Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Emancipation ❯ Death ( Chapter 1 )

I hate posting serials when they're not finished `cause I have problems with writer's block and don't want to leave readers hanging for a year, but I've got enough done of this to last to June which should be enough time to finish a few more chapters. But yeah, so I'm posting a part each week in hopes of getting some good feedback to help with the parts I'm stuck on so I actually finish this instead of letting WB leave it ending-less in a back folder somewhere collecting dust for a decade before I work on it again. Let's hope I don't regret this.

.

.

.

Emancipation

Thanatos-Aire

8, December, 2004

GW is not mine. If it was, do you really think I'd stick around in this hellhole of a town to put up with idiots at my barely-legal community college?

Strangely enough, this story is a bit sappy… Which coming from me is unusual enough, but coupled with the fact that it's quite gory and violent as well is a bit disconcerting, I'm sure. Heero POV, past abuse, past NCS, non-het (1x2x3 of all variations), some swearing, death (not MCC), a bit angst-ridden, and to top it all off, a smattering of lime. Enjoy.

___________________________________________________

They dropped like Flakes,
they dropped like Stars,
Like Petals from a Rose,
When suddenly across the June
A Wind with Fingers goes.
They Perished in the seamless Grass, --
No Eye could find the Lace;
But God on his repealless List
Can summon every Face.
--Emily Dickinson

___________________________________________________

I. Death.

.

.

.

The gurgling quiets as the blood slows.

Closing my eyes as I take in a deep breath, I nod to myself. When I turn to Duo, I find him staring at the gaping throat of the body on the floor before us.

Like the twenty-two times before, he stands there, calm and wide-eyed, just staring and thinking. I watch as a thin trail of brine tracks down his cheek from eye to chin. The tear dangles for a moment on his jaw before leaping onto the bloodied knife-blade in Duo's hand.

“Are you alright?” I whisper, shifting to stand beside him. “You've never cried for the others… Why is this one any different?”

Duo closes his eyes and his lips part to release a ragged sigh. “He was the last.”

It takes me a moment to understand what his whispered reply signifies. But when I do, I slip an arm around his shoulders and the other around his thin waist to hug him tightly.

“It's done.” he murmurs, clutching at me. “He was the last, there are no more.”

And I nod. “Let's go. I'll wash your braid before bed, okay?”

Duo nods distractedly, allowing me to take the knife from his limp hand. “Home. Let's go home, Heero.”

I nod again silently and press a chaste kiss to his temple as I lead him away.

We leave the body there, on the floor, like all the rest. When we returned to our little house next door to Hilde a few hours' drive away from here, the dented antique butterfly knife would be rinsed of the man's blood.

One last time, we would clean it of the crimson stains, and then, unlike the other twenty-two nights, the knife would be placed in the shoebox on the top shelf of the bedroom closet.

Hopefully, it would remain there for several decades, untouched again, unsullied again.

Duo's shoebox would be taped shut and shoved into the far back corner. Like the painful memories it represented, it wouldn't be delved into anytime soon.

Now, if only I could rinse the smell of death from his braid…

___________________________________________________

to be continued