Dawn of Light

Warnings: Yaoi, sex in a cemetery. Gracious amounts of implied and described death, but no guro. Weird writing style. Characters are over 18, no minor. No necro, all characters are alive when sex happens. Or close enough. Kind of OC, but it is only there for the first page, trust me.

Notes: Passages in italics are happening to different characters/in a different place than the rest of the story. (by now it should be obvious who is narrating them?)

The boy once known as Duo can only watch as the spirit he loves flickers, burning away.

All the power of the worlds above and below cannot save a spirit that has given up. Duo was forced to accept this fact after using the tremendous powers only he possessed, as Death himself, to no avail.

So he stands guard by the once soldier boy's side, neglecting his duties and hoping against hope that once what was wronged is set straight, the conscience of his companion will be free from the hell he built within.

The body that anchors the weakened soul steers, caught in the throes of yet another feverish dream. Duo looks at the tense features and smiles, because he knows that despite everything Heero is still in there, fighting for his right to exist.

---

Quatre likes Wufei. It is just so easy being around him, now even more so. And he can always count of him, a truth hammered in the fires of battle. In fact, Wufei letting him have all the fun for himself serves only as an added perk. Quatre wouldn’t have minded either way. After all he did miss the dark haired pilot dearly, in his own way.

All in all Quatre is happy as he makes his way through the corridors of the palace, his destination burning brighter and brighter in his mind’s eye. He shoots another guard mechanically before the man raises his weapon past his waist and he contemplates exchanging his piece for the heavier riffle, but his Glock 26 feels comfortable in his hand, the small gun fitting in his palm like the hand of an old friend. Five rounds to go –it will do-, and then his mind goes blank as he sprints towards his destination, shattering the door of the conference room.

He smiles at the commotion he causes. Two, three rounds and the three last guards are down. He locks the door from inside. Une is staring and he can’t really blame her.  “You didn’t honor our agreement”, he greets her; and he has to give this to her, she remains calm. So Quatre shoots her on the right shoulder and her left hand shots up to cup around the wound, an instinctive reaction of self-preservation, so innocent in nature that startles him.

He doesn’t feel any vindication or satisfaction, and suddenly it is not fun any more. He walks up to her, and she is following him with her eyes, her blood dripping on the floor, on the documents, on the proposed act of regulation of the colonies she was ready to pass. The blonde touches the documents, for some reason still printing on paper, and he can feel the pain and despair that the words within promise. Something steers up inside of him, and pressing the barrel against Une’s forehead he plants his last bullet in her brain, their eyes locked until the very end.

Wufei’s hand is on his wrist now, pulling his hand away from the crumbled documents. Quatre slowly realizes that he is not alone in the room, a half dozen of paper pushers crawling on the floor, a secretary yelling from under the table –not worth it, Wufei whispers. There are shouts coming from outside, guards regrouping somewhere in the distance and an annoying wet noise, as grey matter slides down Une’s military issue uniform. And he is tired, bone tired.

“Let’s go.” He likes Wufei, he really does.

Quatre drops the Glock, and before it hits the floor they are gone.