Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ It's All Been Done ❯ New York, New York. ( Chapter 8 )

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

Warnings:
-An evil authoress with a love for cliffhangers is writing a multi-death fic.
(That's about the worst warning you'll ever see anywhere in FF.net.)


Chapter 8: New York, New York.

"...and if I put my fingers here,
and if I say, 'I love you, Dear!'...

"...It's all been done...
It's all been done before..."


...When the driver-side car door opened.

"What the hell?!" A tall woman shouted a moment after she sat down in the seat and saw me.

I was trapped. I looked to the side: not a chance of getting out, to the other, the same; I was completely encompassed by one part of the car or another, and now a pair of stiff blue pants blocked my only possible route of escape. "Shit..." I muttered, keeping my head down, thus hiding my face with my messy bangs.

I felt a strong arm grab the front collar of my shirt and haul me out of the car as its owner also stepped out of the car, back into the open air. At the sight of my pocket knife glittering in the midday sun, the woman tossed me down to the ground. I landed flat on my back and when I opened my eyes, I found myself staring up at the woman who stood in a stiff pose, a gun in her hand aimed squarely at my forehead. "Drop the weapon and put ya hands up!" My eyes widened to the size of trash-can lids, and I gaped in utter shock as I recognized the face of the tall woman: Officer Une.


"Holy crap!" I shouted, pointing my "unarmed" hand up at her accusingly. "What the hell are YOU doing here?!"

Gun still pointed down at me she spat, "ME?! YOU were trying to steal MY car! Now drop the weapon!"

"...ya car? It's YOUR car?!" Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! SHIT! What's fate got against me, huh? What the hell did I do to make her so pissed off? God damn it, I hate her! I HATE her! She HAS to die! Oh, yes. I'd kill her, I'd KILL the little mongrel! I'd strangle her with my bare hands! I should've killed her when I had the chance! She's evil! She... she's like Satan himself! ...no, Worse! Torture by fire for all eternity I could handle... but this little twerp was beyond demonic! She was just toying with me now! Just messing with my head! Damn, her! Damn her straight to hell where I hope she annoys Satan as much as she's annoying me!

"This is ya last warning before I shoot! Put down ya weapon!"

I rolled my eyes, throwing the tiny little knife (that, at worst, could stab Une's little toe) across the parking lot. "Look, Lady, ya ain't shootin' me, got it? According to the schedule, I've got another two hours, at least. Now. Take me to the station, THEN ya can let the warrior shoot me." I laughted sharply, "'Cause we don't want to prove the little pot of water wrong, now, do we?"

She paused, staring down at me, without answering for a moment, then said, "...crazy or not, ya' a thief, so ya my business. Now cut the crap, stand up an' put ya hands over ya head." I stood, doing as she said. Still, I remained stone-faced. Despite my little outburst, I refused to believe I was going to die. Oh, no no no. Marie could mess with my head, she could mess with my plan, but I wasn't about to give in yet. I wasn't gonna die today, not in that prison, and not anywhere. This was just a... complication. ...A really, annoying, pissy, ugly complication with a bad hairdo, but a complication, nevertheless.

The woman grabbed my hands with more force than necessary and handcuffed them behind my back, then began pushing me into the back-seat of the car with her gun mouth digging into my back. Once I got into the back and the childproof lock was secured (if she thought that would stop me from jumping out, it was an insult), Une sat in the front seat muttering to herself. When she turned draping one arm over the passenger seat to start backing out of the space, I noticed the huge purple bruise under a small Band-Aid on her forehead. I smirked. That must've been from when she hit the ground face-first after Hilda hit her last night. Ah, memories. Before the car started going anywhere, I smirked at Une. "So, how's ya head? Throbbin' in pain, I hope? It really doesn't look so good... in fact, it looks like ya got beat in the face with a shovel..." I laughed, "but I guess it was like that BEFORE ya got hit, too, eh?"

Growling, her eyes lighting up with a fiery mixture of hatred and revenge, she grabbed the gun from her belt loop and yelled back at me, "Why don't ya find out how much it hurts?!" She then reached back and slung the handle of the gun out at me with all her strength, the hard part of it colliding into my forehead with a lovely cracking sound.

Things just kept getting better and better. Nothing like a cracked skull to make my day complete.

I vaguely remember feeling blood as it slowly dripped down my forehead and I collapsed onto the seat, unconscious in a wave of black throbbing pain.


"1. Fate's a pissy ten-year old who likes to screw with my life for the fun of it.
2. Gypsies who can't keep spells to themselves insist on being my friends.
3. A blue-eyed warrior totting a loaded and/or pointy weapon picks me for target practice every time.
4. I'm stuck in the middle of it all for no good reason."

Add "5. A PMSing police woman likes smacking me upside the head." to the list of reasons why the world sucks.


When I first started waking up, all I saw was a throbbing darkness, slightly red. As I opened my eyes, the bright afternoon light magnified by a car window replaced the red throbbing, making my headache feel like I was stepped on by an elephant. Great feeling to wake up to, I tell ya. After I managed to sit up (not an easy feat with both hands cuffed behind your back and your head feeling as heavy as a watermelon), I gazed out the window. After a few minutes, the putrid building I was oh-so-fond of came into view, and the car parked. As I gazed out the window, I saw the twin doors of the Headquarters swing open, and a lithe boy about my age wearing dark glasses and deep blue and green clothes stepped hurriedly down the steps and out of my view. If I hadn't known better, I would've said it was my good friend, "the warrior..." Okay, I -knew- it was him, but I tried to convince myself otherwise: you know, just because I didn't feel like panicking and making a bigger ass out of myself in front of Une. Besides, no problem, he was LEAVING the building, and I was going in. Distance is good. Very, very good... The more, the better. Three cheers for distance. Hip, hip...

Une made a show of dragging me roughly out of the car, up the steps, and slamming me into the glass doors, thus pushing me onto my face in the center of the room. No one seemed to notice, and the various officers and criminals basically just went on with their business. Can you feel the LOVE?

Surprisingly, the actors weren't there (for reasons only Fate knows and no one else cares), also, the tall blonde woman with twin curls wasn't there. However, in his normal spot was Quatre, shortly behind him were Relena, Dorthy, and Milliard, but Treize was no where to be seen. The four blonde-haired, blue-eyed siblings seemed to have been disputing an argument of some kind that didn't stop just because Une and I burst in. It felt like we had walked in during the middle of a heated conversation between Zeches and Relena, and I was sorry I missed the beginning. Could've missed some juicy stuff, from the sound of it...

"It was just a kiss, Brother! You're so overprotective! I'm not a chi--"

"I'm trying to keep you safe, Lena. He's dangerous. If you--"

Relena shouted back, "I love him! That's all that matters!"

Zechs replied sharply, "It matters that you're fifteen! This is an obsession, an infatuation, and nothing more. You'll get over it in no time."

She interrupted, "I'll nev--"

"You're still growing up. You don't even know what love is yet."

Her glare was intense, daring him to attempt fighting back. "And at twenty-nine, Milliard, you do?"

After a moment, the man looked down, sighing, then their blue eyes met once more. Changing the subject he spoke in an even voice, "I don't want you getting hurt."

She looked away, towards the door, with glossy eyes, "You don't know Hiiro. He would never hurt me."

Frustrated, Zechs scolded back, "I know his type. And if he lays so much as another finger on you, I'll--"

"You'll what?" She shouted back, "Have him arrested for trespassing on Pececref property?!"

"Excuse me." All eyes darted over to Une.

By this time, Une had picked me off the floor, and was holding me harshly by the arm as she broke in, "Sorry to interrupt the family ...dispute," It was so obvious she was hiding a smirk as she glanced between Relena and Zeches. "But I'm looking for Sergeant Tres. Have any of you seen him?" She pushed me forward a bit, staring poignantly at Zeches. "This boy is a known criminal and needs to be dealt with."

Dorothy, Quatre, and Zeches' eyes all got a little wider, and Relena, unaffected, replied curtly, "In his office, I believe."

Une smirked, "Thank you. Excuse me." And the woman began pushing me toward one of the offices, straight through the small group of people.

Relena replied to Une, while glaring at Zeches, "No, that's quite all right. I was just leaving anyway," and stormed out, her long, honey-colored hair flying behind her like a shredded scarf in the wind.

Zeches called after her in a warning tone, "Lena!" But made no attempt to chase. After she was gone with a slam of the glass door, he sighed heavily. I guess his day wasn't goin' much better than mine. Sucks for him. I wonder if Hilda cursed HIM too? Heh, I wouldn't put it past her...

Dorthy looked up at Zeches, then started for the door. "I'll watch out for her." She called without glancing back. Quatre smiled politely and thanked her, and that's the last I heard before I was pulled into a small office, a heavy door swinging shut behind me.

I shrugged Une's hand off my arm and glared up at her. She pushed me over to the desk, and then shoved me backwards into a small folding chair. "Mr. Tres, I have a car thief here who--"

"I'm busy, Lady Un." From behind the desk, Treize was working on various papers, his head tilted down to concentration. Without looking up, he replied, "Kindly escort him to a waiting room and I'll be with you both in a few minutes."

Softly, and with a sinister smirk of superiority, she added, "He's also the one who helped the gypsies escape."

With that, Tres looked up immediately. "Really?" He asked, raising a thin, golden eyebrow. He thought for a moment, then added. "Let's take him in for questioning, then."

Quatre stepped into the room after knocking lightly. "Excuse me, Lady Un, Sergeant Tres..."

"What?" Uma growled softly under her breath. She began to pull me out of the chair and grabbed my arm once more. Damn police officer. My head was still bleeding lightly and my arm was covered in fresh red bruises all because of her.

"I'm sorry, I was just curious as to what crime he committed." Quatre cocked his head lightly in question, fingers still gripping the brass doorknob for a possible quick escape.

"What business is it of yours?" Une spat back. Wow, she's charming. No wonder Treize calls her "Lady." ...excuse me while I go throw up.

Quatre continued softly, "Well, Dotty and I, we know this boy... at least we've held conversation with him... and he didn't sound like a criminal, but merely a polite person who happened to fall on unlucky times. So, if it's not a bother, I'd like to know what he did."

Uma fumbled over words for a minute, before stating, "Car thief. He tried ta steal my car when I skillfully caught 'im." She declared triumphantly.

The blonde boy tried not to smirk as he questioned doubtfully, "...YOUR car, Ms. Un?" He laughed slightly, unable to hold it back.

Une's lip curled lightly. "Yes, MY car. Is there a -problem- with that, Calvin?"

The boy shrugged passively, "Nothing, really, it's just... why would he steal your car when there are so many... newer... ones around?"

Un once again fumbled for words, then finally shouted, "Well how should I know? I don't know how a thief thinks!"

The two kept talking, and, frankly, they weren't saying anything interesting, so my mind began to wander. Maybe I was getting hit on the head too much... Anyway, as my mind wandered, my eyes scanned the room. Wall... some diploma thing... boring portrait... large bookshelf... wall... another wall.. desk... messy papers with some mugshots on them.... cup of coffee... Treize's hands... Trieze's tie... when a tiny glitter of silver metal caught my eye. My eyes went wide. I gasped and shouted, "My cross!" and attempted to grab it back from him. I ducked out of Une's grasp, and jumped over my arms (in a neat little show of flexibility that comes in handy now and then) so that my cuffed hands were in front of me. As I lunged at Treize and latched tightly to the silver pin on his tie, Une, in response to my attack, took her gun once again by the barrel and slammed the handle across the back of my head. I swear, that woman will pay for my medical bills when I get a concussion from all this smacking around!

I saw the world spin and black spots jumped out of nowhere into my vision. The desk sped up to meet my face and everything went black as I slid onto the floor. My last thoughts were of determination as I tightened my grip on the tiny scrap of fabric and silver cross in my possession. Even while unconscious, I couldn't let go of my cross, I wouldn't lose it again. I vaguely saw Quatre run over to help me, and Une abandoned my falling body to check on Treize. The all-too-familiar blackness crept into my vision from the floor as my eyes closed and the noise around me blurred and echoed as if far away. I swear I heard Treize whisper...

"If I may suggest, Lady Un..."


I woke from the throbbing black and red darkness to the sound of dripping water of some unknown source. My head felt like a soft orange that had been dropped one too many times, and the world spun before my eyes. Owww. The dripping water didn't help. Rubbing gently the throbbing lump on the back of my skull, I slowly sat up straight. When the memories of what had happened began coming back, my hand flew up in front of my face and I slowly opened my palm. To my utter shock and delight, the cross was still in my hand (though my palm was dented in four points, and bleeding slightly, not to mention that four small red bruises were forming). But who cared? My cross! I had my cross back!

I can't really explain it, but it was like a piece of me, and my history, was missing without that cross around my neck. I sighed in contentment, forgetting for a second the ache of my head. I ripped the pin backing off of my now dented, tarnished, and bloody cross, and took the chain from around my neck. I smiled as I threaded the tiny loops together, and re-clasped it around my neck. The small weight resting over my heart was worth the headache. For the first time in a week, I felt myself genuinely smile as the cool metal pressed into my warm chest.

Then the memories hit me. This cell.. again, the Headquarters, the foretelling of my future... After I left the cell, I was going to be shot by Blue Eyes before I could leave the building. No! I hadn't accepted that I was going to die. Understandably so, since I didn't exactly -want- to, but still, I really believed it. I couldn't die... I had a plan. Zeches wouldn't let me die, I helped him! And my future wouldn't change with my next life, and I'd forget, and I'd have to start at the beginning, and I'd have to die again, and there'd be so much pain, such horrible, horrible pain, and no! No. The future isn't written in stone; I could still change it, I knew I could! It was never too late! And next time... there wasn't a next time! Because THIS time, I would win! I'd live, I'd survive this, once and for all. I knew it. After all,

I had to. This was my last chance...

When I finally came out of my thoughts, I noticed that Quatre was watching me from a chair a short distance from my cell. I raised an eyebrow. "What're ya doin' here?"

He shook his golden head lightly and muttered, "Nothing, just..." The boy paused, looking at his hands, then back up at me. "Why?"

One of my hands absent-mindedly wandered up to my neck, and I threaded the chain and cross through my fingers, twisting them and setting them back. It was mine again. Besides my clothes and my hair, it was the only thing that was truly -mine-. And I finally had it back. "Why what?"

The crystal blue eyes looked up. "Why'd you steal Officer Un's car?" When I didn't answer, he continued. "I spoke with Dotty. She said you tried to help her. And from when I saw you, I knew that you wouldn't have."

The boy didn't move from his seat. I waited for a minute, thinking, but when I only received silence, I asked, "How'd ya figure that?"

Mulling this over for a moment, the blonde's right hand gripped his upper left arm and he shrugged, avoiding eye contact with me. "I don't see it in you..."

I raised an eyebrow. "What about the new Comish'? What's -he- got ta say about me?"

Quatre shook his golden head, "I haven't spoken with Milliard. I think he's too busy dealing with the legalities of being promoted, not to mention Lena." He looked back up at me. "I don't believe you stole Un's car because you just wanted to take a joyride, it doesn't make sense. You weren't awake, though, so I couldn't ask you, and I decided to sit and wait. It was the least I could do for you."

Grinning innocently, I muttered, "Well, if ya wanted ta do more, like, oh, I dunno, get ya brother ta pardon me and let me outta this cell, that'd be nice, too." Hey, you can't blame a guy for trying.

He looked curiously at me, "How did you know Milliard's my brother?"

"Uh," I stuttered a bit, "...you two look alike. Yeah, ya got the whole blonde-haired blue eyes thing goin'."

He smiled lightly, "Oh." Then his expression fell once more. "So why -did- you steal her car?"

"What is this, an interrogation?" I countered. "Ya're here for Tres, aren't ya?"

Quatre sighed in slight frustration, "No, nothing of the kind..."

"Then why do you want to know?"

Laughing softly, he replied, "Curiosity, I guess."

"Ya know," I crossed my arms, "Curiosity could get ya killed, Cat. Gotta watch out for fast movin' cars and crazy drivers."

"I know... and I'm not normally so rash, but..." he trailed off as his eyes lowered, then met mine once more. "I don't know why, but I feel like you're innocent. I have no reason to, but I think that if you stole Officer Un's car, then you must have had a valid reason." He sighed, "Of course, they'll never trust my judgment."

I was confused with his instinct. Maybe... "Ya don't happen to know if any gypsies cursed ya so ya remember stuff from past lives, do ya?"

Quatre's eyes widened. "What?!"

I laughed nervously, "Uh, nothing. Nothing, Forget I said it." I looked down, then up at the blonde from the corner of my eye. He leaned back in his chair once more and sighed. Okay, it sounds like I was just being difficult in not giving him any straight answers, but I wasn't! I mean, sure, I -could've- told him that I stole Une's car so that I could get here to keep Zeches and his gypsy "family" safe, but I think that might... yep. That would've been the stupidest thing I'd've done all day. That would've been like wearing a bulls eye, walking over to the warrior, standing still, and shouting "Shoot me!"

Quatre hesitantly finished, "...you're not going to tell me, are you?" I shook my head. The boy smiled, "I respect that. Just don't get yourself into trouble without good reason."

I smiled slightly with him, "I've got a pretty damn good reason, Quatre."

"Calvin." He corrected.

"Yeah, Quat, Cal, whatever." I laughed, "besides, there's not too much hell I can stir up in here." At that moment in my speech, Lady Une and came in. "Oh, look! Speak of the devil."

He laughed lightly, then frowned at his own rude behavior. He stood and nodded to Une. "Yes, Miss Un?"

"Visiting hours're over, kid. We're clearin' out the place."

I interrupted, "What'da ya mean, 'clearin' ' out? Is it that late?" I swear it was only five or six in the evening... tops.

Quatre turned and answered, "Most of the officers go off shift at six, and the station is locked. The night shift, though, starts at 11, and that's when everyone but the night watchmen leaves."

"Oh..." I nodded, confused. Wait... so I wasn't being taken somewhere to be executed? That's... well, I didn't know what to think of it. It was good: no death! But bad: no talking to Milliard about getting me out of there before I was shot by a breathing shadow...

Quatre nodded to me, said "Good-bye, Dustyn." And was escorted out by Une. The door clanged shut behind them with a metallic bang, and my cell and those adjacent to me were thrown into a sea of darkness as the lights flickered out, one by one.

In the dark, before my eyes had time to adjust, I felt my heart started pounding. My breathing became a bit faster, and that ever-present dripping of water tapped on in a dull rhythm of: plink. Plink. Plink. Plink.

Darkness. Anything could be there. I'm not talking about monsters or goblins, I'm talking about a pair of blue eyes made of liquid fire, icy blue moving in twin shiny orbs like liquid mercury, that shoots daggers as sharp as pins into my flesh. At the thought, tiny chills ran across my spine and into the nape of my neck, and hundreds of small goose bumps formed on my skin.


The Coliseum was brightly lit: torches lined every crevice, the majority of the crowd was dressed in clean, reflective white, and the sky was ablaze with fiery reds, golds, and purples.

The Tournament may have been clouded with dust, but the glare off of polished armor filled the air, casting ghosts of white light into every direction. As the sun set, the white ghosts turned into peaches and yellows, and the dying sunlight filtered through the dust particles and onto my upturned face.

The Cathedral? Notre Dame was the brightest of them all. There were torches and candles that left haunting highlights on the cool stone floor, and the melting sky shone through the intricate stained-glass windows, casting their carefully crafted scenes of martyrs and saints in ghastly blobs of light on the pews and isles. But despite all this, the warmest light was from the faces of the statues: The Holy Mother and Child smiling at me without emotion, filling me with guilt, forgiveness, and love; that's warmth no light bulb can provide.

Even in the West there was the warm heat of a summer's night falling.

But guess where I was? In a cold, dank jail cell in the dark. Absolute, unyielding darkness. Now don't get me wrong, I wasn't afraid of the dark. No, no no, no. I had much -worse- things to be afraid of: like Fate. Dying. Death. And Hell. Hell, yes, I had a right to be scared, okay?! Two steps in any direction and I could've found a gun in my mouth, and I've already got enough lead in my daily diet, thank you...

Did God hate me? Everyone else seemed to, but did God? Did God even care? Or even exist? I mean, I used to know that God existed, but I also knew that Fate wasn't real. Now I knew that Fate DID exist... so did God? It was like a game with whoever the hell's up there: "How can I totally screw with Dustyn's mind and disprove one of his beliefs today?" And now I finally had Milliard on my side, but I was locked in a jail cell, waiting to die, and Une, Treize, AND the warrior all wanted to kill me! I didn't know if I could take any more. ...and I STILL didn't understand it. Why would any of them want me dead? What did I do that was so wrong? Why did I deserve any of this?! But hey, what's new? I didn't understand anything.
-Especially Fate.-

The whole room was perfectly silent. Not a single other person occupied the cells near mine, or if they did, they were all asleep... or messing with my head. But their silence was my solace: no laughing, no hissing, no booing, no cheering. Just silence. Well, at least I'd be able to hear the guy before he shot me... But the waiting was slowly devouring me... my ears were perked, and my mind began snapping at any little rustle of the wind or squeaking of a rat. Part of me just wanted to get it over with. That part just wanted the noise to stop, to just be back in that silent church with the air smelling of incense and melted wax, and the light fading through dusty stained-glass windows. Peaceful silence, not this tense musty air of a dank cell. I didn't want to be here, but I -really- didn't want to die.

It was odd, but some time in my listening, my mind wandered a bit. Where were all of the people that normally saw me die? Where was Quatre, (or Calvin or whoever)? What about his mother and his two blonde sisters? Where were the actors? Hell, even Une and Treize weren't here... and what about Hilda, her mother, and Zeches? They seemed like people that should see me die, right? And especially Marie! Wouldn't that twerp want to watch her plan in action? Odd that none of them were here...

Not that I WANTED them to watch me die... I didn't want to look at them, anyone. I didn't need their pity or their hate. Still, in each of my lives, they were always watching me, like stars over my head, never moving and always glaring down... A second after this thought, my heart skipped a beat at the sound of a small tapping noise, like metal on metal. Then, there was silence. My head remained down for a second, and my hand fumbled across my chest, finding my cross and gripping it tightly.

Enter the warrior. Down stage, center.

I didn't want to die. Anyone who -wants- to die, doesn't know what they're in for - believe me. Eternal silence and peace or not, dying sucks, and I wasn't about to change my mind about it. End of all your problems? Yeah, right. Ever since I learned the truth about dying, I've only gained more problems to deal with. I mean, come on! I was fifteen! I didn't need this shit!

No, I had to stop thinking like that.. I had to stop thinking about what was coming... the pain and another life and more pa.... stop. Just stop thinking. If I kept thinking like that, I would've broken down into a quivering mass... again. No. I just had to blank out my mind entirely.... peaceful darkness... and silence. I still didn't lift my head.

The thin figure, cloaked in black, tapped his gun lightly once more against the bars of my cell. I still didn't look up, the grip on my necklace tightening slightly. The tapping grew in intensity as its owner became frustrated. Hesitantly, I looked up. The single window in the room happened to be behind him, and the dull light silhouetted his form, casting his entire being into shadows so that I couldn't make out his features, except for a small glint of metal in his upraised hand. No doubt about it, he was my killer.

My killer.

"I'm going to die. This is it, the last time. I won't remember next time, I lost my chance. All this work, for nothing, Nothing!" The words running through my head, I began numbly whispering to myself, "Nothin', nothin', nothin'..."

The warrior walked slowly toward me: his gun hand extending through the bars until the cold metal of the weapon was inches from my forehead. The room, the warrior, and I shared a collective silence. Feeling the metal even before in made contact with my hot, sweaty skin, I jumped, scooting backwards until my back hit the wall, and even then, trying to push myself further back. I silently told my heart to stop pounding, I willed the sweat on my forehead to cease, I prayed my hands would stop shaking, and I told my mind to just fucking shut up! But no one ever listens to me - not even myself. The boy paused when his shoulder hit the bars and cast a glance to his left and right to see if anyone else was around. As he turned, the light silhouetted his profile, and I affirmed what I already knew: it was the man who had killed me in every one of my past lives. Confirming our isolated condition, the boy turned back to me.

My eyes remained sharply focused on the black expanse where I figured his face to be, and I concentrated on thinking. 'You're not dead yet. This isn't over yet. Now think, think! Use what you know! You know so much about this damn town, use it! THINK!" But all my mind seemed to focus on was, "oh, God, I don't want to die!"

As my mind began breaking itself down and the internal battle for control raged on, the boy with the gun made no motion. There he stood, his face made expressionless by the shadowy darkness, and there I sat, in fearful anticipation, as I waited for this guy to shoot me, wondering what was taking him so long. When he finally had enough of whatever he was waiting for/thinking, he asked softly, "Dustyn Maxwel?"

There in his speech, he paused. Of course I knew what the pause meant, but I couldn't answer. "Yeah, that's me. Not what ya were expectin', 'm I? A pathetic little thief scared a dyin'. Well, whaddid ya expect?!" Unbeknownst to myself, I HAD actually spoken my thoughts out loud, so I was even more shocked to hear an actual response.

"Someone bigger."

I looked up in shock, then laughed lightly, almost in relief. "Sorry ta disappoint ya. Didn't get enough milk as a kid." (Joking is definitely my favorite defense-mechanism.) I was even more shocked as I saw the glint of metal disappear as the gun lowered. I blinked in confusion, my hand still wrapped around my cross, afraid to get my hopes up. No matter what he did, I was going to die. He was going to kill me. I knew it: it's the only absolute thing I'd known my entire life. But still, a guy can hope.

"What did you do?" I felt those steaming blue eyes burning into mine, even though I couldn't see them. But I didn't feel the same glare in them, the same killer-instinct. He was... talking to me. Maybe this was my lucky day? Maybe? Yeah, with MY luck? Give me a break!

"Do?" I laughed bitterly. "Whadid I do? Hm, let's see... I stole a bracelet, got cursed by a gypsy, tried ta be a nice guy anyway and help said gypsy outta a sticky situation, stole a car ta help a guy related ta said gypsy, got caught, and was tossed inta 'ere - notice how nonna that was my fault. Now I've got you, blue eyes, on my case, and I got no clue what I did ta get ya so pissed! Have we even met before in this life?!"

He paused for a moment, taking in everything I had said, the replied softly, "No, we haven't."

"Ya see?! That's what I thought!" We continued to stand/sit there in silence for a minute as his mind ran through... whatever he was thinking about, and as I waited for him to say something. Gathering a bit of courage, my eyes clashed with his in challenge. Eyes unwavering, I asked. "What DID I do to ya? Why do ya feel I deserve ta die?" At first there was no response, and I asked again, "Well?!"

I could almost feel him narrow his eyes. "Why not."

What the hell kind of response was that?! What a heartless stone! "Why not?! Why not?!" I stood up, my hand falling from my cross as I lost all fear in anger. "That's why I'm gonna get shot?! Because 'why not?' !"

"You're going to get shot faster if you don't shut up."

I laughed bitterly. "Oh yeah, 'cause Heaven forbid I should wake up the rats with my shoutin'." I continued glaring at the dark figure. " 'Why not.' I can't believe ya. What kinda helluva reason is that to kill a guy?! Do you get some sick pleasure outta watchin' me suffer?!"

"No..."

"Then tell me why ya gonna kill me!" He paused, the silence reigning for a moment. Formulating a bit of a plan, I continued, "Well, why not tell me, huh? 'Cause ya gonna kill me, an I'm gonna die anyway, so who cares?" I paused, desperation seeping into my voice, "But I gotta know. I gotta know why." I sighed, my eyes falling from the warrior to the dusty ground. I slid down the wall until I sat down in the dust. The killer was silent and for a moment, and I was beginning to think that I wouldn't get an answer.

But just as I was about to give up hope and begin rambling about how much this would suck, he spoke one word that nearly stopped my heart. "Tres."

My head shot up and I muttered the word questioningly. It all began making sense in my mind... how he always looked over at Treize before killing me, how Treize always nodded. Why hadn't I realized it sooner?! Okay, for the first few lives I thought he was looking at Quatre, and then later in Paris I only saw two hooded figures point to me... Une. She was in on it. It was the two of them! They both hated me because I was helping the gypsies and Milliard, I was just in their way... of course they would be the ones to hire this guy! It made perfect sense! But then, my thinking slowed and I saw the warrior looking off to the side. "But why you?"

He turned back to me, not saying anything. "Why would ya listen ta that scum bag? There are easier, and cleaner, ways of gettin' money than killin' innocent people, trust me. Look, whatever Tres's payin' ya, don't kill me and I'll get ya double, I swear! And it's not sa hard ta steal cars or wallets, and people'll miss them a LOT less than they'll miss their lives! Please!" My pathetic bargaining and pleading was interrupted by a sharp response.

"He's not paying me."

...Okay, now I was really confused. "Then, wh--"

I saw the metal raise once more as his gun arm went ridged, the barrel of the weapon aimed straight for my head, "I don't have time for this."

I began shaking a bit, my hand once again raking across my chest until the chain of my cross became entangled in my fingers. My breathing sped up. "What's a few minutes more? Please, I have ta know!"

"No."

I could almost see the gunfighter's expression in my mind: a look of emptiness without fear or pity. He wasn't human. A human couldn't be so inhumane, so uncaring. No real human likes watching another person die, never mind being the one to kill him. Sure, when two people duel, it's easy to pretend it's all a game, and the loser gets what he supposedly deserves, but just outright shooting a stranger because someone told you to? No human could do that. When he'd pull that trigger and kill me, he wouldn't cry and he wouldn't laugh; he'd just go on with his life like nothing had happened, every time losing a bit of humanity.

How many people had he killed before me?

I swallowed deeply, my fingers woven deeply into my chain as I clutched my cross like a lifeline. As I waited for the final shot, I began rambling off any possible reasons why he would kill me for Treize, gauging his reaction. "Okay, not money then what?" Silence. "Uh, does he take care a ya? Like give ya food an shelter an stuff?" No response, the gun remained level with my head. "No?" I laughed nervously "All right, well then, ya don't wanna tell me, I can figure it out... uh, political power? That's what Tres wants, at least..." Again no response, not even a twitch. I began panicking a bit, my mind racing for reasons. "Are ya related ta him?" A small sigh as he began getting frustrated, but otherwise there was no response. "Seems like everyone 'round here's related..." I bagan rambling as I quickly searched my mind for any other possible explinations. "Is he blackmailin' ya?" The glint of light off the metal shook a bit as he tightened the grip on the gun.

My eyes widened. "He is?! That's why ya gonna kill me!?"

I heard him stutter a bit, "It's not your business."

Heart pounding even faster, I could feel four tiny drops of blood pooling in my palm as my cross reopened the old wounds. "It's my life on the line, sa damn straight it's my business! Why's he blackmailin' ya? Does he have pictures or information or a letter or somethin'? What about? Does it have to do with you an someone else, too?"

The safety clicked off. Irritated, almost nervous, his voice replied, "I don't have time for this..."

"Don't pull that shit, ya got all night!" I shouted back. My heart pounding, and adrenaline pumping. "It does, doesn't it?! Who? Not Tres, an not Un, an Milliard has no reason to kill me..." I could sense, almost feel his finger tightening on the trigger. "Dotty? What was-- Triton? Calvin! No?" My mind flashed through every person I had seen and met in the past two days, searching for names, when, like a bullet to the head, it hit me. "Lena?" The warrior's hand jerked at the mention of her name and the gun fired with a loud crack.

I could feel the blood rushing to my head and the room began spinning, my hand fell limply from my cross as I fell to the floor in a heap, feeling only a hot thick blackness surrounding me and pushing in on me from all sides. The echoes of the gun shot slowly faded away, then everything was still and silent once more.

I finally knew.


His name was Hiiro.