Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ My Shinigami, My Hamburger ❯ Last Ride Out ( Chapter 9 )

Chapter 9

Last Ride Out

Sneakers loudly drummed across the floorboards as the departing smoke began to dissolve in the air. He was thoroughly out of breath by the time he made it to the train station and folded forward with hands gripped around his knees as he struggled to gather his lungs beneath him. Running normally wouldn't have bothered him, but lately the stress had been wearing down on him, and the railroad tracks were so conveniently located on the fringes of town. Heero panted raggedly as he was forced to watch the train thunder along the tracks away from him while his frustration finally began to flame in his chest. After all this time, after all the damned god trouble, and he misses his ride out?

The mortal sighed angrily, narrowing his eyes as he struggled to see the gleaming metal hull of the train in the summer sunlight. And when it disappeared, he sighed and felt all of his exhaustion finally catch up with him, along with an overwhelming sense of disappointment. There was a part of him that only wanted to go home and be rid of all the supernatural stresses that had hounded him since setting foot in this strange country. Heero was prepared to turn and find him a suitable bed on the metal bench when there was a soft sound of thudding growing louder behind him. It wasn't the loud, buckling sound of boots, and he twisted his head around in a listless curiosity to see something dark moving very quickly at him. Out of instinct, he had the impulse to jerk out of the way while a tiny part of his brain feared it was somehow another troublesome spirit licking its chops and diving at him.

Two hands clasped his wrist as the black blur kept running past him, its bare feet padding loudly against the platform's polished floorboards. Heero was jerked forward unceremoniously and he let out a bewildered grunt. Simultaneously a blustery gust of air sent his caramel-highlighted bangs whipping in his face as the Shinigami spread his wings in ten feet of midnight black feathers. Only instants later that air swelled beneath the deity's wings and a powerful surge sent them both into the air. Heero felt his sneakers lift effortlessly off the platform, and his weight pulling down on his wrist as Shini struggled with both hands to securely pull him up.

Heero heavily swung his opposite arm up and latched on the Shinigami's thin arm, as he was pulled higher and higher into the air.

"What the hell are you doing!?" Heero snapped nervously as the wind tossed his hair and loose shirt around. Inside his ribs his heart was drumming like a panicked hummingbird locked inside a wire cage and his abrupt airborne state was making him slightly light-headed, watching the railroad tracks grow steadily smaller and the lush green landscape fan out like a storybook illustration below his sneakers.

Shini took broad swipes at the air with his divine wings as he flew, practically dragging his arranged husband through the air, roughly fifty feet about the blue flint gravel scattered around the tracks.

A mischievous grin lit up his devilishly angelic face, matted hair and eartails fluttering generously in the wind. "Hello, Teishu!" Shini said with his best sunny expression. A few dislodged, soot-black feathers were lost to the wind and floated away without a care.

"What do you think you're doing? Let me down!"

The same waggish grin remained, as Shini didn't bother answering his question. "Hold on, it could be a bumpy landing!"

The mortal's heart drummed steadily in the bottom of his throat as he tightened his grip and anxiously turned his head to see what the Shinigami was grinning so stupidly about. His heart promptly clattered to the soles of his shoes, realizing that they were gliding quickly toward the train, which rumbled along at a healthy fifty miles per hour. It was oblivious to the fact that it was being chased by an Angel of Death, dragging one very high-strung husband along with him.

But as they came closer to the train, and at a very quick pace, to Heero's surprise, whatever strength that had possessed the Shinigami while he escorted the mortal back to his ride out of town began to wither. In simple terms, Shini was tiring quickly under the strain and drooping lower to the ground. Above him, he could hear the deity's panting breaths hissing through his teeth as he struggled to catch up before his wings gave out from under him and Shini's hands were clamped around Heero's wrist so tightly that length of his forearm was starting to turn red. While still living in the simmering depths of Hell, Shini had been able to jeer in the face of such trivial things as gravity and mass-for a millennium he had adjusted to supporting his only own light weight in the gusty atmosphere of the underworld. Earth's atmosphere was much trickier than he remembered it being since the last time he had lived above ground.

As he strained to avoid plunging to the ground, Shini realized that he hadn't even considered if he could actually carry Heero's weight before dragging him off solid ground.

It was a reality that brought both him and his arranged husband crashing down instants later as his wings caught another gust of air but this time buckled back out of pure exhaustion. With a startled yelp, Shini felt gravity take hold and send him diving rapidly back toward the earth, seemingly laughing at its victory as wind howled rowdily past his ears.

Luckily, the plunge sent them careening straight into the back door of the final passenger car on the train. Heero had given up fighting and braced himself for impact. Meanwhile, Shini let out another high-pitched yelp as he crashed through the red-painted, wooden back door. The hinges burst off as the Angel of Death's momentum sent him careening even further. The force of impact jarred his hand loose and dropped Heero harmlessly on the door, which now was pressed flat against the carpet inside the emptied passenger car. With wings boxing against the mahogany-paneled wall and the doors of the cabins in the narrow hallway, Shini summersault six times until his back finally struck the back wall of the car, stilling his wild ride.

Heero meanwhile gingerly pulled his cheek from the carvings of the door and rubbed agitatedly at his head, groaning lowly. "Itai-" There was a distinct ache in the side of his face that suggested he might have a very unpleasant bruise to deal with later. Heero groaned again, marveling just how he could fall into so much trouble by just being in the same plain of being with that particular Son of Shinigami.

The door had been flung loudly to the floor and stirred up a layer of dust into the air inside the unused passenger car. Along the row of four cabins, there were assortments of needed repairs, faulty doors, cracked windows, torn upholstery-the car probably had been sealed off from the rest of the train and was being towed to a place where it could receive the needed fixing. Lucky again. Heero noticed, as he used the arm not pinned under him to lever him up, that however much bad luck hounded him, there were always a few hints of good luck. He hadn't been seen by anyone other than Iria with the Shinigami.

Said Shinigami moaned at the end of the car, his eyes squinted shut and his teeth gritted slightly. After rolling a good twelve feet after knocking down the door, he had come to a jolting stop against the door that separated the cars. The broken window had been blocked out with a board of wood, preventing him from being seen by any wandering passengers in the other car.

His back was pressed against the door and his legs tangled in his dark robes and jutting at ridiculous angles into the air. The tips of his shoulder blades barely touched the carpet and it seemed the majority of his weight was on his neck. Hair spilled out around him, and both wings were pressed lightly against the narrow walls. Even his tail drooped back toward the floor. Shini mumbled something in a foreign tongue and blew the hair out of his mouth and eyes with a puff of air.

For a second, the absolute absurdity of the sight of a God of Death planted upside down on his neck and turning bright purple in the face from all his blue-colored blood rushing to his head made Heero's lips twitch without his permission and sort of smirk. But the impulse disappeared as he heard a sound behind him.

Shini opened his eyes and looked past Heero at what had caused the sound, everything topsy-turvy.

Something supernatural lifted Heero gently off the door he was laying on and sat him back down on the carpet, facing the light streaming in. Iria stood before him, still in her high heels and bathrobe, and bent down to pick up the door. With a hand on either side of it, the one known otherwise as Aphrodite picked up the broken door and turned around and set it back on the doorframe. The hinges still lay on the floor, but she managed to push it into place so that it wouldn't jar open again. She turned her head once finished and looked at Heero, then up to Shinigami, who had slowly begun the process of flipping himself right side up without banging up his wings too much.

"Well, aren't you two just a devil and a devil's advocate, running off together all the time," she commented evenly, clapping the dust of her hands. Then she put them either on her hips. "And what's with all that trouble, anyway? I grant you permission to get out of the marriage, and you run off without even saying a word! I thought you'd be done stirring things up like you always seem to do."

"I missed my train," he answered plainly, arching an eyebrow at her as if she was too dense to actually figure that out herself.

"I can see that," Iria drawled. Her eyes quickly darted over to her son as he stood up uncertainly and finished brushing out his mussed robes and hair. "And you, Shini-I'm not even going to start on you."

The Angel of Death smiled nervously.

"We'll talk about disobeying me later." Iria vainly straightened out her long blonde hair, which had been slightly tousled by the wind going by the train. "And stop all the running around, you two. You're going to be the death of my favorite shoes," she muttered to herself as she stepped over Heero's legs and opened the rickety door on cabin Number 58 with a breezy sigh. "Alright. Now, come inside. I've got something important to say to the both of you, especially you, Arrogant Mortal-"

As she pushed the red-metal frame all the way open, it emitted a horrible racket as something broke loudly and the door clattered off the hinge to the floor, falling between herself, Heero and Shinigami. She sent a wary look to each of them before grumbling, "Ah, just leave it and get in here."

The Goddess of Love disappeared into the cabin and settled herself down in the window seat to the left, dusting off the fabric before sitting down and crossing her legs, Sharon Stone style. [1]

Just outside the cabin, Shini glanced down at Heero with cautious eyes. The mortal was sending a weary look in the direction that his in-law had disappeared to and then pushed his back against the wall to help him gain the leverage to stand up. He was still sore from hitting the pavement, being attacked, then falling onto a train, and soon found a hand being extended toward him. The Shinigami presented him with his best apologetic smile, and Heero reluctantly took his hand, a little unsettled by the ease with which the deity acted so pleasant toward him. He was pulled up to his feet and they quickly let go of each other. Shini went inside first, and Heero followed after sighing to himself and momentarily rubbing at the side of his face.

When he walked inside the cabin, something flew at his face and he lifted his hands to roughly catch his own backpack, after Iria had tossed it to him. "You left that back in the alley, you know. I think I deserve a little thanks for getting it and toting it around while I chased you down," she said sweetly, sitting back down.

Heero held the pack by the strap, which had snapped in two and turned ragged and unraveled. Sufficiently ruined, he would say.

"Thank you," he deadpanned. "You're too kind."

Shini sat down beside his mother, who gave him a smile as he seated himself, and who gave Heero an unreadable, inspecting look as the mortal sat down directly across from her and in the other window, with just enough space between him and the black-winged deity that he didn't have the urge to glance over at him inexplicably anymore. His backpack was dropped into the seat beside him, blocking off any chance of the Shinigami sitting next to him. He just didn't think he'd be able to handle it, after the awkward realization that the Angel of Death was still so kind to him, after he'd been so abrasive with him. Heero couldn't help glancing over once, and then tearing his eyes away again when he saw the semi-somber expression.

He looked steadily at the blonde Goddess of Love, trying to shrug off the feeling of those almost sad eyes on him. "So, what did you want to talk about?" he asked curtly

Iria's face turned contorted. "You don't have to sound like you're standing before a firing squad, Heero Yuy," she said resentfully. "I'm just trying to find what's going to be the best for all of us here."

The mortal man lifted an eyebrow flatly.

"Like what?" he asked finally.

The blonde woman lost the sharpness, the precision in her expression as she preceded to explain why she had pulled them into a meeting of sorts instead of leaving the young Heero Yuy to live his life, without any more divine intervention or godly troubles from them. That's what he was thinking. He was curious as to why Iria hadn't immediately escorted her son away, after she had been so irate with the way that he had treated him, and even more curious when she began to talk with an almost forlorn tone to her face.

"After you ran off, Heero Yuy, I began to reconsider some things about the current situation and about you and the Thirteenth Son of Shinigami-"

"I thought you said that I could decline," he cut in sharply as the foliage outside whipped by, blurring steadily as the train rolled on, without notice to the stowaways onboard. "You said that I didn't have to go through with it if I didn't want the responsibility, and I don't."

"I'm not going back on my word, Heero Yuy!" Iria said again, adopting that familiar stern gleam in her eye. "I said that you could go home, and that will not change. You know as well as I do that Gods are held to their word, and there would be some unpleasant consequences for both my son and I if I did happen to go back on it. So take a Midol and settle down, I'm not finished explaining yet."

Reluctantly, Heero reclined tensely back into his seat. His eyes still itched to move, but he refused himself the impulse. Instead he remained receptively silent, willing to listen, however reluctant it may have been. All he wanted to do was go home and forget it all had happened-he had had enough melodrama in his life already and he was sick of dealing with any of it. All he wanted was sit down in his living room and fall asleep to the radio, sitting and staring out the window, then go to work in the morning like he always did. "Alright, what were going to say," he said quietly, not a question.

"Well, Heero Yuy, to be honest, you're the first case in which I actually married someone to Shinigami."

This, needless to say, lifted an eyebrow. "Really." Despite the deadpan tone, he was honestly surprised to hear that.

"Usually, when I actually do find someone I believe would take of Shini, has a suitable life to support him, and has the spiritual capabilities to see him and not fear him-and that rarely happens-I simply sent him to live with that person. Marriage is usually out of the question, and it has been in the past cases." There were sharp needles in her eyes threatening him if he even dared to interrupt her again, though the confusion had caused his scowl to return. "But you, Heero Yuy, were perfect for our cause. Living alone, very physically and mentally capable, fearless, metaphysically aware, clean-freak, motherly-"

"Hey," Heero growled resentfully.

"You wash your windows every week, change the sheets on the guest beds, you have your own tomato garden-that's hardly normal for any one, let alone for a twenty-five year old man! Most boys your age wallow in their own filth all day and scratch themselves and go to keggers."

Heero frowned sharply. "I don't see what's wrong with being decent and clean." His eyebrows dug even deeper after he paused to think. "Wait, how did you-How much were actually watching me?" The only answer was another brief wicked grin from Iria that honestly shouldn't have been on a Divine face.

"You have to understand, we very, very rarely find a suitable candidate. You're the first one I even considered for more than five minutes since the fall of the Old West. Sometimes it can take decades or centuries to find a human, male or female, that has all the capability to deal with the trouble Shini can unwittingly cause. You already know about that." Eventually, Iria sighed and lost her harshness again-that sense of a mourning mother seeped back in, much to Heero's dismay. "You have no idea how stressful it is for Shini and I during our searches for a suitable place. Hades' banishment on Shinigami extends from Hell to all parts of the underworld, as well as the Heavens-though he couldn't get inside if he tried with his un-saintly heritage. While we wait to find a mortal that could take him in, we're forced to stay in Limbo. It's not a very pleasant place-and Shini still manages to find whatever trouble he can."

Heero felt those sad eyes burning quietly on the side of his face, and he turned his eyes downward and looked dully down at his hands on his knees while Iria continued explaining.

"Now I'm not saying that you have to, but I'm simply asking you. If you could just let him stay with you for a week, then I could find somewhere for him to stay so I can start looking for a new candidate. You don't have to, but I'll-"

"Fine, fine, I'll baby-sit," Heero answered quickly, trying to hold the signs of his impatience but utterly failing. He knew what she was asking, and he knew grudgingly that he shouldn't refuse it [some how he was sure it would come around and bit him in the ass, with this streak of luck], so he didn't want to keep hearing her beg so inconspicuously when he had already reluctantly decided. The frustration momentarily returned, but he was distracted from it when he felt those sad eyes lift of him and heard a soft thwacking noise coming from the other side of the cabin. There was heat rising in his face as he frowned and looked up.

The Shinigami's face had secretly lit up and his forked tail had begun wagging inconspicuously against the floor, while his mother's face also took on a grateful smile. Hers, however, was almost hungrily eyeing him, as if sizing him up for a business transaction. "Alright," she said smugly. "A week it is, then."

"Three days," Heero argued back. He was sure that it would dampen the Angel of Death's spirits if he heard him trying to minimize the time he had to play caretaker, but the tattoo of his tail drumming on the carpet only quickened happily.

"Six."

"Four."

"Five," Iria settled finally. That impish smile on her face was indescribably wide, and it made Heero's stomach twist unpleasantly, giving him a unlucky sense he may have bitten off more than he could chew already.

"Five days, Heero Yuy. Now, you've given a God your word, and you're even more obligated to that than a Divine's word to a mortal. Understand? You're bound to it by your very life."

The fluttering tattoo of the Shinigami's tail pounding on the floor was so quick that it began to drone out into a low hum as the young-minded deity couldn't restrain his joy and let out a sound of happiness, tugging on his mother's sleeve and feathers bristling. Iria smiled wickedly at him as her son practically bounced up and down at her side, adding just enough smugness to make the mortal man sigh exasperatedly and put his face in his palms. Once again he was overwhelmed with the sense that he'd bitten off more than he could chew, and the mouthful was quickly getting larger. He groaned to himself, shoving his fingers into his hair and causing his dark brown and caramel bangs to toss about wildly.

Iria kissed her bubbling son on the forehead before quickly standing up and clapping her hands once happily to bring about relative order to the rickety train car. Heero Yuy was still burying his face in his hands, looking like he was ready to keel over, and the Shinigami was curled up in a giggling ball, wagging his tail even louder than before, ready to break through the floorboards. The one known as Aphrodite smiled sweetly as she said, "Alright, now that it's settled, I'd better be going."

"Go, just go," Heero groaned lowly, more despairing than impatient.

"I'll be back in exactly five days at sunset, Heero Yuy, for custody of my sun," she announced smugly. "Now, I expect you take very good care of him while he's in your charge-use your head. Don't cause the same thing you did today, otherwise I don't think I'll be there you help you. I'm going to be very busy this week, but don't be afraid to call me, alright?" the blonde goddess said as she pulled a pearly-white overcoat from the air and tossed it over her shoulders, snuggling her chin into the lush seraph feathers that embellished the collar with a crafty smile. "Don't worry that pretty head of yours too much now, I expect Shini wouldn't like that if you ruined a face like that fretting."

Heero mumbled and shook his head in his palms as his only response. It seemed that what he had agreed to have just sunk into him.

She blew an impertinent kiss at him and turned to her stupidly grinning son. "Now, Shini, I want you to behave for Heero, okay?"

"Of course, Okasan!" the Angel of Death chimed in cheerfully.

"You're going to need to hide your wings, don't forget, Shini!"

"Right!" Shini beamed as his mother drew another cape from the air with her delicate fingers, this time summoning a jet black one from the shadows beneath the seat and draping it over his wings and shoulders. Amazingly, it settled against his body and created the illusion that he was simply a normal human being, and as long as he kept his tail tucked inside, it would seem that way to the rest of the world.

"And stay out of trouble until I come back," Iria added, picking out another scrap of leaf out of his hair with a maternal smile. However, it quickly became a much more conspirator expression, while Heero was too busy fretting to notice. Mother and son exchanged equally mischievous glances as she continued. "Mr. Yuy is so very kind to take you in temporarily, so I want you to make him feel comfortable and listen to him. I'll be back."

And with a wink, she turned and bid a goodbye one last time before disappearing into a valentine-red haze.

Shini waved animatedly to where his mother Aphrodite had vanished, still cross-legged on the train seat with an effervescent smile. "See you later, Okasan! Shini will be perfectly behaved, he promises," he answered mischievously.

The unfortunate mortal who had just happened to get swept up in the affairs of a disowned God of Death and his very independent and very headstrong mother who was intent on seeing the two down the aisle for eternity again let out a lamentation through his teeth as he wondered incredulously to himself, "Whatever did I do to deserve this?" Heero was exhausted and sore and completely metaphysically overwhelmed, with killing poltergeists to his left and childish nightmares to his right, and slowly his brain began to shut itself down before there could be visible trails of steam leaking out of his ears. The train rattled on oblivious to the divine melodrama contained in the last car, and Heero found himself passing out of sheer weariness and leaning against the window, already in a deep, black sleep.

===

Heero had been awake for a few seconds in the darkness before his eyes could adjust to the absence of light, save for the glittering red, white, and blue horizon of city lights that was most likely San Francisco approaching in the distance. It took him a few seconds to realize that he had fallen asleep, and only a few more to recognize a soft snoring noise coming from down near his feet. There was an army brat instinct buried in him to jerk his legs, but something warm and soft was lying on his shoes, and a dark cape laid over him. Heero quietly leaned forward to see the Shinigami snoring soundly, his arms folded over Heero's bare feet and a shoe clutched in each hand.

The deity's wings hung loosely in the air without the cape and fluttered ever so slightly as he slept, and his long, tangled hair was spread out over the carpet. While he had slept, the Shinigami had made him more comfortable as he slept, taking off his shoes and forgoing his cape to make sure that he didn't shiver while he slept. And while taking off his sneakers, he was also overtaken by his tiredness and found his arranged husband's stocking feet a warm, convenient place to lay his head. There was even a tiny pool of drool on the carpet, dripping from the corner of his slightly agape mouth.

Heero blinked down in the dim dark blue light of the cabin, and decided that it was better not to disturb him. He turned his head silently and rested his chin in his hand and his elbow in the windowsill. The lights of San Francisco drew closer as the night grew darker, and Heero sighed quietly to himself.

He'd really done it now, hadn't he?

===

[1] Did I go a little too far with the Sharon Stone thing? You know, the smoky interrogation room and that short white skirt? It's not to be taken literally, just with the same attitude. I didn't want to smear Aphrodite's reputation, though I still make her somewhat of a bitch. A loving, motherly bitch with a lot to deal with, but still kind of bitchy. Oh well, Hell hath no fury…

===

[[[A/N]]]

Would everyone if I started another story on the side? Maybe, and perhaps I really should be ready to duck to dodge the angry tomatoes if want to announce things like this. I had this big spark of inspiration [though I'm still on edge, just pining for another chapter of Teen Spirit, which is like my writing bread-and-water] and I wanted to start another Duo P.O.V. story in the same style of The .45 Colt War. It wouldn't be as dark or violent as the last one, but much more hopelessly romantic. It's about a musical rivalry between Duo's band and the other upstart band in town, featuring the rich kids. That would be Quatre, Milliardo, Trieze, and of course, Heero. I know, I know, I already have so much on my plate. I have to finish my 70,000+ word OTP entry before August 1, and I'm trying to finish the first arch of My Shini, My Hamburger, and then there's another Duo P.O.V. story I'd like to start, and so many other unfinished ideas… Gahh! Stop with all the extra inspiration!