Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Justitia ❯ Chapter 13

Justitia 13: Consult not your fears but your hopes and your dreams. Think not about your frustrations, but about your unfulfilled potential. Concern yourself not with what you tried and failed in, but with what it is still possible for you to do. -Pope John XXIII

Russia. It rang in his mind, along with the sounds, the scent, the poverty. It was like a sickness in his blood, pumping itself stronger and stronger until it seemed he had never left; until it was all the world he knew and the only thing that kept him anchored in the here and now was Trowa's presence at his side as they raced from one rooftop to the next toward the home of the Kirsh's. To finish what he had started.

Only he wasn't doing it alone this time. He wasn't sure what to make of that, mind running over the scene on the floor of the apartment. He had been sure it was a lie; that Trowa would not have come to get him if he ahd known, because no one had, but Trowa was there, a breath away. He'd come after all.

It was hard, to believe. Not just that Trowa was there, but that Trowa would want to be there. Because Trowa had beennon the inside; Wufei had seen him there, at the party, but here he was on the outside, where previously there was just Marie and himself. He couldn't imagine anyone wanting to leave that inner circle of society to come and play in the ice. The ice was hard, and cold, and it was never going to melt. But Trowa had come. And when Wufei thought hard enough about it he thought Trowa was probably the only person who could pull it off, having played both sides flawlessly on more than one occasion.

They reached the rooftop and Wufei pushed all thoughts of Trowa aside save that of his presence, bolting to the chimney and looking over the wide rim. It was still filthy and still wide open, no fire burning inside. Cold.

Wufei smirked as climbed the edge and crawled in, bracing his feet against one side and his back against the other, using his hands to navigate as he started shimmying down, careful not to dislodge the dirt, taking it slow and silent. Trowa mimicked him easily and Wufei felt a deep seated flicker of satisfaction to see him move so easily, to get back in the rhythm of it all. To know he wasn't the only one who still enjoyed it.

There was a metal grate halfway down, but it was easy to slide into its slot, opening the pathway for them, their own bodies holding back the telltale drafts.

He reached the bottom but stayed just out of sight, straining to hear any movement in the room beyond. There was the sound of a cigarette being lit, the shifting of feet and Wufei tracked them from the dresser on the far side to the desk and he heard the numbers being dialled. A quick peek revealed Kirsh at the desk, facing the wall, phone in one hand, cigarette in the other. There was a gun strapped to his hip but no sign of any other weapon.

Wufei flipped himself out of the fireplace, avoiding the ashes at the base and let himself roll, soft and silent, across the floor and under the bed, coming to a rest on his stomach as he eased the katana from his back and pulled it into one fist at his side, eyes fixed on Kirsh's shoes.

There was movement in the fireplace and Trowa flipped out, landing silently and turning immediately behind the curtain, nothing but a slender shadow that disappeared into the folds.

Wufei's mind ticked through the one sided conversation, deducting a possible buyer was on the other end. They were talking weapons. Kirsh went so far as to skite that the Preventers were oblvious to his plot and that he could take care of them even if they were not. The buy apparently had already been provided with proof. It made Wufei's brain cloud, memories encroaching, the whispers gathering, a hurricane in the teacup of his sanity.

Kirsh was looking at the wall, but Wufei could see his face; would never forget that face as it leaned down and twisted the katana through his arm, not enough that it already skewered the limb, but widening the hole, the blood pouring out, and he had screamed. How he had screamed. Screamed so hard he had not been able to find the tears again; had lost them along with his voice, with his strength.

And when he had finally found his feet and tried to stumble away the sword came down again and the fire that raced up his leg matched the one in his arm and it was an evil sense of balance that stole away all sense. He woke in the snow, behind the truck, dragged along. There were holes in his chest.

Wufei looked out from under the bed, stealing a peak at the hand wrapped about the phone and his mind substituted his head for the phone, remember how the fingers had ground into his jaw as he was bound to the table, as he forced him to watch the spoon drive into his stomach. He looked at the fingers that had dug inside him and turned him inside out, still seeing the blood pooling over them. Fat, filthy fingers that left infestion int heir wake.

He glared at the shoes, remembering how they had jumped on the nails to drive his feet into the ground and he hated. Hated as he had hated that day, as if no day had passed since then, as if no hour had slipped between them. Hated because the wounds had not healed; because he had not forgotten, not moved on. He had remained, trapped at that table with the gun in one hand and its single bullet and nothing but blood and air in the other.

He was about to move when Trowa shuffled his feet slightly and Wufei's attention was skewed, once again reminded that far more time had elapsed thatn he ever would have imagined. And he wasn't alone now. He could slaughter Krish; slaughter him in the same way he had the first time and he would have his vengeance, but…it hadn't worked the first time and he was not alone now. If Trowa saw, if Trowa knew…

He would have his vengeance, but at what cost? He could only recall half of Randoplph Kersh's tortured screams, half the streaks of blood he head painted on these very walls, but half was more than enough. More than enough and still it had not changed anything. He had gone in with nothing and come out with the same.

This time he had come with company. With a friend, and a home and maybe more, he didn't know. But it wasn't the same and his whole self ached, his heart bloated in his chest as the whispers screamed, taunting, baiting, alluring. And he had never wanted anything so much in his life.

Except what he had. Right on the other side of the curtain. And he would lost it, if Trowa ever knew what he was really capable of, that he was certain.

The whispers were too loud, too frantic. Wufei moved without thought, rolling out from his hiding place, straight to his feet, sword still sheathed as it snaked out and smashed into Kersh's side, knocking the gun from its holster, the sword following the swing through, kicking the gun aside as Kersh turned, fist flying. Wufei dodged it easily, turning sharply to pick up the gun and toss it toward Trowa, who had emerged from behind his curtain looking cold and annoyed. Wufei couldn't blame him; this was not heir plan. But he didn't have to follow the plan. Wasn't that what Trowa had said? Chang Wufei never stopped thinking about right and wrong…

And always made the right choice. The right one. Righteous…Honourable.

And Wufei realised he didn't care how Kersh died, just that he gave back what he had taken before he did.

"You…" Kersh burst out laughing, tears of mirth appearing in his eyes. "I thought you were dead, Agent," he sneered, that too-familiar cocky grin on his face. His eyes never once flickered to Trowa but Wufei knew he knew he was there. He would not underestimate this man again.

"You have a sword?"

Kersh laughed even harder at that, strolling over to his closet and pullin free a weapon. It reminded Wufei of another man he had fought; tall, filled with self-worth, over-confident and too proud. Wrong. Wufei snarled at him, letting the old rage merge with the new, letting the years merge into one solid, single moment as he drew the katana, and tossed aside the scabbard, very much aware of Trowa with his his knives at the ready. But his attention was all for the enemy.

"You want another lesson, Chang Wufei?" He sneered, bringing his weapon to the ready.

Wufei was a little startled that he knw his name, but he supposed it was only fair.

"I found out your name, Wufei, because I had your photo; the pretty one I sent your boss. She helped me tell the world you were dead and everyone learnt to fear me. Everywhere you go in the world, I am the man who killed the Gundam Pilot Chang Wufei, and they worship me. Ironic, isn't it, that even now, even in death, your name is synonymous with breakingt he peace; the the great crime adventure."

The tip of Wufei's sword wavered slightly and he forced the calm through it, forced himself to ignore it all. So what if he had a photo? Chang Wufei was not dead. It was just a name. It was the person who had the power.

"I'm surprised though, Wufei. I thought you would use the gun. But you were too weak even for that, weren't you Wufei? Is there anything you don't fear Wufei? Or are you that weak…" He sneered knowingly, but Wufei wasn't listening to his words. He was running through all the reasons why he should make it a slow death, all the reasons he had for hating this man. The words didn't even scratch the surface of his true fear, which was standing at his back.

Kersh was sliding closer but Wufei didn't move, letting him come, letting the whispers grow louder, letting the fear out, the rage, the pain.

"I should have known you were alive, little coward. Cambodia. It was you, wasn't it? All the trademark signs, but I thought they had just got a copycat, one of your buddies to take your job. More fool me. I'll know this time, won't I Wufei? This time I'll make sure I bury your body, and keep your head in a jar on my mantelpiece. Or maybe…I'll feed you to the wolves."

Wufei bit hard into his tongue, revelling in the taste of the blood, letting it fuel him. Kersh was close enough. He could move now, cut him down with a lunge, or a strike, or let him parry and take him from behind. That was how he'd taken Randolph in the end…And then he'd tied him to the desk and…

Wufei shook his head, waiting. He would not repeat himself. That wouldn't work; it wouldn't change anything. That was the wrong answer.

"You did me a favour you know, Wufei. I spent ten years trying to get rid of Randolph. Ten years. I was so frustrated when I met up with his men in the mountains, and I found you. And we had such delicious fun…And then you did it for me. And so nicely too. I must say…you're rather creative, Wufei. I paid attention. Would you like me to show you?" His tongue snaked out, raking over his teeth. His nice square, flat, ordinary teeth. His fat, pink, untouched tongue.

"Does your friend know, Wufei? Does he know how you like to pin them down, make them feel the sting of the steel before you set them free? Does he know how much you enjoy it?" Kersh laughed, hellish laughter, but he never once dropped his guard. He had, indeed, learnt a lesson from Wufei. But it would not make any difference.

"What about the weakness, Wufei? Does he know how weak you are? Does he know how you screamed, how you begged? Does he know…what they said to you?"

Wufei shuddered as the whispers howled, threatening to double him over, the words roiling behind his senses, begging to be heard. He reminded himself that Trowa was there; that he could not the fear out. That he couldn't listen to it. He could not win if he was not calm.

"What about now, Wufei? Do you want to kill me? Do you want to do the things you did to my brother to this flesh. Do you want to how your friend how you got your revenge on the wrong person? Do you want to show him what a fool you are?"

Do you. Do you. Do you?

And he made a choice. The water over the flames, the earth over the air; a little death instead of the big one. The ice over the fire.

Wufei felt the ice as he'd never felt it before. It consumed him, driving through everything until all he knew was blessed silence. Kersh's mouth was moving but Wufei didn't hear the sounds. There was only the complete detachment, the numb, blind, deafness and he smiled as he let the katana fall to the floor, Kersh seeing the drop and lungeing, only Wufei was faster, pulling Trowa's pistol from the holster at his belt and shooting firing one perfect shot. He didn't hear it, but he could see it, the bullet sliding into the third eye, driving it back into Kersh's skull as his body paused, struggled to draw breath and fell.

Wufei just stood there, watching the blood dribble down the forehead and onto the floor, soaking into the carpet, mingling with old stains and it was just more blood on the fingers that released the sword. Wufei moved forward and took the weapon, leaning down to take a closer look; to make sure. To feed him to the wolves, as it were. Make sure he went to hell.

"I didn't kill him for you," Wufei said softly, not closing the eyes, wanting them to stare a while longer at the blank ceiling. "I killed your brother because I wanted to. I did it for me. But you?" Wufei flicked a stray strand out hair away from Kersh's face. "I killed you for your brother, and because I was ordered to."

Warmth trickled in from behind and Wufei felt a hand on his shoulder, hardly there, but it was enough. It told him he'd found the right answer, no matter how cold it made him feel inside.

Trowa did the reconnaissance while Wufei sat beside the body, its chauffer into the afterlife, if there was one.

He spoke to it in Russian, then when he ran out of words he spoke to it in Chinese and he wondered if it could hear and he hoped it could because there were no nice words left in him; no pleasant wishes, nothing to guide him through the dark. There were no people left…

He couldn't tear his eyes away from the body, mentally tearing it to shreds, drawing out the death with a thousand little deaths, cutting him down piece by piece until all that was left was flesh…He mourned the loss of the un he could have had and then shuddered in revulsion that he wanted it.

The more the cold receeded, the more the whispers came flooding in, the more he wanted to take it back. The more he wanted to go back, just to that moment and rip him apart as he had the brother. He wanted to do it for himself, without orders, for all the wrong reasons in all the wrong ways. He wanted…

But he couldn't quite remember why.

Trowa's hand appeared before his face and he just stared at it, mind blank. That hand would not give him what he wanted. It couldn't. Nothing could. It wouldn't let him have what he wanted…

He took the hand, let it draw him up, lead him to the chimney, and he climbed, one leg over the other, one arm pushing against the next, back grinding into the walls. The air was cold, but it was warm against his skin; warm when played against the ice within.

They took their time going back, Trowa flicking through what he had found and putting a call through to Une to give her the buyer details. Wufei just walked, hoping his feet remembered the way.

He tried to think of why it was called the lotus project but the meaning was lost on him. Flowers didn't grow in the snow; they died. They all died in the snow, because it was cold, and when you were cold enough the vultures came and ripped the flesh off your bones and then what were you? Just bones for the wolves to come and chew on, and after that? What was it worth, being this way? Wufei couldn't begin to guess and he didn't want to but the thoughts kept circling, like the buzzards and he knew sooner or later they would come for the kill. Like he did. That was the way of the world; the balance of it all. He had done such terrible things and in return terrible things had been done unto him and then he had gone onto do more terrible things and the cycle had to come to a close, had to come full circle once more. It had to. Because if it didn't, what was the point?

When they got to the hotel he took the shower first, the water too hot even when it was running cold and he got out quickly, leaving it to Trowa, going to the window box and sitting, watching, trying to hear…anything.

But there were only the whispers and they were heavy as they flittered across his mind, growing in intensity, waiting for their moment.

"Are you okay?"

Trowa was kneeling in front of him, hair uncharacteristically tucked behind his ears as he leant his amrs across Wufei's knees and waited patiently for a response. Wufei just stared at him, not sure what he had asked. He had heard it but he wasn't listening. What were words anyway but the wasted breath of the dying?

"You did…the right thing. I…I couldn't have done that."

Still Wufei couldn't make it out so he turned his head to the window, looking down at the empty street and wondering where all the people had gone. Where were they all hiding?

"Une's dismantling the Lotus project. Mission complete."

There should have been more people, but the more he thought about it the fewer he could remember. It was strange…that there weren't any people. A blink of your eye and they could all disappear.

A hand came up to rest against his cheek, making him look back down at Trowa.

"Wufei? He's dead."

Dead. A bullet in the chamber, blood on the ground, the click, the safety isn't on and there's such a loud bang…but you don't hear it, don't feel it. It's like it doesn't happen. No one sees it happen. They're all dead. Dead, dead, dead.

"I killed them," Wufei said softly. "I killed them all."

Trowa just nodded, pulling him to his feet and pulling him to the bed, pushing him down, pulling the blankets up, pushing him into the warmth. But it was too hot, too close. There weren't meant to be any people there; all the people had gone away.

He tried to pull away but the heat was strong, holding him down, not letting go no matter how Wufei struggled.

"Does it hurt, Wufei?"

He struggled against it, not wanting to hear it, trying to hold on to the ice, to stay apart from it. To forget.

In the end, he just lay there, ignoring it all and clinging to the cold that kept the whispers out, praying for the heat to go away, to leave him alone, to let him go. It was many, many hours later before it finally complied and even then there were words. Words he didn't want to hear.

"It's going to hurt Wufei, when I break you."

But he wasn't listening. He wasn't ready; was completely unprepared for the fact that one of the people hadn't disappeared, had come back, and was there, waiting, watching. He was lulled into a sleep of sorts, watching the world but not seeing, gentle whispers guiding him through, taking him away. He hoped it was back to the end. He feared it was back to the beginning.

There was a plane. There was a car. There was shifts in the darkness and in the light until he was in the warmth again, something wet falling on his skin as words whispered through his brain, breaking through the cold, ripping the whispers free as it tore away the last of his control and left him bare, open to the truth he had been denying. The truth he couldn't accept.

But he heard the words.

"I'll tell you a secret."

And the world rushed in, the ice melting all in a rush and flooding away.

"You were never weak."

And the whispers were an ocean, and he was drowning, trying to breathe but his throat was clogged with the words.

"The world is weak."

Down and down he went, and there was pain with no cause, pain with no wounds, just pain and nothing else.

"There is no honour in the world."

He screamed, he raged, he begged. But no one came.

"There is no justice, in the world."

This world. Is a lonely place.

"They're in you."

But there is a hand in this darkness.