The frame of the large bed was made from the same wood as the small table and chair. A colorful rug was on the floor, and the impressive thangka on the wall depicted a sitting bodhisattva, his arms outstretched as if begging. This guest room was luxurious compared to the other bedrooms, where the monks spend their nights; few of them had a bed and preferred to sleep on the solid, cold floor. Duo had taken a wool blanket off the bed and hugged the fabric close around his body. Seeing Solo's handwriting had struck him harder than he thought. Then again, he had never thought he would ever be at Barkhang again; not even when Noventa had entered his office with his story about the sword of the Khan.
He didn't believe in self-pity, but right now he felt miserable and sorry for himself. The Maxwell family had suffered great losses, and a lot of family members kept dwelling over the loss, as if they could bring them back by mourning enough. Heero was the first to accept that Duo's parents were gone - he had never met them, but he had never insisted that Duo should tell about them. Why suddenly now, in Tibet, had Heero brought up the subject? Duo had felt so safe with him, just being Duo Maxwell, not the son of the famous Richard and Helen Maxwell, he could be Duo and entirely himself. And why was it hitting him so hard? It had been almost five years ago. But there was still the pain, suddenly torn open like an old wound, and it confused him.
His costume, designed by Hilde, laid neatly folded up on the chair. It had protected him from the hypothermia Heero had suffered, and he was going to wear it again as soon as they were going to find the sword. After that, it was time to leave Tibet behind… and probably the ghost of his family, lurking everywhere he went.
"I'd make a lousy Buddhist," Duo muttered under his breath. He felt restless, not at ease, and the pent-up frustration in his body was screaming for a release. He wanted to calm down and considered participating in another meditation session. None of the monks judged him or Heero for not following the same path as they did; and the way Duo was feeling now, he was convinced that The Noble Eightfold Path wasn't the right answer for him, not now - not with the last image of his parents on his mind, not with the last moment that Solo drifted away from him, his face pale and eyes staring into nothingness. How could anyone embrace suffering and accept that it existed? How could anyone respond with peace to an obvious threat? These monks and people like Relena Peacecraft had that strength, to acknowledge pain and suffering in the world, and not lifting up their own arm to strike back. Revenge wasn't part of Duo's nature, and who could he exact revenge upon? The plane had malfunctioned, and no investigation had pointed out that there had been foul play… as far as it was possible to investigate a plain crash in the Himalaya. Duo looked outside the window, to the Annapurna. The mountain range was unforgiving, with a fatality to summit ratio of more than 40%. One of the 14 "eight-thousanders", more than 8,000 metres above sea level. It had killed his parents, and…
He shivered. Grabbing the Uzis, an older model than he was used to, and checked the safety pal once more. The clips would fit into his holster and he picked it up to store them, dropping it again as the door suddenly flew open. Duo turned around, half in a fighting stance, half surprised - his eyes went even wider when he saw Heero standing there, his face radiating raw and vulnerable power.
"What… Heero? Everything all right?"
Heero entered the room and throwing the door close, the sound echoing through the hallway.
"I know what you did," he said, voice strangely stern and choking at the same time.
"I did what?"
"You carried me to the Tsangpo," Heero said. "My weight, and the laptop, you were carrying me all the way."
"I would've carried you home if I had to," Duo answered simply.
"I know." He rushed towards Duo, grabbing him, taking him in his arms and holding him as he pressed an intense kiss to his lips. The hungry need and fierce protectiveness washed all over Duo, and he reveled in it - he wanted to be needed, he wanted to be protected even though he could take care of himself very well… this power, strong and tender at the same time, was what he was looking for. The strength of his father and the kindness of his mother came together in Heero, the reason why he was so attracted to him. He found Solo's stability in him, and Heero's own loyalty, undisputed love and care; he wanted to give all he had to him, he wanted to allow Heero to take everything from him, and he would still love him until the Earth stopped moving.
"I love you so much," Heero said. "I won't ever let go of you."
"You're not supposed to let go of me," Duo said in return. He showed a loving smile. "Because if you do, I'm going to hunt you down and haunt your life forever."
"You'd make one sexy poltergeist."
"You wouldn't like me if I was one," Duo teased.
"I wouldn't like it, no," Heero admitted, "because I wouldn't be able to touch you then."
Duo moved his arms around Heero's waist. "I don't think we… ever lived so intensely in our relationship," he murmured. "Is it because of this place?"
"I'm not sure. I just don't…want to live on auto-pilot, if you know what I mean. I realized, perhaps because of being here, that I didn't know certain aspects of your life that I do want to know about. There's only so much in a relationship…but the most important things are love and friendship. I want to be your lover and friend and everything else until the day I die. I don't want to love a ghost, I want to love you, Duo Maxwell, with your past, present and future."
"I understand, I really do." Duo sealed his words with a kiss, and traced Heero's lips with his finger, only to put his index finger against them, lightly pressing. "My parents' accident isn't a secret, my love. But I do ask of you to not force me to tell you about it. I've never felt it so… hurting and painful like this moment, and it's difficult for me as well."
"I understand." Now it was Heero's turn to show the same understanding he got from Duo. "I'll tell you about my adoptive father when you want me to. We can only grow and learn more from each other if we talk."
"Now you sound like a monk," Duo poked him in the chest, "have you been attending meditation sessions lately?"
"I've tried the swimming pool," Heero deadpanned, "I guess the cold water flushed out any impure, distracting thought."
"Then allow me to bring some impurity back," Duo said mischievously. "I know of a few, certain, ways to defile a strong, taut, hot body like yours…"
"I'd die for your impurity," Heero nibbled at Duo's earlobe, "you're just like a little demon."
"And you're my guardian angel," Duo said while he licked at Heero's lips. "And now I'm sick of all that sappy fluffy kissy talk. Undress, now! Get your ass on the bed, I want to sink my teeth into it!"
The heavy prayer wheel was a nuisance to hold up, but if much older men could hold two of them, one in each hand, Heero didn't want to show any weakness. Dressed in his chuba, leaving his right shoulder and right arm bare, he sat cross-legged next to Duo, as they participated in a praying session that was held especially for them. Earlier in the morning, Tsering had told them that all of the Barkhang monks had agreed to give permission to search for the tomb of the Khan. Kol-An-Anuhm, the descendant of the ferocious Genghis Khan, was buried deep below the monastery itself, instead of following the customs of his tribe: to be buried without markings.
"We buried Genghis Khan under a river, but Kol-An-Anuhm under a mountain," he had stated. "It had to do with his sword. Why we have been fighting, why we have been following in our ancestors' footsteps and deviating from our own path of Enlightenment, is because of the sword."
It had been the last evening they spend together in the library. The butter lamps had cast their usual dancing, dim light on the dark wooden walls, and a bowl of momos, steamed dumplings made of tsampa, had accompanied the sweet yak butter and milk tea (for Duo) and salted, strong green tea (for Heero and Tsering). The warrior-monk looked tired, he even had dark circles under his eyes. This was the only moment Heero saw him without his weapons; there were no knives on his body and he looked like he was about to relent.
"The k'an-po has given you his blessing," he spoke, articulating every word separately. Lama Chodrak was the k'an-po, the abbot, of Barkhang Monastery, and older than any monk Duo and Heero had ever met. They saw the holy leader at some of the meditation ceremonies, and once in the dining hall; Heero had wondered about the vitality of the man, who looked like one, hard sneeze could blow him out of the window. "The sword of the Khan is a too great distraction to the monastery and our lives. He has condoned our way, the way separated from his own, in order to protect life and the monastery itself - but the sword is a dark place, a dark taint on our past and present, and our future as well. If we, as the fighting order we are, want to return to the Path of Enlightenment, and not harm those who want to harm us, we have to get rid of that one object that attracts the pain and the violence."
Tsering had handed them a hand-embroidered binder, holding all the documents of previous attempts to rob the sword, attacking the monastery in process. "Maybe it's time for us to leave certain things behind as well. Maybe it's time for us to abandon certain traditions and find peace for us all once more," he said. "Through violence, you may 'solve' one problem, but you sow the seeds for another. We've been sowing the seeds for violence for many generations, only to protect a worldly possession."
"But it's the sword of the Khan," Heero said. "Not just 'a' possession."
"A possession is a possession, whether it's from a Khan or not," Tsering responded. "It's indeed the properties attributed to the sword that made people search for it. But it's still a possession, and it's tainting us and the world."
The warrior-monk had told them that the k'an-po only had agreed to remove the sword if it was going to be without a possessor. Tsering had explained to the lama that a museum was a good place for it; theoretically, no one would be the possessor of the sword but the museum itself, and their intentions weren't malicious.
"We don't wish to unleash war on this world," Tsering continued gravely. "No war for a sword of a man who has deserved no mention in our own history."
"We will take the sword with us and make sure it won't bother you again," Duo said in all sincerity.
"Will it be shown to this Noventa person?"
"Yes," Duo said. "I promised him."
"Keep your promise," Tsering nodded. "Honor the monastery, Duo Maxwell and Heero Yuy. Take this shame from us, and walk the Way we all search to walk."
The recited prayers were like a warm embrace. These men were counting on them to remove something from their history and return Barkhang to what it once was: a place of peace and enlightenment, not burdened by what was buried deep beneath them. The sword of the Khan, a magical instrument or the fountain of youth or a mysterious device for longevity, it had weighed down on the monks' minds far too much. Duo couldn't speak Tibetan, but tried to recite the prayers by sound. It was the last warm 'bath' they would receive, a preparation of their soul of what they were going to find. The tomb hadn't been visited by any of the monks in ages; what was left of the Khan, or his sword, was unknown.
Heero listened to the words being chanted, enveloping himself in the strange calmness that went out of the repeated prayers. Barkhang had been a good place, and he could place his adversary to Tsering better; he had looked into a mirror, and he hadn't liked his reflection. It wasn't about faults or mistakes. It wasn't about who was bad or good, it was about how they were to each other. Love wasn't enough for a relationship alone, it was about their bond: friendship, compassion, protection, comfort and warmth… and being who they wanted to be, in full trust and companionship.
The prayer session was over. The k'an-po himself rose silently from his sitting position, holding something in his hands. Heero couldn't make out what it was, yet he remained seated next to Duo, looking up at the elderly man approaching them.
"Tashi Delek," he spoke softly, as he gifted them with khatas; a silk white scarf symbolizing purity, goodwill, auspiciousness and compassion. Duo tied it immediately around his neck, thanking the lama. They were going to need all the luck they could get, but Duo was confident that he would retrieve the artifact. He had recovered quite the artifacts with Heero in mind-blowing situations, and the Khan's sword was going to be a tremendous feat… he couldn't wait to get going. Heero felt Duo's eagerness, and put his hand on his, as if he wanted to tell him to calm down. Duo nodded quickly, taking the hint.
After saying goodbye to the monks, Tsering and the other warrior-monks accompanied them outside of the monastery. They kindly had provided Heero with warm clothing that didn't limit his movements, and Duo was wearing his white costume, both carrying a backpack and visible guns. The shotgun stuck a little out of Heero's backpack, but none of the monks commented on it. They were used to weapons, having fought just like their ancestors, and Heero couldn't see if they were all prepared to turn back to the Path of Enlightenment. That was for their heart and mind to make up, he presumed. Barkhang was a rough place, just like the wild nature of Tibet; the wind was already freezing off his nose, and the thin air made breathing difficult, yet the monks walked outside with their white shirts. Heero stuck his gloved hands in his woolen coat and quickly increased his pace to stay warm.
"This is as far as we can get you," Tsering spoke when they had arrived at a small shed, similar to the one that held the secret stash of weapons, Solo and Duo's private stock. "This used to be the common entrance to the Khan's tomb. Nature has overtaken it; the mountains have a will of their own, and the tomb probably has sunken deeper than we can imagine. It's up to you now, my friends."
"Thank you for everything," Duo said, grabbing Tsering's hand and pumping it enthusiastically. It seemed to embarrass the warrior-monk a little, but he didn't let go of Duo's hand.
"I'm sorry I don't have any news for you anymore," he said. "We could've sent a messenger to Chengdu to find your friend there, but he wouldn't have made it back in time."
"I expect my contact to have reached him," Duo said. "I'm sure everything is all right. Thank you once again. We'll set things right."
Tsering opened the door of the shed, allowing Duo to be the first to enter. They heard a "Sheesh, it's dark in here!" and the sound of a lighter. Heero waited until Duo had made a light, then he faced the monk.
"Thank you," he said, and he meant it.
"Sometimes one creates a dynamic impression by saying something, and sometimes one creates as significant an impression by remaining silent." Tsering bowed to him.
"One torch can dissipate the accumulated darkness of a thousand aeons." Heero returned the bow. Tsering suddenly broke out in laughter.
"You're a quick student," he said, voice filled with mirth. "I can see why Duo is so fond of you. Go, my friend - know that you will always be welcome here."
"Thank you," Heero said, suppressing a grin himself, and he all but jumped through the door opening. Tsering almost immediately closed the door behind him, and it would be pitch dark if it weren't for Duo having lit an oil lamp.
"Did I miss some kind of joke?" he asked.
"Nah, just men's talk," Heero answered.
"If it has something to do with 'me being fond of you', then you should know that I think you can be a gigantic asshole sometimes," Duo retorted airily. "Well, we're inside the entrance to the Khan's tomb. We better make some effort to see what's really here, hmmm?"
"Yes, o exalted leader." Heero took out a slender flashlight from his backpack and turned it on. There was nothing else to see in the shed but the large crack, leading directly into the mountain range of the Annapurna.
"Well, I guess it's quite obviously where we need to go to." Duo turned a little to see if he could move through the crack sideways. He was wearing some of the ropes and anchors of the climbing gear, making his backpack twice its size. The temperature in the shed was even lower than outside, and it felt even colder so close at the crack. He rubbed his gloved hands and moved sideways, like a crab, into the crack. Heero followed him, shining in front of him with the flashlight.
"Man, it's cold," Duo said superfluously. "How are you doing?"
"I can take it, so far," Heero answered. It was impossible to turn back now, not without the sword.
The cold was expected - it was a breathtaking cold, destructive in its nature, yet beautiful in all its danger. They were surrounded by the forces of nature that mankind hadn't bested yet, and more than probably never would. How could one contain this force, dominate it or bend it to his will? It was impossible; this mountain seemed to be alive, breathing on its own, sending its cold breath to paralyze unwanted visitors, using the darkness to blind those dwelling within, preparing traps and death at every step of the way.
Heero's new clothes, also blessed by the k'an-po, were a vast improvement on what he wore earlier. It still stung Heero that all their supplies had been lost, because he had prepared himself extensively on this expedition; it was a sour thought that everything he had done, had been for naught. He wondered if they were ever going to meet Marco Bartoli in person. So far, he had sent his cult to do his dirty work; the Fiamma Nera had done everything in their power to stop them. He couldn't wait to meet the man himself and wring his neck for what he had done.
"This looks like a staircase to me," Duo said, jerking Heero out of his thoughts. "Send a little light my way, will you?"
"I'll go first," Heero said. Duo had a flashlight as well, but held a pack of flares to illuminate their way, and to find their way back. He lit one and put it on top of the stairs he had just found; Heero shone down with his light to see the carved steps. "It looks firm," he said. "Do you think the monks have carved it?"
"I doubt it," Duo said. He knelt and took off his glove just for a moment to touch the ground with his bare fingers. "Kolanuhm was a Mongol, and an aggressor; just like his great-great-great-granddaddy Genghis, he expanded the Empire, and participated in the large-scale slaughter of the local population."
"We don't know that." Heero wasn't taking a side, he just looked at the facts. "Even Tsering had no documentation about him, remember? He might've been a bad Khan, or a good Khan - we simply don't know."
"True, true." Duo's voice behind him was like a comfortable reassurance of his presence; Heero could hear him light a flare every now and then to mark their way. The stairs were well-kept; no cracks, no gaps, no moisture to make them slippery and dangerous.
"Who would've carved these steps, then?" Heero wondered out loud.
"Perhaps those who gave Kolanuhm his burial?" Duo was marveling at the fact that there was no moisture at all, not even on the walls. It was a good thing neither one of them was claustrophobic; the stairs narrowed instead of expanded, and more than once the backpacks chafed against the rock wall. The only sounds were their voices, echoing hollowly, and the clattering of the climbing gear in Duo's backpack.
"His servants or a group of people he trusted enough to take care of his body after his death." Heero's voice sounded casual even though he concentrated firmly on the steps ahead of him. "Think about it; no one has taken the sword for himself. What would you do, if you could get your hands on an artifact that prolonged your life indefinitely?"
"I'm not sure if I'd take it," Duo said. The greed in his voice wasn't because of the value of the artifact; he didn't recover them for monetary gain. It was a different greed, a hunger for the recovery of an object mysterious. It was the rush of the discovery itself that echoed in Heero's heart; he could feel the adrenaline building. Venturing on unknown territory, digging up objects that mankind hadn't seen for ages, finding something that could change history as they knew it… and the sword of the Khan was the most intense challenge they've met so far. "Do I want to live forever? Not without you. I do like to live long, though. I want to see much more of the world, I want to learn more foreign languages, I want to eat much filthier, greasy food and I want to have sex with you for the longest time possible!"
"Why thank you," Heero answered dryly. He moved his flashlight from left to right, revealing the steps one by one. "I can totally agree with that, yes. But wasn't it as much about longevity as Tsering said, as about eternal youth?"
"I'm not sure. The Khan aged, remember? Only much, much slower than natural. I guess that's why the sword holds so much appeal. People strive for immortality."
"There can be only one," Heero quipped, referring to one of Duo's favorite action movies. He got a slap on the back for it and grinned. Concentrating on the steps took a lot out of Heero, and the bad air increased the chances of a migraine. Every now and then they rested to catch their breath; descending the stairs wasn't that much exerting, it was the air, the darkness and the tight, confined space that worked on their state of mind. Even Duo had to admit that this mountain range was one of the toughest locations he'd ever been. Not even the dark jungle of Sanq Kingdom had taken so much out of them.
Duo poured hot butter tea from a thermos into the cap and handed it to Heero. It was a different taste from the salted tea, and Heero scrunched up his face.
"I think I prefer salt to sweet," he said.
"It's yak butter," Duo treated himself to a little sip, "it takes quite a bit of…training to get used to it."
"I still can't believe how cold the climate here is in general," Heero sighed as he ate a piece of balep korkun. The flatbread had been fresh this morning, but it seemed like the environment had sucked everything out of it; Heero could crumble it in his fingers. "The Tibetans are marvelous adapted to these harsh circumstances."
"I have read an article about how they're being able to survive here," Duo frowned as he tried to recall, "it's because of their lung capacities… no, that's not true. Their bodies are much better able to get oxygen from their blood at higher altitudes, due to evolution. They lived for generations at this altitude and have developed a better body for it. It was quite an interesting article."
"I think any Tibetan will be in shock when they meet another culture." Heero munched on the bread, swallowing it with another sip of tea. "They're nomads, focused on survival on a daily base. How would they respond to a supermarket filled with meat and vegetables?"
"I don't think they would care much for the supermarkets." Duo had finished eating from the stock of tsampa the monks had prepared for them. His voice carried a soft tone of melancholy. "I think they would miss their mountains. It's beautiful, Heero. So harsh and unforgiving, yet beautiful. I'd miss the mountains too."
"You're probably right." Heero fell into silence as he was eating the rest of the balep korkun, using the last of his tea to wash it down. As soon as they'd return to Maxwell Manor, he was going to ask Hillary to make him such a large okonomiyaki that he could eat himself silly for at least three days.
"Do you want me to go first now? It's tiring on the eyes," Duo said.
"All right. Give me your flares, then."
They switched positions and Duo went first, leading the way down. The temperature went down along the way and Heero noticed his breath coming out in small puffs; it was getting close to below zero. Duo halted and shone the light on the walls. There was definitely ice on the rocks.
"We must be…I don't even know. Do we have a depth gage with us?"
"I didn't see one in Solo's inventory," Heero said. He doubted whether he could use a laptop down here, even if it was his own. "We haven't been descending that long, though."
"This is Tibet," Duo muttered. "It's snow and ice all the way. But ice inside a mountain?"
"Be careful."
"I'm glad that there's no ice on the stairs."
Heero left another flare on the steps and they descended deeper into the mountain. To save strength and conserve their stamina, they didn't say more than was necessary. The ice on the rocky walls increased in thickness, and huge icicles hung from the ceiling. Not a gust of wind, not a sound, not one sign of life - only them, the two adventurers, and a chilly feeling kept crawling between Heero's shoulders. He realized that he was scared. It was a tight knot in his stomach that was warning him for danger. Strange that he responded so intuitively, so strongly to natural forces around him, even though he had as much experience as Duo under his belt when it came to extreme circumstances. This was also a part of the excitement, fear and adrenaline fighting over control of his body, the thrill of the chase, the alluring taste of a new discovery…
"Hey, it's solid ground here," Duo's voice suddenly broke the silence.
"Finally," Heero said. He put another flare at the end of the stairs and looked around, following the flashlight. Nothing but icicles, ice and rocks.
"Wow. How could anyone have survived here?" Duo said. "I mean… whoever carved those steps, they had to work here in these circumstances, with nothing more than sheepskin and wool clothes and the pickaxes in their hands. It's… astounding."
"I wish I knew," Heero answered truthfully. "It's fascinating. Too bad there are no documents of Kolanuhm's reign and the people in his service."
"Still, the sword… it's all that remains of him and his name."
"And fame."
"Well, whatever you want to call it. Do you want to rest some?"
Duo's energy had unlimited levels, or so it seemed. Heero had to smile. No way was he going to slow him down, he was getting the same energy surges; they were getting closer with each and every step.
"Go on," Heero motioned him. "Be careful not to slip though. The ice is also on the ground."
"I see it. Hey, maybe there are some yetis living underground…"
"Duo, just continue…"
"Yes, master commander."
It took just another five minutes for Duo to halt again. Heero came standing close to him, one hand on his shoulder.
"What's the matter?"
"Give me one of your flares," Duo said. Without questioning him, Heero handed him a flare. Duo lit it and threw it in front of him - it bounced off the ground, sliding smoothly along the surface of ice.
"Amazing…"
Duo shone the flashlight around once more. "It's a frozen lake," he said. The flare had ended up in the middle, giving off enough light to illuminate the surroundings. "Look at that! A frozen lake in the middle of the mountain!"
"This is incredible," Heero was impressed, "any scientist would kill to research this. How did water get into the mountain here?"
"Nature. This had to have been a process of eons." Duo tried to estimate the size of the lake. "Rain, melting water from the glaciers… it has been seeping for millennia into the rock. This is a natural phenomenon I've never seen before."
"I don't have a camera with me. This is astounding."
"I'm not sure how you could get a picture of this," Duo said. "It's so dark…"
"A video camera, then…just to document this wonderful place."
"We should contact National Geographic Channel as soon as we get home."
"You'd make a lovely presenter of the Duo Maxwell in Tibet show."
"Ha ha…"
"Anyway, how are we going to get across?"
"Across to where?" Duo moved the flashlight from left to right. "I don't see any exit here, Heero. No crack or opening on the other side."
"Do you think… the tomb is under the lake?"
Duo heaved a sigh. "If that's so, we're never going to be able to reach it. Tsering didn't tell us about it."
"He didn't know." Heero put his backpack on the ground and started digging through it, even though he didn't know himself what he was looking for. "He said that he and his brothers defended the place, but hadn't seen it himself… or any of his ancestors in ages."
"Thubten has cured your ears very, very thoroughly," Duo said. "You pick up everything!"
"Your thoughts wander off too fast." It wasn't a reproach, Heero's voice was light. He was getting the hang of how to even out his breathing in this atmosphere, and he had no doubt Duo had picked up on it as well.
"What are you searching for?"
"I don't know. I must've packed something to solve this…"
"I think I have the answer this time." Duo shrugged the backpack off of his shoulders, heaving an audible sigh. Putting the heavy climbing ropes aside, he opened the flap of the backpack and pulled out a device that Heero didn't recognize.
"What's that?"
"It's an ancient depth meter, especially for ice and snow," Duo said. "Howard has built this the first time Solo and I went to Tibet. If we had to cross frozen lakes or rivers or large fields covered in snow, we could use this little gadget to measure its depth, so we wouldn't be surprised."
"Sounds just like Howard to invent a thing like that. How does it work?"
"Let me see…" Duo banged with his hand against the small device, and a light suddenly lit up. "Ah, that's more like it." He went to the edge of the frozen lake, placed the device on the ice and shone his flashlight on the display. "I guess it has to… wait! It says that it's at least five meters thick."
"That's more than safe enough," Heero said, satisfied. "But if we really can't find a way out…"
"Then we have to turn back. We haven't come this far to go home empty-handed. There must be another way in."
"Or they have taken extra precautions that the sword wouldn't be stolen."
"Why? No one tried to take it when the Khan was alive. No one took it when the Khan was buried. Why the precautions? Why bury it so deep?"
"You know, I love to chat about this with you over a cup of good, strong, coffee…"
"Tempting. Let me get to the other side of the lake." Duo hoisted his backpack over his shoulders again and took the depth device with him, placing it on the ice at intervals to check its depth. "Four meters. Three meters. The ice is getting thinner here, how strange."
"I don't want you to go any further," Heero called out.
"Heero, I can skate the Dutch Elfstedentocht all over the place. Did you know that skating tour requires fifteen centimeters of thickness? It's two hundred and fifty centimeters here. I can dance with a hippo and still not worry to crack through it!"
Heero uttered a sound that could mean anything, and he stepped on the ice as well. It was strangely gorgeous, and the extra weight he put on it didn't seem to cause any strain on it. Duo was still moving around, checking the thickness of the ice occasionally. Heero studied the walls for cracks, hidden entrances, anything that could give a hint to proceed from here; the possibility that the tomb was under the ice, became stronger and stronger as he couldn't find anything.
"It's no use," Heero said out loud, "I can't find anything."
"Wait a sec," Duo answered, "I'm coming. Let me finish…" His sentence was cut short when a nasty, loud cracking sound interrupted him. Heero snapped his head around.
"Duo, what?"
"I…" In the light of the flare in the exact middle of the frozen lake, Heero could see Duo's incredulous expression. He held Howard's depth measuring device in his hands.
"How thick is the ice there?"
"One hundred and twenty-seven centimeters." Duo held up the device as if Heero could see the display from the distance. "There should be no problem.."
The next second, the ice cracked so loud that they both instantly ducked for cover, the noises resembling gunshots, echoing all around them. Heero was the closest to the point where they had entered the lake and started moving back.
"Get back," he said.
"Yeah." Duo laughed a little nervously and moved his leg, only to flinch when another sound, cracking like a whip, echoed. This time, the ice was visibly tearing. A large fissure was rapidly created, the ice moving and bulging like tectonic plates shifting. Duo was rooted to his spot, unable to process the rapidity with which the ice was breaking.
"Duo, move!" Heero took a step towards him, only to notice a spider web-like pattern under his feet. Water was pressed through the thin cracks, wetting the surface and making it slippery. "Move, goddamnit!"
Duo moved to the side, tracing his steps back to the entrance. The ice was cracking and tearing like a sick imitation of popcorn being popped; the sounds came in rapid succession, with every crack throwing up water, wetting the surface, cracks shifting under such pressure that they broke in large chunks of ice. It got torn so fast that Duo couldn't stay ahead of it, and to Heero's horror he fell on his right knee, his foot getting caught in a crack splitting open.
"Duo!" Heero threw off his backpack and slid towards him. "Grab my hand!"
"No! Stay back!" Duo tried to get his leg free, placing his hands on the ice and keeping his body low to the ground. "I don't want you to sink through it!"
"Don't be stupid!" Heero hugged the wall as he approached Duo. "Your hand! Now!"
He twisted his own torso, trying to reach Duo. He saw him lift up his hand, shaky, afraid to lose his precarious balance. The ice seemed to have stopped moving and Duo got up, his soaked leg freed from its scary position.
"Easy, easy," Heero said even though Duo was careful and he reached for him some more, his fingers outstretching to grab Duo's hand. He was just about to say that Duo should throw off his heavy backpack when the unimaginable happened: a large crack spread out in front of Duo, a gaping black hole that opened right up and swallowed him. In the blink of an eye, Duo fell forward, slipping on the ice, his hand away from Heero's. In another millisecond, their eyes crossed looks: both mirroring surprise and fear as the next second, he was gone. He was simply gone. Heero didn't know who cried out louder: Duo in surprise as the ice gave way, or Heero himself, crying like a fatally wounded animal, echoing wildly, howling inside the mountain as if demons were gnawing on his very soul, torturing his body as the one he loved, the one he would die for, the one and only Duo, vanished in front of his eyes, nature relentlessly claiming another victim.
He didn't hesitate for one moment, not even with the ice crackling and shifting under him. Heero threw off his backpack and shot forward, only to be held back by a force. He wrestled, his arms flailing as if trying to swim on dry land, yelling, screaming and crying out Duo's name. He was pulled back and he kept crying and yelling, emitting nonsensical noises as he was pulled back further, away from the ice.
"Let me go!" He yelled even though he didn't know he was yelling to. Whoever or whatever was holding him, it was strong, and Heero started punching, driving his elbow backwards to hit whatever was behind him, protesting and snarling, but his feet slipped on the ice and he was dragged surely but slowly away from the place where Duo had sunk through the ice.
"Let me go! Motherfucker!" Finally, Heero turned around, but before he could throw another punch, he was slapped so hard in his face that he promptly fell, his knees landing on solid ground.
"You won't bring Maxwell back by screaming his name," a stern voice reached his ears. "Get up on your feet, Yuy. This is not becoming of you."
Chapter 10 | Chapter 12 |