopped himself, "Well, technically, yes. It's actually pretty complicated since you humans have a weird definition of the word 'death.' Well, actually, you're not quite human anymore... but the definition you know is the weird one I'm talking about." Seeing Heero's puzzled look, he finished, "Yes. As far as you're concerned, I would be Death." He bowed gracefully at the introduction.
Heero looked back to his body and, as if he hadn't noticed before, Heero gaped at the sight, "That's an angel?"
Standing, Duo nodded, "Yup."
As if entranced, Heero asked, "Why is he crying for me?" his blue velvet eyes never leaving the angel's back.
Duo answered with a shrug, "Who else would?"
Frowning, the soul began walking over towards the angel, his hand reaching out to place a reassuring pat on the angel's shimmering back. Before he could touch Quatre, though, Duo lunged at Heero, grabbing his wrist. "Hold it, Heero Yuy. You can't touch him, he's holier than thou." Duo smirked at his allusion.
Not amused, Heero didn't struggle but turned his head and spoke numbly, "He shouldn't be crying over me. My life isn't worth it."
"No offense, but what you think doesn't matter. He's a child of God." Duo explained, "One of the Pure Ones. Their job is to comfort humans, and if anyone not human and less pure touches him, the angel's as good as dead."
Heero raised an eyebrow, a small sign compared to the vastness of the confusion he was experiencing. "Angels can die?"
Duo tilted his head. "Now, I didn't say that. I said, 'as good as dead.' Angels aren't alive; so they can't really die, but they can fall. If one disobeys God, he becomes the lowest of God's children: human."
Heero's voice was somber. "I didn't know."
Death smiled a bit brighter, " 'Course you didn't, you've only been a soul for two minutes. I forgive you. But now you know, so don't let it happen, okay?" He released his grip on the soul's wrist and stepped back. "I hate to stop the small talk, but we've really got to be going."
Heero questioned, "Going?"
"Yeah," Duo walked to a wall adjacent to the one behind them and placed the flat of his palms on it. "There's a whole group of souls outside waiting for us. You were the last stop for my shift and it'll be dawn soon." The wall below his hands faded until there was nothing but air between the room and the grass field outside. "We have to make it through Limbo before dawn, and there's two stops for us to make, so let's get a move on."
Dumbly, Heero muttered, "THE Limbo?"
Nodding, Duo replied, "Yup. Limbo is the domain between Heaven, Hell, and Hephess; it's neutral territory, so to speak."
"Hephess?" Heero was getting very confused very quickly.
Duo paused, smiling, "What are you, a parrot?"
"Huh?"
His smile widened as he shook his head, "Hephess is my domain like Heaven is God's and Hell is Satan's. If I said any more about it, I'd just confuse you worse, so let's stop there for now, sound good?"
"Oh. Okay."
"Great." Duo looked poignantly in one direction, and suddenly the ground began rumbling. A few seconds later, a large black horse stood in their midst, silver reins and bridle clinking together. Duo easily mounted and began leading the horse outside into a large flat field, Heero following numbly behind him. Once they were through the wall, it began to reappear. Then, Duo shouted, "Oh! Almost forgot!" He guided the horse halfway through the faded wall and saw Quatre lying against Heero's still form. The angel had cried himself to sleep. Death smiled sadly, then turned back to Heero. "Wait here, I'll be back in a flash." He quickly dismounted and walked his horse back through the wall.
Quatre stirred as he felt a hand on his shoulder shaking him lightly. He opened his blurry eyes, rubbing at them, then looked up at Duo. "Oh. Oh! Oh, I-I'm sorry, Death-sama."
He smiled. "Hey, don't apologize. Come on, or you'll miss the ride: namely, me."
Smiling softly, the angel stood, but as he glanced down, his smile disappeared. "I don't want to leave him like that."
Duo sighed. "I know. But there's nothing we can do. Come on, Child." He tossed an arm around Quatre.
"Quatre, Death-sama." He blushed slightly, looking at his feet. It's not every day an angel speaks with one of The Three, and it was just beginning to seep into Quatre's mind who exactly he was speaking to. "My name is Quatre."
Death grinned, grabbed his horse's reins. "That would make me Duo, then, I guess." He laughed and guided both horse and angel back through the wall to meet Heero on the other side, who, like usual, was frowning.
"I thought you said you couldn't touch angels." Heero accused.
Death grinned, tilting his head to one side. "Uh, uh, I said YOU couldn't touch angels." He chuckled at the hard glare he received from Heero. Still grinning, he mounted his horse once more and began leading the way. "Let's get going. We have quite a walk." Quatre obediently followed, wiping stray tears on his white sleeves and sniffling.
Heero fell in line soon after. His eyes began constantly moving, searching around for anything that would be familiar, anything that would make sense. He looked behind him and saw the solid wall they had just come through. His body was on the other side, cold, still, and staring: empty. He really was dead. Honest-to-God dead. Heero shivered and kept glancing around, desperate for a friendly sight. Finding none, he sighed heavily and followed Death and the angel (who were chatting casually) towards "Limbo." Heero glared at the frozen grass in front of him as he walked. He was dead, why did he feel so cold? Well, he didn't really feel anything: his body was numb. He couldn't even feel his hands as he flexed them; but he couldn't suppress the shivers that kept running through his neck or the unsettling coldness of everything.
Unconsciously, the voice ran through his mind again. "Make your decision!" He had made his decision without a second thought. Now, though, he was having quite a number of second thoughts, but it was already much too late for them. Heero watched as his feet moved in front of him, barely registering that he was walking. He couldn't even feel his feet. He couldn't feel anything. He was completely (disturbingly) numb. Hesitantly, Heero held two fingers to his neck and waited. Nothing. Not only was there no pulse, but he couldn't even feel his own fingers pressed against his skin. The soldier sighed heavily.
"At least I'm not running anymore."