Cold, isn’t it?
“Duo?” Heero opened his eyes slowly. There was no bright light or darkness; he was surrounded by something resembling a fog, a grey fog. No black or white, just...bland grey, as far as he could see. It was cold indeed, a numbing cold. He wrapped his arms around himself, vaguely noticing that he wasn’t wearing any clothes. Strange, how he was somewhere and nowhere at the same time.
“Where am I..?”
Did he say that out loud, or had he just thought it? No sound reached his ears, yet he was quite certain he had moved his lips. He wasn’t shivering, despite the cold - he pinched himself in the upper arm, but he didn’t feel any pain. His skin was just as pale as Shinigami-Duo’s had been; it was almost translucent. It scared him.
It bothered him that he couldn’t determine his whereabouts. Heero was very precise, and it confused and angered him that he didn’t know where he was, why he could see nothing but this grey…sea of nothingness. There was always a way out, there had to be - he had been with Duo in many dangerous situations before, and they had always found a way out. Always.
Empty, isn’t it?
“Who’s talking?” Heero barked and was taken aback by the weird, echoing volume of his own voice. He looked from the left to the right, but there was no one around him; no one, nothing, nothing at all. He amazed himself that he wasn’t panicking. He turned around to see if anyone was there, but he accepted fairly calmly that he was all alone in this strange fog, this macabre world of nothingness.
“Yes, it is,” he spoke again, this time his voice much lower. Maybe he could draw out the one who had spoken? “If you would show yourself, it wouldn’t be so empty.”
A soft chuckle. Someone was laughing at him! Heero didn’t waste his energy by looking around once more. He was starting to get painfully aware that he was naked. His pale skin, the cold, the bland environment, it was getting to him.
“You’re very calm for someone to be in this place,” the same voice spoke and Heero recognized him - of course, how could it not be? Shinigami stood in front of him as mysterious and fast as he had moved before. Heero felt his hopes falter. This was Shinigami. This was the God of the Death with the face of his beloved, and he was so beautiful. Despite the black lips, the deep, soulless eyes and the pale skin, he was beautiful with his long hair unraveled, framing his heart-shaped face, the dark wings protruding from his back flowing and folding around him protectively. The scythe he was holding didn’t emit that green light in this strange place, but showed dark colors instead. Some kind of liquid seemed to run off the blade, a small droplet of - he steered his thoughts quickly away from it.
“Usually, the recently deceased are welcomed by those who went ahead of them,” Shinigami spoke. His scythe also seemed to have shrunk in size, but it was still an impressive height. The large robes he was wearing were decorated at the edges with dark maroon and burgundy red patterns of unknown craftsmanship, giving him the allure of a high priest. A deadly high priest.
“Wh-what do you mean?” Heero asked. His heart turned cold.
“They are welcomed by their family or loved ones to guide them to their final destination. I could not find anyone to welcome you here, Heero Yuy. That must be very, very, lonely.”
“I’m sorry,” Heero stammered. Shinigami raised his eyebrows.
“You’re sorry for what, exactly?”
“I don’t know,” he whispered. “If there was someone…” He had never known his real parents, and as far as he knew, his adoptive father was still alive. Odin Lowe had passed on his love for history and archaeology to him, and had worked hard to pay for his education. Heero visited the man once in a while, as they didn’t have a very intense father-son contact; however, he was sure that in case of Lowe’s passing, he would’ve known.
The God of Death shifted his stance, leaning casually on his scythe. His robes flowed and were lifted by something invisible, a wind that surrounded him only. It was Duo’s body, it was Duo’s face, yet it was not. It was confusing and painful to see. Heero couldn’t deny his beauty and kept staring at him. I can’t be dead…I have to find Duo. Please.. don’t let it be that way…
“Shinigami,” Heero said, voice slightly wavering.
“Yes?”
“You granted passage to Khushrenada and Merquise,” he said, standing straight, showing his usual confidence. “I ask for passage for my friend, too. Please let Duo go. You can take my body instead.”
He tilted his head like a curious child, and for the first time, the God of Death showed a real, albeit wistful smile.
“I miss my Inochigami,” he said. “Why should I leave the body that has foolishly assembled my scythe? Now I can look for my beloved, and you ask of me to give it up?”
“No,” Heero shook his head. “I ask you to take my body instead. You can search for your Inochigami all that you want, but please let Duo go.”
“You are in the realm of the dead,” Shinigami said, and this time his smile turned cruel. “I have no business with your body. You cannot fool me, though I commend your passion to save your friend.”
Realm of the dead. Heero moved his hands up to his chest, and touched his skin. Even though he couldn’t feel the pain, he felt cold liquid drip over his fingers. Blood. He was bleeding from a gash in his chest. Where the scythe had…cut him.
“No,” he whispered. “I…can’t be dead.”
“In some cultures, it was a real honor to see the God of Death in person,” Shinigami said, his eyes traveling to the gaping wound on Heero’s chest back to his face again. “They welcomed my embrace and my kiss, and would fight to be in my arms when their moment was near.”
“I want Duo to be alive,” Heero said and blinked. He was crying. Why wasn’t he feeling the pain, why didn’t he feel the heat of his tears? He was aware of them, of the salty streak on his cheeks, just as he was aware of his blood, tainting his fingers. “He doesn’t deserve to die.”
“He awoke me when he reassembled the scythe. He started the Never-Ending Circle again, but failed to reunite Death with Life. So there will be only Death.”
“Would you listen to me if I told you about the Never-Ending Circle and how it was uncovered?”
Shinigami looked up, pensively, but didn’t respond.
“Would you listen to me if I told you we tried to keep it away from people who wanted to do harm with it?”
“The one you call Duo found it and reassembled it. His anger and sadness summoned me.”
“Sadness,” Heero repeated. “Solo.”
“His brother welcomed him,” Shinigami nodded.
He was running out of words. He was running out of options. He was running out of…life. Heero wasn’t sure what to say, what to do. If he was truly dead, why was Shinigami talking to him? To honor him with his presence, before finally whisking him away, to a destination unknown? If he was really dead…
“I promised I would find Duo, and I found you,” he said, a bitter tone to his voice. “You are Duo, you’re using his body. I won’t go anywhere until I have Duo back. That’s a promise too, Shinigami.”
“Like I said before, you humans are amusing.” There was no amusement in the God’s voice, he looked tired and annoyed. “I broke my scythe out of frustration because you humans started slaying each other and reveled in the power of taking lives, of tasting blood. The dignity of death and helping the souls to cross over was brutally taken away from me. My power was gone; my reason to exist was gone.”
“I understand your anger,” Heero said. Anger. ‘His anger and sadness summoned me’. “You responded to Duo because he was feeling anger too?”
Shinigami pursed his lips, as if he had given away too much information. He shifted his grip on the staff of the scythe.
“Everyone feels anger. Even you, Heero Yuy. You are mad at me because I am here, not your Duo - but it was you who invited me in.”
“If it takes my life to get Duo back, then I would invite you again and again.”
“You would lose your life, but your Duo would live. You would gain nothing.”
“I made mistakes. I wasn’t there the moment he needed me the most. Solo… when he died, I couldn’t be there to comfort Duo…”
“You are crying,” Shinigami said, interrupting him. He moved his hand, lifting it up, long, slender fingers pointing at the tears glistening on Heero’s check. “Why?”
“I guess I’m scared,” Heero said. There was no need to hold back for the God. Why should he lie or cover up, knowing that he was already dead? He wanted to fight for Duo, to secure his life…what happened to his own, wasn’t important.
“Why could you not be my Inochigami,” the God answered, and he sounded defeated. He was breathtakingly beautiful and terrifying because of what he was, but at this moment, Heero was convinced the God was almost human. Shinigami was simply longing for the one he had shared his entire life with.
“I can be your Inochigami,” Heero said, and left his most obvious thought unspoken, but he knew the God knew. As long as you let Duo go.
“We parted, my Inochigami and me,” Shinigami said and he chuckled again, albeit humorless. “My temper got the best of us, just like the one you keep calling Duo. Temper temper humans, for the Gods can be volatile and violent as well. I am old, young one, and I have a task at hand that needs fulfilling.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Do you pity the God of Death?”
“No. I feel sorry for your loss, and for my loss. I wish I could see Duo again and hold him.”
“You love him.”
“I absolutely do.”
“My loss,” Shinigami repeated, softly.
“You should rest, Shinigami,” Heero said. “This world is not for you. Go back to sleep, and when you wake up, you will find the one you love.”
Shinigami showed the same, wistful smile again. “Maybe. I will find him, one day, no matter what day. I will always find him, even if this world is not meant for me, or for him.”
Silence. Heero wiped at his tears, relieved that no fresh ones had fallen; he felt embarrassed to cry in front of Shinigami, though he was sure the God couldn’t care less. He tried to wipe at the blood on his chest, but it didn’t disappear. The cold and the stress of the moment were getting to him, and his knees buckled.
Shinigami took a step forward and his hand with the scythe shifted, the impressive blade lunging menacingly towards him. Heero took in a deep gust of breath. This was it. This was really, really it. Duo. I have done what I could…He closed his eyes.
Something pressed against his body. Something cold, and rough, and he could feel its weight. The silence compelled him to open his eyes again - he didn’t understand what was going on. Shinigami stood so close to him that their lips could touch; Heero was so shocked that he even didn’t take a step back. Almost instinctively, he lifted up his arms; not to embrace the God, but the scythe that was pressed against his chest. Dark, depthless eyes searched out his own.
“If you can find your Duo before I find my Inochigami, all will be restored.” He didn’t show any emotion, and pressed the scythe even tighter into Heero’s arms. “As soon as you find him, have him break the scythe. I will return to sleep, until the next fool reassembles it again.”
The God faded slowly away in front of him; he hadn’t touched Heero.
“Wait! How can I ever find him?” He cried out.
Shinigami didn’t answer, but simply disappeared from view. Heero’s knees buckled under the weight of the scythe, and he gritted his teeth. He had to find him. He had to find Duo. Why had Shinigami given him this chance? Why…why?
How was he moving? He couldn’t see his feet. He didn’t even know if he was walking. He had to stay calm and look for Duo, and find him. Heero clenched the staff, his fingers scratched by the rough wood.
I will find you. I promised.
How could he find Duo? Inochigami. The God of Life. And what if Shinigami found his Inochigami, all would be lost after all…it couldn’t be! It was so cold, everything was so numb and bland, and he couldn’t see if he was making any progress. He played Shinigami’s words over and over in his mind again, but he couldn’t pick it apart, couldn’t find any clues hidden in what the God had told him. Why was he still here? Was Shinigami really planning to leave him out here, struggling, forever searching for Duo? What about the outside world? What about his body?
“I am alive,” he muttered, “I have to be alive!” He widened his eyes.
His fingers were scratched by the rough wood of the scythe’s staff; splinters embedded in his skin. He could feel it. It started to dawn to him, and he almost wanted to laugh as he realized that Shinigami had spoken the entire truth. The God of Death took only the lives of those who had forsaken their right to live. Murderers. Killers. The Guardian had killed Quinze because he was Winner’s murderer, and he had spared Khushrenada - for all that the man was, lying, manipulating, he had never pulled a trigger. The God and his Guardian had saved his life - and so would his life be spared. Shinigami had never referred to him as a dead man, only told him that he was in the realm of the dead - he and Duo were both alive, somewhere, somehow, and he was going to find him!
He walked on, even if there was no clear direction he went into. The fog was the same everywhere, the bland grayness that nowhere seemed to start and nowhere seemed to stop. The thought of saving Duo was all that was keeping him upright, was all that kept him going. He had to find his own Inochigami…Duo was his life, his source of life. Warmth. A little bit of warmth, every time he thought of Duo. He looked up again, in the hope to see him; but once again, there was no one around. This was cruel, this was torture! The cold, the heavy scythe.. how much longer could he go on..? He groaned. He was strong, but there was a limit to his strength.
He stood still, all but panting. How could Shinigami handle his scythe as if it weighed nothing? He was about to get crushed under its weight, and the artifact had been so small when they had found it. Duo’s anger and sadness…Solo. The death of his brother had really changed him, and if he only had been there to console him… Heero looked up, frowning as he suddenly saw something in the fog. His heart raced. Duo?
Could he… was that… what was it, that he saw in the bland mist? Some kind of color, violet color, blue-ish color… the color of Duo’s eyes. Heero reached for it, but his hand touched nothing but air. The color seemed to drift away from him and he wanted to cry out in frustration. Forcing himself to pick up the pace, he all but dragged the scythe with him, chasing the strange wisp of indigo.
“Don’t leave me,” he moaned as the color slightly faded, absorbed by the grey all around it. He thought he heard a soft chuckle again, and assumed his mind was playing tricks on him - how could he not go stark raving mad in a place like this? Had Shinigami come back to taunt him? He wheezed from the exertion, as he had broken out into a firm jog, all the while dragging the heavy scythe behind him. His eyes were focused on the color, definitely the color of Duo’s eyes, and he felt warmth. Yes, yes, this was the right direction! He had to catch his breath and halted for a moment, only a moment. The color intensified, just a little, and Heero could clearly make out the shape; pupil-less eyes, but eyes nonetheless. Not as big as Duo’s, he had always teased Duo with his wide, beautifully large eyes. These were smaller, and just as familiar…
“Solo,” Heero said. He had deeply cared for the older Maxwell brother, and had truly enjoyed going on expeditions with him. He wasn’t a witness to his actual drowning, but had been there when his lifeless body had been retrieved from the shore. “Solo, you’re guiding me..?”
He had to be hallucinating, because he could hear that soft chuckle again. He was driven mad!
“Stop torturing me!” He cried out. “Show yourself, or else help me to find Duo!”
Silence was his only answer, and to make matters worse, the purplish color faded more. Heero bit his lip, cursing himself mentally for snapping. This was the realm of the dead, not the real world, and what was completely strange to him here, was completely normal to this realm…probably. There were new rules he had to abide; he had to find Duo, and if it would take him to follow a vague color, shaped like the eyes of someone he knew, then he would do so.
“Please forgive me,” he whispered, “Solo, please, help me.”
There was no chuckle this time, and the grey fog had almost claimed the color again, assimilating it as if it were an enemy. Heero walked again, into the direction of the disappearing color, and tried to follow it. Was he still holding onto the scythe? There was a weight in his hands, but he couldn’t feel it. Had he lost it on his way? Was he insane? This fog, this nothingness, this grey, it was mind-blowing insane. He narrowed his eyes. The color was gone, but something black was luring in the mist. Was it solid? Was it Shinigami? No, warmth, warmth, he was definitely feeling warmth - Inochigami, life - and he cried out in triumph.
Found you.
“Don’t touch me, Heero. If you touch me, you’re dead!”
Heero collapsed, the scythe slipping from his fingers and the Never-Ending Circle fell onto the floor, or what a floor was in this fog, as he could hear the blade screeching as it touched the floor - at least something.
“Solo was here,” he breathed, “he guided me to you.”
“Yeah, I saw him too.” Duo looked downtrodden. He was anxious to touch Heero, it showed all over him, but he kept himself at a distance. This was him, this was truly Duo.. he had found him before Shinigami had found his Inochigami. He still looked pale, sickly pale, and his eyes… Gods, his beautiful eyes were widened in horror and disbelief.
“Oh fuck, oh Christ, Heero, your chest. What happened? What.. what are you doing here? You should have fled the kingdom a long time by now!”
“I couldn’t leave without you,” Heero answered dryly, but he couldn’t keep from smiling. Duo was naked just as he was, but there was nothing erotic about their bodies here - more so, they looked like pale, limbless blobs from the waist down. Duo’s body was intact; Heero didn’t dare to look down at his own chest. He could still feel his blood on his fingers.
“You can’t get me away from here,” Duo said. “This is the realm of the dead. Solo told me. We’re dead, and Shinigami is unleashed…it’s my entire fault.”
“No, it’s not.” Heero wanted to get up again, but found he couldn’t. Funny, his body felt like it weighed a ton. He couldn’t even see his own feet and still it felt like they were clumps of massive lead, instead of skin and bones. “You were forced to reassemble the Never-Ending Circle, and you started the cycle all over again…but we failed to find Shinigami’s counterpart, and now the whole situation is out of balance.”
“I could always trust you to analyze the predicament we’re in, into perfection,” Duo answered sourly. “Heero, I want to kiss and hug the ever-loving he…heaven out of you, but I can’t touch you. If you touch me, you’re dead.”
“We’re not dead,” Heero said. “Who told you that you were dead? Shinigami?”
“Solo was here,” Duo explained. “He said that if I touched him, I was dead.”
“Because Solo is truly dead,” Heero said, sullenly. “I’m sorry, Duo. I shouldn’t have said that. Listen to me. We have to break the scythe and all will be restored.”
“Heero…”
“Just listen to me, Duo. Break it, destroy it, take it apart, whatever it takes!”
They were a team. They had been a team, and whenever the need called for it, they fell back into the patterns that were established when they explored and uncovered artifacts together - Heero the analyzing one, Duo the flying-by-the-seat-of-his-pants one. They had mutual respect for each other, for their knowledge, their quick thinking, their abilities to bring everything to a good end, no matter what the odds. They had trusted each other in the most stressful of times - and being in the realm of the dead was more than stressful. It was draining, and Heero knew he was losing a battle if they didn’t react quick; he couldn’t even get up anymore, and perhaps Duo wasn’t noticing it, but he himself looked more and more ghostly and withering by the minute.
Duo grabbed the scythe, groaning as he was surprised by its weight. He pulled the staff towards him, the blade dragging behind it, like nails on a chalk board. They both shivered. Lifting the scythe upright, Duo grabbed the blade and tried to wedge it out of the staff.
“It’s massively stuck!”
“Break it,” Heero tried to encourage him. His voice was failing him. No, not now. This environment was assimilating them, just as it had done with the color of Solo’s eyes, the last attempt to bring them together. They couldn’t stay here forever, they would die for real, Heero was sure of it. Fear and panic was getting to the both of them; Duo’s body turned even more formless and ghostly, and Heero noticed all of his senses were faltering; his vision was getting blurred, his ears were clogging up, his tongue was swelling up.
“We’re going to die forever!” Duo exclaimed as he tried everything he could to break the artifact again.
“We can’t die. Shinigami needs your body, and I’m not a murderer,” Heero wanted to tell him, even though it made sense only in his mind.
“Of course you’re not a murderer. What are you talking about? Fucking fuck stupid fucking scythe! That’s the last time I’m ever going to take another commission! Fuck!”
Heero couldn’t speak anymore, and his eyes were drooping. His lips were curled in a smile. Despite everything, he felt grateful. If this was his moment, then he wanted to spend it with Duo. They had faced death many times before, and it had finally taken its toll on Solo. They had managed to survive all those times, but now this was the final stand, wasn’t it? Humans were amusing. Their bodies couldn’t withstand the realm of the dead.
“Leave the fucking scythe,” he wanted to say, trusting Duo to pick up on his thoughts again. “I want to hold you.”
Duo looked at him. He didn’t mention the ‘don’t touch me or you’re dead’ line again. His face was untouched; the outlines were still visible, his large eyes brimming with sadness and acceptance…and his usual defiance. A lopsided grin showed on his face, as he understood. Final moments, and finally together.
He all but threw himself on top of Heero, his formless body not feeling any impact of the weight. Scythe still in hand, Duo touched Heero wherever he could. He moved his free arm under Heero’s, not caring that the blood stained his own skin. Heero moved up his own arm, wrapping it around Duo’s shoulders, pulling him close with the last of his strength.
“Drop the scythe,” it was barely a whisper, “it doesn’t suit you.”
Duo dropped the scythe at the same moment they kissed. It slipped slowly from his fingers, as if he couldn’t let it go. Their lips, burning with desire, panic, love and fear, sought each other out and they kissed, they touched, holding each other in passion and despair. The grey fog was thickening, slithering tendrils reaching for the both of them. Bodies, minds, souls.. it fleeted away, out of their reach, colors fading, awareness ceasing to exist.
The Never-Ending Circle hit the floor and shattered into a million pieces.
-----------------------------
“Yuy! Wake up! You idiot! Selfish bastard! Wake up!”
As long as he had known Wufei, his friend had never called him names, never uttered a word of profanity, and virtually never showed any trace of panic. To hear his voice all but screaming into his ear was funny, hilarious in a sick way, because he also knew that there had to be something terribly wrong if Chang Wufei of all people was in panic.
Oh yeah. I died, didn’t I? It was a godsend that his mind was working at its usual speed. He realized what was going on immediately; he was lying on the ground, a weak sun caressing his skin, and there was an uncomfortable tightness around his chest. He felt weak, tired, but he was breathing, he was registering the sounds and movements around him, even though he couldn’t open his eyes. He was alive. Yes, he was very certain he was alive. A shiver ran through him, and he moved his arm.
“Yuy! You are awake!”
A sudden slap to his face forced him snap open his eyes, shock and disbelief visible.
“What the hell are you doing?” He growled.
Wufei heaved a sigh of relief. His clothes were soaked in blood, his tank top completely drenched, and there were smears all over his pants.
“Stay down, you have lost a lot of blood. Thank whatever deity that your Land Rover was stocked with an extremely well supplied first aid kit, I have used up every bit of gauze.”
The wound on his chest. Heero grimaced. How bad was it? He wanted to touch the bandages and take them off, to see for himself - but the memories of the realm of the dead flashed in front of his eyes, and the memory of his blood, ice cold, dripping from his fingers. He shivered again.
“I am sorry, but I had to move you. The statue suddenly came crashing down, and I was afraid the debris was going to hit you.”
“Statue?”
“The Guardian,” Wufei said.
“How long was I away?”
“Away? You have been here all the time, Yuy. You just opened your arms for the God of Death and he sliced right at you. It is a miracle that you only suffered a wound to the chest - I was convinced that he was going to cut you in half!”
“Duo,” Heero coughed.
Wufei nodded, a strange stony expression on his face. “Maxwell is right over there.”
A feeling of utter bliss descended upon Heero, and he smiled, relief and gratitude washing over him. They had made it out alive! Wufei didn’t share his excitement, and as Heero moved his head around, searching for Duo, his friend put his hand on his shoulder. He shook his head.
“What?” Heero asked, annoyed. He hated that he was so vulnerable, so dependent. His body had taken quite the injury, he was fully aware of it, and the loss of blood made him weak and light-headed.
“I am sorry,” Wufei said.
“Help me up,” Heero snarled at him. He tried to get up, making wild movements with his arms. He wanted to get up as quick as possible.
“Yuy, take it easy! Your chest…”
“Help me up!”
Wufei tsk-ed, but obeyed the harsh command and supported Heero. It took them four tries as Heero’s legs refused to obey him, and he had to muster up all of his remaining energy and effort to stand up straight. Panting and wheezing, he turned with the help of Wufei to the left, only to see a body lying on the ground, covered with a grey blanket.
“I found him behind the rubble of the statue,” Wufei explained. “He was not breathing, Yuy. I am sorry that he did not make it.”
“Duo…” Heero wrestled himself free of Wufei’s grip and his friend let him go, knowing that it was of no use to try to stop him. Shuffling and dragging his feet, struggling to take one step after another, Heero made his way over to the covered body. “Duo!”
The bandages chafed his skin and his wound tore open again, but he couldn’t care less. Heero sank to his knees, hands gripping the blanket and with his last strength, he pulled the fabric away. It was Duo, and his eyes were closed. His skin was a ghastly pale, strands of hair plastered to his face, his right arm bend at an unnatural angle, fingers spread. This couldn’t be happening. Was this a last trick of Shinigami? Had he lied to him after all? No, the God of Death had no reason to lie. He had given him a second chance - this couldn’t be Shinigami’s work.
“We better leave,” Wufei mentioned. Heero made a movement with his arm as if he wanted to bat away an annoying fly. He could see nothing but Duo, lying lifelessly in front of him - not after everything they had been through! He pushed himself to lie alongside Duo, ignoring that his chest wasn’t heaving.
“Breathe, breathe, my love,” he said, his hands shaking and trembling as he touched him. “My Inochigami. Breathe, goddamnit!”
“Yuy,” Wufei urged him.
“Breathe!”
Duo’s body was surrounded by splinters of wood and metal shards that had to be the remnants of the scythe. They had broken the Never-Ending Circle again, they had put Shinigami to rest again…why wasn’t Duo alive? Why wasn’t he opening his eyes, smiling at him? Why wasn’t he breathing? Duo’s lips were chalk white. Heero didn’t hesitate for a moment and kissed him, the shock of his cold lips barely reaching his mind. Dead, cold, lips…it just couldn’t be, it couldn’t be!
“I can’t fight for the both of us,” Heero softly whispered. Duo looked so fragile, his eyes closed, his lips slightly parted…a marble statue about to break. “Solo isn’t here. He can’t guide you now, Duo. You have to fight yourself. You have to do it yourself. Come back to me, please. Please. Shinigami didn’t lie. He gave the both of us a second chance. We defied death, Duo, remember? Come back to me. Breathe!”
He had no strength left to perform CPR. He assumed that Wufei had tried, even though there was no reason to assume Duo would survive. Heero refused to believe that Duo had lost the battle. He didn’t want his last memory of him to be lying like this, on the ground, half covered with a grey blanket, in the Kingdom of Sanq.
Suddenly, Duo’s cheeks puffed up and he busted out in a violent cough, shaking his entire body. Wufei exclaimed something that could be either a curse or a blessing, Heero didn’t know - the Chinese warrior fortunately still had the presence of mind to immediately give water to Duo, to which he gratefully latched onto, gulping the liquid down.
“More,” he said as he was finished with the bottle and coughed again. Wufei gave him another bottle and it went down just as fast, until he started throwing up. Patient as a professional nurse, Wufei brought him a wet towel to clean his mouth and face. Duo buried his face into the thick fabric, dry-heaving and shaking.
“Duo,” Heero called his name. The other looked up, his right arm limp next to his side. Duo looked at him with bewilderment in his eyes and a tentative smile on his face. He was lucid, realizing as well what had happened, but he couldn’t quite grasp it. He looked like he was about to faint.
“Wufei, we have to get out of here,” Heero said.
“I’ll go get the car,” Wufei answered. “Your car,” he corrected himself, as he didn’t feel like driving any one of the Land Rovers left behind by Khushrenada’s decimated army. As soon as he went away, Duo slipped his good arm around Heero again.
“We made it,” he whispered.
“Yes we did,” Heero said and closed his eyes, too tired to even speak. He didn’t hear Wufei returning with the car. He didn’t notice how his friend dragged him into the seat and strapped him in, and doing the same with Duo. He didn’t feel anything from the ride back to the border of Sanq. He knew Duo was behind him, and that he had to thank Wufei for all of his hard work; but the tensions ebbed away, the adrenaline wore off, and he had used up all of his energy. He fell asleep despite the bumpy and bad road, and this time the darkness was comfortable and welcome.
------------------------------
He smacked his lips a little; his throat felt dry. Coughing softly, he shifted around, moving his head from left to right, immediately squinting his eyes. The sun was quite bright, yet warm; a shadow was cast over his face.
“Too warm for you?”
Too warm…What?
“No, I feel chilly,” he croaked, immediately coughing.
“Take it easy.”
“Hee…Heero?”
Duo opened his eyes, batting his lashes a few times. Confused, he stared at the face of Quatre Raberba Winner.
“Wh-what?”
“Welcome to my estate in the Arab Emirates,” Quatre all but beamed at him. “Would you like some water? Lemonade? Iced tea? Regular tea?”
“My arm feels heavy,” Duo ignored his question and tried to get up.
Quatre pushed at his shoulder to keep him down and offered him a glass of water, tilting it carefully to enable him to sip at his leisure. He put a blanket around Duo’s legs; it was a grey one, with light red stripes. It made him shudder. Taking it as a sign of him feeling cold, Quatre tucked his legs even tighter in. It was almost funny, if Duo wasn’t so occupied with the pain in his arm and his unfamiliarity with his environment. Arab Emirates? Where the hell was he?
“My arm..?”
“It’s broken. Stop wriggling it, Duo. The scythe was too heavy for you, its weight broke your arm.”
“Broken? A scythe? What are you talking about?”
Quatre pulled a seat close and sat down. “What’s the last thing you remember?”
Duo frowned, taking another sip. Licking his lips, he tried to recall the previous events.
“It’s…not really clear. The statue…I remember the big-ass golden statue with the weapons. I remember climbing up on it. From there, it’s a little blank…not dark, just…blank. Grey…fog. Cold. Discomfort. Where’s Heero?”
“He’s picking out bridal flower arrangements with Relena.”
“Whaaaaat?”
Quatre hid a laugh behind his hand. “Don’t worry! The Queen of the World recently announced her wedding plans, but she’s not going to marry Heero. She’s found herself a nice civilian guy whose ambitions have nothing to do with politics. It was love at first sight, or so she says.” Quatre winked at Duo. “To answer your earlier question, Heero has video footage of the statue and he can fill you in on the details. He’s coming back soon. But for now, you deserve to be a little spoiled, Duo. After all, thanks to you, one of the most dangerous artifacts of the world has been put away to never be assembled again. The power over life and death is in no one’s hands…just as it should be.”
“Quatre,” Duo said, followed by a “hey, Trowa,” when he noticed the personal assistant sitting under the large parasol. The blond CEO looked over his shoulder and his already warm smile intensified when looking at Trowa. Duo realized they were at the edge of a large swimming pool, the seats and large table conveniently set up under a huge parasol.
“I have to thank both you and Heero,” Quatre continued, not giving Duo a chance to speak. “If it weren’t for you, the world would’ve faced another war. Not only would the Never-Ending Circle be used as a weapon of power, but also to keep the power differential as large as possible. With a weapon like the scythe of the God of Death himself, it would’ve been a very unfair fight. Colonies, nations, factions, Earth; everyone would’ve been pitted against each other in a hotbed of mystical powers and the knowledge that death could strike at any moment, for any reason.”
“But what…happened?” Duo asked, still confused. He had difficulties filling in the gaps and he stared at his encased right arm as if it was an alien limb.
Trowa had his laptop with him, and next to him was a paper file holding clippings of news articles. He showed it to Duo, leafing through them at his convenience: apparently, Khushrenada had made the headlines big time, in a less than flattering manner.
“Treize Khushrenada has been exposed as the manipulating factor behind it all,” Trowa said, pointing at a specific headline. “Romefeller was quick to blame and demote their prodigy child just as quick as they had been to promote him - he’s taking the fall for the entire organization. Even though his actions don’t warrant him any prison time, being pushed back to the lower ranks of the organization and with this stain to his name, he’ll be keeping a low profile for a long time to come.”
“What about the others?”
He was interrupted by a servant carrying a large tray with refreshments. Duo waited until the servant was gone. Quatre helped himself to a cup of tea, but not before he pressed Duo a large glass of non-carbonated lemonade in his hands. The CEO slowly stirred into the scorching hot liquid.
“Romefeller is too big of an organization to be completely out of the picture. Not everyone in the organization was supporting these plans. As far as I know, only a select few had in mind to seize power with help of the Never-Ending Circle. However, they can forget about any influence in the political field though, as their image and name have taken a blow. Their ties to White Fang have been exposed, which led to new questions about the training facility on Cuba - no, the Romefeller Foundation will be regarded with quite the suspicion from now on. I wouldn’t be surprised if it turned back to its original form: a historical society supporting the Victorian arts.”
“You may not remember that Quinze was killed,” Trowa said. “Another high-ranked member of the White Fang, Sedici, was arrested and put under surveillance. The authorities found plans at their headquarters, but they refuse to disclose exactly what. Even though this Sedici wasn’t directly linked to the Never-Ending Circle, I doubt that the White Fang will become of any importance in the future. With both their leaders gone, the members will probably disband.”
Quatre took a sip, smiling as usual. “While Romefeller is heavily discredited, my father’s name has been internationally acknowledged for his contributions to the archaeological field,” he said. “His journal, findings and theories on the Never-Ending Circle have been published and he’s been accredited for all his hard work.”
“That’s incredible news,” Duo said, feeling genuinely happy for Quatre. He winced as a jolt of pain reminded him that his arm was broken. He was annoyed that he still had a gap in his memory the size of his own manor. Trowa clicked at the keys of the laptop and showed the screen to Duo. It was a bank transfer program, and the amount of money was already filled out.
“Please state the account number of where you want this to be transferred to?”
Duo smiled, but shook his head. “I didn’t get you the Never-Ending Circle. I didn’t uphold my part of the commission.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Quatre said. “I wasn’t interested as much in the artifact itself as in restoring my father’s name. The confirmation of its existence is an archaeological breakthrough, and it showed that my father’s work wasn’t for nothing. I now know who his murderer was, and he’s already been brought to justice. I wasn’t chasing ghosts.”
“The artifact is still around,” Wufei said casually. “Albeit assembling it will be neigh impossible.”
Duo hadn’t heard him approach; apparently, there were more people who could sneak up to him without as much as a sound. It ticked him off a little.
“I was wondering where you were,” he said, wary.
“So, you do remember me?”
“Sort of. I saw you at Sanq’s border..?”
“I will leave it up to Heero to fill in the details,” Wufei said. “It is otherwise too much information to be dumped on you, and you need to rest. For now, I wish to thank you too, Duo Maxwell. I wanted to take the Never-Ending Circle to my clan for personal reasons, but from what I have seen of it, I would probably have destroyed what was left of my home, instead of using it for good. It shattered into so many pieces that we couldn’t bring everything back; what we didn’t take is buried under tons of debris, and probably impossible to identify.”
“You brought the artifact back?” Duo was dumbfounded.
“Heero will show it to you. I expect him to arrive within the next fifteen minutes.” Wufei bowed to him, as if he was ready to leave.
“Thank you, Wufei,” Quatre replied, looking very content. The business man hadn’t shown any surprise at seeing the other appear out of nowhere. Wufei bowed to him and Trowa.
“Keep in touch, Chang,” Duo said, grinning lopsidedly. The Chinese warrior showed a flicker of a smile before walking away soundlessly. Without his katana on his back, he’d almost looked friendly to Duo.
Trowa closed off the laptop and after a glance at Quatre, he cleared his throat and said: “We have to continue with our daily schedule…besides, I think it’s better if we left you to rest up a little.”
“How long have I been out of it anyway?” Duo asked. Quatre had talked about events that probably had taken days. It seemed only like yesterday to him that he was descending down the stairs beneath the Royal Palace of Sanq. Quatre looked at Trowa with a look of torment on his face, but yielded and said softly: “Two weeks. We had to fear for your life several times, Duo. You were barely responding to us, and we thought that Shinigami might claim you after all.”
Trowa patted Duo on the shoulder. “If you need anything, anything at all, please let us know. There’s a remote control on the table - just press one of the buttons, and someone will come for you. All the servants are at your disposal, and instructed to fulfill your every need. We’re happy to have you stay here for as long as you need to recover.”
"It's no problem at all," Quatre added.
“Damn,” Duo muttered. He felt a little embarrassed. He didn’t want any servant. He wanted Heero. What the fuck is he doing, going out and about with a pretty princess to pick out flower arrangements, for fuck’s sake?
He didn’t know if he wanted to laugh or to cry, but even if he did feel anger or annoyance, it left him as he dozed off again, enjoying the sun and the knowledge that everyone was safe. He would worry about the gaps in his memory later, and his broken arm would heal. Relaxing into the warmth of the sun, he allowed himself to drift off.
-------------------------------------
A servant woke up him at dinner time, gently shaking his shoulder until Duo opened his eyes. The man bowed to him extensively, indicating to follow him to the large mansion. Duo got up himself, stretching languidly and popping his muscles. He yawned. His legs felt a little shaky, and he made a mental note to get back to his usual routine of exercising soon. His body felt stiff and cramped from lack of training.
Following the servant to the mansion, Duo wondered where Heero was. He had expected the other to come look for him, but maybe he didn’t want to wake him up? Both Quatre and Trowa had mentioned that he needed his rest, and though he did feel a lot better, Duo just wanted to know where Heero was so he could talk to him, and fill in the gaps. He was still tired though, and didn’t pay much attention to the mansion itself. He noticed some art, and his trained eye told him that nothing on display here was a cheap reproduction. Quatre had chosen for light sandy colors and strict lines in his interior decoration; it felt more like a business suite than a mansion.
The hallway seemed endless and just as he was about to ask the servant how much longer it was going to take, he passed an open door…and he saw Heero, lying on a chaise longue, a book in his hands.
“Heero!” He all but yelled.
Heero looked up, his face lighting up as he saw Duo in the door opening. He closed the book and put it on the small table next to him, and shifted to sit up straight. The servant appeared next to Duo, a little confused, not knowing what to do. Heero waved at him.
“It’s all right. Tell the others we’ll be at dinner soon.”
The man nodded, bowed once more and disappeared. Both Heero and Duo walked towards each other, but halted in the middle of the room, suddenly nervous and anxious, as if they met for the first time. It took only a few seconds though, before they simultaneously opened their arms and embraced each other. Duo noticed how strong Heero’s grip was; he almost cut off his breathing. He patted Heero on the back, careful not to hit him with his cast.
“I thought I lost you forever,” Heero said, inhaling Duo’s scent. He didn’t make any move to break up their embrace. His fingers clutched at Duo’s clothing; a wide shirt and baggy pants. “Don’t you ever scare me like that.”
“Heero, I…”
“I know,” he was quick to reply. “Quatre told me that you don’t remember much of it all. It’s all right, I’ll tell you everything you need to know.”
Duo nodded. “So?”
“So…?”
“So what happened down there?”
“Down where?”
“Where the big statue was?”
“Duo…”
“That’s my name.”
Heero pressed his lips on his harshly. “Must you really want to know it right now?”
Duo returned the kiss, enjoying their lips on each other, tasting Heero - unique as he’d always been, a rough but spicy taste, and so very addictive - and gasped from the ferocity of the kiss. Not that he was going to complain about it, but this… possessiveness was new to him.
“Yeah, I pretty much do,” Duo answered in all honestly. “I don’t like not knowing what happened.”
Heero kissed him again, this time softly, lingering on his lower lip. “I don’t want to be parted from you ever again.”
“You’re changing the subject again. And…what about your royal girlfriend?”
“She’s not my girlfriend, Duo…”
“Just kidding,” he said and ruffled Heero’s hair. “But when someone tells me you’re picking flower arrangements with her…”
“She’s going to marry a guy named -”
“It’s okay, I’m just making fun of you. Still…Khushrenada might lay low for a while, but with the members of Romefeller and White Fang exposed…that’s got to have consequences for her.”
Heero heaved a sigh. He did break up their hug now, only to coax Duo into sitting next to him on the chaise-longue. “Quatre told me he bought off the blackmail issue. He approached Khushrenada when he was being interrogated. Do you remember Merquise suffering a bullet to the shoulder? Well, when Khushrenada returned to the border with his injured friend, the local police started up an investigation. I don’t know how Quatre caught wind of it, but he offered Khushrenada too good of a deal to refuse, especially now that he’s the black sheep of the Romefeller family. Oh yeah, and he threatened to have all his archaeological licenses revoked and all that.”
“Wow,” Duo said, seeing Quatre in an entire different light.
“Despite money and influence, I guess nobody can prevent that maybe, someday someone will find out about the Peacecraft’s true origins. Someone, be it an established historian or an amateur-archaeologist like Winner Sr., will dig up the violent past of their ancestors. Maybe they will put the Guardian together again and wonder what its meaning was. At least, for now, Relena and her family are safe, without scandals. Merquise… ah, Milliardo Peacecraft I must say, and his girlfriend have resigned from public life and are preparing to pioneer with a space project for the colonization of Mars.”
“Milliardo and girlfriend?” Duo asked, his head spinning. Everything what Heero was telling him made sense to him, but he couldn’t puzzle it together in the right sequence. It was quite frustrating. He knew what Heero meant with ‘the Guardian’ and in his memories the image of the huge golden statue was floating around, but he had difficulties matching them together. It felt like he had to slog his way through a swamp before he could reach the clear blue ocean.
“Lucrezia Noin. Perhaps the name rings a bell…?”
Duo didn’t have to think for long. Anything before the events beneath the Royal Palace were as clear as day to him.
“Campbell Grant’s secretary,” he blurted out.
“Yes, and Quatre’s secretary on occasion,” Heero admitted. “She had access to much information, and relayed that to the several parties involved. Quatre had to fire her of course, breach of trust and all that. But she was happy to leave as long as she was with Milliardo, and she didn’t even bother to pick up her last paycheck.”
“Huh…she was some kind of double-crosser?”
“Hardly. She did it all for Milliardo’s well-being. The woman would die for him, and as long as he was safe, she would give out information to everyone who wanted to know. She wasn’t interested in money, she only wanted everyone to leave her Milliardo alone.”
“I see…well, I can forgive her for that. So that’s why Chang knew my name.”
“Yes. Chang kept an eye on you, Romefeller, Khushrenada and the White Fang. They were behind the teargas incident.”
“Assholes. I haven’t thanked him properly, I guess. But what’s there between you and Wufei anyway?”
“Nothing. He had a personal obligation to Khushrenada, and I don’t know the exact details - it wasn’t my place to pry it out of him. However, he never approved of Khushrenada’s methods, and knowing of Winner’s murder was the final straw. He regards his obligation to him over. Whatever happened, we didn’t want Khushrenada to succeed. And believe it or not, Wufei is actually a scholar.”
Duo fell silent, brooding. He closed his eyes and his hand went up to itch at his cast.
“Something doesn’t add up…”
“What’s that?”
“Why don’t I remember much of…how I ended up here? And with a broken arm…Quatre mentioned a scythe and Shinigami. Did I hold the Never-Ending Circle?”
“You held it and wielded it, Duo. Though you weren’t Duo at that time.”
“I was fucking possessed?”
“You were possessed,” Heero nodded.
“Crap.”
Heero tilted his head, studying Duo’s face. He wasn’t really sure if he should tell him about the realm of the dead and about Solo. Duo seemed to be his usual self, and Heero didn’t want to tear open old wounds or scars by telling him every detail.
“You managed to force him out of you,” Heero said, twisting the truth, but not entirely lying. It made him feel guilty, but he didn’t want to disturb the genuine happy look on Duo’s face. They had both been so close to dying… he took Duo’s left hand in his. He had lost some weight, and his fingers were a little bony; still, Heero caressed them, enjoying the warm, lively touch.
“I did? But how about the scythe, Chang said that it was still around. Did you bring it back?”
“It’s broken beyond repair,” Heero said. “It…the blade splintered, and the staff…shattered. You can still see its shape and make out the markings on some of the wood fragments, but assembling again is impossible. No one will be able to put the Never-Ending Circle back again, Duo.”
Duo put his hand on Heero’s, and squeezed a little.
“Do you think Shinigami will ever find his Inochigami?” Duo asked.
“You remember that?”
“Something. Vague. In the back of my mind…it was a strange longing I felt. Strange, but familiar. The longing to be with someone…and to me, it was you, Heero. To him, it was his Inochigami. It felt warm whenever I thought of you. Warm, like a little happy bundle of joy.”
“I don’t think he ever will, Duo. Murder and killings happen every day, and as long as people are taking each other’s lives, be it out of jealousy, revenge, or because of war, Shinigami will not find his Inochigami.”
“That’s kind of sad.”
“Yeah…I guess it is.”
“I don’t remember much of him,” Duo said, leaning into Heero. “Of Shinigami, that is. I don’t remember being possessed, but well…that speaks for it self. Like I said, I only felt that longing to be with someone. Strange, huh, that an entity of death could feel such warmth and love for someone else?”
“You have to realize that yes indeed, Shinigami was the God of Death, but he wasn’t an evil spirit. He was perfectly objective in his motives. Violent and scary, but objective. He didn’t kill us. He killed Quinze because he was a murderer, and he killed half of Treize’s army because they were mercenaries. Those who have taken the lives of others forsake their own lives in his eyes, and so Shinigami will live to take their lives. He wasn’t hungry for power, he wanted nothing but his Inochigami. He’s obsolete in this world; we kill ourselves enough as it is.”
“You know what else, Heero?”
“No, tell me?”
“I think he should find his beloved soon,” Duo whispered in his ear. “I think he was just fucking cranky because he hadn’t gotten laid in eons, don’t you think?”
“You remember much more than you want to admit…”
“Life and death just belong together. Primal forces on Earth, on the colonies, in outer space. Everywhere.”
“Together,” Heero agreed, leaning into him to brush past his lips. The movement made him wince; the wound on his chest hadn’t completely healed yet. Duo failed to notice as he moved up both his arms to embrace Heero again.
“I’m sure they’re wondering what’s taking us so long,” he whispered. “Do you think they’ll start dinner without us?”
“We can always call for room service,” Heero answered lazily.
It was getting late; the last rays of the sun shone upon them. The windows were still open, but not a breeze of wind; in this climate the days were hot and the nights cold, and they could feel the temperature drop already. Heero fumbled behind him for a thick blanket, a red one, before returning the embrace and sinking his hands into Duo’s hair, glowing copper and gold in the settling sun.
“Does this mean we’re in business again?” Duo asked breathlessly, but his smile gave his own answer away. Heero rolled dramatically with his eyes, pulled Duo closer and proceeded to kiss him, fingers snapping the tie of his braid.
“Hey! That’s not an answer!”
--------------------------
End of “Duo Maxwell and the Never-Ending Circle”