Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Death's Promise [Book 1 of 3] ❯ Walking ( Chapter 2 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Chapter 2: Walking

After clearing the military base's property, the three had entered a relatively thin forest. The forest was dark; the streaming moonlight overhead only added to the various moving shadows. It was cold; rain in any season chills the air, but rain in winter can be deadly. (Luckily for the three travelers, however, none of them were capable of dying anymore.) The infectious smells of mud, cold air, and wet pine trees encompassed them, flooding their senses from all around with the feel, taste, sight and smell of nature at its coldest. The sky above was far from that which poets devote verses to with "a never-ending amount of bright twinkling stars in a warm blanket of blue velvet." No, the sky above them was a flat and lifeless amber that bordered on pink, and not a single star could be described as "bright," "warm," or "twinkling." The forest was winter in every way, from the spidery black branches to the half-frozen puddles that littered the ground. A winter forest, it was like a grave that had been cried on by a depressed forgotten widow: shadowed, dead, and wet.

The walk was short, but, to Heero, it seemed to take hours. It had been raining, apparently, because the trees were slimy and dripping with the stuff. For every few steps Heero took, he got a little wetter: either he would step in some hidden puddle and add more water to his already soaked socks, or some cruel leaf left over from fall would decide to tumble at the particular moment Heero was passing under it, drenching the soul's hair with a miniature shower of collected rain. Heero felt sick. It wasn't that he minded being so disgustingly wet; hell, he couldn't even feel the water he knew to be dripping down his face and neck. No, it was something worse that had him feeling this way. There was a nagging voice in the back of his mind; a voice that was laughing at him, poking him, reminding him. While it wasn't anything compared to what he had experienced in that cell, it was there, and it was toying with him. "Guilt!" It shouted. "Painful realization!" It taunted. "Deadly anticipation!" it prodded, leaving him uneasy. He was afraid, even. The feelings the voice caused went straight to his stomach, wrenching it uncomfortably. Of course, the horrid weather didn't help him feel any better. His eyes trained on the ground before him, Heero walked silently, consumed by his thoughts: thoughts created by that voice, that voice that was slowly chipping away at his wall of sanity. He had done the right thing! He had. He'd just keep telling himself that. It was all for the best, in the end. It had to be. With each step that led him closer to his destination, a hard toll on his resolve was taken as well.

Duo, on the other hand, strove forward with eyes daring the path in front of him to get in the way. His hood was back now, allowing violet eyes to peer into the brush ahead with a glowing determination. His dark clothing blended perfectly with the deep forest shades, and he walked proud and sure without a single hesitated step. After all, he was a deity. He had an appearance to maintain. Inside, however, Duo was not nearly so confident. To a trained eye, there was an obvious urgency in his steps, a deeply-rooted fear in the darting of his eyes, a gnawing guilt in occasional biting of his lip. He was worried; he was nervous; he was concerned. But to Quatre, to Heero, to the forest, and to anyone else that should happen to see him, Duo was perfectly at ease, happily walking in no rush whatsoever. To preserve this calm appearance, Duo had even dismounted his horse a while back and was now walking along side the angel, engaging in polite conversation with him. "So what're you still hanging around for, Quatre? Don't you have places to be?"

Unused to such rural territory, Quatre walked daintily on air, careful to keep his bare feet out of contact with the mud below. He ducked carefully away from low-hanging trees for fear that one of his large wings would catch on a gnarled branch... again. The last time had been terribly unpleasant, and he had lost quite a few feathers; luckily, angels couldn't feel pain, or he was sure he would have been in a lot if it. Quatre stood out among the blackened trees like a snowflake, and a mist of ethereal light seemed to perpetually surround him, aiding to his out-of-place appearance. Death-sama had promised that this forest wasn't too wide, but Quatre was beginning to think the contrary. How long had he been dodging fallen logs and low branches? Much too long, and there was still no sign of leaving these woods. Hopefully they'd be back in a civilized area soon. "Places to be? I was supposed to spend the next four days in that cell, Death-sama. I have nowhere to be for a while."

Duo grinned brightly in response. "Well, great! You can hang out with Heero and me and the group, then we'll drop you off at Heaven's doorstep, 'kay?" He once again glanced over his shoulder at Heero, who was walking silently with his head down a few steps behind them. Duo kept doing that: glancing over his shoulder to make sure Heero was still there. What, did he think the soul was just going to up and run away or something? It was possible, he supposed; souls occasionally did just run off, but with Heero, it didn't seem likely. So why was Duo acting so concerned? Maybe it was because of the way Heero was acting. Then again, a lot of souls acted that way. So what other reason could Duo have?

Quatre's eyes lit up at the thought of being brought home. Heaven. He couldn't wait to get back there. Heaven is like a drug: it looks fine enough, but no one is particularly anxious to try it; after one hit, though, the user becomes immediately addicted, just waiting for the next dosage, craving it like air itself. Quatre had only been away from home for about an hour or so, and already he missed it desperately. He smiled at Duo at the fond remembrance of his home. "Heaven doesn't have a doorstep."

Grinning, Duo elbowed Quatre's arm, "Well then, we'll just have to slip you through the mail slot." The angel laughed, and the sound seemed to brighten the mood of the entire forest for a few seconds, before it faded back to a dreary grey.

There was another uneasy silence between the two. Duo's mind kept wandering away from conversation topics, and Quatre was too unsure of himself to bring up anything. So they walked onward, their expressions falling once more to match the gloomy woods around them. After a few more minutes of silently sliding between slick branches and thorn bushes, Quatre turned his head once more to face his guide. "Death-sama?"

"Hm?" He turned slightly, his expression open, friendly, yet slightly distracted.

"Where did you leave the other souls? I mean," Quatre clarified, "Are they far from here?" Not that Quatre minded walking through the filthy swamp of a forest all that much. He was fine with the creatures with glowing eyes that would stare at their group, hiss, then scamper back into the forest depths. He could stand the strange unidentifiable noises and moving shadows. He wasn't at all unnerved by the lack of light, abundance of unholy animals, or the fact that forests were rumored to be Satan's favorite hiding grounds, like giant mousetraps from Hell. ...On second thought, maybe Quatre minded a little more than he let on.

Duo looked away from Quatre to scan the forest in front of them critically as if surmising the distance remaining. "I kind of had to deviate from my usual route to pick him," he nodded back to Heero, "up, so I left them at the spot where I turned off the path. A few more minutes in this direction and we should be back on a main road." Duo's smile faltered as he thought about his souls. A lot could've happened in an hour, and losing souls wasn't wholly uncommon. For some reason, souls tended to be very curious things, often straying from the path to Eternity for one reason or another and rarely finding their way back. He hated losing souls. It was like he had failed them by letting them leave. At least by delivering them to Hell they'd have closure. If you asked Duo, being lost and alone was worse than eternal pain and suffering. For the hundredth time, Duo glanced back over his shoulder, making sure Heero was still there. He was, of course, the soldier still plodding slowly forward with his head down as if being led to an execution. Duo frowned, just watching his dark-haired charge for a minute, then called back, "Hey, Heero?" The soul looked up in acknowledgment as the group continued walking slowly forward. "You okay?" Heero stared at him for a moment with emotionless blue eyes, then nodded and bowed his head again, never missing a step. Duo's brow furrowed a bit more. "You sure? You don't look okay. You look kind of... out of it." Quatre glanced back over his shoulder to see what Duo had meant. Heero looked the same as he had ever since they stepped out of the base: depressed, cold, confused, and lifeless. Then again, maybe that's why Duo was worried.

"I'm fine." The curt reply came, Heero not even glancing up to answer.

"Heero?" He looked up again as Quatre's soft voice called him. The angel's eyes were deep and caring, his face a picture of well-meaning concern. "Are you sure you're all right?" His voice echoed the concern in his features, and Heero had an overwhelming sense that Quatre knew exactly what was wrong and was simply giving him the opportunity to voice the problem. Looking at the angel's caring features made Heero want to start talking and never stop, confessing every fear, every doubt; he felt like dropping onto his knees before the holy creature and begging forgiveness he couldn't possibly deserve. He felt like, like confessing his sins. Like... repenting.

The feeling scared him out of his mind.

The group had stopped without realizing it, and the two in front had turned fully to face the object of their concern. Heero quickly looked away. What the hell was happening to him? Why was he thinking like this? The two of them... it was them! These, creatures, these unreal immortal things... what were they doing to him? What was being dead doing to him? What was happening?! He was so confused, so impossibly confused again. Heero simply stood there, silently berating himself for anything and everything he could think of. This was so stupid; he was acting ridiculous! He was worried over nothing. Was he so weak now? He didn't want to talk to Quatre, to confess anything, so he wasn't going to. And even if he did, what would be the use? It was too late. What good would it do but to make him look like a fool? Feeling the thick silence, knowing they were waiting for him to do or say something, Heero finally forced himself to look up. He met Quatre's intensely worried gaze for only a moment before he couldn't take the caring concern anymore, quickly shifting his sight to Duo, searching for a way out, an escape. At first he found something completely different. The glowing violet eyes of Death were like twin foaming seas of clashing emotions: love battling hate, caring fighting apathy, warmth struggling against coldness, and an intense joy being smothered by a pure despair. The only constant things in those eyes were concern, indecision, and (predominantly) passion, a glowing violet ring of passion centered around a black droplet of ink. After a full minute, Heero managed to tear his eyes away and stare at a nearby tree instead. "It's... different. I'm just not used to it. I'll be fine."

Neither Quatre nor Duo believed this answer, but chose to accept it. If the soul didn't want to tell them what was bothering him, then that was his business. Quatre sighed, nodding. "All right, Heero. But I'm here if you want to talk, okay?" Heero nodded slightly, mentally scoffing. Talk with the angel? Yeah, right. How could the holy being understand? Besides, he'd probably end up jading the angel just by talking to him, Heero was so filthy with sin. Quatre accepted Heero's nod at face value. Slowly turning, he looked worriedly back over his shoulder once before resuming walking through the woods.

Duo, however, glared at Heero until their eyes met, shouting at him, cursing him, all without saying a word. Then, he did what Heero least would have expected: he offered a way out. He allowed Heero to escape, pretending he couldn't see where the soul hiding. Duo smiled as if nothing were wrong. "Hey, don't worry about it. It gets easier being dead after a while. Take a few thousand years and you stop missing the pulse, even!" He laughed, eyes glowing with the emotion. "Not that I'd really know since I was never alive, but you get to know what being dead's like after you hang around with as many dead guys as I have." Duo winked, but Heero didn't respond. Heero was even more confused than ever, and this odd boy who called himself Death wasn't helping. Duo turned his back on Heero, pulling his hood back up as he did. He began walking forward once more, his horse trotting loyally along side its master like a trained dog. Quatre followed silently, and Heero followed behind him. Thus the group began slowly walking to the main road once more, ever closer to the many souls that would accompany them on the long and tiring journey ahead.

***

After about a half-hour more of silently trooping through the wet roughage, they finally approached the main road. The street was nearly empty, the black asphalt lit by the sporadic street lamps, and hardly any cars were on the road. Everything was surrounded in a smothering embrace of after-midnight silence. The street was lined with factories and offices, not a single residential house in sight. It was cold and mechanical, completely unfriendly. On one side of the wide sidewalk stood a large group of people. They blended together, their faces becoming indistinct by the sheer multitude of them. Hundreds of men, women, and children of varying ages and races clustered together, a few whispering to each other, the majority looking around uneasily.

Duo strode to the front of the group and remounted his horse, trotting it once around in a circle as he surveyed his many charges. "We all here?" Not expecting an answer and assuming the positive (since he could do very little about the negative), he continued. "Sorry it took so long, errands and all that. But now we'll be getting on our way again, straight on from here. No more planned stops 'till we get you guys to Heaven. Sound good?" Once again not waiting for an answer, he pulled his horse to the right and pushed it into a light trot, the group following him in one large mass like a fat slug. Quatre and Heero paused at the edge of the forest, glancing around at their new traveling companions. The souls looked dead in every meaning of the word. Their eyes were dull and full of sadness, their hair was slick and heavy as if they had been caught in a rain shower (which, most likely, they had). Even their clothing seemed to be various shades of blacks, blues, and grays, literally hanging off the thin figures. Most of them looked sickly or old (probably because that's how they were when they had died), but not one of them bore any mark of death: no injuries at all. Every so often, however, there was someone who obviously didn't belong in the group of wretched weary people; there was a man of about forty with strong limbs and a sharp look in his eye. There was a woman who looked to be about 50, looking around suspiciously, eyeing everyone around her with contempt. There was a small blonde child of about seven, staring up at the sky with curious wide eyes. There was even a dog trailing along, an old greyhound that was thin and gaunt with a large "80" shaved into the fur of its side. There were a few others who stood out, and there was Heero.

Exchanging glances from their post near the outskirts of the forest, Quatre nodded at Heero, smiling reassuringly. Heero watched the angel mentally prepared himself for whatever he felt was coming and then hover toward the side of the crowd and pick up conversation with an old, dreary-looking man there. The two began talking in hushed voices, Quatre smiling sadly. Heero stood alone a moment longer, then slowly followed behind the last of the group, once more walking with his head down and arms crossed. Lost in a web of thoughts, he idly watched the stones in the pavement as he stepped on them, barely noticing as the occasional car or truck whizzed by. He looked into every puddle he passed, slowing his steps to gaze for a long time at the reflection there. There was no reflection. The only thing he saw in those mocking puddles was the grey sky over him and the chalky color of the sidewalk below. He had no reflection. Nothing. Well, why should he? He didn't exist anymore. He wasn't real anymore. None of this was real. It was all some sort of illusion, like a dream. So if it he wasn't real, why did it all hurt so much? Pulling his eyes away from the mind-numbing puddles, Heero glanced up to stare at the faces around and in front of him. Heero didn't think he recognized any of them. What's more, when he accidentally bumped into an older woman who stopped suddenly, she turned and mumbled apologies to him in what sounded like a heavily accented Spanish; apparently, death really was universal. Still, considering the small amount of people in this group, it was hard to believe that everyone who had died in the past week was there, or even the past day. So where were the souls of the other hundreds of people? He'd have to remember to ask Duo later. However, this wasn't what was in the forefront of Heero's mind. Heero was thinking about much grimmer topics: like where they were going. Maybe this was just the group going to Hell? No, Duo had said they would stop when they reached Heaven. Maybe this was only the group going to Heaven? Impossible. Heero wasn't going to Heaven; he knew he wasn't. He wasn't exactly a religious individual, but he'd read most of the bible, and even if there was a slim chance of going to Heaven, he would be rejected immediately. They made it pretty clear that "Thou shalt not kill, or thou shalt go straight to hell." So why were they going to Heaven if they couldn't get in? Was this some form of eternal punishment?

See but not touch? Pine for the feel of the holiness of it, the purity but cannot be sated? That sounded like torture if Heero had ever heard it.

In his musings, Heero accidentally bumped into another person who chose to stop at an inappropriate moment for no apparent reason. The two simultaneously muttered apologies (in English, this time), and when Heero looked up to see whom he had collided with, his eyes went wide. A man no older than thirty stood there in a deep green military uniform. Heero inhaled sharply: an enemy uniform. The uniformed man narrowed his eyes, squinting at Heero for a moment, then his eyes went wide with recognition. He shouted in repulsion, "Hey, you're the terrorist!"

Heero took a few steps backward, unable to say anything. What could he say? This, this man... he-- he wasn't real! He couldn't be real! None of this was real! His enemy took a few steps closer, both of them ignoring that the longer they stood still, the further they were being left behind. "You were in that machine, weren't you?" The man accused sharply. "Don't deny it! I saw your picture on that report! You're the pilot of that-- that monster, that huge white thing with green eyes!" Again, Heero simply swallowed, stepping back slightly. This--This wasn't real; this wasn't real; this wasn't-- Eyes blazing, the man shouted, "You're the little fucker that killed me!"

***

Quatre had been flitting from person to person, careful to warn everyone he spoke to to kindly not touch him. They were surprisingly understanding, and, after speaking with them, Quatre found most of them to be nice individuals. He didn't understand why humans had such a bad reputation. Every soul he had ever spoken to was considerate and humble, albeit often depressed. None of them seemed capable of doing the awful things he had heard about that were rumored to have happen on Earth. He couldn't picture any of these soft-spoken souls as adulterers, killers, thieves, or criminals. It just wasn't possible. They were sad, maybe, misunderstood, perhaps, but not evil! Did any of them really deserve to go to Hell? In Quatre's mind, the answer was a definitive "no." If it were up to Quatre, however, Hell would be nearly empty.

Right now, the angel was hunched over slightly, talking to a very tiny soul: one of the ones who had stood out immediately; the girl he was speaking to looked no older than six or seven, her long blonde hair pulled back into a high ponytail and secured with a pink clasp. They talked about the girl's favorite classes at school and all the teachers she didn't like. Quatre spoke about Heaven and all the wonderful people there. They discussed what pets went to Heaven and why Quatre didn't have a halo. They talked about everything that came to mind... almost. They didn't talk about "the accident," and Quatre didn't push the subject. He was curious, of course, but when he had asked gently, "Do you remember what happened before you met Death-sama?" The girl had responded barely above a whisper.

"Yes."

Quatre had frowned, wishing he could hug the girl, stroke her hair and tell her that everything was okay. "Do you want to talk about it?"

The child had shaken her head, not wiping away the tears that were falling, simply because she couldn't feel them on her cheeks. "Nu-uh." The angel had nodded and quickly changed the subject to happier topics.

Still, he wondered...

***

Heero looked over the uniformed man's shoulder; the group was receding. If he didn't hurry up, he'd lose them all together.

"I got a wife, bastard!" The man shouted down at Heero, gaining the younger boy's full attention once more. "She's a beautiful thing! And a son! My little boy! Three years old next month!"

Unable to help it, Heero's mind retorted, "And? Your point?" But he remained silent, simply taking the verbal abuse with stoic apathy.

As if hearing the silent question the enraged soul continued, "He's got no dad now because of you, mother fucker! How the hell is his mother supposed to explain that? Huh?! Some punk kid decided he didn't like the government anymore? Well? Don't just stand there! Answer me, son of a bitch! What the hell did I do to you?! What the hell did my little boy do to you?!"

Heero remained expressionless, still not replying. Frankly, no matter what the man said, he didn't care. He honestly couldn't care less. He tried to be sympathetic, he tried to be upset, but he couldn't even force himself to. In fact, the strength of his apathy almost scared him. He SHOULD care; he knew he should. He should beg this man for forgiveness. Or, on the other hand, he should shout back his own problems of, "Your child's lucky he has a mother at all. I didn't!" or, "Be glad you lived to see twenty. I didn't get that much!" or, "It's not like I killed you because I felt like it. I didn't fight for myself, and, unlike you, I had no family to fight for. Instead, I fought for the men who told me to fight. I fought for 'a greater cause' just like you, only I fought by myself! My reasons for fighting were just as valid as yours, if not more so! In war, you should be prepared to die at any time, regardless of how many wives, children, uncles or cousins you have. As a soldier, you should have understood that before even being handed a gun." In fact, he should've done anything but just stand there silently. But he couldn't. He just didn't care enough. "What's the point in arguing?" He muttered, almost inaudibly. "It won't change anything."

The man stood there, gaping in shock. The kid didn't even care?! No! The killer had to pay! That kid ruined-- no, ended his life! Anger burning him to the core, the taller man pulled back his fist and punched as hard as he could, slamming his fist into the side of Heero's face with a sickening smack. The younger soul fell backwards, landing on his side in a conveniently placed puddle. Before Heero could even stand up, the man glowered down. "I hate you!" He screamed, accenting the words with a vicious kick at the fallen boy's stomach. "I hate you!" He kicked again, "I hate you!" and again, "I hate you!" to prove his hate, trying to stop his own pain by causing someone else's as tears made his eyes cloudy. He finally stopped kicking, satisfied that Heero was flat on his face in the muddy puddle of water, unmoving and bleeding. "You're gonna burn. You hear me?" He leaned forward, shouting at the prone form, "You're gonna BURN, mother fucker! Burn in fucking Hell!" He glared at the terrorist, trembling with anger, then spat on him. "Fuck you." He turned sharply on his heel, and began jogging off in the direction he had come.

Heero remained staring into the puddle's depths, the man's words muffled by the water filling his ears. After a few more minutes of silently lying there, he sat back on his heels, looking impassively into the water below as droplets of the liquid fell from his nose, chin, and hair: droplets he couldn't even feel running down his face. He sat staring for a long time. "No reflection." He muttered, splashing the water around a bit with his fingers, as if stirring it would unearth his buried image. A few minutes more passed, and he finally noticed that some of the droplets from his face were scarlet, plopping into the puddle water and spreading in dull little red clouds. Heero recognized the stuff anywhere. "Blood. Mine?" He looked down at his hands. They were still pale and clean. Lifting one to his face, he ran two shaking fingers down his cheek, unable to feel his own fingertips. He stared at them for a while, gazing at them with confusion, longing, sadness, and untouchable pain. "Blood. I'm bleeding. How am I bleeding? I don't have a heartbeat." His hands moved to clutch his stomach, and he looked down, noticing the blood there for the first time. It didn't hurt. It should hurt. Blood doesn't come without pain. He wasn't real, though. He was dead! How was he bleeding? How was this possible? It wasn't! It wasn't physically possible. It went against the laws of science.

Duo. Duo would know. Duo knew everything. Duo could explain this.

Heero looked up, then looked around frantically. Nothing but empty streets met his inspection. They left. They left him there, bleeding, dead. They left him. He was alone.

He was alone.

Heero looked back down, glaring at the non-reflection in the puddle. He swatted at it angrily, watching the water splash the sidewalk. But the anger fled him all too quickly, and he was empty again. He didn't even have his own emotions for company. The puddle stirred once, twice, again, and Heero noticed it had begun raining anew. So what? What did he care? He couldn't feel the water falling on him; he couldn't catch pneumonia. Wait, he could bleed; did that mean he could die all over again? Was it possible to die once already dead? Who knew what could happen? Well, Duo knew, but Duo wasn't here... wasn't here. He was alone.

Sighing, he stood up on shaking knees, looking around. He picked a direction, hoping it was the right way, and began walking quickly. Soon, he had dropped his head down once more and watched the sidewalk slowly pass under his feet, his mind running in circles. He was alone again, as always, alone. He was lost, really lost in this strange world where he had no reflection, no self. Did Duo even notice he was gone? Did he care? Of course not. No one cared. He was alone. And, he was loath to admit it, even to himself, but he was scared. He was alone and scared. Alone. Scared. Alone. Lost. Alone. Alone. So alone. Always alone. And lost. Lost: what a disgusting word. To lose, to be lost; the expressions could almost cause physical pain.

He was lost again: a lost soul, a lost cause, lost.

***

They walked through the splattering rain for what seemed like hours. The group followed Duo down the main street: just one long straight path, never turning, never splitting, never-ending. The souls had no idea where they were going or how long it would take, but no one voiced this. It was stupid and it was irrational, but they were all still at least slightly afraid of Death. They had been afraid of death their whole mortal lives; it was human instinct. And even after dying, it was a hard concept to simply let go of. So no one spoke, and no one raised his voice above a whisper across the hushed wet sidewalk for fear the black-cloaked man with "the whirlpool eyes" might be listening.

The little girl, who had introduced herself with a whispered name of "Silvia," seemed attached to Quatre, following the angel wherever he went. Quatre had dropped back in the group to talk to other souls, but Silvia had followed, so the angel had given in. She found the older blonde boy, the only bit of shining light in this dark place, like a night-light and was following him to protect herself from the monsters that hid in the shadows. Silvia kept her eyes on him even while walking, only occasionally pausing to glance up at the sky and watch the fat rain drops fall on her cheeks. The girl looked up at Quatre, watching his comforting blue eyes, then glanced down at her feet as she was walking. She watched her feet as they took unsteady steps. It was funny walking. She hadn't walked in a long time. She wanted to run, though. She missed running. She missed playing in the school yard. Maybe she could play soccer again now? No, all of her friends were alive; she couldn't play with them anymore. She hoped they were okay. She missed her friends. She missed her TV. She didn't miss her teachers. But she missed her parents. She really missed her parents.
And she missed her daddy's peanut-butter sandwiches. "Quatre?"

The angel smiled, looking warmly down at the little girl beside him. "Yes, Silvia?"

"When can I go home?" Silvia was watching her feet walk again, marveling at them. They didn't hurt at all. They were walking. When she got home, she'd have to walk for her parents and show them that she hadn't needed that stupid surgery all along. They'd laugh, her mommy would smile again. Then they'd all sit down to dinner in the kitchen, and she'd drink her milk like she was always told to, but she wouldn't complain this time. And since she would be so good and everyone would be happy, maybe they'd have chocolate ice cream with rainbow sprinkles! Yeah, going home would be good. She couldn't wait!

Quatre sighed under his breath, feeling a wash of pity and longing run over him. "You're coming with me to a new home."

The blonde girl frowned up at Quatre. "I don't want a new home. I want MY home."

The angel nodded, closing his eyes, but continued walking. "I know, honey, I know; but don't worry, you'll like your new home. It won't be the same, but it won't be bad, either. You'll be happy there."

Silvia looked back at the ground in front of her. "I want my mommy and daddy." Quatre looked down empathetically, unable to form an appropriate reassurance for the child. The girl muttered again. "I want to go home."

Smiling sadly, Quatre replied softly, "Me too."

During the following pause in their conversation, Quatre looked up, his eyes shifting through the groups of souls. Something felt... wrong, off somehow. He continued scanning the souls until he realized what exactly it was he was feeling: Heero. Heero was missing. Feeling a clenching in his heart that he had lost the one person he had been sent to protect and take care of, Quatre quickly excused himself from the girl's presence. The child reluctantly concurred, and Quatre flew up to the front of the group as calmly as he could manage. He paused, batting his feathery white wings to keep himself up at eye-level with Duo who was still on his black steed.

Duo glanced over at the angel, his bright eyes obscured by the deep shadow of his overly-large hood. "Something wrong, Quatre? You se--"

"It's Heero!"

Duo jerked the reins unconsciously, his horse exhaling sharply in annoyance. "What?"

"Heero's gone!"

***

The voices started again.

He was so close, so close to being done with them! But no, no, they came back to haunt him. Why?! He'd never heard voices in his entire life until he was thrown in that stupid cell! Did he go insane that night? This night. Was that only a few hours ago? It felt like years. Maybe it was still the drugs affecting him. Did medication transcend death? Did insanity, for that matter? He didn't know; he didn't care! He just wanted it to stop, to stop the yelling in his head! Heero began running, running, running, not stopping. This time, though, he had a destination, an answer that was just out of reach, and Heero was determined to get to him. The voices, though, so many voices spoke to him at once. His feet pounded across the pavement, oblivious to the splashing of puddles.

"It gets easier being dead after a while."

"Duo." Heero muttered, the humid air puffing out of his mouth and into the rain.

"I'm here if you want to talk, okay?

"Never." He scowled bitterly.

"You're gonna burn. You hear me?"

"I hear you. Shut up."

"So... we have a deal?"

"Lost, so lost."

"Actually, you're not quite human anymore..."

"What am I, Duo?"

"Are you sure you're all right?"

"I'm not sure of anything any more, Quatre."

"You're gonna BURN, mother fucker! Burn in fucking Hell!"

"I know! Okay?! I know. Just leave me alone!"

"I'll be seeing you shortly, Mr. Yuy."

"Stop smirking at me! I can hear you smirking! Stop-- stop looking at me! I can feel it. Stop it!"

He kept running, shouting back responses. He knew it wouldn't do any good, but he couldn't help himself. Maybe he really was crazy. One thing was for sure, though: he may never have been able to outrun those voices, but he always got in the last word.

***

Duo turned quickly in his saddle, eyes blazing across the group of souls, barely looking at them. Without even pausing long enough to study individual faces, he knew Heero wasn't there. Death slumped forward, leaning against his horse's thick black neck. "Ah shit."

Quatre began wringing his hands, the words rushing unconsciously out of his mouth. "I-- I don't know what happened! One minute he was walking there right behind everyone else, looking upset as usual, and the next minute, I look, and he's not there! I don't know where he could've gone!" The angel buried his head in his hands, whispering self-pities. "I'm so sorry, Heero. This is all my fault."

"No, it's not, Quatre. You can't blame yourself." Sighing, Duo sat up. "It happens all the time."

Turquoise eyes wide, Quatre looked questioningly up at Duo. "It does?" The darkly-clad boy nodded. "And you don't even care?!"

Still glaring straight ahead, Duo replied, "I do care, but there's nothing I can do about it. Look, I'm sure Heero had a reason for leaving. They always do. And if he wants to come back, then he will. You can control bodies, even minds, but not souls."

Quatre bit his lip, landing lightly on the cool ground and began walking again, shaking his head. "I'm worried for him, Death-sama."

Duo just stared straight ahead as if completely intent on his destination. "I know. But we can't wait for him. Let's go." His mind whispered encouragement, "Got to move on. Got to keep walking. No turning back. Got to be strong. Death can't pity. Death doesn't have that option. Death can't care about the individual, only about the whole." He nudged his horse forward and the group began walking once more. Next to him, Quatre looked bewildered. Duo smiled brightly. "We'll be at the first gates soon, and from there it's not that far to Heaven."

Nodding dumbly, Quatre whispered, "Yes. Heaven." but he hadn't really heard what Duo'd said.

***

The senseless phrases and painful words had continued in Heero's head in any random order: poking at him, telling him how confused he was, how utterly lost. It was the voices' purpose to confuse him, to make him as mentally lost as he was physically.

The voices were winning.

They had rambled on in circles the entire time he was running, slowly falling like sugar through a sift, as one by one faded out of Heero's mind, overpowered by one solid, mind-numbing voice. The one voice remained like the last clump of sugar that refused to slide through. Like talking to a skipping record, Heero held a conversation with the voice, never pausing in his intent running. The road before him seemed to stretch on forever. Was he even going in the right direction? It didn't matter as long as he kept running. He couldn't stop, not when he had somewhere to go. Hope drove him forward, a dull, throbbing hope.

"Take a few thousand years and you stop missing the pulse, even!"

"You promise? I don't think I'll ever stop missing it."

"No offense, but what you think doesn't matter."

"It doesn't, does it." He muttered, rather than asked, forlornly. "I'm sorry."

"I forgive you."

"You shouldn't. I don't deserve it."

"We all here?"

"No, I'm not. My mind is gone. It's lost, Duo. I'm lost, very lost."

"Hey, Heero? You okay?"

"No, I'm lost."

"Heero?"

"I'm alone, Duo."

"You sure?"

"I'm always alone."

And then there was only one voice, over and over again: his own. "Alone. Alone. Alone." The litany continued, matching his heavy footsteps. Then, abruptly, the word changed. "Run."

Heero stopped sharply in his tracks. Quickly, he brought his hands up in front of his face; with frantic eyes, he scanned across his hands as they shook: no chains. He ran his hand across his chest: nothing, no heart beat. He exhaled for the sake of it. He was dead. He still wasn't real... was this a comfort? He looked up, squinting at the horizon. Was-- no. No, that-- Was that the group ahead? Could it be? Oh, God, let it be them! He would never be more happy to see anyone in his entire life, just let Duo be right there! He was so close to not being alone again! He started running again, sprinting as fast as he could without falling over from the numbness of his own feet. "Must not be alone. Been alone too long. Must not be lost. Been lost too long." He spoke to the air in front of him, talking to the thin rain drops, anything to keep from hearing more voices. Duo's voice or not, he hated them, hated those voices! They made him feel like he was more alone than ever. Besides, it was a voice that got him into this mess...

***

"And to your immediate right you'll see a fence." Duo grinned, gesturing to the large metal fence next to him. "No flash photography, and please, hold your applause."

The group had finally stopped where the road had ended. Now, their path was blocked by an impossibly large fence: its links were too close to slip through, and it seemed to stretch on forever in all directions: left, right, and even up. No one could see where the fence ended; it seemed to go up and up, melting into the rainy grey sky itself. Beyond the fence was an equally large building. It appeared to be an old factory of some kind, the bricks made colorless from years of nature and human nature's ire alike. Although it seemed to be a long ways off behind the fence, some souls could just make out the telltale signs of graffiti and broken windows. The building stood like a giant made of stone, towering over the land and casting an oppressive grey shadow over everything in the vicinity. Seen through the rusting fence, the building was even more intimidating. As a final crowning glory to the royal edifice, there hung a large sign on the fence out front, slightly askew in its perch. Once white, the metal plate was grey and red with a combination of years of rusting and gathering dirt, but the crisp black letters had remained thick and glossy, as if untouched by time. In bold, it read what the building's condition obviously stated clearly: "condemned."

Duo smirked looking at his souls' expressions. It always amused him how they reacted with such awe. The fence was just a gateway, nothing special. There were tons of them around (tons meaning six), and Duo, personally, thought the gate to Hephess was much more worthy of their astonishment. Of course, being the owner of said gate could've made him a bit biased. Well, perhaps just a bit... Shrugging to himself, he announced to the souls, "Welcome to the Gates of Limbo. Please keep all belongings tucked in the overhead compartment and fasten your safety belts as we prepare for landing. Thank you, and follow me!" Grinning, he maneuvered his horse through the fence.

The group watched with fascination as Death faded through the barrier and didn't appear on the other side. It was as if in the second he had gone through the fence, he had disappeared. Without hesitation, Quatre followed him through, gesturing the child, Silvia, to follow along behind him; trusting whom she had dubbed "my guardian angel," Silvia followed quickly as she was asked. After a few moments of contemplation, one older man stepped forward, slipping his hand, then his whole arm, then half his body, then finally his head through the fence. He came back out with an astonished smile, tugging on the hand of the soul behind him. He spoke to her in fluent Russian, then walked back through, pulling the woman behind. The woman, in turn, grasped onto the man behind her, and the chain of grabbing a hand and pulling went on. Eventually, all hesitancy was gone, and the rest of the group disappeared through the fence in rapid succession, leaving the cold rainy plain behind them, most likely for good.

***

About two minutes later, Heero ran up, nearly colliding with the chain-link fence. He slammed his heels into the ground, ending up with his nose nearly touching a foreboding "condemned" sign. He fell back a few steps, shaking. "Condemned? It doesn't-- It could-- Oh, the building." Collecting his thoughts, Heero scanned the building and its fence with his eyes for a minute, observing that the fence was too high to climb, too far to walk around, and without any visible entrance or gaps large enough for a person his size to slip through. But they had gone this way! He had seen them come in this direction! The only way had to be up. Heero looked up; it was certainly a long way. It would be worth it, though. Nodding to himself, he reached a hand out to grab the chain links that made up the fence, but found he couldn't; instead, his hand passed straight through. The air on the other side seemed to get thicker and rested on his hand like a blanket. Heero quickly pulled his hand out and stared at it incredulously. It didn't look any different, and if he could've felt it, he assumed it would have felt normal. Frowning, Heero's mind ran this over for a minute; deciding it was worth a try, he ducked his head and stepped forward, passing completely through the fence in a few steps.

When he stepped completely through, the first thing he noticed was the smell or, rather, the lack of one. "Outside" has a certain smell to it. Rain has a smell; winter has a smell; cold has a smell. Here in... wherever he had just stepped into, there was no smell. None. The second thing he noticed was that the air felt heavy and stagnant, as if there were never wind here. Thirdly, he was unnerved to hear absolute silence all around. In the street, there were cars, flickering lamp lights, various animals and bugs, and occasionally living people all making various sounds. Wherever Heero was, though, there was nothing, not even the rustle of leaves.

Then, Heero realized that his eyes were still closed, and he opened them, looking around. He had expected to see the factory in front of him, the fence behind. He had expected the moon and stars in the sky to be above. He had expected the thick black pavement to be beneath his feet. What he had not expected, however, was that none of that would be there to greet his eyes. There was nothing. In front of him for miles on end was a blank sheet of absolute white. To his right and left was the same emptiness. There were no plants, no trees. There was no sky, there wasn't even a ground. It defied logic. Even in the fog, the ground is still visible; but here he was in an entirely still place that was reminiscent of being caught in a blizzard without a single sign of the falling snow. His brain started panicking. He was alone. Really alone. When he had thought he couldn't BE more alone, it had happened! Turning around quickly, Heero glared at where he had just come from, his mind screaming to see the fence, to see the street he had just walked down, to see anything familiar! The screams went unanswered. Behind him was the same as in front: endless nothing. No, wait, there was something a few feet in front of him, something fairly small, rectangular, and metallic looking. He took a few steps forward and squinted before realizing exactly what it was. It was that sign, looking as new as the day it was manufactured, and written backwards on it were glossy black letters that, as seen from the other side, spelled the chilling word, "condemned." It was a pun. Seen from one side, it had a completely different meaning than from the other. How amusing. Whoever made this thing had an annoyingly ironic sense of humor. Heero shuddered.

Suddenly, a heavy hand landed on his shoulder. Heero flinched and spun around, coming face-to-face with another expanse of nothingness: this one black, like looking into a shadow cast on a lake at night. The hand on his shoulder lifted and pushed against the black nothingness to reveal a bright face with a huge smile and glowing violet eyes. "Duo." Heero exhaled.

"Hey, Heero!" Duo's smile faltered as he noticed the blood, but only for a second before he was smiling again. "Welcome back!" He smirked, his mind shouting, "Told you so." in Quatre's general direction. "But, uh, you're going in the wrong direction, pal." Duo grinned, pointing a thumb over his shoulder. "Heaven's that way." Heero glanced over Duo's shoulder and noticed the entire rest of the group was there, slowly walking toward where Duo had gestured. Somehow, Heero hadn't noticed them standing there before; he guessed he had just been too caught up in shock of the vast whiteness of it all.

"Whe--." Heero cleared his throat until he was sure his voice wouldn't falter again. "Where are we?"

"Limbo." Duo said obviously, still grinning, relief that Heero was back almost rolling off him in waves. "Remember? Expanse between Heaven, Hell, and Hephess? You're standing in it." Heero glanced back behind himself, once more staring at the backwards sign. The letters burned themselves into his mind until he saw the inverse of them every time he closed his eyes. Duo took in Heero's expression for a minute, then tossed a black-sleeved arm around the soul's shoulders and began pulling him away. "C'mon, I've got a schedule to keep and we're running late as it is. Don't want you to get lost again just 'cause you were standing here, staring at a gate all day, now do we? I mean, I know the gates are interesting and all, but we've got place to be, things to do, books to sign, and all that." Duo rambled on as he walked quickly, dragging Heero along.

"Books to sign?" Heero interrupted hesitantly. That didn't sound like a good thing. In fact, Heero almost shuddered thinking about it.

Duo shrugged, one arm still around his temporary captive, holding him close as if afraid Heero would run when he let go. "Yeah, but don't worry about that; you'll know what I mean when we get there." Heero muttered under his breath, but Duo chose to ignore it. Soon, the two were back in the group, although Duo had steered Heero (more like dragged him) to the front where he could "keep on eye" on the wandering soul. After Quatre had fussed over Heero's bloody face and Heero had assured the angel that he was "fine," the group picked up walking again, ever closer to their next destination. Duo rambled on about nothing and everything all at once, stealing glances at his quiet companion. Heero's mind was elsewhere, though; he couldn't seem to get that shining "condemned" sign out of his thoughts. It had been burned into his eyelids, and when he blinked, the bright white letters were clear and glowing against a deep velvety black background. The bold letters, proudly proclaiming "CONDEMNED," seemed to shout at him more than any voice had yet.

Heero laughed bitterly. Condemned, huh? Yes, he certainly was.