Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Ivory Tower ❯ Ivory Tower7 ( Chapter 7 )

Title: Ivory Tower 7/?
Author: Quirk othe Trade
Category: Fiction
Genre: A U/ Fantasy
Rating: R, at least
C& CC: Yes! If it sucked, tell me why it sucked. I want to write better.
Archived: The 5x2 Archive, Mako-Chan’s makotosagara.net, and Thanatos and Dusty Bunny’s Under the Couch. MediaMiner.Org. Anywhere else, just ask.
Disclaimer: I own Gundam Wing--- In my dreams. Damned crying shame, that.
Warnings: People still think Wu’s a girl.
Author’s notes: All previous notes still apply, and on Adez’ use of ‘Her’ instead of ‘her’: she regards the Star Child as a deity. WuFei and Duo will be back in the next chapter. ^_~ Hopefully, it should be done soon. Sorry for the late posting at MediaMiner.Org. I’ll try to make the chapters longer from now on.
Beta: Makoto Sagara San.
Synopsis: A Quatre/Heero interlude, creepy Adez, and a washed up Relena.
+++


Quatre knocked on Heero’s suite door and waited for the quiet ‘come in’ before entering.

Except for a solid table of some undetermined wood and a couple of specially made chairs, there was no other furniture except for gun display cases in the sitting room. Some were upright, others weren’t. Some were glass and metal, others fine woods and etched glasses. All held weapons that would send a gun enthusiast straight to heaven. Well, maybe if they were on the wrong end of one. Heero sat at the table in the middle of it all, cleaning a sawed off shotgun.

“Hum? Are we going after vampires again?”

Heero paused, a dry oil oilcloth in one hand, and looked up at him. “No. Just maintenance.”

Quatre sat down in the other chair. He considered it HIS chair, because Heero had gotten it only after Quatre had come to the Avery. “You didn’t tell me where you were going; you just ran off after lunch.”

Hands moving again, stroking over the barrel, he dropped his gaze from the blonde’s. “I just needed some time to think.”

“About what?”

“Stuff.”

“Are you angry with me?”

Sapphire eyes snapped up at the woeful tone in Quatre’s voice. “NO. Why would you think that?”

“Because… you’re not talking to me. And you’re deliberately blocking your feelings from me.”

“I thought we agreed you wouldn’t deliberately try to read me.”

Reddening, Quatre covered his face with his hands and, hunching over, mumbled something.

“What?” Heero set the gun barrel and cloth down, stood and went around to the other side. Mindful of the wings and kneeling beside the other man, he grasped one wrist and tugged gently. “I didn’t hear you.”

The hands refused to budge, and he mumbled something a little louder.

“Quatre?”

The hands dropped, and wide, scared aquamarine eyes glared at him as he shouted, “I CAN’T HELP IT! I LOVE YOU!”

There was a moment of silence as they stared at each other. Then, Quatre tried to bolt from the chair for the door, and nearly succeeded because Heero wasn’t expecting it. But the hand on his wrist tightened and he was jerked off course and pulled down onto Heero’s lap. A second hand clasped his other wrist, and his arms were twisted behind his back. It brought them in flush against each other, especially their faces in a most uncomfortable way because Quatre couldn’t read the expression on Heero’s face. He wasn’t the most expressive of people even on the best of days, and he could only label it as an intense look. He watched as pupils shrank until they were pinpricks in a blaze of sapphire. The hands clasping his wrists tightened and Quatre caught his breath. “Say that again.”

“I can’t help it. I love you,” he whispered. Then, he winced. “Ow! Heero, you’re hurt---!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Immediately releasing his grip, he grasped each hand and drew them forward one by one to his lips. He kissed each wrist gently, murmuring apologies against the abused flesh.

Quatre stared at the messy chocolate head bent over his hands. He almost couldn’t believe his eyes, or his ears. Heero’s voice was so gentle, genuinely remorseful, and his lips were so soft and velvety…

“I can’t help it, I love you.” His hands moved all on their own to cup the other’s face, tilting it up. That face--- that oh so beautiful face, a face that could be a girl’s except for those winged brows and the sharpness of the personality behind the eyes. It wasn’t the form he was in love with, but HIM, and when he saw him shining at him from behind those eyes, he kissed him.

Heero whimpered, unable to look away or close his eyes as he was kissed as if he was something precious. Too many emotions were swirling around, and tears welled up in his eyes. Unfortunately, that broke the kiss.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t ---“

“Again?” Heero clutched the hands to his face, unable to keep a note of desperation from his voice, eyes begging. The words wouldn’t come to tell the blond colonel how he felt, how much he wanted this, the emotions welling up like they always did to overwhelm him and leave him tongue-tied. He didn’t know why it always happened like that, but it did. It left him with only two options, action and silence, and with Quatre it had always been silence.

He was rewarded with a smile and a quick kiss. “You’re such a shy guy.”

Wrapping his arms around his waist, Heero rested his head against Quatre’s shoulder. “Sorry. It’s just...”

Arms wrapped around his shoulders, and a head rested against his. “Ditto. Heero?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I invite you to my bedroom?”

“Mine’s closer.”

“How far should we go?”

Heero shivered. “As far as we want to.”

Quatre shivered in return.

“But… I don’t want to forget myself and hurt you. You’re going to have bruises as it is, and I can’t guarantee that I won’t do it again.”

“Then I’ll just have to tie you up then, won’t I?” He was only joking, but he felt the strong body in his arms go still. “Heero?”

“You’ve heard… that I was found on the patio? The night the Calamities started?”

“Yeah. What does that have to do with…?”

“I remember a little bit, Quatre. I’ve told them I don’t, and it was true at the time but… now it’s not.” Leaning away from him, Heero locked eyes with him. “There was a place with white walls, and other children and men dressed in white. They would restrain us. I don’t remember why but just the thought of it makes me jumpy, panicky. All of them did but one, a man named Odin. He was nice. He would bring us candy.”

“Your sweet tooth…” (That’s where it comes from.)

“Yeah.”

“What else can you remember? If it’s okay?”

Heero closed his eyes and nodded. “It’s okay. I think you need to know. And I don’t want us to start this off on the wrong foot. Do you understand?”

“I think I do.”

His eyes opened, and he speared Quatre with his gaze. “No. I mean- after this, I- wait.” He dropped his gaze, focused on the other’s collarbone and took a deep breath. “I… love you. I LOVE you, as in forever more. As in mated for life, like hawks. I don’t just want to have- intercourse with you, I want to be INTIMATE with you. I want to know you inside and out, as much as I can. And I want you to know me like that, too.”

Bringing one hand up, Quatre lifted his face up to look him in the eyes. “Heero, do you know how long I’ve been in love with you?” At the brunette’s quick headshake, he continued. “Since I first laid eyes on you. Since the day Treize made me an apprentice, and I opened my eyes to behold the most beautiful man I’d ever seen looking down at me with a worried scowl on his face. I stayed by him and watched him as closely as I dared. It only got worse, as time went by.”

Heero blinked at him.

“I’ve been waiting for YOU all this time. Now that I finally have you where I want you, what makes you think I’ll give you up without a fight?”

“Quatre…”

“Tell me your story.” He smiled.

“Okay. One night, when we were all asleep, the building shook; there was gunfire and people in fatigues. I couldn’t tell if they were trying to hurt us, or what. All the men in white ran away except for Odin, and he was trying to move us somewhere safe. He was protecting us. He was taking us to the room with the seal on the floor. It was supposed to be safe. We got to a point where he couldn’t both lead and guard, and he handed me a gun. I lead, and he followed.” His eyes closed, seeing blurry scenes play out behind his eyelids. The hand cupping his jaw slid away to hold his hand. “Then he went down, and I thought we’d never make it. But a lady showed up, dressed in white. She saved us all, and took us away to a place by the seashore. None of us had ever seen a real seashore before. She took me aside and asked me a question.”

“What kind of question?”

“She asked, ’Do you want to help me?’” His eyes snapped open suddenly and refocused on Quatre. “I said yes, and then I don’t remember any thing except waking up in a bed down in the Infirmary, with the medic crews running around in an emergency.”

“Have you told Treize?”

“No. And I’m not going to. It… might cause an uproar.”

Giving him a questioning look, he arched an eyebrow.

“If I remember clearly, the girl looked like Adez. But she didn’t have a dimpled chin.” He shifted his legs slightly under Quatre’s backside, and then maneuvered himself carefully to the floor. It was awkward, kneeling like that with a person on his lap. “Have you heard the rumors about her?”

“Which one? The one where she’s holding the world in her hand through a human based corporate business, or that’s she’s really a prude or that she’s the cause of the Calamities or is Pluto’s lover or---“

“The one where she’s concealing the Star Child of Atlantis.”

“Oh.” He stopped and thought about it. “Yeah, I think I heard that one.”

“Have you ever heard her talk? About how everything’s an illusion?”

“You’ve been with me every time I’ve ever seen her.”

Heero paused, thought over their long history, and then nodded. “Sorry. Well, I heard her one time, before you were an apprentice. It made me think--- What if she’s hinting that she’s an illusion? What if she IS the Star Child?”

“Adez? The Star Child? There’s not a benevolent bone in her body, let alone a prayer for human kind. If there is such a thing as the Star Child.” He shifted on his lap. “What makes you think it would cause an uproar, since it’s already a rumor?”

“It might cause an uproar among the Archetypes simply because if it’s true… then at least three Archetypes are in trouble: Pluto, because he’s been hiding her all this time, Magda Therese because she had to have known where the soul of the Star Child was, and Dorothy because she had to have known too. Then there’s Adez herself and the tragedy of Atlantis, which she is supposed to have committed and will have to be punished for, and the powers she possesses themselves. The other Archetypes, who will be… displeased in the least, will use this chance to demand a reckoning with Adez as the prize. The planet’s still in recovery, there is no way it’s ready for a major throw down between the Archetypes. And who will end up with Adez at Their command, after she finishes her punishment? ”

“Why would they bother to go after Dorothy? No one can resist Fate, and Fate is neutral in all things.”

“Think about how many enemies Dorothy’s made with her little ploys.” He nodded as the understanding dawned in Quatre’s eyes. “We can’t let that effect Duo, or WuFei. He’s one of our closest friends, and she can’t possibly have the necessary skills to take over the office for the time it would take to clear everything up. Besides which, Duo likes her. We can’t let that happen.”

“Ah.” Tangling their fingers together, Quatre began rubbing his thumb absently over the arch of Heero’s hand. “Hey, Heero?”

“Yes?”

“Wanna go to your bedroom and go as far as we can?”

+++

The frozen grass crunched and snapped beneath her feet as she halted outside the gates of Tartarus Manor. From the sky or ground it looked like a fair sized, if foggy, estate, but once you entered its gates, the many dimensions layered on the grounds took effect. A chill crept over the skin, a wet chill that seeped uncomfortably into one’s bones and left one feeling like all the warmth had been leeched out of them and would never return. The perpetual white mist became the specters and phantoms they were, the outer buildings became mausoleums and bits of crumbling buildings that lead underground to the catacombs and the gentle streams became rivers, hindering one’s way to the manor. Pomegranate trees, scattered across the land along with apple and peach trees, rose from the mist of specters in the form of shadows. From where she stood behind the gates the manor house was plainly visible, but once on the grounds, it was distant, stretching away in the infinity of the mist.

People had gotten lost in that mist. They sometimes never got out. It was so easy to lose one’s way or sit down to rest for a moment and forget what one had been doing. Sometimes they would get up on their own and wander around until they were discovered, or one of the ghosts took pity and guided them out. But ever so often, a new ghost showed up, and Magda Therese would come down and lock herself in the study with Pluto. Raised voices would echo through the thick paneling, stone and mortar, and then after an hour and a half of that, the Throne would storm out fuming. Then, Pluto would call her in and give her instructions to tell the ghosts to report any wanderers on the property. That worked only for as long as the ghosts remembered, and then sooner or later, there was another incident.

Adez wasn’t thinking about any of that.

(Duo, you’re an ass… She was having such a good time, and you had to spoil it by opening your big mouth…)

There was a protesting pulse from where She floated inside their shared form, curled up like an unborn child, the golden pink glow surrounding Her adding to the effect. Her shoulder length brown locks drifted with the long bedraggled sash attached to the ruined ankle length gown, which had once been white but now was drenched bloody scarlet from chest to knees. The gauzy straps hung from Her shoulders, and the back gaped open, mother of pearl buttons broken and nearly pulled off, long ribbons of scaring visible on once flawless skin. Her bare toes peaked from the hem. (Don’t be like that, mine own self. He didn’t mean it.)

(He made You retreat.) She closed her eyes. The image of Her grew clearer.

(It’s all right. I was just startled.) She uncurled and floated around like a music box ballerina. (He had a point. Why do we dress like that? Even if it’s just an illusion? Surely Persephone would allow a different mode of dress.)

(Please allow me to deal with Persephone, exalted Sylvia.)

(Why do you block the memories of Persephone? It’s frustrating. Is something going on which shouldn’t?)

(No. She is simply beneath You.)

(That remark was most unbecoming. All beings deserve respect. And she is the mistress of our master; should we not honor her?)

(It is I who is bound to Pluto, not You, and I speak the truth when I say she is beneath You. You are the Star Child, the one redeeming factor on this planet.)

(Stop it.)

(Who gave hope to the world? ‘Twas Thee,) answered Adez, falling into a chanting pattern. (With a word, who directed the Universe to have mercy upon the faces of Man? Thee. Who sings the sun to sleep? ‘Twas Thee. Who dances with the seasons to bid them chan---)

(STOP IT!) She turned away, and curled back into a ball. (I shall sleep.)

(Exalted Sylvia?) Her eyes opened wide, unsettled at the abrupt dismissal. She had never turned away so abruptly like that. The Sylvia was infinite in Her patience, overflowing with compassion, gentle with Her touch. She ranked somewhere above the Godhead, Adez was sure, though She would deny it and be the first one on bended knee to pray. That She had acted out of character was… troubling. (Sleep well then.)

She looked up at the manor house through the gate, currently so very visible through the wrought iron bars, and then turned to her left. Two steps past the end of the gate, and then she turned right, right through the brick wall and onto the grounds, into the mist of specters.

(Everything is an illusion.)

Eyes closing slightly, focused only on the manor house in her mind’s eye, she ignored everything around her---that was supposed to be around her---and began to walk, taking broad ground eating strides. A few streams were splashed in, several rocks kicked aside, and the mist disappeared. Soon enough, cobblestones were beneath her feet, and she halted once more before the manor house.

Cold and proper in a dark, brooding way, the white curtains tended to move if one stared too long, as if someone was peeking around them. The cobblestones stretched out from the garage, around an area the size of a small park filled with plants as the circular driveway then on towards the false gate. Out behind the manor house was a patio and Olympic sized pool, lush gardens and a garden maze.

Too bad only the trapped souls got to enjoy it.

Sighing, she walked to the door and entered.

+++

Pluto slowed in stride and turned away from his guest as the door opened.

Adez raised her head as she cleared the threshold, her gaze drawn to his face. “Master.”

“Apprentice.” He frowned at her. “Where are your arms?”

Her hands moved to touch them, the pale gun slung on her right hip, the dark one under her right arm. She willed them to be visible. “Here, master.”

“You know the rules. If you wish to be armed in this place, you must display them.”

Soft chuckles permeated the air. “That’s a stupid rule.”

“This is my domain, Magda, and my rules.”

She snorted. “Piss off, old woman. The only reason Adez is forced to display her weapons is because it gives Persephone a heads up on how she can treat her.”

“You are a guest in this---“ Pluto loomed over her suddenly, attempting to use all six feet plus of darkly muscled bulk to intimidate her.

Magda Therese, used to everyone being taller than her, smirked at the tactic. “And how often is she ordered to stand her weapons down? I know Persephone and her temper; she likes to take it out on living flesh. You married an abomination, oh honorable parent, or did you think that just because she’s springtime she’d be lightness to your dark?”

His black eyes snapped and he looked like he was actually loosing his temper. “Mind your own---“

“Master?” Adez injected smoothly. “Where is my master’s lady?”

“She was emerging from the bath, last I saw.”

“I shall attend her.”

”Thank you.”

They watched Adez ascend the stairs to the upper levels. Then Pluto turned and glared at Magda. “Mind you own business.”

Pluto was a tall man, with olive skin and dark hair and eyes. He towered over most people at six foot six. He dressed in somber, regal colors, golds and browns with hints of cream. His glare could cow the best of them.

Magda Therese was not the best of them. Besides, she had been born from Pluto in his Hel form- Hel, the goddess of Death of the ancient Norse culture. Magda Therese had been an idea nurtured until she had come forth, born of Death’s flesh and Death’s alone. It was her duty to give her only parent shit. “You never stayed out of mine. You should have stayed the damned throne your own damned self, instead of having a troublesome child such as me. Besides, I’m not here to see you. I’m here to see Amy.”

+++

Smith slowed as he came upon the cluster of cars ahead of him. He had a bad feeling about this, a deep down in the bone feeling. He didn’t trust Barton and Septum by themselves at the best of times, much less when they were preparing for a ritual, but once the emergency message had reached him, he hadn’t trusted anyone else to handle it. Not if it concerned an Archetype. He had barked out orders and then ran to his car, speeding as much as possible along the way.

Pulling off to the side, he exited the car and made his way around the vehicles. A couple of goons--- who were actually nice guys when they weren’t working--- waved him over as they radioed someone. “Mr. Smith.”

“Which way?”

“Through the trees to the north. A team member is coming to escort you--- there, sir.”

Turning, he strode to where a figure in an orange decontamination suit minus the helmet was beginning to emerge from the trees. “Take me there.”

“Yes sir.”

He followed the man for several hundred yards through thickets of trees until the ground gave way to sand piled high. They scrunched through the sand until the sound grated on his already taunt nerves. Then they came to the seashore. A company medic chopper sat to one side, and armed guards stood the perimeter as suited medical personnel swarmed a small form on the ground.

“Sir, you may want to suit up.”

“If it’s an Archetype, a suit’s not gonna help.” He marched past the guards up to the main cluster of orange suits.

The first thing he noticed was the oddness of her arm, the tattered blue dress and stained wheat hair. The second was the wings and the bruising. Then, his brain refused to think about it and he looked away taking a slow, deep breath. “Report, please.”

“I don’t know where to start, sir. At first, she was dead, but then she seems to revive every thirty minutes. It only lasts for about five minutes, and then she dies again. There’s a broken arm, broken ribs, collapsed lung, a broken wing, lacerations--- internal injuries---“

“Treat her as if she was alive. Get her to the medic unit at headquarters. I’ll handle Mr. Barton and anything else.”

“Sir, what about drugs?”

“I don’t think this has ever happened before. We don’t even know if they’ll work.” Smith took a half step back. “Don’t give her any unless she’s a threat, and then use tranquilizers.”

“Right.”

“It̵ 7;s time, cover your ears!” Exclaimed someone, and everyone around him did. Most of them turned their heads.

Smith wished he had, too.

Her chest moved, drawing breath, her eyes flew open, and she SCREAMED - long, soul wrenching screams one after the other with pink froth bubbling from her mouth. Wounds began to seep clear fluid, and her body writhed in pain. It may have lasted only five minutes, but it was the longest five minutes in Smith’s life, and he was shaking by the end. When it stopped, everything stopped suddenly, and she looked like a broken doll someone had thrown away.

(And the medic crew’s been here about three hours waiting for me to drive all the way here. Gods. How have they withstood it?)

TBC…