Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Souls Disappear in the Snow ❯ Setting ( Chapter 3 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: masamune 
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Thriller / Suspense / Supernatural / Angst | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 08.08.2002 | Updated On: 03.31.2006 | Pages: 4 | Words: 7.0K | Visits: 705 | Status: Work In Progress
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Thriller / Suspense / Supernatural / Angst | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 08.08.2002 | Updated On: 03.31.2006 | Pages: 4 | Words: 7.0K | Visits: 705 | Status: Work In Progress
Souls Disappear in the Snow-
by masamune reforged '06
Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing and I wish Sunrise, the rightful owners, would stop trying to sell it to me. I don't have that kind of cash.
Warnings: yaoi 1x2 (eventually) 3x4, angst, bad language, supernatural, death?
Archive: If anyone would like to archive this, or any of my other fics, feel free to go right ahead!
Recap: After crash-landing in a tundra and stumbling upon a refuge, the pilots are eager to return to the battle against OZ. Heero manages to get the electricity in the house running, but when Duo distracts him while he's repairing a radio transmitter, he makes a mistake. Furious at Duo, Heero puts him down and shouts him out of the room, the transmitter useless.
Part 3- Setting
The house, everything that happened was because of that house. And even though, ironically enough, it saved our lives, I hate the place to this very day. Just seeing a similar ceiling pattern or drapery or curtain makes me shiver inwardly. I don't like to think about that place very much.
To start, it wasn't even a house. The place was a mansion, at the least, and that is phrasing it modestly. After getting used to hobbling around, supporting myself on the walls, I wandered around the place. I was driven by a curiosity that was unknown to me. Normally, I would have simply ignored the empty halls, stale rooms and dusty closets. There was something in me though, and it wouldn't let me stay still. At first I just brushed it off as my compensating for the day I'd lay like a blob in bed, a way of showing that I was still full of life and activity. I was trying to prove to myself that I was still alive. After awhile though, especially after Quatre commented on my running all over the estate, I saw that there was something more, something drawing me to peek into every unlocked room and absorb everything about the place into my brain. In retrospect I was like a bird fluttering all around his cage, pecking at every inch of the structure that both protected me from the harsh, deadly world and imprisoned me.
The mansion was ancient, but miraculously not in great disrepair. However, it was obvious that the place hadn't been used in many years. The thick layer of dust told me that. Also, compared to the few items and supplies that seemed most near to our era, there were hosts of things from a much older time. Antique clothes and belongings stuffed in boxes, forgotten mementos arranged perfectly in rooms and on shelves, as if the occupant was still on vacation. Almost everything left was either too old to use, too worthless to sell or broken.
<-><-><-><-><->
"This place is creepy," Duo said, cereal falling back into his bowl as he spoke.
"This place is creepy," Duo said, cereal falling back into his bowl as he spoke.
The night (the third since I'd regained consciousness and the eight since our arrival) had been a long and sleepless one. The perpetual wind outside seemed to howl louder every time I'd almost forced myself to sleep, jolting me awake. From the dark rings under the eyes of the other Gundam pilots I could tell it had been an equally restless night. Heero looked the worst of all of us, and I doubted if he had slept at all.
"I mean, it's all made up like some ancient manor or castle," Duo went on, disregarding the fallen bran flakes and scooping more into his mouth, the heaps of sugar still clearly visible on top. "It's almost like it's been frozen in time here. Plus, the architecture is sorta goth with all the long shadows and winding stairs. It's gotta be super old but it-"
Duo stopped. No one was listening to him. Everyone's minds seemed to be elsewhere. The more directed of us were sensibly trying to come up with a plan to get out of this cage. Sighing softly, Duo turned his attention back to breakfast, which was from a giant store of old, nasty cereal. Trowa had discovered the pantry in the wee hours of the morning while rummaging in the manor's endless basement. I'd never been so happy to see Uncle Ben's Bran Cereal in my life.
Trowa was the first to finish eating. Pushing back his chair he stood up and announced, "I'm going to go back into the basement. I'll see if I can get us heat."
"Hey! That'd be great! Think you can get the cable TV working too while you're down there? I seriously miss my shows and if I miss the next session of Cowboy Bebop I-"
Heero shot Duo a look from the 'omae o korosu' stockpile. The chestnut braided youth stopped short, meeping the rest of whatever he had to say. Quatre smiled a little bit, the first positive emotion out of the normally cheerful blond all morning.
"I mean, it's all made up like some ancient manor or castle," Duo went on, disregarding the fallen bran flakes and scooping more into his mouth, the heaps of sugar still clearly visible on top. "It's almost like it's been frozen in time here. Plus, the architecture is sorta goth with all the long shadows and winding stairs. It's gotta be super old but it-"
Duo stopped. No one was listening to him. Everyone's minds seemed to be elsewhere. The more directed of us were sensibly trying to come up with a plan to get out of this cage. Sighing softly, Duo turned his attention back to breakfast, which was from a giant store of old, nasty cereal. Trowa had discovered the pantry in the wee hours of the morning while rummaging in the manor's endless basement. I'd never been so happy to see Uncle Ben's Bran Cereal in my life.
Trowa was the first to finish eating. Pushing back his chair he stood up and announced, "I'm going to go back into the basement. I'll see if I can get us heat."
"Hey! That'd be great! Think you can get the cable TV working too while you're down there? I seriously miss my shows and if I miss the next session of Cowboy Bebop I-"
Heero shot Duo a look from the 'omae o korosu' stockpile. The chestnut braided youth stopped short, meeping the rest of whatever he had to say. Quatre smiled a little bit, the first positive emotion out of the normally cheerful blond all morning.
“Trowa, while you're down there can you see if there's any dried meat or something I can make for dinner tonight?” Quatre asked sweetly, almost cooing at his uni-banged lover. I rolled my eyes. Sometimes they were way to 'lovey-dovey' for my liking. It was also a danger to the mission, being that close to someone who you might need to sacrifice one day...
Turning to face him, Trowa's face gave off no emotion. “It's very hard to wear parkas and gloves all over the place,” He said sternly. “Getting the heat working will make life here much easier. I think you can do the shopping on your own.” And with that, the lanky youth walked away. I hadn't been expecting that kind of reaction from the normally bland Heavyarms pilot. It sorta made me smile.
"What do you think of this place Fei-man?" Duo asked after a minute's respite of silence. Quatre seemed slightly jilted by Trowa's words. "I heard you bumping around bright and early this morning. You sure cover a lot of ground with that leg of yours."
I didn't answer; hoping that if I ignored Duo's query he'd let it slide and move on to a different topic. I personally felt weird about scouring the establishment. It wasn't normal behavior. But Duo wouldn't stop bugging me and I finally caved in.
"I didn't get to anything on the third floor or in the basement. There's not much of interest really," I tried to sound casual, hoping I'd kill his curiosity.
"Yeah yeah, but what'd you think of the place?" Duo persisted, leaning forward as if I'd be able to offer some golden tangent of knowledge in answer to his question.
I thought about it for a quick second and decided Duo probably wouldn't let go of this until I gave him an honest answer. Pushing my Uncle Ben's aside, I stared up at the ceiling. "It's gigantic. The rooms are enormous and I couldn't even count how many locked doors I found. Some rooms are empty. Most only have one or two things in them. Dust everywhere. The bizarre thing is there are rooms that appear 100% intact."
I thought about it for a moment, my mind flickering back to all the rooms I'd looked on during the dim light of the morning hours. The perfect bedspreads, the trinkets and toys set neatly and orderly, waiting to be played with and enjoyed again. The elegant rooms screaming decadence and riches. The faded nature of all the rooms added to the feeling that their extravagance was only a crumbling façade to those that had lived here. Somehow the bedrooms and studies looked like exhibits in a museum. They lacked life and were devoid of error. Everything was too perfect, too neat and orderly, like whoever had owned it had been a slave to the room, obsessing over it continually.
"Definitely the strangest thing is the way people seem to have lived in it in many different time periods." I went on, "Someone, at some time, comes to live here after a long absence, but never cleans out any of the old stuff. Obviously some of the nicer stuff has probably been stolen..." I waited, realizing I'd missed saying the one thing I found most disturbing out of them all. Duo said it for me:
"The people that come here never leave with all their belongings." He whispered in a tone that borrowed from a campfire ghost story. Heero rolled his eyes and got up to put his dishes in the sink, which was coated all the way around in rust. Duo called after him, "Awww, Hee-chan, I didn't mean to scare you. Come on back."
Again. Duo was intentionally baiting Heero, trolling for a reaction. I was amazed that Duo had bounced back into his normal rhythm, especially after the incident the previous night. Typically, I could expect Duo to sulk and avoid Heero for at least a day or more. But Duo seemed to be acting differently towards Heero than he normally would. The Deathscythe pilot seemed to want to make the point that he didn't care if Heero got angry. Duo was going to be the prankster he was, and Heero would just have to live with it.
"What do you think of this place Fei-man?" Duo asked after a minute's respite of silence. Quatre seemed slightly jilted by Trowa's words. "I heard you bumping around bright and early this morning. You sure cover a lot of ground with that leg of yours."
I didn't answer; hoping that if I ignored Duo's query he'd let it slide and move on to a different topic. I personally felt weird about scouring the establishment. It wasn't normal behavior. But Duo wouldn't stop bugging me and I finally caved in.
"I didn't get to anything on the third floor or in the basement. There's not much of interest really," I tried to sound casual, hoping I'd kill his curiosity.
"Yeah yeah, but what'd you think of the place?" Duo persisted, leaning forward as if I'd be able to offer some golden tangent of knowledge in answer to his question.
I thought about it for a quick second and decided Duo probably wouldn't let go of this until I gave him an honest answer. Pushing my Uncle Ben's aside, I stared up at the ceiling. "It's gigantic. The rooms are enormous and I couldn't even count how many locked doors I found. Some rooms are empty. Most only have one or two things in them. Dust everywhere. The bizarre thing is there are rooms that appear 100% intact."
I thought about it for a moment, my mind flickering back to all the rooms I'd looked on during the dim light of the morning hours. The perfect bedspreads, the trinkets and toys set neatly and orderly, waiting to be played with and enjoyed again. The elegant rooms screaming decadence and riches. The faded nature of all the rooms added to the feeling that their extravagance was only a crumbling façade to those that had lived here. Somehow the bedrooms and studies looked like exhibits in a museum. They lacked life and were devoid of error. Everything was too perfect, too neat and orderly, like whoever had owned it had been a slave to the room, obsessing over it continually.
"Definitely the strangest thing is the way people seem to have lived in it in many different time periods." I went on, "Someone, at some time, comes to live here after a long absence, but never cleans out any of the old stuff. Obviously some of the nicer stuff has probably been stolen..." I waited, realizing I'd missed saying the one thing I found most disturbing out of them all. Duo said it for me:
"The people that come here never leave with all their belongings." He whispered in a tone that borrowed from a campfire ghost story. Heero rolled his eyes and got up to put his dishes in the sink, which was coated all the way around in rust. Duo called after him, "Awww, Hee-chan, I didn't mean to scare you. Come on back."
Again. Duo was intentionally baiting Heero, trolling for a reaction. I was amazed that Duo had bounced back into his normal rhythm, especially after the incident the previous night. Typically, I could expect Duo to sulk and avoid Heero for at least a day or more. But Duo seemed to be acting differently towards Heero than he normally would. The Deathscythe pilot seemed to want to make the point that he didn't care if Heero got angry. Duo was going to be the prankster he was, and Heero would just have to live with it.
As always, the Wing pilot turned around to say something to Duo, and that was when his pants got caught on a knob jutting out from the wall. Heero stumbled a little, jeans ripped, a fork fell to the floor and suddenly a small compartment opened up right where Heero had passed. Cursing, his plate banging and chipping on the kitchen counter, Heero shot a murderous glance at Duo, causing the blood to drain from the braided boy's face. I tried to eat and laugh at the same time and was rewarded by choking on Bran Flakes. I couldn't place why, but I got a kick out of seeing Heero perturbed like this.
“What are those?” Quatre asked.
Anger had vanished from Heero's face, leaving only a combination of surprise, curiosity and concentration. His plate was forgotten, lying on the grimy counter, and his interest was totally absorbed in a long, brown and white pistol that he turned over and over in his palm. His fingers rubbed along the smooth barrel, and he fingered the trigger gently. I wondered how Heero had managed to pull it out of thin air. For a moment, I imagined the situation escalating further, Heero acting on his rage and-
"Holy shit," Duo exhaled, pushing his chair back and walking over to where Heero stood. I looked up over the lip of the table and my eyes popped open. "How many are there?" Duo whispered, but the sound carried in the silent kitchen, accompanied only by a metallic clank, as he picked up a double- barreled shotgun.
Heero threw his gun back on the floor, where a heap of various guns were strewn haphazardly. Dozens of pistols, automatic weapons and rifles had clattered to the floor from the now uncovered dark space that Heero went to inspect. He rummaged around inside, and I heard a large amount of clanging and metal grinding noises.
"Loaded," Duo observed, checking the ammo on the shotgun he still held. Heero pulled out an Uzi type along with a few taped up boxes and put them down on the table. "Why would anyone store all those weapons here? In this huge castle they could put them anywhere. Why the kitchen?"
"They weren't just storing them," Heero said, flipping open one of the boxes, revealing countless ammo clips and single loading shotgun shells. "Stacked up this way, they would be easy to grab and reload. It's like-"
"An arsenal," Quatre finished the sentence, eyeing the collection grimly. “Like someone was ready to wage a full-blown war. And this room,” He paused, looking around the kitchen. “Just one doorway, thick metallic island in the center to take cover behind… Perfect for making a defensive stand… except there's no place to retreat to…”
I walked over to the now-revealed stockpile, sticking my head in the dark space and looking around. It stretched far above me. Pulling my head out I said, "This thing is a dumbwaiter, kind of an elevator for small items. The kitchen staff probably used it to transport food to the higher levels of the mansion."
"I don't get why anyone would put guns in there though," Duo shook his head, and started to pick up an armful of guns, cramming them back into the dumbwaiter space. "I couldn't even tell that foolwaiter thingy was there.”
"Dumbwaiter," I corrected him, and then pondered the subject for a bit. "Whomever got all these guns together definitely didn't want others knowing about it, that's why they chose this almost unnoticeable spot to hide them in. It can also move them to any level of the house."
"Nobody needs that kind of firepower," Heero flipped the ammo boxes shut and stored them back in the dumbwaiter space. "They would have to be fighting an full scale war to justify all that."
"It does seem pretty cowardly," I admitted, speculating that it had been part of some treachery planned by henchmen that had never gone through with it. "But cowards are put to ease by having lots of weapons." I smiled at Duo, who was still playing with the gun that Heero had originally picked up. I stretched out my hand to take it from him and place it away.
"Maybe they needed to fight something that powerful," Duo let out his words in such a low hush that I only barely caught them.
"I don't get why anyone would put guns in there though," Duo shook his head, and started to pick up an armful of guns, cramming them back into the dumbwaiter space. "I couldn't even tell that foolwaiter thingy was there.”
"Dumbwaiter," I corrected him, and then pondered the subject for a bit. "Whomever got all these guns together definitely didn't want others knowing about it, that's why they chose this almost unnoticeable spot to hide them in. It can also move them to any level of the house."
"Nobody needs that kind of firepower," Heero flipped the ammo boxes shut and stored them back in the dumbwaiter space. "They would have to be fighting an full scale war to justify all that."
"It does seem pretty cowardly," I admitted, speculating that it had been part of some treachery planned by henchmen that had never gone through with it. "But cowards are put to ease by having lots of weapons." I smiled at Duo, who was still playing with the gun that Heero had originally picked up. I stretched out my hand to take it from him and place it away.
"Maybe they needed to fight something that powerful," Duo let out his words in such a low hush that I only barely caught them.
Heero was leaving, and I turned around to ask him what he thought about it all. Apparently my injured leg did not appreciate this sudden movement. I suddenly felt white-hot pain burning around my knee. The kitchen raised itself up around me as I slid towards the ground. "Wufei!" Duo cried out, moving forward to catch me.
Slamming both my hands on the counter top, I bit my lip until I thought it would bleed and tried to keep myself up. Duo wrapped both his arms around my waist, trying to hold me up. Duo still held me up, and I was only vaguely aware that he was talking to me, asking if I was all right.
Slamming both my hands on the counter top, I bit my lip until I thought it would bleed and tried to keep myself up. Duo wrapped both his arms around my waist, trying to hold me up. Duo still held me up, and I was only vaguely aware that he was talking to me, asking if I was all right.
I looked into Duo's eyes. He was very close, less than inches from my face. The American joker had a very young, almost effeminate face, accented by his long hair. But his eyes, those amethyst depths that were the only real window onto his true persona; they captivated me, calling out to me. I felt myself leaning forward.
“Oi!” Quatre shook my right shoulder roughly. “Are you all right Wufei?”
My legs began to regain their strength, clarity broke through, unabated by the fading pain. As the pain subsided I felt burning anger rushing up into me, causing my cheeks to flush. I was seething, embarrassed at being so weak. I couldn't even keep my feet! Anger clouding everything else, I roughly shoved Duo and Quatre away from me. Limping heavily on my bad leg, I stalked out of the room without another word. The brown and white pistol was totally forgotten.
<-><-><-><-><->
It only took a few minutes of wandering around the mansion before I became bored and my pride healed over. I began to look around the house for the others. I found Heero in the great hall, throwing a bunch of heavy looking logs into the fireplace. A blanket and a tiny blue pillow lay on the bear skin rug that was closest to the roaring fireplace. Sweet smelling smoke filled the air, as the beginning of a fire crackled and burned the smaller wooden logs that Heero had fed it.
My legs began to regain their strength, clarity broke through, unabated by the fading pain. As the pain subsided I felt burning anger rushing up into me, causing my cheeks to flush. I was seething, embarrassed at being so weak. I couldn't even keep my feet! Anger clouding everything else, I roughly shoved Duo and Quatre away from me. Limping heavily on my bad leg, I stalked out of the room without another word. The brown and white pistol was totally forgotten.
<-><-><-><-><->
It only took a few minutes of wandering around the mansion before I became bored and my pride healed over. I began to look around the house for the others. I found Heero in the great hall, throwing a bunch of heavy looking logs into the fireplace. A blanket and a tiny blue pillow lay on the bear skin rug that was closest to the roaring fireplace. Sweet smelling smoke filled the air, as the beginning of a fire crackled and burned the smaller wooden logs that Heero had fed it.
The great hall seemed to be the heart of the mansion, situated perfectly in the middle. Its ceiling was well over forty feet above our heads and several, now rusted, chandeliers hung lifelessly in the gloom. Little electric light bulbs sat in ornate lanterns about seven feet above the floor, symmetrical on every side. At one end, every last light was burnt out, but it was only one remote corner of the room. There was a magnitude of books and books shelves in this room, along with several chairs and some rickety hickory tables. Some chairs were plush leather, others plain wood-backed hickory. Many of the bookshelves had been toppled over and chopped into firewood, the only source of heat in the gigantic room.
Heero noticed me limping in, and took just the briefest second to acknowledge my presence with a slight nod of his head. I nodded back and began to pace around, looking up at the vaulted ceilings absentmindedly. Heero and I never had enjoyed a very talkative relationship, and the silence between us wasn't out of place at all. But I felt an urge, a rising desire to speak to him, and try as I might, I couldn't place why. Maybe I was just bored? I turned around to face him, but he kept his back to me, motionless, staring into the flames that continued to roar as they consumed the wood.
"So,um, how're you doing?" I felt like kicking myself immediately after the words left my mouth. Me bugging Heero for no reason and sounding like an idiot?. I was picking up a few too many of Duo's ways. But, since Heero had turned to me, and simply met my question with a blank face, I felt the need to ask a sort of follow up question.
"Do you think we'll ever get out of here?" I certainly wasn't doing well as far as conversation skills stood.
"What kind of stupid question is that?” Heero coldly answered, turning away again. "I want to leave as soon as it's possible. The war won't wait for us. OZ is probably running all over the Colonies as we speak."
"Yeah," I conceded, but pressed on, "But do you have any idea when that might be? The weather is treacherous; I don't think we could travel more than a few miles out there. Snow has already covered up all the exits on the first floor."
"How do you know that?" Heero turned around, asking the question with a razor-like bite in both his voice and eyes. I told him that I had tried the doors earlier this morning, to which he scoffed, "You have a bizarre thing for this old place. I wonder if… well, anyway, you've been acting weird lately. I wonder if you shouldn't be in bed recovering still."
"I'm fine," I growled out, quickly growing tired of the conversation and sorry that I had started it. "You don't look so well yourself. Maybe you're the one that needs to lie down for a while."
There was a menace in my voice and Heero noticed it too. He made as if to curse me in Japanese, then suddenly changed and admitted with a sigh, "Hai. I didn't sleep very well last night."
Indeed, he had bags under his eyes and his hair was sticking out at odd angles, more so than usual, from a night of tossing and turning. A sort of softness came over him; I seemed to spot it only when he was in front of the roaring fire, bending my vision with its heat. He seemed hunched over, his arms not as muscular as I had always thought them to be. A dusty, lackluster covered his blank face and gave off a strange aura of frailty. In the heat bent silhouette, he seemed almost like a small child and an old, fading man at the same time.
He turned to cokes the fire, the prongs of the iron poker sending sparks up into the air. I smiled at his back and asked, "Why do you always treat Maxwell so badly?"
I have no clue where the question came from, or why I didn't check myself before asking it. A light sweat broke out over my brow as Heero faced me again, the poker still in his hand. He was looking at me, irritated, eyes scrutinizing me like he would a suspicious stranger. His arm tensed and he swung the poker back, hitting a blazing log and forcing it to roll off the neat, perfect pile he had set up. I swallowed, and started to apologize, to tell him that it was really none of my business, when the look came into his face.
Preceded by an angry snarl, the only benign aspect was a kind of tranquility that slackened the jawbones, accented by dark blue eyes that fell to the floor. Heero bit the very front part of his upper lip, a thing I'd only seen Duo do, and the color faded from his face. It appeared for only an instant on Heero's face, before he recovered with a shake of his head, but I'd never forget it. A total look of sadness, guilt and self-loathing. Manifested in it were impossible dreams and desires, hopelessness and back-stabbing passion.
"What did you say?" Heero asked, forcing me out of my shock as I scrambled for words. The pathetic façade was gone, replaced by the ultimate stoic mask. But I could still feel it there, feel it radiating from him, sliding out right through the mask.
"I asked why you always treat Maxwell like shit," I'd thrown away my chance to back out of the question. I decided that if I was this far in, I might as well go deeper. "Do you really think he deserves, needs, all the crap that you give him? What if..."
"How the hell do you know what Duo fucking wants?" Heero suddenly snarled, flinging the poker aside. It clattered heavily on the floor. The fire was swelling up now, devouring the fuel from the logs that Heero had set there.
Heero noticed me limping in, and took just the briefest second to acknowledge my presence with a slight nod of his head. I nodded back and began to pace around, looking up at the vaulted ceilings absentmindedly. Heero and I never had enjoyed a very talkative relationship, and the silence between us wasn't out of place at all. But I felt an urge, a rising desire to speak to him, and try as I might, I couldn't place why. Maybe I was just bored? I turned around to face him, but he kept his back to me, motionless, staring into the flames that continued to roar as they consumed the wood.
"So,um, how're you doing?" I felt like kicking myself immediately after the words left my mouth. Me bugging Heero for no reason and sounding like an idiot?. I was picking up a few too many of Duo's ways. But, since Heero had turned to me, and simply met my question with a blank face, I felt the need to ask a sort of follow up question.
"Do you think we'll ever get out of here?" I certainly wasn't doing well as far as conversation skills stood.
"What kind of stupid question is that?” Heero coldly answered, turning away again. "I want to leave as soon as it's possible. The war won't wait for us. OZ is probably running all over the Colonies as we speak."
"Yeah," I conceded, but pressed on, "But do you have any idea when that might be? The weather is treacherous; I don't think we could travel more than a few miles out there. Snow has already covered up all the exits on the first floor."
"How do you know that?" Heero turned around, asking the question with a razor-like bite in both his voice and eyes. I told him that I had tried the doors earlier this morning, to which he scoffed, "You have a bizarre thing for this old place. I wonder if… well, anyway, you've been acting weird lately. I wonder if you shouldn't be in bed recovering still."
"I'm fine," I growled out, quickly growing tired of the conversation and sorry that I had started it. "You don't look so well yourself. Maybe you're the one that needs to lie down for a while."
There was a menace in my voice and Heero noticed it too. He made as if to curse me in Japanese, then suddenly changed and admitted with a sigh, "Hai. I didn't sleep very well last night."
Indeed, he had bags under his eyes and his hair was sticking out at odd angles, more so than usual, from a night of tossing and turning. A sort of softness came over him; I seemed to spot it only when he was in front of the roaring fire, bending my vision with its heat. He seemed hunched over, his arms not as muscular as I had always thought them to be. A dusty, lackluster covered his blank face and gave off a strange aura of frailty. In the heat bent silhouette, he seemed almost like a small child and an old, fading man at the same time.
He turned to cokes the fire, the prongs of the iron poker sending sparks up into the air. I smiled at his back and asked, "Why do you always treat Maxwell so badly?"
I have no clue where the question came from, or why I didn't check myself before asking it. A light sweat broke out over my brow as Heero faced me again, the poker still in his hand. He was looking at me, irritated, eyes scrutinizing me like he would a suspicious stranger. His arm tensed and he swung the poker back, hitting a blazing log and forcing it to roll off the neat, perfect pile he had set up. I swallowed, and started to apologize, to tell him that it was really none of my business, when the look came into his face.
Preceded by an angry snarl, the only benign aspect was a kind of tranquility that slackened the jawbones, accented by dark blue eyes that fell to the floor. Heero bit the very front part of his upper lip, a thing I'd only seen Duo do, and the color faded from his face. It appeared for only an instant on Heero's face, before he recovered with a shake of his head, but I'd never forget it. A total look of sadness, guilt and self-loathing. Manifested in it were impossible dreams and desires, hopelessness and back-stabbing passion.
"What did you say?" Heero asked, forcing me out of my shock as I scrambled for words. The pathetic façade was gone, replaced by the ultimate stoic mask. But I could still feel it there, feel it radiating from him, sliding out right through the mask.
"I asked why you always treat Maxwell like shit," I'd thrown away my chance to back out of the question. I decided that if I was this far in, I might as well go deeper. "Do you really think he deserves, needs, all the crap that you give him? What if..."
"How the hell do you know what Duo fucking wants?" Heero suddenly snarled, flinging the poker aside. It clattered heavily on the floor. The fire was swelling up now, devouring the fuel from the logs that Heero had set there.
Heero's eyes burned with anger; but it was more directed at himself than at me. "You're never very nice to him either." Reflected in his words towards me were his words to himself, magnified a million fold. Anger caused the Wing pilot to stutter as he took a step towards me. "Y,You never show him respect. You don't seem to give a damn about him. You treat him like a little kid."
Heero's words weren't having their desired effect on me at all. Everything he said had little impact because I felt, I knew, that he was projecting onto me. But I still had to respond, "It does us no good, you two fighting all the time. We should be trying to get out of here, not squabbling over petty crap."
"Hypocrite," Heero spat. I sensed both of us looking for a way to end the awkward situation. Roaring fire and tempers had made it stiflingly hot in the large room. "You never help him."
"Maybe," I said. “But he-” I made myself choke back the words that I really wanted to hurl at him, the ones that would break his back on this matter. They were only true after all; it wouldn't be a lie to say them... No! There was no way I was going to say that. It wasn't like me to take cheap shots. And it would have hurt Duo more than anyone else. I still didn't know enough about Heero's feelings. However, the fact of the matter was that Heero was the one tormenting Duo.
I didn't give Heero a chance to say anything else. I walked out of the room, down poorly lit corridors and past the now empty kitchen. The windows were entirely frosted over with white, and the wind whirled incessantly. I muttered to myself, to Heero who would never hear me, "Duo only cares about how you treat him, about what you think of him.”
<-><-><-><-><->
The basement was better described as a labyrinth. Littered with pitch-black passages and padlocked doors, almost all of it was unknown. Besides the pantry, only three rooms had electricity, and that included the room where the generator sat. It was an ancient relic from ages past, a huge, silver contraption that never ceased to whir, like the wind outside. Its deep hum could be heard in most of the mansion, and when you went into the basement, it vibrated and shook through you like a tremor.
I walked past the pantry, past a few doors and stopped. Over the roar of the generator, I thought I could hear voices. By the next door, the light from the pantry was too far off to give any real light. The doorframe was barely visible, but the inside was lit up by candles, scattered on the floor and casting random shadows around the room. In the very middle of the room I could make out Quatre and Trowa. Trowa was on his hands and knees, fiddling with what had to be the central heating system. Quatre stood over him and, as I entered, I was able to make out his words:
"…why don't you take a break? You've been working at this for a long time," Quatre's voice was whiny, strained by irritation and worry. I got the feeling that something was wrong. I took another step towards them, stepping gingerly on my injured leg.
"I'm fine," Was all that Trowa responded with. He spoke like one far away, absorbed in his task.
"Are you sure I can't do anything to help?" Quatre asked, fretting and wringing his hands.
Heero's words weren't having their desired effect on me at all. Everything he said had little impact because I felt, I knew, that he was projecting onto me. But I still had to respond, "It does us no good, you two fighting all the time. We should be trying to get out of here, not squabbling over petty crap."
"Hypocrite," Heero spat. I sensed both of us looking for a way to end the awkward situation. Roaring fire and tempers had made it stiflingly hot in the large room. "You never help him."
"Maybe," I said. “But he-” I made myself choke back the words that I really wanted to hurl at him, the ones that would break his back on this matter. They were only true after all; it wouldn't be a lie to say them... No! There was no way I was going to say that. It wasn't like me to take cheap shots. And it would have hurt Duo more than anyone else. I still didn't know enough about Heero's feelings. However, the fact of the matter was that Heero was the one tormenting Duo.
I didn't give Heero a chance to say anything else. I walked out of the room, down poorly lit corridors and past the now empty kitchen. The windows were entirely frosted over with white, and the wind whirled incessantly. I muttered to myself, to Heero who would never hear me, "Duo only cares about how you treat him, about what you think of him.”
<-><-><-><-><->
The basement was better described as a labyrinth. Littered with pitch-black passages and padlocked doors, almost all of it was unknown. Besides the pantry, only three rooms had electricity, and that included the room where the generator sat. It was an ancient relic from ages past, a huge, silver contraption that never ceased to whir, like the wind outside. Its deep hum could be heard in most of the mansion, and when you went into the basement, it vibrated and shook through you like a tremor.
I walked past the pantry, past a few doors and stopped. Over the roar of the generator, I thought I could hear voices. By the next door, the light from the pantry was too far off to give any real light. The doorframe was barely visible, but the inside was lit up by candles, scattered on the floor and casting random shadows around the room. In the very middle of the room I could make out Quatre and Trowa. Trowa was on his hands and knees, fiddling with what had to be the central heating system. Quatre stood over him and, as I entered, I was able to make out his words:
"…why don't you take a break? You've been working at this for a long time," Quatre's voice was whiny, strained by irritation and worry. I got the feeling that something was wrong. I took another step towards them, stepping gingerly on my injured leg.
"I'm fine," Was all that Trowa responded with. He spoke like one far away, absorbed in his task.
"Are you sure I can't do anything to help?" Quatre asked, fretting and wringing his hands.
I had seen a scene like this only yesterday, but employing different dialog...
"I said I'm fine," Trowa answered again in a bland voice. I took another step and passed into the light from one of the candles, throwing a shadow over the two.
"Ahhh!" Quatre yelled, turning around suddenly. A metal clank accompanied it. Pale, alert and scared, Quatre's lips clamped down the moment he saw me. Trowa's long legs were kicking on the concrete floor as he turned around to see what was going on. I nearly tripped over a burning candle.
"WHAT!?! What is it?" Trowa yelled, half covered by Quatre's scream, which seemed to linger in the air even after the blond had shut his mouth. Trowa scrambled up, a wild, almost to the point of animalistic, face searched the room, brushing over me, searching still, and finally falling on me again. Trowa's chest was heaving, like he'd just run for his life. His eyes narrowed, and a brilliant snarl came over his features as he glared at me.
"Jesus Wufei!" His glare broke away from me sporadically to look at Quatre, who was breathing heavy and holding his chest. "What the hell did you have to scare him like that for?" Trowa ran a hand through his hair, which was falling over both eyes. I wondered how long it had been since he'd gelled it.
I didn't really know what to say. "Sorry," I started, wondering why such a stupid event felt like such a big deal. "I didn't know." I kept looking at Quatre, who stared out into empty space, his blue eyes quaking. "I thought you knew I was here. I didn't mean to startle-"
"Startle?!?" Quatre shouted, causing me to almost reel backwards in surprise. A bizarre tint had come into his eyes, and he was looking daggers at me with it. "You scared the shit out of me!" He waved an arm in a furious gesture. Trowa began to try to calm the exasperated Arab down. "What the hell were you doing sneaking around anyway?!?" I was disturbed by Quatre's use of profanities. I must have frightened him worse than I could have imagined.
Everyone stood speechless for a moment. Quatre kept his stare locked on me. I nonchalantly met his eyes, and after a few tense moments, he shuddered and looked away, blood draining from his face. He shook his head and put his palms to his temples. The normally timid youth seemed to be shocked at himself. I know I was. I had never seen that kind of reaction out of Quatre.
"I'm really sorry," I repeated, because it was the only thing to say. "I came down to see if you needed any help. You were talking and I didn't want to interrupt. I sincerely didn't mean to scare you."
Trowa walked over and put an arm on Quatre's. Rubbing it gently, Trowa looked into his lover's face and quietly spoke, "It's alright." Quatre gave a small smile in return, but his face was still pale. Trowa's hand followed the bones of Quatre's arm until it found the small hand, which it gave a reassuring squeeze.
"I said I'm fine," Trowa answered again in a bland voice. I took another step and passed into the light from one of the candles, throwing a shadow over the two.
"Ahhh!" Quatre yelled, turning around suddenly. A metal clank accompanied it. Pale, alert and scared, Quatre's lips clamped down the moment he saw me. Trowa's long legs were kicking on the concrete floor as he turned around to see what was going on. I nearly tripped over a burning candle.
"WHAT!?! What is it?" Trowa yelled, half covered by Quatre's scream, which seemed to linger in the air even after the blond had shut his mouth. Trowa scrambled up, a wild, almost to the point of animalistic, face searched the room, brushing over me, searching still, and finally falling on me again. Trowa's chest was heaving, like he'd just run for his life. His eyes narrowed, and a brilliant snarl came over his features as he glared at me.
"Jesus Wufei!" His glare broke away from me sporadically to look at Quatre, who was breathing heavy and holding his chest. "What the hell did you have to scare him like that for?" Trowa ran a hand through his hair, which was falling over both eyes. I wondered how long it had been since he'd gelled it.
I didn't really know what to say. "Sorry," I started, wondering why such a stupid event felt like such a big deal. "I didn't know." I kept looking at Quatre, who stared out into empty space, his blue eyes quaking. "I thought you knew I was here. I didn't mean to startle-"
"Startle?!?" Quatre shouted, causing me to almost reel backwards in surprise. A bizarre tint had come into his eyes, and he was looking daggers at me with it. "You scared the shit out of me!" He waved an arm in a furious gesture. Trowa began to try to calm the exasperated Arab down. "What the hell were you doing sneaking around anyway?!?" I was disturbed by Quatre's use of profanities. I must have frightened him worse than I could have imagined.
Everyone stood speechless for a moment. Quatre kept his stare locked on me. I nonchalantly met his eyes, and after a few tense moments, he shuddered and looked away, blood draining from his face. He shook his head and put his palms to his temples. The normally timid youth seemed to be shocked at himself. I know I was. I had never seen that kind of reaction out of Quatre.
"I'm really sorry," I repeated, because it was the only thing to say. "I came down to see if you needed any help. You were talking and I didn't want to interrupt. I sincerely didn't mean to scare you."
Trowa walked over and put an arm on Quatre's. Rubbing it gently, Trowa looked into his lover's face and quietly spoke, "It's alright." Quatre gave a small smile in return, but his face was still pale. Trowa's hand followed the bones of Quatre's arm until it found the small hand, which it gave a reassuring squeeze.
“I'm sorry too,” Quatre said, looking at Trowa and not me. “I shouldn't have overreacted like that.”
Feeling very out of place, I felt like slinking away, but was unsure of where I would go. Instead I casually asked, "So, is there anything I can do?"
The reminder brought an agitated look from Trowa towards the sulking furnace. He pulled his hand from Quatre, who let it go reluctantly, and walked towards it, stepping around the candles on the floor. He sighed when he got to it. To me it sounded as if he were about to give up.
"I thought I had it going," He began, his back to Quatre and I. "Thought I almost had it going. Then I lost my concentration when you came in."
"Ch! I already apologized once," I defended, wrapping my arms around myself as I shivered.
"I know," Trowa didn't mean to offend anyone. "Quatre's scream was what really got me."
"I'm really sorry," Quatre meekly shuffled, still sounding shocked. I thought he may have whispered under his breath, "I really felt something," in addition, but Trowa simply turned to him and said:
"Let's just forget about it," But it didn't appear to comfort Quatre much. Trowa got back down on the dirty floor and began to go back to work. The damp cold of the room was getting to me.
"Why doesn't Wufei help you?" Quatre asked, much to my chagrin. I wasn't exactly in the mood to stay down here for long. But on the other hand, I had been sloth-like lately. "Or I could-"
"Quatre," Trowa's voice was a soft, but measured, sign of irritation. "I already told you that I can do this." They were right back to the point they had been at when I'd entered.
"But Trowa-"
"Seriously," Bending down to pick up the wrench, Trowa interjected, "It's not more than a one man job. I'll be able to get it running myself."
Quatre shuffled his feet and made to ask again, "Are you sure I can't help at all?"
I felt the frustration growing in Trowa. How do you tell a loved one you just want him to go the hell away? "Don't worry. I-"
"Are you saying I would just get in the way?"
Quatre's question hung in the air. Sad aquamarine peered at the ground. I looked at Trowa, knowing exactly what he was feeling, but having no idea what he would say. Silence settled for a short while longer than it should have. I wanted Trowa to tell Quatre how childish and abrasive he was acting. The rich blond sometimes could act spoiled and immature... Still, I highly doubted that would ever happen.
"It might be easier if you did go upstairs," Trowa said. As if to make up for the hurt feelings, Trowa added the excuse, "I don't think anyone's washed the dishes yet.”
Quatre showed only a small bit of surprise, hiding the rest behind a false smile. Across the room, Trowa's mouth was slightly open but in a guilty, unsure grimace. He knew that what he had said would get him what he wanted, and even though it may hurt Quatre, a part of him acknowledged and appreciated the chance. That part would probably hold him over, keep him from saying, or doing anything to keep Quatre in the basement, until the blond was upstairs. Guilt would wash over him eventually, but he would get what he had wanted. I tried to smile reassuringly at Trowa.
"I'll be upstairs, ok?" Quatre asked.
A quiet second passed before Trowa found any words. "Sure," He breathed. I smiled at him.
Quatre walked out of the room, his face falling as soon as Trowa could not see it.
Feeling very out of place, I felt like slinking away, but was unsure of where I would go. Instead I casually asked, "So, is there anything I can do?"
The reminder brought an agitated look from Trowa towards the sulking furnace. He pulled his hand from Quatre, who let it go reluctantly, and walked towards it, stepping around the candles on the floor. He sighed when he got to it. To me it sounded as if he were about to give up.
"I thought I had it going," He began, his back to Quatre and I. "Thought I almost had it going. Then I lost my concentration when you came in."
"Ch! I already apologized once," I defended, wrapping my arms around myself as I shivered.
"I know," Trowa didn't mean to offend anyone. "Quatre's scream was what really got me."
"I'm really sorry," Quatre meekly shuffled, still sounding shocked. I thought he may have whispered under his breath, "I really felt something," in addition, but Trowa simply turned to him and said:
"Let's just forget about it," But it didn't appear to comfort Quatre much. Trowa got back down on the dirty floor and began to go back to work. The damp cold of the room was getting to me.
"Why doesn't Wufei help you?" Quatre asked, much to my chagrin. I wasn't exactly in the mood to stay down here for long. But on the other hand, I had been sloth-like lately. "Or I could-"
"Quatre," Trowa's voice was a soft, but measured, sign of irritation. "I already told you that I can do this." They were right back to the point they had been at when I'd entered.
"But Trowa-"
"Seriously," Bending down to pick up the wrench, Trowa interjected, "It's not more than a one man job. I'll be able to get it running myself."
Quatre shuffled his feet and made to ask again, "Are you sure I can't help at all?"
I felt the frustration growing in Trowa. How do you tell a loved one you just want him to go the hell away? "Don't worry. I-"
"Are you saying I would just get in the way?"
Quatre's question hung in the air. Sad aquamarine peered at the ground. I looked at Trowa, knowing exactly what he was feeling, but having no idea what he would say. Silence settled for a short while longer than it should have. I wanted Trowa to tell Quatre how childish and abrasive he was acting. The rich blond sometimes could act spoiled and immature... Still, I highly doubted that would ever happen.
"It might be easier if you did go upstairs," Trowa said. As if to make up for the hurt feelings, Trowa added the excuse, "I don't think anyone's washed the dishes yet.”
Quatre showed only a small bit of surprise, hiding the rest behind a false smile. Across the room, Trowa's mouth was slightly open but in a guilty, unsure grimace. He knew that what he had said would get him what he wanted, and even though it may hurt Quatre, a part of him acknowledged and appreciated the chance. That part would probably hold him over, keep him from saying, or doing anything to keep Quatre in the basement, until the blond was upstairs. Guilt would wash over him eventually, but he would get what he had wanted. I tried to smile reassuringly at Trowa.
"I'll be upstairs, ok?" Quatre asked.
A quiet second passed before Trowa found any words. "Sure," He breathed. I smiled at him.
Quatre walked out of the room, his face falling as soon as Trowa could not see it.
After Quatre had trudged up the steps, Trowa looked up at me and requested, “I'd like to do it on my own.”
<-><-><-><-><->
Not knowing what else to do, I decided to follow after Quatre.
The kitchen door was ajar and I walked in soundlessly. Quatre was scrubbing the life out of one of the pots, nimble fingers chalk white in tense concentration and soapsuds. Without turning around, Quatre asked, “Yes?”
I stopped. I thought the running water and clanging of the dishes would have easily covered my approach. I still was not sure of how or what I wanted to talk to Quatre about. It was as if he already knew that I had something to ask him. I had hoped for a couple more seconds to formulate my question.
“You came to ask me something, right?” Brief and vexed, Quatre was unusually rough in his speech.
“Umm…” I stalled. “Did you need want any help with those dishes?”
Quatre stopped, looking over his shoulder at me. He had his eyebrows scrunched together in effort, His jaw clenched, he almost appeared angry until I noticed it looked as if he were hiding exasperation and sadness. “…Sure.” In truth, he probably wanted the company.
I rolled up my sleeves as Quatre made room over the sink for me. I dipped my hands through the foam towards the nearest plate. Like electric shock, a burning sensation assaulted my fingertips for less than a blink of an eye as my reflexes kicked in. With a hiss I pulled my hands out of the water to nurse them in the folds of my coat.
“It's fucking scalding Quatre!” I said. His hands were entirely submerged.
“Who knows what this flatware has been through in the past?” Quatre asked. “Or when it was last cleaned? The heat will kill the germs.”
“Or give you a third degree burn,” I muttered to myself. I twisted the knob over the pipe labeled `C'. Steam went up as the ice cold water mixed with the unbearably hot. After a minute, I turned the knob off. “I thought the heat wasn't working?”
“The electricity and the hot water run on the generator, but the heating system is some kind of gas one,” Quatre explained as he rubbed a fork vigorously. His fingers and hands were red from the scalding water.
-end “Setting” Part 3 in
Souls Disappear in the Snow
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