Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Sufferance ❯ Chapter 2
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: Arigatomina 
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Supernatural / Romance / Hentai / Fantasy / Angst | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 07.08.2002 | Pages: 2 | Words: 2.8K | Visits: 466 | Status: Work In Progress
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Supernatural / Romance / Hentai / Fantasy / Angst | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 07.08.2002 | Pages: 2 | Words: 2.8K | Visits: 466 | Status: Work In Progress
Category: AU, Gundam Wing, Yaoi
Pairings: Will be 1x2, 5x2, 1x5x2, 3x4
Warnings: slight violence, minor angst, shonen ai
Author: Arigatomina
Email: arigatoumina@hotmail.com
Complete Archive: www.geocities.com/arigatomina
Sufferance
Part 2
The grass was drenched and black, cold water reaching his ankles but not hiding the tips of scorched blades. His toes curled in the slime, but he couldn't move from the spot. The ground was sloped on all sides, a bowl of earth that lifted till the murky sky was all that he could see above it, dark clouds outlined with churning green. Rancid smoke curled at the edge of his view, tendrils creeping down and he sank to his knees, unable to flee. Icy gusts jerked his loose hair when he ducked his head, then the gray blanket closed above him, the smell of rotting flesh mixed with the smoke making his eyes water. His hand clutched the tiny cross hanging at his neck, and violet eyes grew calm as he waited.
His heart was racing in his chest, shivers coursing through his bare frame, but he wasn't as terrified as it wanted him to be. The landscape had changed, as always, but eventually the darkness lost its power. He would have been cowed more if it came to him beneath a blue sky with the sun beating down. That was just one more thing it never understood. Weight struck him, cloth pressing him from behind and he bit back a startled cry, the fingers of his right hand curling about the arm that snaked around him. He could feel it leaning closer and he turned his head away, unwilling to see what form it had taken. As many years as he'd known it and never once had he seen its true form. Like malice, it assumed any form with no natural shape, and it played with him by using those few people he loved. It was a genius at manipulation. Teeth snapped shut over his shoulder and his gasp caught in his throat. Pain was a blaze of fire, but it didn't cut him but rather ground its teeth against bone, the most pain with least injury.
It wouldn't kill him. During the day, he was able to converse with it, its power diminished by alertness. Pure strength reigned with his focused attention, only when his guard dropped could it take him to these worlds. But even awake, he couldn't force answers from it. He could push, sometimes, and it would tell him what hurt to hear, what couldn't help. But he had learned to see the meaning behind its actions and he knew it wouldn't kill him. It was loath to. Once only had it tried, and he knew something had stopped it. He'd felt a fear that almost surpassed his own. Weak from the blood that drained from him, he'd been unable to stir, yet it hadn't fled his loosened body, it had been unable to exit without consent. And it had saved him, kept him alive. Never since had it been so reckless in its torment, and he wondered if it didn't fear hell as much as he did.
Tears burned his closed eyes as those teeth gnawed at his back, and he could feel silky hair pressing his skin. A smooth hand rubbed his back, the fingers digging into him as that arm tightened around his waist, inhuman strength. It was a test he always failed and a low groan escaped his clenched teeth, laughter beating him as the head lifted. He felt it rest the chin of its stolen body on his shoulder and he longed to shove it away. But he knew better. Any movement on his part was an invitation for more and he couldn't risk it. All it needed was a word, a release that he couldn't give. Wetness lapped at his neck and he cringed, helpless to hold the condemning whimper that bubbled out of his mouth.
The signal was given, his resistance broken for the moment and its lilting voice whispered to him. There was no touch of air against him and tears escaped his eyes, as he knew whose body it had taken. Only with a living form did it have the semblance of life, even though the form wasn't real. The body holding him had no pulse, cold and still.
"Do I use him too often?"
He flinched, despising the knowledge that it was in his head, even when it took shape outside of him. //It's old. I thought Satan was more original than that.// Time had taught him that taunting it didn't result in more pain. It seemed to relish in arguing, and he encouraged that. He was proud of the icy tone he put into his thoughts.
"I'm not a fallen angel, Duo, if I were you would free me."
//Never.// Cold hands framed his face and he held his eyes closed as he was turned to face it. If he looked, he wouldn't be able to think.
"Oh, but you would," it murmured. "Because even a fallen angel is closer to God than you, and you know that well. You assume the debt for every life I have taken, and the number surpasses even his count." Wetness touched its hands, and it licked the boy's cheeks. Despite its human form, it couldn't taste the salt, but the warmth was felt and pale lips curved into a grin. Duo thought he was accustomed to enduring the torment, but it could read into his mind and it knew each night was wearing him down. The boy's contact with his new friends was giving birth to a change in tactics, but it would wait. "Why are your eyes closed?" A sob shook him and it grinned wider. He thought he was used to it, but his love never failed to rip him. "You long to see him again, yet you will not look."
He hated it, he wanted to be left alone so badly, and it knew that. The laughter that echoed in his ears mocked him as it knew what he wouldn't say. One word, all he had to do was speak or think, and it would acknowledge his request. It would leave him alone, and more people would die. //You can look like him as much as you want. But what good will it do you? I know he's dead, you can't hurt him any more.//
"Then open your eyes, Duo." He did, and it stared at him. So human, those wet eyes were evidence, a vision of guilt and pain. Manipulation was an art, but with him it was almost too easy, it just had to take him back, and he broke. Reliving it, he broke every time.
He knew it wasn't him, the demon had no hold over Solo's spirit. The boy had been innocent, he'd never killed anyone. His soul was in heaven now, out of reach of the evil one but even this knowledge didn't still the pain of seeing his visage. It used him so often, he should have been able to spot the flaws in the appearance, but it was so good. Those eyes were warm honey despite the icy being hiding behind them. The image flickered suddenly and he moaned, reeling away as blood trailed onto him. He hid his eyes, but the image was burned into them, fragments of bone and flesh, mutilated face unrecognizable. Hands gripped his face, turning him back and he couldn't help but look. The face was there again, the boy's brow smooth and pale, unmarred by the dark hole and gaping wound that had shown seconds before. Only the wide smile reminded him that it wasn't real. It moved toward him and he closed his eyes again, wincing back from the cold lips that pressed against him. He couldn't see, but he felt the scene change and he whimpered when he felt himself standing.
The gun rose in his hand, his body lunging forward and his cries of denial were heard only in his mind. He shoved the boy back, and the explosion filled the small room, a dark circle placed in man's forehead. Tears welled in his eyes as he committed murder, and he leaned against the warm arms that circled him. The man crumpled against his desk, and Duo was turned away. He knew what was going to happen next, yet he couldn't do anything. As if he were cut into two, he watched with silenced cries at the same time as he felt a wave of relief that his friend hadn't been hurt by the man's attempt. He watched as Solo took the gun from his shaking hand, listened to the boy telling him it wasn't his fault. His eyes dropped, and Duo railed inside, screaming at himself to look up. But he didn't, no matter how many times he relived it, he couldn't change a thing.
The blow knocked him to the floor. Then the boy was on him, rolling him onto his back, fingers curling around his neck. Solo's weight pressed down on him, and he couldn't breath, his hands pushing against the arm as his eyes flew over his friend's face. A part of him relived the confusion and rising horror, but the other half was staring at the gun. It was held even with the boy's shoulders, the barrel aimed at the ceiling. Slowly, it dropped, curved downward even as his gaze moved to the boy's shadowed eyes. Pain erupted when Solo shoved harder on his neck, and his vision blurred. Then it came, the bark of the gun, a shower of dampness, a dead weight falling onto him, and howls of fury in his mind as the demon had nowhere else to go.
* * *
"Why don't you wake him up?" The quiet sobs had grown, and Heero's eyes moved around the room. Trowa didn't glance at him, the tall boy lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. He was obviously used to it. Quatre was sitting up on his bed, but he couldn't see the boy's face as it was bowed, his arms wrapped around himself. Only Wufei looked at him, the Chinese boy seated with his back against the wall.
"There's no need to whisper," Wufei said coldly. "He won't hear you. And he won't wake up."
"Is he really asleep?" Heero blinked when Quatre's head snapped up, the boy's glare surprising him.
"Do you think he's pretending?" Duo let out a sharp cry and Quatre flinched, looking over to see the boy turn onto his side, one arm thrown over his face. His anger left him, and he was about to drop his head when Heero stood.
"People who hurt themselves do it for a reason," Heero said calmly. He crossed the space to the American's bed, his eyes sweeping over his blanketed form before resting on the boy's black-clad arm. Duo was shaking, small muffled sounds audible. That the boy wouldn't wake up was a sure sign, and he was certain the boy was faking it. He heard someone stand behind him, but he didn't hesitate as he pulled the boy's arm away. Duo turned his face towards him, then Heero was jerked back.
"I told you he..." Wufei's words hung for a moment, then he caught sight of Duo's face and he wheeled Heero to face him. "What did you do?!" A thin trail of blood was emblazoned on Duo's face, smeared over his cheek. He wanted to blame the Japanese boy, but his arms fell and he knew Heero wasn't to blame. Leaning over the bed, he touched his hand to Duo's forehead, feeling for the cut. There wasn't one. "No wound." Heero's eyes met his and he glanced down, rubbing the blood between his fingers.
"What is it?"
Quatre had stood, and Wufei turned his head, taking in the boy's wide eyes. "I don't know, but this is new."
"He's bleeding," Heero said. "I'm waking him up, if he's really asleep."
"I am telling you, he won't wake up." The boy didn't so much as glance at him, and Wufei glared, not stopping him. Heero was shaking him, a method they'd tried countless times before without any results. And it wasn't working this time either. He was about to make him stop when Duo reeled against the bed, his hands curled in front of him.
Duo's face was turning red, and Heero moved his hands away from him, his eyes wide. The boy's fingers were poised as if clutching something, and he wasn't breathing, his body jerking furiously. He was choking. "What..." Glancing over his shoulder, he found the other three surrounding him, and his eyes flitted from each. "What did I do?"
"He can't breath!" Quatre lunged forward, but he was caught, Trowa holding him.
"You might make it worse," the tall boy said, his calm monotone making the blonde glare at him.
"I hate this! We should have just left him alone." A loud gasp sounded beside him, and he turned back to the bed, his mouth opening in shock. Duo's hands were limp on the bed, and he was breathing again, but his face was splattered with dark blood. "What's happening to him?!"
The boy was sobbing, his expression one of misery and Heero shook his head, eyes narrow. "No more." Rather than acting as he had before, he looked to the boys first. "You said you tried to wake him before. Did this happen then?"
"No," Wufei said, his voice soft. His eyes were frozen on Duo's blood-spotted face. "He just wouldn't wake."
"I'm going to hit him."
"What?!"
Quatre was staring at him in outrage, but Heero was serious. "It's worth a try." Trowa nodded, and he stepped back to the bed. He didn't want to hurt him, but he slapped the boy hard enough for his head to turn toward them. And it worked. For a moment wide violet eyes snapped open, blinking quickly. Then the boy convulsed, his eyes clenched shut as his hands clutched his stomach. A low moan escaped him and he bent forward, his back leaving the bed. While he was startled, Heero didn't panic. He didn't know what was going on, but the boy's movements gave him an idea.
Pushing on Duo's shoulders, he held him against the bed, his right hand pulling one of the boy's arms away from his stomach. The American struggled, then he let out another sharp cry and went limp, panting roughly. Heero looked at the hand he held, and he turned it, letting the others see the blood that covered the palm. The pale gray blanket that lay over him was spotless, and Heero stared at it for a moment, then peeled it back. He couldn't tell if the black shirt was wet or not, and his hand moved to pull it up when a hand caught his wrist. Then he was looking into wary and confused violet eyes.
"What are you doing?" Duo asked, pushing himself up. His heart was pounding too fast, and he brushed his arm over his damp eyes before glancing at the three boys standing next to his bed. Then he looked at Heero. The boy was staring at him, as were the others.
He didn't look to be in pain, but that wasn't what made Heero stare. The blood that had spotted his face was gone. Taking hold of the hand that gripped his wrist, he turned it, staring at Duo's palm. A shiver tapped its way down his back and he straightened slowly.
They were staring at him, even Trowa's eyes were wide. He wanted to pretend he didn't know what was wrong, but he couldn't lie to himself. //You might as well tell them, tell them who you are.// His eyes closed at the mocking taunt, and he swung his legs off the bed. They moved back as if afraid to touch him and his sight blurred, his breath catching painfully. //They *are* afraid. And they should be, right? After all, they've seen what *you* do to yourself.// Mocking laughter rang in his mind, and Duo fought the need to put his hands over his ears. //As far as they're concerned, you do it. And they're afraid, of what you might do to them. They don't want to die like Solo died.// His teeth clenched and he shook his head. "Stop it!" The voice was silent for a second, then soft laughter tickled in his mind, his eyes widening as he remembered where he was. His friends were staring at him as if they'd never seen him before.
* * *
TBC
Pairings: Will be 1x2, 5x2, 1x5x2, 3x4
Warnings: slight violence, minor angst, shonen ai
Author: Arigatomina
Email: arigatoumina@hotmail.com
Complete Archive: www.geocities.com/arigatomina
Sufferance
Part 2
The grass was drenched and black, cold water reaching his ankles but not hiding the tips of scorched blades. His toes curled in the slime, but he couldn't move from the spot. The ground was sloped on all sides, a bowl of earth that lifted till the murky sky was all that he could see above it, dark clouds outlined with churning green. Rancid smoke curled at the edge of his view, tendrils creeping down and he sank to his knees, unable to flee. Icy gusts jerked his loose hair when he ducked his head, then the gray blanket closed above him, the smell of rotting flesh mixed with the smoke making his eyes water. His hand clutched the tiny cross hanging at his neck, and violet eyes grew calm as he waited.
His heart was racing in his chest, shivers coursing through his bare frame, but he wasn't as terrified as it wanted him to be. The landscape had changed, as always, but eventually the darkness lost its power. He would have been cowed more if it came to him beneath a blue sky with the sun beating down. That was just one more thing it never understood. Weight struck him, cloth pressing him from behind and he bit back a startled cry, the fingers of his right hand curling about the arm that snaked around him. He could feel it leaning closer and he turned his head away, unwilling to see what form it had taken. As many years as he'd known it and never once had he seen its true form. Like malice, it assumed any form with no natural shape, and it played with him by using those few people he loved. It was a genius at manipulation. Teeth snapped shut over his shoulder and his gasp caught in his throat. Pain was a blaze of fire, but it didn't cut him but rather ground its teeth against bone, the most pain with least injury.
It wouldn't kill him. During the day, he was able to converse with it, its power diminished by alertness. Pure strength reigned with his focused attention, only when his guard dropped could it take him to these worlds. But even awake, he couldn't force answers from it. He could push, sometimes, and it would tell him what hurt to hear, what couldn't help. But he had learned to see the meaning behind its actions and he knew it wouldn't kill him. It was loath to. Once only had it tried, and he knew something had stopped it. He'd felt a fear that almost surpassed his own. Weak from the blood that drained from him, he'd been unable to stir, yet it hadn't fled his loosened body, it had been unable to exit without consent. And it had saved him, kept him alive. Never since had it been so reckless in its torment, and he wondered if it didn't fear hell as much as he did.
Tears burned his closed eyes as those teeth gnawed at his back, and he could feel silky hair pressing his skin. A smooth hand rubbed his back, the fingers digging into him as that arm tightened around his waist, inhuman strength. It was a test he always failed and a low groan escaped his clenched teeth, laughter beating him as the head lifted. He felt it rest the chin of its stolen body on his shoulder and he longed to shove it away. But he knew better. Any movement on his part was an invitation for more and he couldn't risk it. All it needed was a word, a release that he couldn't give. Wetness lapped at his neck and he cringed, helpless to hold the condemning whimper that bubbled out of his mouth.
The signal was given, his resistance broken for the moment and its lilting voice whispered to him. There was no touch of air against him and tears escaped his eyes, as he knew whose body it had taken. Only with a living form did it have the semblance of life, even though the form wasn't real. The body holding him had no pulse, cold and still.
"Do I use him too often?"
He flinched, despising the knowledge that it was in his head, even when it took shape outside of him. //It's old. I thought Satan was more original than that.// Time had taught him that taunting it didn't result in more pain. It seemed to relish in arguing, and he encouraged that. He was proud of the icy tone he put into his thoughts.
"I'm not a fallen angel, Duo, if I were you would free me."
//Never.// Cold hands framed his face and he held his eyes closed as he was turned to face it. If he looked, he wouldn't be able to think.
"Oh, but you would," it murmured. "Because even a fallen angel is closer to God than you, and you know that well. You assume the debt for every life I have taken, and the number surpasses even his count." Wetness touched its hands, and it licked the boy's cheeks. Despite its human form, it couldn't taste the salt, but the warmth was felt and pale lips curved into a grin. Duo thought he was accustomed to enduring the torment, but it could read into his mind and it knew each night was wearing him down. The boy's contact with his new friends was giving birth to a change in tactics, but it would wait. "Why are your eyes closed?" A sob shook him and it grinned wider. He thought he was used to it, but his love never failed to rip him. "You long to see him again, yet you will not look."
He hated it, he wanted to be left alone so badly, and it knew that. The laughter that echoed in his ears mocked him as it knew what he wouldn't say. One word, all he had to do was speak or think, and it would acknowledge his request. It would leave him alone, and more people would die. //You can look like him as much as you want. But what good will it do you? I know he's dead, you can't hurt him any more.//
"Then open your eyes, Duo." He did, and it stared at him. So human, those wet eyes were evidence, a vision of guilt and pain. Manipulation was an art, but with him it was almost too easy, it just had to take him back, and he broke. Reliving it, he broke every time.
He knew it wasn't him, the demon had no hold over Solo's spirit. The boy had been innocent, he'd never killed anyone. His soul was in heaven now, out of reach of the evil one but even this knowledge didn't still the pain of seeing his visage. It used him so often, he should have been able to spot the flaws in the appearance, but it was so good. Those eyes were warm honey despite the icy being hiding behind them. The image flickered suddenly and he moaned, reeling away as blood trailed onto him. He hid his eyes, but the image was burned into them, fragments of bone and flesh, mutilated face unrecognizable. Hands gripped his face, turning him back and he couldn't help but look. The face was there again, the boy's brow smooth and pale, unmarred by the dark hole and gaping wound that had shown seconds before. Only the wide smile reminded him that it wasn't real. It moved toward him and he closed his eyes again, wincing back from the cold lips that pressed against him. He couldn't see, but he felt the scene change and he whimpered when he felt himself standing.
The gun rose in his hand, his body lunging forward and his cries of denial were heard only in his mind. He shoved the boy back, and the explosion filled the small room, a dark circle placed in man's forehead. Tears welled in his eyes as he committed murder, and he leaned against the warm arms that circled him. The man crumpled against his desk, and Duo was turned away. He knew what was going to happen next, yet he couldn't do anything. As if he were cut into two, he watched with silenced cries at the same time as he felt a wave of relief that his friend hadn't been hurt by the man's attempt. He watched as Solo took the gun from his shaking hand, listened to the boy telling him it wasn't his fault. His eyes dropped, and Duo railed inside, screaming at himself to look up. But he didn't, no matter how many times he relived it, he couldn't change a thing.
The blow knocked him to the floor. Then the boy was on him, rolling him onto his back, fingers curling around his neck. Solo's weight pressed down on him, and he couldn't breath, his hands pushing against the arm as his eyes flew over his friend's face. A part of him relived the confusion and rising horror, but the other half was staring at the gun. It was held even with the boy's shoulders, the barrel aimed at the ceiling. Slowly, it dropped, curved downward even as his gaze moved to the boy's shadowed eyes. Pain erupted when Solo shoved harder on his neck, and his vision blurred. Then it came, the bark of the gun, a shower of dampness, a dead weight falling onto him, and howls of fury in his mind as the demon had nowhere else to go.
* * *
"Why don't you wake him up?" The quiet sobs had grown, and Heero's eyes moved around the room. Trowa didn't glance at him, the tall boy lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. He was obviously used to it. Quatre was sitting up on his bed, but he couldn't see the boy's face as it was bowed, his arms wrapped around himself. Only Wufei looked at him, the Chinese boy seated with his back against the wall.
"There's no need to whisper," Wufei said coldly. "He won't hear you. And he won't wake up."
"Is he really asleep?" Heero blinked when Quatre's head snapped up, the boy's glare surprising him.
"Do you think he's pretending?" Duo let out a sharp cry and Quatre flinched, looking over to see the boy turn onto his side, one arm thrown over his face. His anger left him, and he was about to drop his head when Heero stood.
"People who hurt themselves do it for a reason," Heero said calmly. He crossed the space to the American's bed, his eyes sweeping over his blanketed form before resting on the boy's black-clad arm. Duo was shaking, small muffled sounds audible. That the boy wouldn't wake up was a sure sign, and he was certain the boy was faking it. He heard someone stand behind him, but he didn't hesitate as he pulled the boy's arm away. Duo turned his face towards him, then Heero was jerked back.
"I told you he..." Wufei's words hung for a moment, then he caught sight of Duo's face and he wheeled Heero to face him. "What did you do?!" A thin trail of blood was emblazoned on Duo's face, smeared over his cheek. He wanted to blame the Japanese boy, but his arms fell and he knew Heero wasn't to blame. Leaning over the bed, he touched his hand to Duo's forehead, feeling for the cut. There wasn't one. "No wound." Heero's eyes met his and he glanced down, rubbing the blood between his fingers.
"What is it?"
Quatre had stood, and Wufei turned his head, taking in the boy's wide eyes. "I don't know, but this is new."
"He's bleeding," Heero said. "I'm waking him up, if he's really asleep."
"I am telling you, he won't wake up." The boy didn't so much as glance at him, and Wufei glared, not stopping him. Heero was shaking him, a method they'd tried countless times before without any results. And it wasn't working this time either. He was about to make him stop when Duo reeled against the bed, his hands curled in front of him.
Duo's face was turning red, and Heero moved his hands away from him, his eyes wide. The boy's fingers were poised as if clutching something, and he wasn't breathing, his body jerking furiously. He was choking. "What..." Glancing over his shoulder, he found the other three surrounding him, and his eyes flitted from each. "What did I do?"
"He can't breath!" Quatre lunged forward, but he was caught, Trowa holding him.
"You might make it worse," the tall boy said, his calm monotone making the blonde glare at him.
"I hate this! We should have just left him alone." A loud gasp sounded beside him, and he turned back to the bed, his mouth opening in shock. Duo's hands were limp on the bed, and he was breathing again, but his face was splattered with dark blood. "What's happening to him?!"
The boy was sobbing, his expression one of misery and Heero shook his head, eyes narrow. "No more." Rather than acting as he had before, he looked to the boys first. "You said you tried to wake him before. Did this happen then?"
"No," Wufei said, his voice soft. His eyes were frozen on Duo's blood-spotted face. "He just wouldn't wake."
"I'm going to hit him."
"What?!"
Quatre was staring at him in outrage, but Heero was serious. "It's worth a try." Trowa nodded, and he stepped back to the bed. He didn't want to hurt him, but he slapped the boy hard enough for his head to turn toward them. And it worked. For a moment wide violet eyes snapped open, blinking quickly. Then the boy convulsed, his eyes clenched shut as his hands clutched his stomach. A low moan escaped him and he bent forward, his back leaving the bed. While he was startled, Heero didn't panic. He didn't know what was going on, but the boy's movements gave him an idea.
Pushing on Duo's shoulders, he held him against the bed, his right hand pulling one of the boy's arms away from his stomach. The American struggled, then he let out another sharp cry and went limp, panting roughly. Heero looked at the hand he held, and he turned it, letting the others see the blood that covered the palm. The pale gray blanket that lay over him was spotless, and Heero stared at it for a moment, then peeled it back. He couldn't tell if the black shirt was wet or not, and his hand moved to pull it up when a hand caught his wrist. Then he was looking into wary and confused violet eyes.
"What are you doing?" Duo asked, pushing himself up. His heart was pounding too fast, and he brushed his arm over his damp eyes before glancing at the three boys standing next to his bed. Then he looked at Heero. The boy was staring at him, as were the others.
He didn't look to be in pain, but that wasn't what made Heero stare. The blood that had spotted his face was gone. Taking hold of the hand that gripped his wrist, he turned it, staring at Duo's palm. A shiver tapped its way down his back and he straightened slowly.
They were staring at him, even Trowa's eyes were wide. He wanted to pretend he didn't know what was wrong, but he couldn't lie to himself. //You might as well tell them, tell them who you are.// His eyes closed at the mocking taunt, and he swung his legs off the bed. They moved back as if afraid to touch him and his sight blurred, his breath catching painfully. //They *are* afraid. And they should be, right? After all, they've seen what *you* do to yourself.// Mocking laughter rang in his mind, and Duo fought the need to put his hands over his ears. //As far as they're concerned, you do it. And they're afraid, of what you might do to them. They don't want to die like Solo died.// His teeth clenched and he shook his head. "Stop it!" The voice was silent for a second, then soft laughter tickled in his mind, his eyes widening as he remembered where he was. His friends were staring at him as if they'd never seen him before.
* * *
TBC