Descent of an Angel

A soft sigh emmited from the confines of the desk. Papers shifted and rustled as they were sorted through. He hated paper work, but when there wasn’t a field mission, he was stuck doing it. Opening the folder, he slid the neccissary papers into it. Closing it softly before he set it aside and opened another manilla folder, stuffing that one with papers as well. Dark blue eyes lifted from what he was doing, looking at his partners in the room with him. The other pilots, all three of them, were all considered the best, and only full team in the whole building that were always together. Heero was working on the paper work right now, sorting them, Quatra was checking the finances for their past mission, what he could roll over for their next mission. Trowa and Wufei were both poured over maps of different colonies, compairing them, looking for anything that could be considered as a whole in the whole system of the colony that they could use to help what ever colony they wished.

After the dissapearance of their fellow pilot and friend, Duo, they all became closer to eachother. Every Friday, Quatra and Trowa had the other two over for dinner, a movie and maybe a bit of remanicing over what they missed most about eachother. They’d become more of a family now than they’d ever been before. Wufei once told them that he thought their getting closer was because Duo wasn’t around to do anything to them, they didn’t have to be on the offensive or defensive, they could just be themselves. The other three knew the truth, Wufei did as well, but he never liked to admit it to anyone. Everyone missed Duo out of all the people that have gone on with their lives since the end of the war. They weren’t getting close because Duo wasn’t around to annoy them, they were getting closer because they were afraid one of the others would dissapear as well.

Quatra extended his space heart to the others, feeling their tiredness, boredom and little to no interest in what they were doing. He knew what emotion belonged to who by now, and he could sometimes pinpoint where that person is. He’d tried many, many times to get a read on Duo, but the other never seemed to have something to give back to him. He couldn’t feel him like he’d once been able to. He knew that the loud American was still alive somewhere, he just didn’t know where to looked, where to start, or even what he would be looking for when he started. He hoped that Duo was happy, he truly did.

Heero, on the other hand, was one of the four that wished that Duo would come back from where ever he was. He missed the braided pilot the most out of all of them. A few years after the slender male dissapeared, Heero realized the feelings he’d always felt around the other male weren’t ones of friendship, understanding, respect, or brotherly love. No, he was truly in love with the American boy, the self proclaimed Shinigami. He wanted him to be before him, so he could tell him how he felt for him, see what his reaction would be. He hoped his feelings were returned to him, maybe he could start a relationship with him. Shaking his head, chocolate bangs shifting as he tried to get rid of the thoughts of Duo, and the ache in his chest. He glanced at his calender and looked away, the ache returning only briefly. It’s been five years since Duo dissapeared, five long, agonizing, yearning years.

Trowa only ever worried about where Duo was and what he was doing when Quatra did. Sometimes, the small blond would make himself sick wondering what happened to the long haired male, and that would upset Trowa. He wanted Duo to be back with them, making fun of Wufei, helping Quatra pull pranks, making Trowa himself smile, even if he didn’t show it on the outside, and privately drooling over Heero. Trowa smiled a little as he remembered the last time he’d seen Duo and Heero in the same room together, somewhat alone. He’d been standing in the door way of a safe house, watching for a good fifteen minutes as Duo kept stealing glances at Heero while Heero stole glances at Duo, both missing eachother’s glance by miliseconds, neither of them saying a word until Duo noticed Trowa standing there and would start to talk at him. He missed that.

Wufei, despite everything he ever said, also severly missed the other piece to their little family. He would always make snide remarks, mostly to hide the hurt he felt that Duo would sever all ties with them. He considered the other to be one of his brothers, to be one of his most trusted people, and that wasn’t something he extended to just anyone in the world. He missed arguing with Duo, hearing his twisted logic and warped opinions on things, knowing that Duo was also listening to his own opinions just so he could rebuttle it. He missed sparing with Duo, he’d never beaten the American in a simple sparing match. It was like he was covered in grease or something, there was nothing to hold on to. He could slip out of any grip Wufei would have him in and slip up behind him. It was scary, it was thrilling, it was the most fun that he could ever remember having, and he missed it so much.

Their office door slid open silently, but not quiet enough for any of the highly trained ex-pilots to not hear it. All four of their heads picked up and swiveled around to face the woman that was now in the door way. Lucrezia Noin was one of the few females in the organization that were also apart of the war. The only other two were Sally Po, and Lady Une. Both of which were never in field work like Noin was. Une prefered her place as the head, while Sally lived her life out of the hospital portion of the building. She was often on missions with Zechs to Mars, the Moon or other portions of space looking for more resources and areas to colonize, so seeing her here meant that the four of them were going to be sent into another mission.

“The Lady would like to see you.” Noin said, a smile on her face, sarcasm in her voice before she dissapeared down the halls.

It was a running joke in the whole building to call Lady Une The Lady. Since her first name was Lady, and she was sometimes anything but a lady to her lackies, often taking them and throwing them out of her office with her bare hands. Heero had seen her do it once to an idiot rookie that had gotten the only other team Heero’d been on besides the pilots killed. Fifteen men went into a building with Heero and this rookie, meaning to only arrest seven people, and hold down the building until the rest of the Preventers got there. A half an hour later, seven of the men were dead, the rookie was crouched in a corner, rocking and sobbing, his gun laied abandoned beside him. Heero had to save him countless times while the other cowered. In the end, it was the rookie’s fault that they were ambushed like they were. He messed up the timing on the paper work, so instead of seven men in the building, there was all but two of the whole gang in there, fully armed and not too happy about being surprised.

Heero shook his head, snapping out of his stuppor as the other got to their feet and were filing out of the room. He set aside the folder he’d been working on then started for the door as well, making sure to turn off the light and close it behind him with a faint click.

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A month later found Heero perched in a window that was apart of the buildings across from the supposed headquarters. He wrote down the last bit of notes he’d witnessed from the day. The place seemed to be more of a hang out for the lackies of the organization. He mostly ever saw one man go in and out of the building almost every day around two in the after noon. He would be there for two hours, then he would leave. He looked to be a business man to Heero. He was always wearing a suit, a tie, and a white shirt. A monkey suit. His shoes looked to be always polished and made perfect, his hair slicked back into place with some sort of gel or something.

He would come and go every day at the same time, every day leave with the same exasperated look on his face and dissapear into a black Jaguar and tear down the street like someone would be shooting him at any moment in time. After that, the place would be still for four hours before a large, bulky looking man would stumble out of the place and dissapear down the street for an hour, returning with bags of take out enough for atleast twenty people.

Wufei confrimed by the first week that there were atleast seventeen people inside the building at one point, all doing something else. They were a mixed group of big, stupid men that were most likely the musceals, a few people that would be working on computers, and some wise guys sitting around playing poker at the table on the second floor. He confirmed the comings and goings of the man in the suit, but what he did, Wufei couldn’t tell, and Trowa had never seen the man do anything but come in and then leave.

Wufei tried to follow him a couple times. He followed him through the place and down a flight of stairs into a lower level. He would see the man sit in a chair in the dark for a good hour before he would get up as if to leave. Wufei would scamper out of there before he was caught. Another hour later, the man hadn’t resurfaced from the depts of the ‘basement’. When Wufei got up the time to go check, he would come back up, a flustered look on his face and leave until the next day, the process repeating.

Heero closed his notebook and climbed out of the window, he shone a light into the window he knew Wufei would be in, signaling him that it was time to go for good. They’ve had no contact save for the occasional disposable cellphone call in the whole month, even then it would be just telling information then getting off before someone would notice him talking about something he wasn’t suppose to.

Heero moved down the street, keeping himself hidden before he met up with Quatra, disguesed as a little begger man on the courner. The blond removed his black hat, shaking out his dirty hair and flicked the trenchcoat he was wearing out a little. Another fifteen minutes lapsed and two men headed for them. One was tall, red hair, very pale skin, the other slightly shorter, blonde hair and dark skin, the disguises that Trowa and Wufei had taken up looked like something out of an old mobster movie, but it didn’t give them away.

“We done?” Wufei asked hotly, looking rather annoied.

“Yes. All we have to do now is tell Lady this information and we can go into the place in a week.” Quatra said, taking the recorder that Trowa had been carrying around from him.

“Thank Nataku.” Wufei snarled before the four of them turned and left.

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Dark… It was so dark again. Why was it always so dark? He closed his eyes, it was dark, he opened his eyes, it was still dark. Why did it have to be dark?

'Maybe the light went out again?'

“No… They changed it the last time. It can’t go out… how long has it been since the bulb was changed?” a soft, tired voice rasped in the darkness to itself, and disturbingly enough, it answered itself.

'We’ve gone to sleep atleast twenty four times since they came in to change the bulb…'

“Then the light’s fine… They’ve turned it off again…”

'Oh… Did they get your arm again, kiddo?'

“No… I’m okay this time. I can’t feel my leg again, though… is that my leg? I can’t tell anymore…”

'Don’t worry. We’ll be out of here soon.'

“How long have you been telling me that? I can’t wait anymore. I’m so tired of waiting, it’s been so long… No one’s coming for us, Solo…”

'Not yet, kiddo. But they will. Your friends will be here any second now to rescue us.'

“I don’t think so, Sol…” the tired voice answered before the lightbulb flicked on.

His eyes slammed shut, raising his arm to block out the light that now assaulted his vision. The light. He hated it. It was going to be what killed him one of these days, he knew it, he wished for it. How often had he wished for the end? He couldn’t remember. He couldn’t even begin to tell. His body shook as he waited.

He ‘felt’ a hand slide over his and he gave it a squeeze.

'You’ll be okay, Kid. We’ve lasted this long, we can get through one more day. Remember what I always say. JFT, Just for Today.'

“What if I don’t want to do it anymore, Sol? Maybe, this time, I want them to kill me… They were so close last time… so close… I was almost there, almost free…”

'You aren’t meant to come home yet, kiddo. You will, one day, just not yet. You have to keep believing that. You have to.'

“… No… I don’t.” Duo rasped out, wincing as he heard the scraping of the floor as the door was pushed open.

He closed his eyes, willing the shaking of his body to go away, so he could atleast die like a man, but he knew that no matter if he shook or not, there was no dying like a man anymore. There was just dying, or living to be in hell another day. His body ached and screamed at him, he wanted it to be over so bad. Either they actually leave him alone, or would just end it for him, why couldn’t it end? Why did they taunt him like this?

'Just for Today, kid. I’ll see you in an hour.'

“Don’t leave me alone... Please, Solo, don’t leave me alone.” He begged softly, his voice hitching and trembling with supressed sobs.

There was no answer. There wouldn’t be another answer for the hour that Solo told him he would be back in. He forced himself not to make a sound yet, even though he wanted to just start sobbing and get it over with. His fists clenched painfully, he opened his eyes to look at the ground. He looked down at his bare, dirty feet, watching them twitch and shake the excess anxiety that his body couldn’t contain on its own.

He barely noticed the shadow cast over himself before the voice started up, like it did every time the light came on.

“Ready?” the voice asked, like it always did, like it always will.

His fate rested in his answer. He could save himself the pain and answer how the voice asked, or be like it’s been every day for he could only guess for how long, and the pain would ensue once more. His body shook and his head started to scream at him.

Tell him! Give him what he wants! Please, no more! I’ll do anything you want, anything at all, just… no more, please…

Those sounded like good words to use right now. He didn’t have any pride left, so he opened his mouth and…

“Fuck you…” he heard himself hiss at the man.

His stomach dropped out of his body and onto the floor, he was sure of it. His blood ran cold, his head screamed in agony already, his body wracked itself with new sobs. He trembled and jerked as he sobbed, hands holding onto the old cot for dear life as he heard the familiar suffering sigh.

“I’m sorry to hear that is your answer, Mr. Maxwell… You see… that patients I told you that The Lord has…” he started, pausing as if looking for the righ words, “See… it’s finally run out.”

Duo wanted to flinch, wanted to fight back, but he was too far gone. He lifted his head as he heard the click. He was face to face with the barrel of a gun.

.45 caliber pistol. Chrome finish, stainless steal handle, hair trigger guard, point zero four two five reaction time…

He winced at the information his brain automaticaly spat out. He lifted his eyes to the man before him again, he was silohetted in the light, maring the ugly face he’d come to loath in his time here. He watched the finger move from the trigger guard to the trigger and start to pull, but his eyes never wavered from the man who’s name he never knew or would know’s face. His poor brain, so confussed and muddled…

To it, the man’s features warped and changed, giving away and then reforming. A brownish gold hat now sat on his head, a dark brown strap going around it, holding the golden seal on it, glinting off the light bulb. It sat atop of a mop of chocolate, tassled hair that fell into blue, scowling eyes. His face set into a mask of nothing as he pointed the glock at him.

“… Heero…” he whispered softly, “Come to kill me have you?”

His brain rattled through the old memory, spouting out anything it could to keep itself alive, anything to keep itself from becoming mush.

“I knew you would be the one to kill me…” he whispered, closing his eyes again, blocking out the image.

He listened to the sound of the metal scraping against metal as the piston pulled back, anticipating it, but nothing happened. Like before, he opened his eyes and looked up at the vision of his formed fellow pilot.

“Hey, you’re really going to do it, aren’t yo-?”

BANG!