Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ The Creed Arc ❯ The Creed: Reception ( Chapter 5 )

-Reception-

It's so very hard to create a person, especially a person that no longer is but has to be again. I asked for a week. Heero gave me an hour. Twenty four short hours to re-create the mask that is Duo Maxwell. Twenty four hours to force my stomach not to rebel against food, to teach my face to shine, my mouth to smile, my voice to laugh. Twenty four hours to make myself presentable. It wasn't enough time, but when is it enough? It was all I had, and I had to do a damn good job of it. Why? Because this mask had to be smart, quick and slick. This mask had to be better than any mask I had designed before. It could have no weakness. No failures. No regrets. Why? This mask had to defeat Shinigami. Defeat me.

I spent the first hour trying to think. It didn't work. So I tried it for another hour. When it still didn't work I decided Heero was right: my body needed fuel, and luckily my pit stop was the bedroom door.

Broth is not a nice food. Never let anyone tell you different. It's like eating brain matter; you know its good for you, but its just gross. Still I forced it down my throat and I spent another hour waiting for it to settle while I stared at the ceiling trying to remember the last mask I had worn.

The mask I was to build had to be so similar to the last that those closest to me would see no difference. I had to be Duo Maxwell, master of stealth and jouster extraordinaire. I had to walk, talk, be all that I had ever been. And a little bit more. This new addition had to be seamless and most importantly, invisible.

How does one construct what cannot be seen by human eyes or touched by human hands? I had only the vaguest idea of where to begin. I had done this once before, you see, but I had done it never expecting to have to repeat the process. I had thought Duo Maxwell was indestructible. It wasn't.

Duo Maxwell was about to become infallible.

How to make yourself strong as a god. Start at the beginning. It's always the best place. Give yourself a past. I have a damn good one, I don't need to remind myself what it is. Then think of a future that past wants. It's not hard; I want the opposite of everything I've had. Then think of a now that is trapped between the two; what is the air between those two spaces in time? How does the past and the future come together to form breath in the now? Easy. Give yourself a name. Mine is Duo Maxwell.

Now this is the hard part. What makes Duo Maxwell tick? It's quite simple: joy. It's plastered on his face all day long, it's falling from his lips with every spoken word, its in every gesture, every loud look. And the greatest joy comes from making other's happy. It is not an overly auspicious desire, to see all around you flourish, its not even all that hard to do. So why not try for something harder? Things always sound easy until you try them and death cannot bring happiness. Death brings decay.

Like my head. It's so hard to build myself again. Part of me is fighting to succeed while most of me is dragging everything down, hungering for an abyss that simply isn't there, trying to drown in an emptiness that is no longer empty.

I can still feel his lips on mine…it's a promise. I made it and I will do this. I will do everything asked of me, and then some. I will destroy the curse, even if I have to destroy myself in the process. I really don't care, as long as I don't have to die. I don't want to go to hell. Not if it's worse than this, and I think it is.

So I'm Duo Maxwell. I'm holding the mask in my hands. It's invisible, yet as soon as I put it on I know everything will change. I look up once more, putting the mask aside. I still have seven hours. Seven hours to look at the ceiling and remember every speck of dirt, every scrap of flaking yellowed paint. Seven hours of nothing before I face something. Why couldn't I have just died? It would have been so much easier.

Why does time move slowly when it knows it's unimportant, yet fly past us, out of control, when we need it the most? Seven hours passed like one and before I knew it, someone was knocking on my door. I didn't answer them. Every second counted. Every millisecond was one moment in time that I could still be me, still wish for death, and still deny the promise I had made.

You're still knocking…even though you must know I want you to go away. The funny thing is I'm not surprised. I know you all too well. And that's why I know its not Heero at my door, but you Wufei. Come to collect the dishes you think are still full of food I have not eaten. Come to see me lie here and stare at the ceiling, like a dying animal at the zoo. But I'm not allowed to die Wufei. Death won't have me, and God despises me, and so I have to stay and try to keep the curse at bay.

I can hear the scrape of skin on the door handle and I'm already moving. Invisible fingers place the mask upon my face and I disappear. I can think of no better way to explain it. My face shifts, almost painfully, into a wide smile as my eyes light up, tiny prickling stabs of pain the only sign on the inside of what I must look like without. My muscles loosen and release, as if I have no cares and I can feel the colour returning to my skin even as I grab the door and swing it open, some small part of me laughing as you fall inside.

"Afternoon Fei! Would you like a hand with that?" My voice is so loud, how can you stand it? It makes me cringe. Still, it's working, isn't it Wufei. Your eyes are full of confusion and a slight spark of anger that I managed to make you fall; that I caught you off guard. Why are you so confused Wufei? Because you know this isn't me? Because you've seen this mask put on, taken off, and put on again as I struggled to break you and failed? News flash Wufei, this isn't the same mask! And this time I'm going to win.

I jump over him, picking up the empty broth bowl and glass as I go, running down the hallway, making sure I make as much noise as possible. The kitchen door is shut, but my body knows what to do. One hand hits the handle while my hips turn and then I'm spinning past the first chair where Heero is sitting smugly and I am facing the sink, dumping the dishes and turning one last time to land on the other side of the table in the waiting vacant chair.

"Afternoon Quat! Tro!" You're both so startled you haven't even noticed that Heero is not surprised. Then I see it; the relief that I am suddenly `better', suddenly myself again. And it hurts so much to see it. Why do you love this mask so much? Why do you love it so much more than you love me? Am I so terrible? Yes I am. Don't worry, I hate me too.

"Good afternoon Duo!" Quatre finally snaps out of his daze and his eyes are so bright, so filled with pleasure. And why shouldn't they be? He can't hear me anymore, I'm buried so far under the mask that I'm invisible. You can't hear what I'm thinking, can you Quatre? No. And what I'm feeling, this numbness and this jealousy, you can't feel it either, can you? No. That's why you're so happy. All you can feel is the joy in the mask; all you know is happiness.

If only you knew where the happiness came from, you would know it's fake, and as tainted as me. And you don't like tainted things, do you Quatre? You don't like me when I let you see me. That's why you're so relieved.

Why are you looking at me like that Trowa? Don't you trust me? Of course you don't. You don't trust anybody. But you like me this way, don't you…Wheras the other me…the one who just lies there and stares at the ceiling you can't stand. Why? Is it because I remind you of someone? Is it because I remind you…of you? I know all your secrets, every last one, but with this mask on you can't touch me.

Duo Maxwell is infallible. And today, I'm Duo Maxwell.

Something bumps my foot and I look at Heero in surprise. That was deliberate! He's smirking at me. He seems to be doing that a lot lately. I don't mind. I like it, and the mask feeds on it. Physical contact is water for the mask; it can't live without it. So I kick him. Not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to sting for a moment.

Why are your eyes so wide Heero? Weren't expecting such a complete recovery? Weren't expecting me to play along so soon? Yes Heero, I'm laughing at you, and why shouldn't I? You've stuffed up and you don't even know it. You're trying to get rid of the guilt you feel, right? Trying to forget it was you who dropped Deathscythe and watched me plunge. You just don't get it. You didn't make the mistake back then Heero; Wing did the right thing in dropping me. The mistake was catching me to begin with. And then again, and again and again.

Too late for regrets, right Heero? Yes Heero, that's my foot working its way along your thigh. You were so eager to kiss me when you knew I wouldn't play along, but now you are terrified. Do you really need such complete control? So sad. Maybe your precious princess will give it to you. She'll do anything you ask. If you can bring yourself to ask, that is.

Hello Wufei! I was wondering when you would come to your senses again. Don't look at me like that! I promised, and I never lie! What you see is what you'll get from now on. Don't worry I'll let your wife's ghost rest in peace. But I don't really understand you yet. I'm going to have to, eventually…

What makes you tick Wufei? Why are you so annoyed that the mask is back? Did you want me to lie there and waste away? Then why not kill me in the hospital when I begged you to.

You can still see it in my eyes, can't you? Even when I'm wearing this mask, you see right through it, and you see me. You see the hurt, the pain, the desire and the jealousy. It's the worst; the jealousy. It's eating at me, devouring me, and all I can see is the joy that I couldn't give them, but the mask could.

You've received me as if I never left, when in truth I just walked out the door. And I'm so envious of the being you're looking at, even though it's meant to be me. Why can't it be me? Why am I so numb? Is this all I can have while the mask takes everything that should have been mine?

I think so. I'm so jealous. I want you to want me. I want you to hate the mask.

I want this reception.