Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Nevergreen ❯ Chapter 12

Nevergreen 12/?

There was this weird silence. It wasn't uncomfortable, or odd, or strange, just…weird. Like the world had stopped taking a breath halfway through as the words tried to process through Heero's brain and then it was back, the whole world rushing forward, as if trying to make up for its one second of lost time, pounding against him; the rock in the sea, only the sea was a very long way away.

"Who?" Heero blinked, not sure he had heard correctly.

Trowa's hand was on his arm, already guiding him away, Quatre and Wufei in their wake. Heero wanted to argue, wanted to make demands, but there was a surety to Trowa's touch; a bone-deep sense of knowledge that made Heero follow. Trowa knew, Quatre knew, Wufei knew, hell they all knew, except Heero, but that didn't matter in the end. It was, to Heero, merely a means to an end. Whatever end that might be.

They were headed back toward the river, to the boat, and it seemed such a fruitless journey to have come so far only to go back, though Heero was not sure where they were headed. He simply followed, and with each step he let Trowa tell him what life had failed to.

"Helen was Duo's older sister. They were jumping off the bridge during the summer….the drought had dropped the water level lower than it had been in years. They didn't know…everyone had forgotten…" Trowa trailed off, an odd pinched look to his face as he glanced at Quatre. Some breed of silent communicae passed between them and Heero let it go over his head.

He was remembering his own afternoon with Duo on the river, seemingly a lifetime ago, on the other side of a storm that had ripped his life from his hand as effectively as he had ripped himself from his life not quite a week ago. Lifetimes…How many had he lived now? How many had passed in a matter of days that he would forget after living yet a few more? He didn't want to know, didn't want to dream of them anymore. He only wanted one, and to live it. Forever was too long; Heero was selfish that way.

"What happened." Not a question.

"It was years ago," Quatre said softly. "The old bridge collapsed while a tractor was going over…and the tractor sank to the bottom. They built a new bridge and everyone forgot about it."

Heero swallowed, throat surprisingly dry considering the water all around them and the dirty moisture still thick in the air.

"She wasn't a very big person, but she was always a strong swimmer…We didn't understand at first…why she didn't come up for air." Quatre's voice was thin, hardly there, lost to the vestiges of rain and memory.

"You were there," Heero noted, voice as cold as he felt. Quatre's silence was affirmation enough.

"The body…turned up downstream…" Wufei noted, ever the analytical, always ready with the facts no matter how cold. Always ready to act, after thinking…always thinking. Heero was tired of thought. Tired of a lot of things.

"In the Bunyip hole," Heero finished quietly, and again there was the silence. They emerged at the street beside the river and he could see the little dingy bobbing up and down, pulling against the branch it was tied to, trying to follow the river, follow it downstream…And stretching over the river, following the road was the bridge and Heero could see the shadows on its rim, could hear the laughter, the splashes, could see the shifting play of bodies in the light, that ever-present sunlight as they leapt and fell through air and space and time…and crashed down through water, mud and silt and metal…

Shaking his head, Heero stalked toward the dingy, Wufei at his side. A glance over his shoulder revealed Trowa and Quatre hanging back. Heero just glared, waiting for the explanation.

"We'll get some equipment, follow the river on this side as far as we can. Keep an eye out for us!" Quatre hurried after Trowa, who was already heading toward the farm and implement company. Heero didn't argue, turning and getting into the dingy Wufei had already untied, feeling the small outboard motor shudder to life through the thin tin frame.

They didn't speak as they traveled, the water slipping by, oddly smooth and glassy despite the speed it moved. Heero stared at the reflection of the world and wondered why it looked so dull. The river had swelled, tripped over the paddocks and plains and the dust was still churning in its depths, streaking the surface with strips of bubbling red murk. The river, Heero mused, was bleeding. It was not really a thought he wanted running rampant through his head.

There were dead things. He had known there would be. They passed a bloated echidna floating belly up, saw the trapped body of a sheep in a barbed wire fence, passed an entire family of roos, bobbing and turning as they tumbled downstream, snagging on branches and stone and small islands not yet fully submerged. And through it all snaked the blood and the rain started to drizzle once more, little shards of ice on his already frozen skin. He was too cold to feel it and know he should shiver but the sun was slipping in and out between the rain clouds, as if following them on their journey down the river, playing tag with the remnants of the storm.

There was a teddy bear, caught in a branch, broken from its tree and floating downstream. Wufei's arm snaked out and caught hold, and they both stared at it, saying nothing. It had a blue ribbon around its throat but it was thick with mud and grime and it looked like dirt to Heero. Everything looked…dirty.

Wufei placed the bear next to him on his small seat, attention once again on the motor and the horizon, gaze sweeping the water for any sign of life.

"What time did the rain hit?"

Wufei looked up, startled, but his black eyes were already considering the question, head cocked slightly to the side as he nodded to himself, figuring out the time difference between Yarrabandi and Condo and the speed of the storm.

"About two in the morning it should have reached Condo."

Heero nodded, looking aside, unsure why he had asked. Something was lurking in the back of his mind, something small, obvious, simple…He looked down into the river, trying to put the pieces together, trying to form some kind of cohesive pattern of events in his mind, to find an answer, to find the answer, to find Duo…

The strands of silt and filth floating on the surface looked like strands of hair, the shadows the made in the ripples beneath were shaped in the vague imprint of a body. He leant over, peering closer when the shadow shifted and wide green eyes stared back at him, the mouth open, and he could hear the scream…

Heero feel back into the boat, landing somewhere between Wufei's legs. They gazes locked and Heero just stared, not sure if he should mention what he saw or not. He had thought…It had looked like…and yet not. It had been a ghost at Ootha, a figment of his imagination in the moonlight, and little more than that when it manifested itself in his mind as a part of his nightmare. It wasn't real…She wasn't real.

Wufei shifted, moving around him to peer over the side of the dingy. He fell back immediately, a small gasp escaping his lips, skin slightly more pale than usual. When they leaned over again, it was together and Heero was glad he had not eaten anything.

Snagged on the dingy they used to tie up the dingy was a man. Or what had been a man. Twigs and willow-litter had caught on the man's head as his body floated downstream and his mouth was still wide where the water had flooded in. His eyes were wide, and white, and faded…no hint of green in sight. Heero breathed a sigh of relief as he sat back in the dingy.

"Poor bastard," Wufei muttered as he reached down into the small boat kit at his feet and pulled out a small pocket knife, cutting the rope free. The body flopped to the surface for a moment before disappearing under the waterline once more. Heero didn't bother to wonder who he had been because he wasn't anymore. That was a lifetime already ended and better not dwelt on.

"There is a car," Wufei noted and Heero looked up to see a rather familiar automobile following along on the west side of the river, Quatre hanging out the window, waving his arms enthusiastically. Heero groaned, wondering what on earth had possessed them to fetch the BMW. It wouldn't last ten minutes in these conditions, which he supposed was the reason they were now being flagged down…

"What a friggin nutter," Wufei mumbled as he steered the dingy in their direction. Heero wasn't paying much attention, gaze fixed to a slight smudge on the watery horizon that appeared to be moving. He fixed his gaze to it, just watching.

The dingy met the boat. There was shifting, and loading and more shifting. There was a body pushed up against him as he continued to study the horizon. There was talking. There was a lot of what simply didn't matter and Heero ignored it until Trowa poked him in the side, and even then all he did was point, aware of a heavier gaze on the object of his attention.

"That's…a car…" Wufei noted idly.

"Not a Ute," Trowa added, sounding a little amused.

"On the wrong side of the river," Quatre noted.

Some silent agreement passed between them and before he knew what was happening Heero found that small moving dot becoming a bigger one as they raved toward it, leaving the river and heading into the overflow. Something about that rang harsh in Heero's mind…overflow. Like a life grown to large to contain itself…the overflow is when you run, when you know there is no place left to hide and only a road to carry you away…

He'd followed that road, and all because of a name. But there was nothing green about the Bush. Nothing green about the overflow.

The car had stopped moving and they slowed as they approached the edge of the water, hearing the soft grind of the dingy's bottom against the ground as the water grew too shallow. Heero grabbed the peg Wufei handed him and tied the remnants of the rope to it before leaning overboard to drive it into the softened ground. Trowa was slipping a backpack onto his back but Heero doubted he could take any weight so he let Quatre take the other pack and just climbed out, grimacing as the water flooded into his boots again, his socks sloshing around inside.

It was a good kilometer walk, through ankle deep water, but the road was there, hard under their feet, and it didn't take too long. The closer they got the more Heero's mind itched, and the more he wanted to just turn around and go back the way he had come, return to looking for Duo.

Whoever was in the car saw them coming. Two figures got out of the car, vague silhouette's against the rain clouds, images reflected and refracted in the water. Something nagged at Heero, slipped under his skin and itched and he ran his fingers over his chest, rubbing the itch locked beneath.

He could have sworn…

He stopped, dead still as one of the figures moved around to lean against the front of the car. And Heero knew immediately why the car was familiar; it was identical to his own. A black BMW. Only it wasn't his car; it belonged to man he had once wanted to emulate when he originally bought it. The man who he had wanted to impress, who belonged to a crowd Heero had wanted to be a part of, in a world Heero had not know it was possible to leave. Lifetimes ago.

"Zechs."

He swayed slightly on his feet, feeling lightheaded, off balance and finally feeling the pain, only it wasn't the one he had expected. His body was still numb. It was his soul that was bleeding into the river to mix with the filth there. A hand was under his elbow, support without the strings attached and Heero righted himself, pulling it all in, pushing it down as he glanced at Trowa.

"The original teacher, I presume?"

Heero just grunted.

"Hey, isn't that Marie's dad?" Quatre asked, scrunching up his nose as he tried to get a better look. "You know, the stuck up blonde guy who came to the primary school musical a few years back when Marie was playing Nancy in Oliver?"

Trowa merely raised a brow at Heero.

"Treize Kushrenada," he ground out.

"Yeah, that's the one," Quatre smiled, then his smile faltered as he looked at the twin looks of consternation on Heero and Trowa's faces. "Hey, Heero…how do you know him?"

But it was too late to ask. Treize was already raising a hand in greeting and Zechs was pushing himself off the hood of the car, uncurling from the too-familiar position to walk forward, toward the water's edge, though neither dared step into it. Heero felt a faint smile on his lips as he saw them, standing there at the edge but not taking that final plunge. At the edge of this lifetime but still trapped behind.

There was a collision in his gut; a roo hitting his car. It didn't physically hurt but there was pain involved, he was sure. He had come to know lifetimes, had come to understand them, see them, live them, love them. But he had failed to see the other side to the new coin in his pocket. He had not understood that when one died and began again, the lives that died with you could still come back to haunt you.

In such brilliant, colourful detail.

"Hey Baby," Zechs called out, that god-awful, all-knowing smile plastered thick on his face. "Just the person I came to see."

Heero was trapped in a place between movement, mind warring with itself, unable to decide whether forward or backward was the better option, and not knowing which way was which. If he stepped forward was he going back? Was going backward taking back his future? He couldn't tell, could not recall.

"Baby? What fuckin planet are you from?"

Heero turned to stare at Quatre, stunned. Trowa was bent over at the waist, laughing hard while Wufei had the most bemused, perplexing little smile on his face Heero had ever seen. Some bastard bush mix of amused and hostile and it finally reached that part of Heero that had lived this most recent time, had swallowed the Bush whole and made it a part of himself. It woke the bush rat, the bilby, the numbat, the small insignificant scavenger that wanted only one thing and it wasn't what was standing in front of him.

"Excuse me?" Zechs was looking at Quatre as he had always looked at Heero's classmates when they misbehaved, that same authoritarian use of height, tone, inflection. For the first time in Heero's life he realized he didn't like it. Neither, apparently, did Quatre.

"What, you deaf crap-pusher? The Dish finally make contact with your shit-dick, slick? Honestly, fag, you're either blind, retarded, fucked or a seriously piss-poor excuse for all three, but whatever you are `baby' doesn't cut it for anything over fucking five and pedophilia is one worse than fuckin the sheep, and this ain't even New Zealand! So, either re-address my fuckin teacher in the correct manner, or I'll go back over to my lil tin boat there, grab my fucking rifle, shoot your arse and ship you off to a nice freezing shit hole postcode where I'm sure you'll be a lot more comfortable, minus your stuck up two-timing cock-sucking Riverview wannabe boyfriend. Got it?"

There was a lovely, long silence in which Heero was able to fully appreciate the wondrousness of the Bush adolescent ability to rant.

"Why you…"

Heero wasn't sure what Zechs had intended to say, but Trowa stepping forward certainly put a quick enough stop to it, not to mention the way Quatre just shrugged minutely and started trekking back to the boat. Heero thought it was a joke, but the guy just kept walking and Heero tried to estimate just how long it had taken them to cross that distance. Quatre with his mouth shooting off was terrifying enough. Quatre with a rifle was a funeral waiting to happen. Not that arranging a few more funerals would hurt the undertaker's sudden surge in business…

"Excuse me, but have you seen a young man at any point between here and Yarrabandi?" Heero asked politely, purposefully using proper English and a city accent, erasing completely the identity he had spent a week building, just to prove it was still in him before casting it aside completely.

Zechs softened at the words, Treize looked wary. Heero just let his stomach do its odd little flip flops while he stared at them both coldly.

"Yes, there was a kid down near the turn-off to Ootha."

Heero's eyes widened marginally. He was all too well aware, suddenly, that had he not encountered this particular ghost he would never have known, and would never have dreamt Duo could have gone so far a field in his quest to be with the river. Wufei actually swore. They didn't say anything, charging forward toward the car. Trowa took the driver's seat, Heero the passenger's seat while Wufei levered himself into the back.

"What do you think you're doing?" Treize strode to the door and Heero smiled as he wound it down to stare at the man who had once elicited little more than a terrified squeeze about his heart. A memory came up, strong and potent. He was at that school, he needed Treize's permission to take his kids on an excursion. He had just wanted a signature on a piece of paper…

He had heard voices, soft, gentle, almost tender. It was nothing he had expected to hear from Treize Kushrenada. He had knocked, but softly, and the muffled response had sounded like an affirmative. He had not expected…

Had never dreamt, not even in his nightmares…

He grinned ferally at Treize as drummed his fingers on the dash, the words still so fresh in his memory. He had asked that very same question, in just that way…

"I'm taking what I need." His voice was like ice. Nice, cold ice that glazed the flooded river and froze the reflection of the horror in Treize's face in place. Heero liked it.

There was the sound of splashing footsteps and the passenger door opened, Quatre scrambling in, breathing heavy and sweat plastered to his body, a rifle over his knees. He put his hand out the window and waved at Zechs as Trowa started the car and backed it up, turning sharply and heading down the highway.

Heero watched them in the rearview mirror, the two little black silhouettes at the waters edge and they looked little more than a mirage the further away they got, little more than a dream, a ghost, a whisp of memory.

"I'm not afraid anymore," he whispered lightly. Trowa's hand floated over to brush against his shoulder, almost not there, but it was enough.

"That's an interesting piece of equipment," Wufei noted quietly and Heero followed his gaze to the rifle in Quatre's lap. "I don't recall putting a gun in my dingy."

Quatre just grinned lazily, running small hands along the cool metal. "I thought we might come across animals in need of putting down…"

Wufei raised a brow and turned his gaze back to the window, eyes glassy and tinged with amusement. "It seems you were right."

They traveled in the silence that was becoming the norm. Not uncomfortable or comfortable, just a silence that was. The kind that exists between mates that don't want there to be anything to say. The roadside was filled with water, the irrigation ditches in the fields overflowing, large fields now makeshift dams, the snakes that had made their homes in the dry soil wriggling and squirming their way across the water, desperate to find land again. It was a hideous landscape, reflecting nothing but the worst; the ruins of a golden paradise brought low by the power of the blue. This was what life was always like, beyond the Blues, Heero mused.

This was what he had given up and he was terrified that just maybe it had given up on him in return.

Ootha was its usual cold and unforgiving self as they drove over the bridge, the old railway line invisible beneath the raging torrent of water flooding through it, down out of the small valleys of the seven sisters to the south-east and toward the river, swelled beyond recognition. The whole world, it seemed, was drowning.

There was a heavy mist across the town, a drizzle of rain that refused to halt as it drenched the old buildings but couldn't drown out their creaks and groans as they each swayed, their foundations broken but refusing to fall. Monoliths to a time forgotten. To lives lost. To memories begot.

They got out of the car, each hulking down a little as the cold hit them once again. Heero had not even noticed the heater in the car.

"The Inn?" Trowa asked quietly and Heero nodded. It was as good a place to start looking as any. Quatre just nodded and headed toward the other side of the street. Wufei walked down toward the buildings at the end of the street.

The steps were shattered so they climbed the verandah's side wall. The doors were in the middle of the street, torn from their hinges. Heero stepped through the gaping hole into ankle-deep water that splashed and sloshed ominously as he waded inside, Trowa's steps equally loud behind him.

Water leaked from the ceiling, the whole place whining, threatening to collapse at any second. Heero heard Trowa take a breath, heard the voice about to speak before it stopped, and then Trowa was hurrying past him, to the steps that led upstairs. He stopped, leant down, turned to face him and Heero thought his heart had stopped. Thought the world had stopped until a particularly heavy drop of water slapped against his forehead and slid down his cheek, a sad mimic.

Trowa was holding Duo's boots.

They took the stairs carefully, calling out as they forced themselves not to hurry, not to make a mistake. They reached the landing and halted, each taking in the series of broken floorboards, collapsed walls and splintered ceiling. The storm had passed here and Heero could not begin to imagine what it might have been, to have lived through it here…if it was even possible to do so…

Swallowing heavily, Trowa started checking rooms. Heero just walked straight ahead, toward the thin sliver of light he could see coming from the last room. He stood in the doorway, silent. The bed was split in two, one half hanging out the hole in the wall, ready to fall. The window was huge now, the perfect view and all he could see was the water.

There was a shift of light and then he saw boots, and jeans and the ragged flanny. The long, filthy hair, the pale skin, and his heart skipped a beat before the eyes opened and they were not what he wanted to see, these wide green pupils that matched the fiery smirk of the young woman. So familiar but not who he sought.

"Catch me…if you can."

His heart was too loud in his ears as he stumbled forward, hearing Duo's voice that night, mind screaming at him, trying to pull the pieces of a puzzle too big together in the same way the patchwork quilt of wheat and oat fields had been smothered into one with the coming of the rain, but all he could hear was the laughter and the scream as the woman slipped off her perch on the bed and fell…

He raced to the window, leaning out and over, reaching out and grasping nothing but thin air. There was nothing there. And there, at the base of the inn was the water, flowing down past the little town to the long-dead rivers and filling them up again, just for a little while giving them a small taste of the lives they had lost, and caught among the branches of the brambles at the Inn's base was a torn piece of shirt.

The shout came from the river; from where the water would be the deepest.

"Heero!" Wufei.

And Heero suddenly knew. What a Bunyip was.