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Left Unsaid	By : ElleSmith Category: Gundam Wing/AC > Yaoi - Male/Male > Heero/Duo Views: 1021 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: GUNDAM WING is a Registered Trademark of Bandai, Sunrise, Sotsu Agency & TV Asahi. This work of fiction was written for non-profitable purposes.

Chapter List
- 13
- 14
- 15
Chapter 14: BPH
Seated behind the wheel of Heero's black SUV, Duo raced down Broadway, maneuvering recklessly between moving vehicles. The engine whirred loudly as the car sped over 80 mph, tires screeching each time he took sharp and dangerous turns to overtake traffic. It was past midnight and traffic was relatively thin.
"Are you sure?!" Agent Shaw's astounded voice burst out the car-phone hanging from the dashboard.
"Fuck yeah!" Duo grunted anxiously, "I'm tellin' ya – he's been messin' with us all along!"
"How—" she argued, but Duo cut in:
"I'll be at PFO in five minutes—" he huffed breathlessly— "Get over here – now!"
*     *     *
Dawn was breaking over Manhattan; a thin sliver of light cracking the foggy horizon. Heero stood on the thick concrete banister on PFO's 52^nd floor, silently observing the first rays of sunlight appear beyond the East River and Brooklyn Bridge, slicing the fog. Snow-covered rooftops spread to his feet as far as the white snowy-fog allowed him to see. It was nearly impossible to distinguish the ground. He stood on the ledge of the tall skyscraper, watching the icy world below.
It never snowed this much in New York, but time itself seemed to have frozen, covering the world in white. Everything stood eerily still. The streets were bare: no traffic, no people, not even the faintest of sounds. Only silence and snow engulfed the massive structures and roads below. Time has stopped at the crack of an eternal dawn. The uncanny stillness was unnerving, but peaceful. Heero inhaled cool air into his lungs and closed his eyes, allowing serenity to wash over him.
He was wearing his Preventer uniform. The thick leather jacket protected him from the icy breeze. Snowflakes descended mutely onto his hair and shoulders. Strangely enough, his feet were bare; freezing. He was standing barefoot on the cold concrete ledge – he was dreaming.
Heero bowed his head and looked down at the foggy plaza below. It was covered with a thick layer of snow. His eyes searched the glowing white surface for a familiar presence, but there was none. The plaza was empty, not a footprint to be seen.
He turned around to face the foggy balcony. His stoic expression did not waver even as he spotted the lone figure standing a few feet away: Relena. She stood before him, wearing a plain white dress, her long blonde hair undone and tousled by the cool breeze. The light of dawn glittered in her cerulean blue eyes, shattered and reflected by her tears. Washed by a soft halo of light and fog, she looked like an angel of mercy.
Relena looked up. Their eyes met. Heero gazed upon her quietly and she looked back, expressionless.
"Till I met you I... I used to think that I... that I wasn't even real. That I wasn't deserving of being regarded as a person..."
The words poured out of him freely. He was looking into her tearful blue eyes, unable to hold back any longer. He had exhaled what might have been his last few breaths leaving her this message, but he couldn't go without saying these things to her face. Here, standing on the ledge between life and death, he was free to speak the words clearly and coherently. Unlike being on that chair, tortured and succumbed by pain, he didn't have to gasp them out in tears. This was a last chance to get his message across, to leave after everything has been said and done. Although an illusion, this was the only closure he was ever going to get – so he'll take it.
"I was sure that I wasn't any good..." he continued, whispering; "...not good enough to be regarded as the person you believed me to be. Growing up the way I did, I... I mean, that's what they've always told me," he tried to explain, struggling to articulate thoughts and feeling he had never dared sharing with her before. "That's what they wanted me to be... the only thing they allowed. They made me into a killer, a weapon... an instrument to do bad... but never a human being."
She bowed her head down sadly, trying to conceal how sorry she felt for him.
"You've changed that," he declared and she raised her head up again, looking at him with hopeful blue eyes. He offered her forlorn little smile.
"You made me realize that I could be so much more," he said and she smiled back sadly, looking at him with tearful blue eyes. He bowed his head down slightly; his smile fading and his expression turning sullen, sorrowful. He couldn't look her in the eye for this part:
"After all we've been through together I... I know what kind of person I can be; I've become more than a soldier, more than just a weapon. I'm nothing like what they wanted me to be: I... I can be someone capable of feeling... loving... hurting. I can't help it anymore, it just happens... and I thank you for that, because now I know I can also be good... and that I'm good enough not to deserve this... this... this hurt. This... what we have... it's... I don't have to settle for this because it's safe... comfortable. It hurts too much to be this comfortable, to rely on you to ease this hurt when you're also the source of it..."
He looked up again carefully. His words were hurting her, he could tell, though she continued standing there silently, listening while tears streamed slowly down her porcelain-white cheeks. He had to say the rest, no matter how hurtful:
"I know now that I don't have to feel this way anymore, loving you so much that I almost hate you. It's... it's too much, you see..." he tried to explain to the best of his abilities, stumbling over words and feelings he had buried and denied; "It's tearing me apart... the love and the hate. There's so much anger and it's... it's tainted everything, and I don't want it to be tainted. It can't be like... I don't want to repeat the same mistakes I made with him. Never talking... never sharing anything real... hiding what I feel... and I feel so angry with you, Relena... I can't say it in a way that would make sense, but I'm so angry... and I... I know I shouldn't be... it's not your fault. I still love you so much. I know I never said it, but I do. I... I just can't do this anymore. It's... The ambivalence is too much. It hurts too much. I can't breathe when I'm with you."
She nodded, bowing her head down shamefully, accepting his verdict as he knew she would. She was probably expecting this; this speech was long overdue. He hoped that this last message will release her from her bonds, from her commitment towards him. He trusted that she'll understand, and move on. She deserved far better than a guy who was so messed up he couldn't even decide whether he loved or hated her. She deserved so much better than him.
"I don't want to end up solely hating you," he continued quietly, grimacing because it hurt to say those words out loud, exposing feelings he's been denying for almost two years. "Losing the love I feel towards you... I don't want that, but loving you hurts. And I keep falling back on you when it hurts... even though loving you is what hurts the most. That's why I can't choose you this time, Lena. I have to break this cycle. I... I'm sorry..." he finished with a pained whisper. Tears now streaked his face as well, sliding down his clean-shaven cheeks. In this hazy dream state, his handsome face showed no trace of the torture he had endured.
"This is goodbye," he added softly, looking into her eyes with a silent apology. Relena looked back, never saying a word, and a small eternity passed by in silent understanding. He had gotten his final message across.
A movement in the corner of his eyes suddenly caught Heero's attention. He whirled his head aside to catch it before it was gone, barely managing to get a glimpse of a small blonde figure running across the balcony and disappearing behind a corner. Though he had just caught a short glance at her waving dark-blonde hair, he had no doubt in his heart that the small figure was Elizabeth.
His eyes darted back in Relena's direction, expecting her to react somehow to the sight of their dead daughter, but she merely stood there, silent and unmoving. He realized that she wasn't going to act and all of a sudden he was running barefoot along the thick concrete banister, chasing after his child's ghost. Panting, Heero sprinted as fast as he could, his feet never wavering as he ran along the ledge surrounding the building. No matter how fast he ran, he couldn't catch up. Elizabeth was always just around the corner, but never within reach. He circled the balcony twice chasing after her giggling little figure; she was playing a game of tag. On the third round she suddenly turned towards the building and stepped in through the balcony doors. He didn't think and quickly jumped off the banister, hurrying after her. He pushed the doors open in mid-run, stumbling through in a rush. The moment his eyes managed to process where he was, he stopped dead in his tracks, gasping.
He hasn't entered PFO's top floor. Instead he had just stumbled in through the emergency-exit door leading from the back of the Natural History Museum's IMAX Theater to the Human Origin Hall.
His heart pounded frantically in his chest. His feet numbed, refusing to take another step into the dim exhibition hall. He stood at the doorway, paralyzed by fear, his anxious eyes scanning the dark gallery for his daughter. The Apes watched him from their habitats, silently observing him with dead glass eyes. Trying to avoid them, Heero's eyes darted left and right, bouncing nervously from one corner to another. They were everywhere, no matter where he looked. If he stepped inside, they will pounce on him in a second... but then he heard Elizabeth's small childish giggle and suddenly his feet no longer cared what he thought or feared; they moved all on their own and carried him inside.
He ran hastily between shadowy prehistoric habitats. Menacing apish figures followed him with dead glass eyes. Their feral growls echoed in the dark. He ignored their hungry glares and focused on his Elizabeth's constantly retreating figure. He continued to chase after his dead daughter.
*     *     *
"Turn the car back around!" Agent Shaw's voice blasted through Heero's car-phone the second Duo took her call. By the sound of it, she was also driving. He was just a few seconds away from Preventer's NYC office; the massive skyscraper already towered before him.
"Da fuck!" he demanded with annoyance but still whirled around to look out the rear windshield, one hand on the wheel and the other on the passenger seat's headrest, as he backed the car up against traffic flowing down Broadway, aiming for a turn he had just missed.
"Because I just got off the phone with Agent Malone and his guy in Intelligence Analysis," Shaw explained tensely.
Duo dodged a few honking vehicles while driving in reverse.
"We did some quick digging," the agent continued; "That sob-of-a-bitch fits the profile..." she muttered bitterly; "and we think we know where he is. I'm sending you the address now," she added and before she even finished her sentence the video in-dash unit's screen beeped and lit up, displaying a GPS-guided map zooming in on Duo's current location. A small textbox displayed his destination: 30^th and 1^st. ETA: 13 minutes.
"Where da Hell are you sending me?" Duo huffed as he turned off Broadway to Worth, speeding towards FDR Drive so he could head back uptown.
"The old Bellevue Psychiatric Hospital," Shaw explained breathlessly; he could hear honking vehicles in the background. She was probably speeding over the limit trying to get to PFO.
"Sloan did his internship there back when the place was still running," she added; "Malone thinks it's a safe bet. The place has been abandoned for over two decades now. He's got to be holed up in there somewhere, we're sure. Are you armed?"
"Bet your ass I am," Duo hissed the words out dangerously while glaring at the Brooklyn Bridge as it loomed up ahead, filling the windshield with its enormous presence. He took a sharp turn to get on FDR Drive, racing over 90 mph.
"Then get up there," Shaw ordered; "I'll get a SWAT team ready and be right behind you. Thirty minutes, tops," she said and disconnected the call.
Duo's eyes darted towards the in-dash navigation system, studying the route ahead. Bellevue was a mere five-minute drive from Heero's place, meaning that he's been less than two miles away that whole fucking time! Somehow, that only made Duo angrier, like he should have known that Heero was near... should have felt it. He should have done something, because Heero was only two lousy miles away from him that whole evening, and instead of finding him he had been fucking Relena!
*     *     *
Elizabeth disappeared behind a corner, leaving the Human Origin Hall. Heero ran after her, thankful to be leaving that cursed exhibition room. He ran down a long dim corridor, venturing deeper into the museum. Turning another corner, he managed to catch a glimpse of his little girl disappearing behind another thick door. He hurried to follow.
This time, he found himself stumbling into his old DC apartment. The place stood bare and empty: polished light hardwood flooring, bare beige walls, no carpet, drapes or fixtures and not a trace of his belongings and furniture. This was after he had vacated the place and left for New York.
The small residence was silent. The balcony doors were wide open, revealing a magnificent view of Capitol Hill at dawn. Heero looked around in confusion. Why was he back here again? He had left this place behind for a reason... Why did he keep coming back here?
His question was answered by a deafening gunshot slicing through the early-morning silence. Heero winced, recoiling back a step when he felt a pang in his chest. Looking down at himself, he saw that he'd been shot. His heart was bleeding, a gush of crimson soaking the khaki dress-shirt he wore under his Preventer jacket, oozing slowly from an open wound. He reached a hand up slowly, wiping some of the blood away and turning to look at it in eerie fascination. It didn't hurt, because the bleeding wasn't real. He wasn't the one who's been shot, but his heart was bleeding just the same.
Tears flooded his eyes, blurring his vision. He lowered his bloody hand down slowly and turned to look in the corridor's direction. His legs felt too heavy, unmovable. He could barely lift them off the floor to manage a single step, yet forced himself to keep moving. He walked dreadfully towards the small den – the room where Elizabeth had shot herself. He was being offered another chance for closure, and he planned on taking it.
The door was only partially open, concealing most of the room. He stopped at the doorway, afraid to push it open and take a look inside. Bowing his head down instead, he noted something lying at his feet. It was a small pink bunny doll. It lay discarded on the floor, drenched in blood.
Heero crouched down and scooped the small stuffed toy off the floor. Once he held it in his hand his tears overflowed. He studied the toy miserably. He remembered crying over his daughter while hugging this poor ragged doll so hard it was crushed beyond recognition. He didn't take it with him to New York. It was all that was left of his child... and he had thrown it away.
Wiping away his tears, Heero rose carefully back up to his feet, holding the bunny-doll limply in his hand. He kept his head bowed, gazing wretchedly at the small pink toy. He shouldn't have left it behind. He shouldn't have thrown it away. He shouldn't have taken it away from her. He remembered how devastated he had felt when his stepfather took away his favorite toy just to hurt him... the memory was so vivid and Heero realized that he was no better. He regretted it so much. He should have kept her bunny. He should have taken it to her small grave... so she won't be alone.
A sob burnt in his throat and he fought to suppress it. An onslaught of emotions threatened to tear him down. He took a deep breath, braced himself and looked up, facing the partly ajar door. This was his chance to rectify.
Holding the bunny in one hand, he placed the other on the doorknob and then slowly pushed the door open the rest of the way. He closed his eyes, afraid of what he was about to see, and stepped into the room where his daughter's life had extinguished. His eyes flung wide open when he suddenly realized that there was no floor beneath his foot – he was about to fall!
He flung two arms aside in a frantic attempt to steady himself. Looking around anxiously, he found himself standing on the ledge of his DC apartment building, twelve stories high, looking out at Capitol Hill washed by the pale gray light of a snowy dawn. An icy wind was blowing; it was so cold. The concrete beneath his bare feet was freezing, biting into his flesh. He clasped his Preventer jacket close to his bleeding chest and the bloodied pink bunny doll slipped from his grasp. He watched with stony eyes as it plummeted down and landed in the thorny rose bushes twelve stories below. Once it hit the ground, it shattered loudly like cracking glass, because it was never a stuffed toy that fell off the roof that day, but rather a half-empty bottle of Jameson whiskey which was now lying scattered in small pieces of green glass across the snowy garden below.
"And here we are again," Dr. Wright's voice spoke from somewhere behind him and Heero slowly turned around to face the man. His former-therapist stood with him on the roof, keeping a safe distance from the ledge, his hands tucked into his jeans' pockets and his cheerful red/white Christmas sweater painfully standing out in such a dreary atmosphere.
"You can't chase her beyond this point," the doctor reminded him softly; "not unless you finally step off this ledge," he added as he gestured at the drop with his head.
"I know," Heero mumbled quietly, his tormented eyes staring down at the ground while he held the jacket closed tightly against his wounded chest, like a blanket.
"I won't stop you this time," Wright warned; "This is entirely up to you."
"I'm dying?" Heero wondered, staring down at the snowy garden.
"Your body can't take much more of this torture," Wright confirmed sadly. "This is it, Heero, you have to choose. What will it be this time – life or death?"
"Death..." he whispered automatically, staring dully down at the barren bushes below; "It's what I've always wanted..." he mumbled tiredly, "It's just that I could never figure out which kind of death I wanted more... the kind that would give me peace, or the kind that would make me want to..."
"Live?" Wright offered, arching an eyebrow.
Heero nodded, smiling sadly. "Both are so alluring..."
"Last time we were here you chose life," the doctor reminded him.
"I was a stupid drunk," he argued weakly.
"And yet you made the wise choice."
"I can't choose life again..." he murmured miserably; "I've tried and it's... This isn't life. It's... It's barely surviving and... None of it is worth the effort it takes to wake up in the morning. I've made the wrong choice. I should have jumped."
"Then why didn't you?" Wright asked; "Why did you call me that day? Why follow me back inside?"
"I didn't do it because I wanted to live," Heero said, sighing. He turned back to study the fall before him. "I did it because I wasn't sure I deserved to die."
"And now you're sure?"
He shrugged his shoulders helplessly. "He... he helped me. I didn't want him to, but he... he did... in a way. He unraveled this... this mess that's always been inside... things I've buried and denied... things I've forgotten, but not really. He picked at my soul piece by piece... dissecting me with his words, his questions... with insights I could have lived without... and now I know. I know exactly why I should live, and I know exactly why I should die. He balanced it out... simplified it in a way that makes both outcomes equally appealing. I'm both guilty and innocent. I never wanted to accept either ruling, but now I've come to terms with both. I deserve to die... and I deserve a second chance at life." He sighed and closed his eyes, shaking his head resignedly. "It's impossible to choose between the two."
"So you're waiting for death to decide for you?"
Heero opened his eyes. He studied the ground below with a torn and grimacing expression. He had no clear answer to that question.
"Will you keep waiting for death to come for you," Dr. Wright pressed on, "Or are you finally going to make the effort and actively choose him?"
*     *     *
Known as "Hospital Row", Manhattan's First Avenue was lined with numerous medical facilities, notably Bellevue Medical Center, NYU Hospital and, towering nine stories behind a tall spiked wrought-iron fence with dead vines growing up the walls – the old Bellevue Psychiatric Hospital on 30^th and 1^st.
Bellevue Psych was one of those ancient red-bricked buildings that looked absolutely beautiful when the sun was shining and utterly nightmarish after dark. In its prime, the impressive building was an admirable sight: surrounded by a small blooming green garden, its red bricks scrubbed and vines constantly groomed. Even the massive and forbidding black-iron gate at the entrance off of 1^st Avenue seemed welcoming when overlooking a well-maintained campus, but during winter, when the skies were cloudy and grime and mold began to build up while the foliage died, Bellevue Psyche became one of the creepiest grounds in Manhattan.
BPH was once renowned for its psychiatric facilities. Established sometime in mid-twentieth century AD, its legacy carried on well into the AC era, until it was finally shut down in the early AC 180s, once maintenance of the historic building was no longer cost-effective. By AC 204, the old hospital ground was one of the most haunting places in New York City. Forgotten and dilapidated, BPH was like a horror-movie set-designer's dream come true: the atmosphere around the old building was as bleak and ghostly as an ancient cemetery on All Hallows' Eve. Its façade was full of boarded-up windows and its crumbling walls covered by a tangled mess of hibernating vines clutching onto the building and digging between faded red bricks. It was a place where life was forgotten, a sight taken out of a madman's nightmare.
Duo parked Heero's black SUV on the street corner. Stepping out of the vehicle, he tucked the pistol he had retrieved from Heero's kitchen into his black jeans and walked towards the main gate. It was locked, so he climbed over the tall wrought-iron fence and jumped into the decaying garden. A few dim rays of orange light from nearby streetlamps managed to reach into the small garden, illuminating the area just enough to get around. Duo drew his weapon out again, holding it securely in two raised hands as he stealthily walked towards the entrance, merging into the shadows as he made his approach.
*     *     *
It was dark and quiet; only faint stripes of blue moonlight filterer in through the cracks between the boards covering a large window at the end of a long corridor. Short, panicked panting echoed in the dark, accompanied by the sound of running footsteps tapping hurriedly against the floor. Heero was running. Breathless and distraught, he stumbled and ran through a labyrinth of pitch-black hallways. He was barefoot, cold and naked, holding the coarse gray wool blanket around his nude chest. The fabric only reached as low as his tailbone; it flapped wildly behind him while he ran, leaving his bloody thighs and bottom exposed. He clutched it tightly against him for false-protection; his fingers were broken, twisted; wrists marred with gory red welts.
His bare feet padded loudly against the filthy floor; his ankles were also marked by gruesome welts. His limbs were bloodstained as well. The IV needle was still embedded into his inner left forearm, clotted with blood. More blood sheeted down his inner-thighs, some oozing out of his injured anus. The pain was excruciating; his behind had been torn apart and every step he took while running shattered his bones with unbelievable torment. Still, he ran. He might only be running towards his death, but at least he won't meet the one he longed for the most while lying helplessly on that chair, stripped bare and demeaned.
He didn't know how he did it, but he got out of that cursed apparatus. Somehow, he had mustered the strength to tear off the leather bonds, rip out the IV line and flee the room he had been held captive in for over five days. He had fled as fast as his trembling legs could carry him, but not before he had snatched the blanket Sloan had taken away from him off the floor. He grabbed it and ran. He ran aimlessly through endless black hallways, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered as long as he ran. It was a final act of defiance against a fate he was unable to prevent.
The Shadows were everywhere, watching. He could feel their maniacal eyes on him. They jeered, whispering insults and laughing amongst themselves, making a racket. Their constant murmuring pounded in his ears, dragging him down. They didn't think he was going to make it, but he ignored their scorn and kept running. They laughed harder, thinking him a fool. He didn't even know where he was or where he was heading. He was never going to find his way out of that maze. His legs grew heavy. Their mockery was slowing him down, dragging him back into a pit of despair. The Shadows cheered him on – fall, they called, fall!
Heart pounding, breath panting and his knees wavering, Heero stopped at a crossroad of four adjoined corridors and looked around frantically, lost. He wheezed heavily, struggling to catch his breath, and turned his head left and right; unable to decide which way he should go. They all looked the same: each corridor just as dark and forbidding as the next.
The Shadows detached from the walls and began to slowly creep towards him. He could hear their slimly little hands slithering against the walls and floor as they approached. Their whispering grew louder the closer they got. The longer he stood at that crossroad, the more he was in danger of being devoured. He had to make a choice and keep moving.
There! At the corridor to his right was the sign he'd been searching for: a faint beam of moonlight touched the floor, illuminating a small and familiar object – his daughter's pink bunny doll lay discarded on the floor by one of the many doors along the dim corridor. Heero turned towards it and took a step forward, before stopping again.
How can the bunny possibly be there? He suddenly wondered. He had thrown it away when he had moved to New York. It had to be a trick. The Shadows were trying to lure him into a trap. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and carefully opened them again. The bunny was gone. The hallway was empty. But then he blinked and it was there again!
"It's just the drugs..." he reminded himself, wincing at the sound of his own worn-out voice; a stranger's voice. Even whispered it sounded unbearably loud in the thick silence around him. He was giving away his position...
Something slick and cold touched the heel of his foot. Heero jerked back, shaking his foot anxiously, but it wouldn't come off. The Shadows were creeping up his legs, their cold dark hands sliding up his bloody thighs, making their way up his naked torso. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly; clinging onto the last shred of sanity he had left.
"Just the drugs... just the drugs... just the drugs..." he whispered over and over until the Shadows let go and slipped away. Exhaling in relief, he opened his eyes. His gaze immediately darted towards the corridor to the right: the bunny was still there.
He focused on the discarded toy, eyes narrowing as he tried to will it away. It didn't work. The Shadows laughed madly. This was a losing battle, he realized, for he had lost his sanity to them days ago. They were in control now. He had to get away from their watchful eyes; they were taking over his every thought. He had to get away before they got their hands on him again! He had to hide!
He turned and ran into the corridor to his left, in the opposite direction of the trap they had laid for him, and stumbled in through the first door he could find, desperately seeking refuge in a dark maze of insanity.
*     *     *
Duo treaded carefully as he made his way through the abandoned building, his gun pointed forward in case he ran into trouble. BPH was just as creepy on the inside as it was from the outside, if not more. Even decades after being decommissioned, it still housed many surviving traces from its days as a psychiatric hospital, complete with fading institutional yellow and gray paint on the walls, and square windows set in most of the doors. Pale streaks of blue moonlight seeping from boarded windows allowed Duo to see the inside of each room. Most of them were completely bare; others held nothing more than a couple of rusty cots and torn mattresses with their stuffing coming out. He also spotted a few broken medical supply carts, equipment and machinery, in what must have been the therapy rooms. Peeking in carefully through every single hatch, Duo continued to scan the old building room by room, corridor after corridor, floor by floor.
*     *     *
Gasping for air, Heero collapsed against a row of sinks in a large and moonlight-lit public bathroom, leaning against a green ceramic surface with two outstretched and bloody arms. The coarse gray wool blanket was draped over his hunched back. His arms quivered, unable to support him. His legs were also shaking, threatening to give way. He could barely stand, though it was his behind that probably hurt the most.
Slowly, he raised his head up. He stared numbly at his reflection in the broken mirror, looking at it through his long and messy bangs. He was looking at his own ghost: pale, bruised and bloody, wet traces of tears on his stubbly cheeks. His lips were split, swollen and covered with dry blood. He had bitten them in pain. His right eye was clotted shut with blood and mucus. The left side of his head was a tangled mess of hair caked with blood and shattered bone.
It was no wonder they wanted him to get cleaned up before the next round. They shoved him into the nearest bathroom and told him to wash up before they fuck him again.
He leaned his head down, chin against chest, curling inwards, and coughed. He could taste copper, the taste of his own blood, but he couldn't stop coughing; the blood trickled down his bristly chin. Internal bleeding, he deduced. It was bad. How he had gotten up on all fours for the second one was beyond him. His broken right arm was close to useless; he had used his elbow for support to avoid stirring the cracked bones in his forearm. His left kneecap was badly damaged. He could barely move his leg as he rose up shakily to offer his behind to yet another rapist, leaning on his right leg as he dragged the left forward using his thigh muscles only; it was dead weight.
The man had fucked him mercilessly, pounding wildly into him until he had crashed back down against an animal-fur rug in a Neanderthal family habitat, unable to support himself up anymore. His rapist urged him to rise back again and he tried, he really did, but he couldn't. The beating that followed was just as ruthless. By the time the man was done with him, the brown animal fur beneath him was soaked with blood. He had passed out and when he woke up again to unimaginable pain, they told him to drag his used-up and disgusting body to the bathroom and wash up so that the third guy could have him.
His third rapist nastily declared that he didn't want to fuck a passive bitch. The bastard wanted him to ride him, and he wanted him to like it. He had nodded mutely, accepting the terms because he had no other choice; his daughter's life depended on it. He would do anything to ensure her survival – anything... even that. And when they will no longer want him for his broken body, he will offer them his mind. He will spill out every last drop of information he possessed, he didn't care. He won't let them kill his daughter as they've killed the others. As long as she lived, he will let them have whatever they want. They can rape him, beat him, interrogate him... it didn't matter. He will cooperate. Giving them what they want was the only retaliation he was capable of in his state; the only way to ensure Elizabeth's survival. He will buy time until Preventer got there. They will come... they had to. Someone will come for them. It just was not logically possible that he would always be the one coming to the rescue; someone had to come for him too, right? He will be the one rescued for a change, and that would be okay as long as Elizabeth was rescued with him. It was all he had to go on now... this damn hope. Someone will come. Someone will save Elizabeth. Relena won't have it any other way. He just had to hold on until they come. Whatever it takes, he will hold on until someone comes for them...
Heero gawked at his reflection wretchedly. But how on Earth he was going to do what the son-of-a-bitch wanted with a busted kneecap? And how the Hell was he going to show that he liked it when even breathing hurt? He had to find a way to put on a convincing show.
He recalled a porn flick he once saw; a shocking and extremely stimulating piece of nasty hardcore which had captured his imagination and fueled his libido for weeks to follow. The things that female porn-star did were simply unforgettable, as were the expressions on her slutty face. Yes, he will do that... should be possible to copy some of it if he concentrated hard enough. He might even come... That should please the bastard, right?
Looking up miserably at the mirror, Heero raised his hand up slowly. He lowered his gaze down numbly and studied his bloody hands for a moment, dazed. His fingers were broken, set in unnatural angles. He didn't remember anyone breaking them. J broke his fingers once, crushing them with his claw. That hurt, but following J's orders with ten broken fingers hurt even more. In the very least, he had learned how to handle himself with two useless hands, because even with ten ineffectual fingers, his hands were still useful. He moved one hand towards the faucet and turned the water on using the heel of his hand. He washed the blood off his hair and his face the best he could; rubbing it off with his palms, mindful of his broken fingers. It wouldn't come off, not all of it. He will forever feel the unwanted filth clinging to his skin.
He looked up at the mirror again, clutching the gray wool blanket close to his naked chest between two pressed hands. The sight of himself made him sick... angry. He reached a blood-and-water-dripping hand towards the mirror and smeared the crimson fluid across the reflection of his wretched face so he won't have to look at it anymore.
The Shadows laughed, roaring in his ears. Heero whirled around, his eyes searching dark corners anxiously. At first he didn't understand why they were laughing, but then he realized – he had zoned out for a second, losing touch with the here and now. He wasn't in the museum's bathroom. He wasn't anywhere near DC at the moment. No; this was a different hell... one he was determined to escape. There was no use hiding in the bathroom. No matter how much he wanted to simply curl up in the corner and wither away into oblivion, he had to keep running before the Shadows catch up. He would always rather fight than flee, but how does one fight his own insanity? Running was his only option. That was probably why Sloan had unleashed the Shadows upon him: he couldn't fight Shadows, especially not the kind always lurking in the depths of his own mind. He had to keep running.
*     *     *
The only doors without a small glass window were the ones marked 'WC'. After going through all nine stories, Duo has reached the end of the last corridor, where a single yellow door led to the floor's public restroom. Shifting his gun to one hand, he reached for the doorknob with the other and carefully opened the door. It creaked as it opened slowly. Duo stepped inside, just enough for a good peek, aiming his gun forward.
The long and narrow bathroom was dark and empty. Only broken yellow doors, cracked white tiles and filthy white sinks were there to greet him.
He heaved a long sigh, lowering the gun down. He bowed his head and closed his eyes sadly. That concluded nine stories and over a hundred rooms. Heero wasn't here.
*     *     *
He was lost. One dark corridor diverged from another, leading him down an endless maze of hallways branching off in every direction, none of them leading anywhere. The Apes were squealing behind closed doors, hiding in dark rooms. The Shadows were everywhere.
THERE IS NOWHERE TO RUN, they taunted.
YOU WILL NEVER GET OUT OF HERE, the Voice agreed. Heero ran, trying to get away from the overpowering voice, but it was coming from everywhere at once:
NO ONE IS COMING FOR YOU, HEERO, it said; NO ONE EVER DOES...
That's not true, he tried to remind himself. Zechs came for him. He came for him in DC and got him out of that cursed museum. He had already reached the end of his rope, believing that all of his efforts to survive were in vain, because everyone but Elizabeth and him was dead and there were only twenty more minutes before his own execution. No one was coming.
One of the three thugs wanted to have one more go at him before he's dead. He had begged him not to take him away from his daughter. He didn't want his last few moments to be spent away from her... raped. He held onto to her, weeping and pleading with the thug to change his mind, telling him that he won't make for a good fuck anymore... so why? The man didn't care. He told him that if he wanted his daughter's death to be quick and painless without ever knowing what was coming, then he should come with him to the back one last time. He didn't get it... he just didn't. How could anyone be so heartless, so cruel?
'Please... I just met her today...' he had cried, hugging Elizabeth tightly; 'Don't you have any children?' he had tried to appeal to whatever humanity the man might have.
'Three of them,' the bastard said. 'Born and raised in space... unlike this piece a shit here.'
'I'm from space...' he hurried to say; 'I fought for space... look me up, you'll see.'
'That's even worse,' the thug snarled and spat in his face; 'she's Darlian's daughter – a fucking half-breed! Now c'mon! Boss wants you dead in twenty minutes, so get a move on!'
'Can I at least say goodbye?'
'No!' The man smirked nastily. 'Don't worry, you won't be missed!'
HE'S RIGHT, YOU WON'T BE MISSED, the Voice agreed. WHY WOULD ANYONE MISS YOU? YOU'LL DIE HERE AND NO ONE WOULD SHED A SINGLE TEAR FOR YOU!
The bastard laughed and raised his meaty hand to take Elizabeth away. He didn't want to let go! Not yet! Not ever... no! He struggled to keep his daughter in his arms, pulling back when the man tried to drag her away, but the thug was stronger and he was so tired, completely beaten. He couldn't keep the man from yanking her away...
The thug suddenly collapsed to the floor, dead. There was a bloody hole in the center of his head. Heero looked up, stunned, and his eyes fell on the shooter standing but a few feet away. It was Zechs. He came. He came for them...
HE CAME FOR ELIZABETH, the Voice corrected, BECAUSE YOU WERE TOO USELESS TO SAVE HER. YOU WERE JUST PLAYING WHORE, THAT'S IT. YOU'RE DISGUSTING. WHY WOULD ANYONE WANT TO SAVE YOU? NO ONE EVER COMES FOR YOU, HEERO, AND YOU KNOW WHY... YOU DON'T DESERVE TO BE SAVED.
That wasn't true... it wasn't. Duo came for him. He came to save him at the Alliance Military Hospital. It was the first time anyone ever came to his rescue... the first time someone showed that they cared...
NO HE DIDN'T, the Voice insisted; DUO NEVER CARED. HE CAME BECAUSE HE WAS ORDERED TO. HE DIDN'T COME BECAUSE HE CARED ABOUT YOU. HE CAME TO GET PILOT ZERO-ONE OUT OF A STICKY SITUATION. HE DIDN'T COME BECAUSE OF YOU. HE NEVER COMES FOR YOU, HEERO. HE LEFT YOU TO DIE IN SIBERIA. HE LEFT YOU TO ROT IN THAT OZ CELL ON THE MOON BASE. HE LEFT YOU WHEN THE WAR ENDED. HE LEFT YOU HERE TOO... HE LEFT YOU TO DIE ALONE AND AFRAID. NO ONE CARES FOR YOU, HEERO... NO ONE EVER HAS OR EVER WILL. JUST DIE ALREADY... YOU'LL BE DOING THEM ALL A FAVOR.
Heero clenched his eyes shut tight, his tears squeezing out, and ran faster. He refused to believe that... he refused to believe it! Relena cared... she did. They cared for each other so much that they ended up hurting... And what he had with Duo had been real! It was real... It had to be real! They might have been fools for never showing how real it really was, but it was always real! It had to be... it had to be real!
DUO WAS NEVER REAL! The Voice laughed tauntingly. YOU MADE HIM UP! YOU MADE HIM UP SO THAT SOMEONE WOULD LOVE YOU, SO THAT SOMEONE WOULD FINALLY CARE...
"No!" he shouted, shaking his head frantically as he ran, weeping because every word stung where it hurt the most.
"He was real! He's real! Duo's real! He is!"
YOU WERE JUST TRYING TO MAKE DEATH MORE APPEALING, SO YOU GAVE HIM A FACE.
"That's not true!" he cried out in despair; "Duo isn't death... he's all about life... and he's real... I know he is... he's real... I wouldn't have been so afraid of him if he wasn't real... He's coming for me... he has to... he'll come..."
NO, HE ISN'T. HE DOESN'T CARE ABOUT YOU, HEERO. ALL THOSE YEARS AND NOT ONE WORD FROM HIM... HE DOESN'T CARE. HE NEVER DID. ONCE YOU WERE OF NO MORE USE TO HIM, HE TOOK OFF. NO ONE CARES ABOUT YOU, HEERO. THEY DON'T CARE BECAUSE YOU'RE NOT IMPORTANT. YOU WERE NEVER IMPORTANT, SEIKI... NOT EVEN TO YOUR OWN MOTHER...
"Shut up!!!" he screamed and covered his ears, eyes still closed. He kept running, desperate to get away from the overbearing voice drilling hopeless words into his psyche:
YOU'RE NOTHING MORE THAN A TOOL. EVEN YOUR PARENTS DIDN'T TREAT YOU AS ANYTHING ELSE. YOUR OWN MOTHER COULD BAREY STAND YOU AND ALL ODIN NEEDED YOU FOR WAS TO KILL FOR HIM. YOU DON'T MATTER... NOT REALLY. NOT TO ANYONE. NOT EVEN TO THOSE WHO ARE SUPPOSED TO LOVE YOU... AND NOT TO THE ONE PERSON YOU WISH WOULD LOVE YOU BACK...
"Shutup shutup shutup!!!" he hollered madly, tears lingering to his closed eyes. He banged on his ears desperately, struggling not to listen to the words he had always feared to hear, words that cut him to the bone and broke him piece by piece until he crumbled into dust...
THEY ALL USE YOU TO SOME DEGREE, the Voice carried on; YOU'RE JUST A TOOL, AND EVEN THE MOST VALUABLE TOOLS CAN BE REPLACED. THEY WILL MOVE ON, BOTH RELENA AND DUO. THEY DON'T NEED YOU. THEY NEVER DID. THEY ONLY STUCK AROUND AS LONG AS YOU WERE USEFUL TO THEIR CAUSE. YOU'RE NOTHING NOW. THEY DON'T CARE. THEY DIDN'T EVEN ANSWER YOUR CALLS JUST NOW... THEY DIDN'T CARE TO HEAR YOUR FINAL FAREWELL...
Heero stopped short with a gasp. He stared ahead at the dark hallway, horrified by the brutal realization that the Voice was right. They didn't answer his calls... why? Why didn't they answer?! Why! Was Duo still angry with him? Was Relena too disgusted with him now? Why didn't they answer? He wanted to say goodbye... he wanted to tell them... why didn't they answer? Why couldn't they do this one small thing for him? Just one small thing... to say goodbye... to say he was sorry for all those years of being a coldhearted bastard... that's all he wanted. Why didn't they answer?
BECAUSE THEY DON'T REALLY CARE FOR YOU, HEERO, the words vibrated in his chest, giving voice to his deepest fears. YOU'RE NOT IMPORTANT TO THEM... YOU NEVER WERE. THEY WERE WITH YOU OUT OF PITY, THAT'S ALL... WHY WOULD THEY EVER WANT YOU TO TOUCH THEM AGAIN NOW THAT THEY KNOW WHAT KIND OF A DIRTY WHORE YOU REALLY ARE?
"But... but Duo doesn't know..." he argued weakly, "He doesn't..."
OF COURSE HE DOES, the Voice argued back. THEY ALL KNOW. THEY CAN TELL JUST BY THE LOOK OF YOU – WHORE.
"I didn't want to do it!" he sobbed miserably; "I didn't want to! I had to! I had to do it... they'll understand... I didn't want it... I didn't enjoy it..."
BUT YOU ASKED FOR MORE, the Voice goaded viciously. YOU AGREED TO EVERY FILTHY THING THEY WANTED YOU TO DO. YOU'RE A WHORE. DUO WOULD NEVER WANT A WHORE. HE'D SPIT RIGHT IN YOUR FACE ONCE HE SEES YOU. RELENA WON'T TAKE YOU BACK NOW EITHER. YOU DISGUST HER. YOU'RE DISGUSTING. YOU'RE EVERYTHING SHE HATES: A KILLER AND A WHORE.
"SHUT UP!!!" he cried and threw himself at one of the many doors, barging into the nearest room to get away from the Voice bombarding the hallways. Panting fearfully, he ran to the back of the room and huddled in a dark corner, slowly sliding down against the wall until he was sitting on the floor. He curled into himself, drawing his knees up and leaning his head against them, keeping his hands over his ears.
"Shut up... shut up... shut up..." he whispered over and over, rocking back and forth and covering his ears forcefully. He felt the blanket slip off his shoulders and, panicking, he hurried to grab it before it fell. He wrapped it securely around himself, shaking, and pushed back against the wall, hiding in the corner. Defeated and afraid, succumbed by self-pity, he wailed in despair, hugging his blanket.
The Voice was right. No one was going to come for him. He was beyond salvation. There was nothing worthy of salvaging. He was going to die here, sitting alone in a dark corner, and no one would even care... no one would ever know... Duo will never know...
Soft hands emerged from the Shadows, holding him. He was pulled into a strong embrace, cradled and rocked by warm, sturdy arms.
"Shush..." a soft male voice shushed soothingly while a hand petted his hair gently; "shush... It's okay... you're not alone... I'm here... I'm right here... Shush..."
Heero held onto the warm body, burying his face against a taut chest.
"Duo..." he wailed in relief, "you came for me... you did... you're real... I knew you were real... you came to save me... you finally came for me..."
Duo's arms held him even tighter. There was a sense of apology in his embrace. "You know those annoying dreams after you hit the snooze alarm?" he asked apologetically and Heero could picture the helpless smile hovering over his lips. "The ones when you're sure that you got up, went to the bathroom... brushed your teeth... got ready for the day n' all and then suddenly the alarm goes off again and you realize you were just dreaming? Well, this is kinda the same..."
Heero sat up, pulling away from the embrace. His eyes didn't bother seeking Duo's face, because he wasn't really there. He sniffled, miserable.
"But I... I ran... I... I ran... I got out of there... I did... I-I... I did..."
"Heero..."
"No!" he snapped, distraught; "I can't still be on that chair! No... NO!"
"Think about it Heero," Duo insisted; "do you remember how you got out of that chair? Do you remember how you got here? Why didn't Sloan follow you? Did you take him out? How could you possibly do that in your condition? You didn't because it never happened. You don't remember any of it because this isn't real..."
"No... No..." Heero whimpered, shaking his head in denial. "You're real... You have to be... I didn't make you up... Please... Duo... you have to be real this time... please..."
"I'm so sorry, Heero... You know I'd never lie to you."
He slumped back tiredly against the wall, drawing the blanket closer to his naked chest. It was so cold. He was dying, wasn't he?
He bowed his head down, beaten.
"Then I'm... I'm still... I'm still tied to that chair..?" he mumbled hopelessly, his voice breaking. Tears flooded his eyes. "No..." he closed his eyes in defeat, his tears overflowing; He covered his face with both hands, weeping sorrowfully.
"I... I never... You never... You never came for me... you're not real..." he cried in despair; "No one ever comes for me... no one ever saves me... and now there's nothing left to save... nothing... they took everything... those men... and Sloan... they took all that was left of me and tainted it too... they made it so ugly... all of it... they made me so ugly! I'm sorry! I'm sorry... Duo... I'm sorry..."
He flung his hands forward and clung onto Duo in desperation, shaking a body that wasn't really there.
"I can't die here!" he cried out, looking up at Duo's shadowy figure with tearful blue eyes, begging him for his aid. "I can't die here... like this... I can't... I can't die being like this... Please... get me out of here... Duo... just this once... Save me... please..."
"You're not going to die here, Heero," Duo whispered softly; "You're a survivor, remember? A reluctant one, but a survivor... Despite your best efforts, you've lived through so much shit... and you're gonna live through this Hell too, you hear? You are not going to die here. Someone will come for you. You gotta believe that, okay? Just hold on."
Duo's words only made him cry harder, because they were lies, and the real Duo never lied. This was just a hallucination... Duo wasn't real. He was never real. What they had was never real. It was all in his head. He was never loved, never. No one has ever loved him. That was why "—no one's ever... No one... never..." he mumbled between hiccupped sobs, sniffling repeatedly. "No one ever comes... no one ever cares..."
"That's not true," Duo insisted, lying; "Don't believe his lies, Heero... please don't. Don't listen to him. Don't give in to the pain. Someone will come."
"No one is coming for me, or they would've come by now..." he argued weakly, wiping away his tears, but more just kept on coming, gushing down his pale face. "No one's coming... I knew they wouldn't... I knew it when I agreed to take this assignment... No one cares... That's why I tried to call you at the station that day... I... I... I was scared... I didn't want to die like this. I wanted to call you... I needed help... but... you weren't there. You never are... You took off... leaving me behind... You always leave me behind... No one is coming. You're not coming... No one is coming because I'm never that important... You never made me important... I never let you... I should've... I... I should have let you... I wouldn't be here if I had... I'm so sorry..."
He felt Duo wrap his arms around him once more; arms that weren't real, but he held onto them nonetheless, pulling closer to Duo. He curled up against him, crying like a child.
"I messed up, Duo... I'm so sorry... I messed everything up... I should have showed you... I should have... should've said... so many things..."
"Shush, Heero... shush..." Duo soothed him, caressing his hair gently, lulling him to sleep. "It's okay... it's gonna be okay," he continued to lie and Heero drank his lies hungrily, because recognizing those lies was the only thing that felt real.
*     *     *
After climbing down nine stories, Duo stepped out of the stairwell leading back to the ground floor. He held Heero's pistol in his hand, dangling limply down because there was no perpetrator to point it at – his search has come up empty. He took one last look around, eyes scanning the dark corridor stretching towards the main doors. The place was a mess, but completely deserted. No one has been here in a long while.
He sighed, dejected, and tucked his sidearm into his waistband, turning towards the exit. He figured Shaw should be here any moment with the SWAT team. He will wait for them outside with the bad news, saving them the trouble.
He began making his way towards the main doors and the lights suddenly flickered: a flash of light tearing through the darkness for no more than a split of a second. Duo stopped dead in his tracks, frowning. It was just a brief surge of buzzing fluorescent lights sputtering briefly into life before dying out again. The flickering stopped quickly enough to make him wonder if it indeed happened. Then, it happened again: an electric power-surge caused the lights in the hallways' ceiling to flicker on and off. Then – darkness. The silence returned, humming loudly in his ears. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing. There was electricity in the air; tension... danger. He drew out the gun, his expression hardening dangerously.
Someone was definitely there.
It then suddenly occurred to him that he has neglected to check the old building for a cellar...
*     *     *
Heero lay in the dark, his head resting in Duo's warm lap. A firm hand petted his hair soothingly, lulling him to sleep as he lay cradled in death's embrace. He closed his eyes, gratefully accepting the comfort of a welcoming deathbed.
"This isn't so bad..." he whispered quietly, content; "It's almost like... almost like I'm with..."
"Her?" Duo interjected, though not as harshly as he usually did when referring to Relena. Heero smiled wistfully.
"Yeah..." he confirmed ruefully, "I never felt this way with you before..."
"You never let your guard down this way before," Duo pointed out; "not with me, anyway."
"Yeah..." he whispered, sighing; "it's easier to let go when there isn't much left..."
"Must be," Duo agreed and Heero nestled closer to his warm, formless, presence, keeping his eyes closed so he won't have to look at the shadow-shrouded apparition he was clinging to in his final moments; he held onto the illusion instead.
Somewhere far away, someone was screaming. Quiet traces of tormented shrieks and pitiable whimpers echoed in the dark, rippling through the black void like waves. Heero knew that the screaming was his own pathetic howling; distant echoes from the physical world beyond this shelter of darkness. His body was still being tortured, but his soul was safe here... hiding. He closed his eyes, ignoring the distant screaming, and nuzzled deeper into Duo's warm embrace.
"This isn't such a bad way to go..." he murmured against Duo's lap, relishing in the intimate touch of soft long fingers ruffling his hair in slow and steady caresses; "As long as I don't wake up... this is okay... Just like... like going to sleep..."
"Yeah, guess it is."
"I did it back then too..." Heero murmured hazily; "disconnecting. I let them do whatever they wanted with me and just... cut myself off. I didn't dare thinking about you, though. Not while they were..."
"Yeah, I know," Duo whispered softly and held him even tighter. There was great comfort in his strong embrace. Heero wished he could stay held in his arms for all eternity.
"I wish I had more time to leave you a message too..." he sighed sadly; "There are so many things I left unsaid..."
"Yeah? And what would you have said if I had picked up the phone?"
The distant screaming was fading away. Heero opened his eyes. Looking ahead at the all-consuming darkness, he listened to the dim echoes gradually melt into a heavy silence. A disturbing stillness engulfed the black void around him. Even the sound of his heart was slowly fading; the beating that he was never consciously aware of was suddenly painfully amiss. Its absence made the silence ever more unsettling. His body was preparing for death. He didn't have much time.
*     *     *
A wooden step creaked under Duo's weight as he carefully placed his foot on it, stepping down a dark flight of stairs. He held the gun tightly in his outstretched hands, keeping his finger on the trigger as he made his way down into the basement. He treaded cautiously until he reached the bottom.
His eyes adjusted slowly to the darkness. He now stood in yet another dark corridor with a row of doors on each flank. A faint light was coming from the far end, pouring from a crack beneath one of the doors. Duo's eyes narrowed dangerously. His mind numbed, tuning out everything but that door. He was completely focused; his senses as heightened as a predator on the loose. He advanced stealthily towards the door, his weapon aimed, cocked and ready.
Something above him creaked silently and he halted, alert. His eyes darted to the ceiling. Footsteps; from the ground floor, he deduced. Shaw and the SWAT team have just entered the building. He didn't have time to retrace his steps and guide them towards the hidden service door he had found leading down to the basement. They will have to go through all nine stories as he had, because right now he had more important things to do. They were a quick and efficient team; they'll be here fast enough, for sure. He continued making his way carefully towards the door framed by a thin strip of light.
He stopped in front of the closed door, his fingers curling readily around his weapon. The dim light pouring from the crack at the bottom touched the tip of his black boots, illuminating dust and scratches. Shifting the gun into one hand, Duo placed the other slowly around the doorknob. He tested it carefully; it was unlocked. He opened the door... slowly; just a crack. Leaning silently into the room, weapon ready, he peeked inside.
He was looking into some kind of storage room, full of dusty old furniture and equipment. Mountains of it were piled up along the walls, more of it scattered in masses around the room. It was a maze of cardboard boxes, wooden crates, metallic file-cabinets and outdated medical machinery that looked as though it was taken out of an old Frankenstein horror film. A strong white light was coming from somewhere beyond a tall wall of crates.
Knowing that he was hidden, Duo opened the door fully. He entered.
The first thing he noticed was that the room reeked of vomit and urine. Secondly, he noted a low whirring sound filling the room. The white light flickered, shutting off for a few seconds. Narrow windows were lined-up along the room at ceiling-level; they were boarded-up, though pale blue moonlight shone through the cracks, enough to shed some light in the brief time it took for the strong white light to return. Duo slowly made his way around a large pile of crates, weapon aimed and prepped.
The light flickered on and off again.
"Damn it," someone hissed under his breath.
A switch was flipped and the whirring died out. The light steadied. Silence fell.
Someone moaned; a quiet, pained whimper.
Duo froze, his blood running cold.
Heero, he realized with visceral conviction and dread. His fists curled tightly around the gun. He resumed walking towards the light, attaching himself to the towering row of boxes and crates, merging into the shadows... death sneaking up from behind. He turned carefully behind a corner, aiming his pistol forward with two outstretched hands. His aim immediately fell on the back of Dr. Sloan's balding head.
The middle-aged man was standing with his back turned to Duo; the menace completely unbeknownst to him. He was fumbling with some kind of old device: a large rectangular-shaped machine with dials, knobs and meters. It stood on a rusty old cart, which shook as the man struggled to get it working again. Wires sprung out of the machine, falling to the floor and then climbing back up. Duo's eyes traced them, his gaze rising along the wires until it fell upon their final destination and his breath hitched in his throat, threatening to shatter his battle-ready concentration.
There, lying naked on what look like an old dentist's chair, was Heero. The wires were connected to his chest, forehead and temples using electrodes. Duo's eyes widened with shock and his mouth hung open as his eyes fell on the young man for the first time in eight years. He was horrified by what he saw: Heero's pale body was mottled with bloody cuts, most of them still bleeding. His skin was white and clammy, glistening with a thin sheen of sweat even though the room was very cold. He lay slack, lifeless, held down by leather straps stretched over his wrists and ankles. His fingers were set in odd angles; broken. His bare legs were propped up and spread open on a pair of stirrups, much like a woman on a gynecologist's chair. Leather straps around his ankles held his legs in place. There was an IV line running into his arm from a bag that hung to his left; it was full of pinkish clear liquid. Heero's head was lolled limply to the side, facing Duo. His eyes were closed and his bristly cheeks streaked with traces of tears. Blood sheeted down his unshaven chin. His lips were badly chapped and bloody.
Duo stood there and stared, completely aghast by the painful display of frailty. This was the first time he was looking at Heero in nearly a decade, and he wasn't seeing Heero at all... just a brittle husk lying in the hands of a madman: tortured, helpless and defiled.
Horror was replaced by anger. Irrational fury flooded Duo's mind. He saw red. His fist clenched tightly around the gun. His eyes quickly shifted back towards Sloan. He fixed his aim, ready to shoot the son-of-a-bitch in the back of his fucking head. The man was still facing the machine, his hands on the dials. Duo prepared to shoot. His finger began to squeeze the trigger...
"It was her he called in the end," Sloan suddenly said, catching Duo by surprise. His finger halted over the trigger, and he frowned. The doctor turned to face him slowly. He raised his hands up in a gesture of surrender, smirking. He was holding a small smartphone device – Heero's phone.
"You can check for yourself," he said, gesturing with the phone towards Duo. "The last outgoing call he made was to her... barley an hour ago. It was quite touching," he added smugly and lowered his hand, the one holding Heero's phone, so he could hand it over to Duo.
"He wanted to say goodbye, but she wasn't answering..." He nudged his hand towards Duo, encouraging him to take the phone.
"Put your hand back up – NOW!" Duo roared, securing his aim by using both arms. He held the gun pointed at Sloan's head, glaring wrathfully at the man.
"Don't take your anger out on me," the doctor droned slyly, snarling. "It's him you're angry with, isn't it?"
Duo's eyes darted back in Heero's direction, glancing at the tortured young man lying unconscious on the chair. He winced, unable to bear the painful sight. He turned back to Sloan.
"You must be very disappointed in him for choosing her again, aren't you?" Sloan goaded nastily.
"Shut da fuck up – now!" Duo warned, quickly shifting his glare back at Sloan. He stepped closer, fixing his aim. "No more fucking mind games," his hissed, pointing the gun squarely in the center of the man's receding hairline, and stepped even closer. "I'm done playing. Game over, mother-fucker–" he growled, standing right in Sloan's face. He shoved the barrel into the man's forehead, smirking darkly. "You're out," he hissed, poking the man's head with the gun. "I can't think of one good reason why I shouldn't play judge, jury and executioner right here, right now."
Dr. Sloan wasn't the slightest bit daunted by the intimidating darkness in Duo's eyes. The man was still grinning sneakily. "I can," he said, smirking proudly; "You want to know why he didn't choose you, why he never chose you, and I'm the only one who can tell you why."
"Da fuck you think I'd wanna hear it from you?" Duo growled furiously, gesturing wildly with his gun still pointed at Sloan's head. "I ain't playin' this game no more."
"Too bad. I did enjoy our little chats," Sloan said, smiling wistfully. "Speaking with the two of you has offered me great insight into Heero's psyche. You've completed missing pieces of the puzzle and confirmed many of my assumptions. I suppose I owe you a debt of gratitude. I now know enough to answer the question that has been bugging you for years. You said you wanted to know what makes him tick. I can tell you. I can tell you why he was never willing to choose you over her."
"If I'll wanna know, I'll ask him myself."
"No, you won't," Sloan countered, snarling haughtily in Duo's face; "Because while you're so busy playing macho here, you've failed to notice that Heero has stopped breathing... over a minute ago."
Duo gasped and whirled around to look at the chair. His mind raced, doing the math: if he went to check on Heero's vitals, Sloan will get away and he won't get the satisfaction of taking the bastard out before the SWAT team got him. But then, if he won't go check on Heero... he might die. Heero's life or Sloan's – that was a no brainer.
Duo launched at the chair, dropping his gun so he could check on Heero's vitals. He anxiously scanned his bloodied chest for visible chest-rise, and saw none. He hurried to check for a carotid pulse, pressing two fingers against Heero's neck and counting five seconds. It took him a total of ten seconds to confirm respiratory arrest and obvious cardiac distress.
"Dammit!" Duo hissed and whirled back around to look at the room. Sloan was already gone... and so was his gun.
"Fuck," he released under his breath turned back to Heero. The young man's lips and extremities were already turning blue. Duo wasted no more time. He climbed on top of Heero, straddling the young man's naked hips, and leaned forward to place both hands over the center of Heero's bloodied chest, pushing down hard. He began performing CPR.
*     *     *
Heero was aware of none of that. Lying safely hidden in darkness, curled against a warm body existing only in a dying man's dream, he stared blankly at the blackness all around him while Duo's long fingers ran gently through his hair.
"You kept asking me that question..." he whispered and closed his eyes resignedly; "...why I wanted you so much."
He felt Duo's hand waver slightly in mid-caress. He opened his eyes again, staring ahead at the nothingness that awaited him, and smiled sadly. He was making his final confession to darkness, nothing more, but at this point he didn't care. Things finally made sense; he could finally put mixed-emotions into proper words. Duo had to hear this... real or not.
"You'd ask it and I'd run away," he murmured dolefully; "But I didn't run because I wanted to be with her," he confessed and felt Duo's strong hand pet his hair again soothingly, giving him strength to keep talking.
"I knew exactly why I wanted her... it was so much easier to admit. The things she gave me, she... she made life bearable, but you... you made something more out of it. She taught me how to feel, but you taught me why. That burn I felt whenever I was with you... that... that fire you ignited inside of me... it kept me alive. You put substance behind each breath. You were the reason I inhaled air into my lungs... you... you made me want to live, and that's why I ran. I ran because I didn't want to want you as much as I did. I didn't want to live... I didn't think I deserved it... and wanting you meant wanting something I shouldn't have. It was easier going through life expecting death, but with you... with you I expected so much more... and it scared me. Loving you was... consuming, undeniable. You were the only kind of death I feared... the death that meant life.
"Because of you, I had a reason to keep breathing, but it was like there was no more air in my lungs... the fear was paralyzing. I didn't want to want you as much as I did and still, I... I loved loving you. I loved feeling so much for you. That burn... it was so real, so deep. It... It gave me hope. Loving you gave me hope and I... I was so afraid of hoping. Pain was something I could handle, but hope would have killed me... so I ran. I ran to her because she made sense... and I didn't feel obligated to live for her. She didn't need me... she wanted me, but she didn't need me. Not as much as I needed her. I needed to see myself through her eyes, but at some point I... I didn't like what I saw. I couldn't see the fire anymore... your fire, the one you put there... it was gone. It was gone and without it I... I didn't know why I was breathing anymore. Nothing felt real... I couldn't feel anymore.
"I wish... I wish you were real, Duo, so I could say these things to your face. I want to choose you this time, to choose life... a life with you. I thought I'd make it on my own, but I can't... and I don't want to run away anymore. I don't want to die here. I don't want him to kill me, but I'm... I'm all out of... everything. I... I can't fight anymore... I'm so tired of fighting for all those... for all those things people take for granted. I'm so sick of having to justify every breath I take, telling myself that it was worth the effort... it isn't. Not anymore. I brought a life into this world and... she died. The only good thing I've ever done was an accident and... and even she died.
"She died because she was mine... She never would have been in that room if she wasn't my child... She never would have died so young if she wasn't mine... I killed her... my own daughter... I killed her... I gave everything so she would live, and then I killed her. My gun... mine... it killed her. The same gun I wanted to kill myself with so many times... I left if lying around like I always did... planning on actually going through with it next time... only it killed her, not me. She killed herself with it because I was too much of a coward to go through with it... No one gets it. They don't get what it's like being me... and I'm... I'm just so... I'm so tired... tired of... of being... of being me... trying... trying to live instead of her... I'm tired of trying, Duo. I try to change but I don't know... I... I don't know who I'm trying to change into. I don't know why I should even bother... it won't bring her back. And no matter how much I do change... in the end I'm still... I'm still me. I'm still left with just... me. And the only one who makes it okay to be me... is you.
"I wish so much you were real, Duo. I wish you... I wish you'd come for me... Just this once, I wish you'd save me. I wish you'd choose life for me, choose me... make me important... make my life important, make it better... meaningful, because no one's ever... and I... I-I can't... I can't justify living anymore... not if it's living as just me... without her... without you. I don't mean anything without you... I need that fire... your fire, Duo... please... I-I need you... I need you to make me live... I need you to come and save what's left of me, so I can live...so that I can live where she couldn't... She was just like me... never loved enough, never cared for the way she should have been cared for... She will never love, never feel the things I've learned to feel... she will never get the chance to tell someone that she... that... that I... that I've always..."
He saw movement, and fell silent. Duo was leaning down from the Shadows. Heero stared, bemused. He could finally see his face, although not very clearly; it was just a vague face one sees in a dream, knowing who you're looking at but not really seeing any detail. Still, he recognized the long braid... and those eyes; that amazing cobalt-blue looking at him with burning intensity...
"Heero," Shadow-Duo whispered softly and Heero's eyes darted up to meet his. There was such warmth in those cobalt blue depths... such welcoming warmth... and it was getting closer. Duo was leaning in for a kiss. He stopped an inch from Heero's lips, smiling warmly. Heero gaped at him numbly. Duo smiled gently, leaning down even further.
"Open your eyes..." he whispered against Heero's lip, and then sealed them with a kiss.
*     *     *
Inhaling a sharp gulp of air, Duo leaned over Heero's face, pinched his nose and covered his bloody lips with his own. The taste of blood and tears assaulted his senses with a violent punch. His mind reeled as it absorbed the horrific nature and extent of the abuse he tasted on Heero's lifeless lips. He ignored the painful pang in his chest and began mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. He blew air into Heero's mouth and the young man's chest rose sharply. He did it again and quickly jerked back up to resume chest compressions, pumping Heero's chest in a fervent rhythm.
His lips and chin were smeared with Heero's blood. Sweat broke on his forehead; his messily chopped hair was sticking to his face, some spiky strands dripping sweat as they swung wildly back and forth with the momentum of each frantic compression. He counted thirty compressions and then dived back in for another round of respiratory aid. His lips nearly touched Heero's when he suddenly froze, eyes wide.
Heero was awake, looking up at him dully.
Duo gawked back, his mouth hanging open. His world narrowed down to Heero's eyes; they were all he could see.
Heero's expression was dreamy... far away. He blinked, once; a slow, sluggish movement of his eyelids. Suddenly Duo was drowning in an ocean of Prussian blue, pulled in by irresistible currents. There was awareness in those eyes; they were looking up at him in recognition. He watched, stunned stupid, as Heero's bloody lips curled up slowly. He smiled at him: just this sweet little smile... the first smile Duo has ever seen grace Heero's handsome face. He gaped at the uncanny sight, awed.
As gradually as it came, the smile vanished bit by bit. Heero's eyes fluttered shut again. His head slumped limply to the side as his face was once again expressionless. He exhaled once, and then his chest stilled.
Duo actually felt his own heart stop. Was that... goodbye?
"Shit no!" he exclaimed and hurried to check for a pulse again. He couldn't feel one. "Oh, come on!" he moaned; "You were just here! Heero... shit... you were just here!"
He jumped off the chair.
"You don't get to go out like this – you hear!" he shouted as he whirled around to face the machine connected to Heero. "Not you, not ever – got it?!" he continued as his eyes studied the machine hastily, shifting quickly across the different switches, meters and dials. One meter read from 0 to 250 volts.
"You don't get to smile at me – first smile ever! – and then just fade away like that!"
He turned the dial, setting the machine to its highest voltage output.
"That's sick... even for you, you sadistic fuck!"
He turned and yanked the wires connected to Heero's forehead, ripping the electrodes off. He threw them aside, leaving only the electrodes that were glued to Heero's bloody chest. He reached for the machine and flipped the 'on' switch. The small device whirred to life and the meter-needle jerked up towards the red zone: 250 volts. It was dangerously close to the bare minimum required for external defibrillation of an adult human heart, but it would have to do.
The light flickered. Heero's body jerked on the chair, arching upwards. Duo turned the machine off and ran over to Heero, checking for a pulse. His fingers trembled as he felt along the length of the carotid artery. He was shaking so hard that he couldn't feel anything! He forced himself to still and held his breath. He waited.
There was a pulse... faint and unsteady, but it was there.
The tears just burst out of him. He sobbed loudly, relieved.
"You son of a bitch!" he cussed, looking at Heero through tear-blurry eyes. He untied the leather straps holding Heero's wrists down, crying as he fumbled with the buckles.
"Did you really think I'd let you go down like this?" he mumbled, half-weeping, half-laughing, and turned to free Heero's ankles as well.
"Did you really think I'd stand by and let you die thinking you're alone and unloved?" he asked and freed Heero's feet from the stirrups. "You God damned son of a bitch... putting me through this shit... thinking I'd be okay seeing you like this... letting you go like this... leaving me with one last memory of you lying here, like this... convinced you don't deserve all the things I wanna give you... things I've always wanted to give, but you scared da shit outta me... so I didn't..."
He found a blanket lying on the floor; a coarse gray wool blanket that itched under his fingertips when he picked it up, and covered Heero's ice-cold body. The young man's breath was rugged and unsteady. He was breathing again, but not for long. Duo's eyes darted up towards the IV bag. He realized that Heero was still being fed with whatever was in it. He hurried to disconnect the IV line, yanking the needle out of Heero's arm and throwing the dripping tube onto the floor. A small pinkish puddle formed around it slowly.
He turned back to Heero, searching his chest for movement. He was still breathing, but barely. He gazed upon him miserably, feeling helpless. Heero's head was slouched to the side in unconsciousness; his expression oblivious. Duo reached a hand to caress his damp hair.
"You're so fucking beautiful, you know that?" he whispered, tears shining in his eyes; "Even like this... you are so Goddamn beautiful..." He picked Heero up carefully, scooping him off the chair, along with the blanket. He held Heero cradled in his arms, the blanket resting over his injured and nude body, and turned to walk out of the room. Heero's limbs dangled lifelessly to the floor, swinging with Duo's each step. His head sagged to the side, resting against Duo's chest. His breath was labored and erratic.
"Everything about you is just so beautiful..." Duo continued as he made his way through the maze of towering boxes, heading for the door. He kept his eyes front, retracing his steps back to the door.
"Whether you believe it or not... I don't care," he told Heero; "I see it... and I've always loved what I've seen in you... I still do. You don't deserve this. You don't... so I'm not gonna hold back anymore. I won't. I won't let you go on another minute thinking you're unloved, that you're undeserving of love... because that's not true."
He stopped, hugging Heero closer against him. He looked down at his oblivious face, smiling forlornly.
"You are loved," he whispered, and continued walking. "I love you. I always have. I never stopped. Not for one damn minute... so you just hold on, okay? You keep breathing, Heero, you hear? Keep breathing. I'll breathe for you if I haffta... I swear to God I will... I won't let you die here," Duo promised as he carried Heero out the door and into the dark hallway. He was tuned on the man's every breath; it came out in shallow and irregular gasps. He had no way of knowing if his words were getting through, but bargaining with death was the only thing he had left as he made his way back towards the stairwell at the end of the corridor, holding Heero's dying body in his arms.
"Pull through this and I'll show you just how much I love you... like I shoulda done in the first place," he said, tightening his hold around the frail and lifeless body lying slumped in his arms.
"I'll let you know just how beautiful your ugly is to me," he promised and bowed his head down to look at Heero again. "Let me prove that to you, Heero, please," he begged; "I'll show you. I'll show you... I'll give you all the love you deserve... You deserve so much love, Heero... so much love... I know I let you go thinking you ain't worth shit, but I was wrong... a stupid kid... vengeful and stupid. I shoulda never let you go... I shoulda never left you thinking that I didn't care... because I did... still do."
He reached the stairwell at the end of the hall. Shifting Heero in his arms to secure his hold around the young man, he climbed up, mindful of every step.
"I'll give you everything... anything... all the things you shoulda been given in the first place. You deserve so much... so much more than lying defeated like this... Please let me show you, Heero... please... I'll get it right this time, I promise. I won't fuck it up this time... I won't let you down ever again, so please... please... Oh God... please... Just this once... don't choose death... not unless it's me."
He stopped when he reached the top and lowered his gaze so he could look at Heero's unconscious face.
"I'll be your death..." he proclaimed, grimacing wretchedly; "Please, Heero... we can do this, okay?"
He shook him lightly, somehow hoping for a reaction. There was none. Heero lay lifelessly in his arms; body limp, eyes closed... as though already dead.
"We can do this, so... so just keep breathing," Duo urged him and resumed walking, heading down the hallway that would lead him out the building. "Just keep breathing... just... just keep breathing. Just breathe... that's all. Just breathe... and we'll work out the rest as we go along. I don't care that it was her you called her in the end. I get why you did... I get it now. She was all you had to rely on because I was too much of a jerk to let it show. But now I'm asking for a chance to be there for you too, so just... just gimme one last chance, okay? Keep breathing, Heero... you're almost outta here."
He stopped at the doorway leading out of the massive building. Police cars and emergency vehicles were parked just outside the gate; their colorful red and blue lights flashing in the night. Duo stood there for a moment, absorbing the scene. His face was pale with fear, his lips and chin covered in Heero's blood. He held Heero tightly against him, both his hands smeared with blood still dripping from Heero's many wounds, and closed his eyes in prayer.
"Please God... just this one fucking time..." he whispered, pleading, and then stepped off the couple of stairs leading out of Bellevue Psych.
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