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"Yestermark"Written By: Asymphototropic
Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam wing. Author: Asymphototropic (attracted toward the
light, but never quite arrives there) Email: asymphototropic@aol.com Rating: NC 17 Warnings: extreme Asyness Summary: Mingling of possibilities occurs at this vortex source. Don't leave home without your Ticket firmly in your fist. Else you may never return. Pairings: 1x2 other GW characters may appear upon progression
"Yestermark " Part 4: Voices in Empty Halls "Will there be anything else, sir?" she giggled. He stared into lake blue eyes, shaded by a swept fringe of glossy black hair, as recognition struck him painfully. She was the Victorian servant girl. Instantly, his memory flashed upon that bedroom scene, the blonde aristocrats leering as Yuy spread succulent ass cheeks and delved deeply. Heero's flushed face burned. "Where is Duo Maxwell?" he demanded. "Don't know the name," the girl shrugged cheerfully. "But then, I'm new at this job. Only been at it less than a week. Long school day?" she nodded at the purchases he supposed he had dumped on the counter, before his cognizance had rejoined his corporum. It was quite a stack of junk food. Chips, cellophane wrapped cupcakes, nuts, candy bars. Cheese product in a spray can. He shuddered spontaneously. "Its the new seafood diet," he explained, deadpan. "Really?" "Yes. Whenever you see food, you eat it." "Hardee har." He groped his buttocks and was relieved to find an ordinary bill fold in his jeans pocket. As he opened the wallet, half in dread to find some weird anachronistic coinage or other, he rapidly scanned his surroundings. Seemingly contemporaneous with his attire, he concluded with relief. He offered the checker a bill, breathing a deep sigh when she accepted the money nonchalantly and rang up his purchases. "Do you mind if I start eating here?" he asked. His legs felt shaky enough that he didn't trust them for any great distance. "Come on behind the counter," she winked and nodded at a small step stool next to the frozen slush drink dispenser. Gratefully he sank down upon the perch, and instantly launched into a chocolate squiggle cake. His body craved sugar and salt. The nuts would be next. And then a frozen drink. Maybe he should start with fluids. He felt positively desiccated. "What a coolish tattoo. Or body art, whatever." He looked down where her gaze lingered, at the inner aspect of his forearm. The dragon statuette had burned its profile into the skin of his arm. He touched the image gingerly, but found it not at all sensitive. The scar was amazingly intricate, and left him with a feeling of the supernatural that made him shiver. He could not imagine how the burn could be so vivid, almost three dimensional in its details, what mechanism had rendered the picture in his flesh. "The kid I was asking about. He's maybe an inch shorter than me. Has brandy colored hair, very long and braided. A freckled snub nose, big grin. And vivid purple eyes." She shook her head. "Sorry. If I'd seen someone like that, I'd definitely remember him." "Yes, you would," Heero agreed glumly. "Listen. Just in case he does turn up here, do you think you might give him a message from me?" "Sure, no problem." She handed him a pen and a sheet off a gummed pad. He extracted the driver's license from his wallet, double checked that the photo ID was actually of himself, and copied the address onto the paper. "Duo Maxwell. Please come by. Thanks. Heero Yuy," he jotted and handed the girl his note, feeling it had about as much chance of success as your average message in a bottle, tossed into the ocean. "Heero? I'm Hilde." He shook her proffered hand, which felt very soft and humanly warm in his own. Just as the cake, too, was substantial in his mouth. It tasted good, and he felt the morsel reach his stomach, stirring his digestive juices to eager action. It occurred to him to wonder whether this city was his original Point upon the Line, and therefore more solid to his perceptions. Well, at least he wouldn't starve to death here. Next, outside the convenience store, he flagged a taxi, and gave the driver the address from the license in his wallet. In spite of all evidence that this modern urban setting might be considered home, his memory was not sufficient to tell him how to get to his destination. Fortunately it proved a brief enough drive that the cab's meter didn't out run his limited monetary resources. "You sure this is the right place, bud?" the cabbie asked, eying Heero's T shirt and faded jeans, comparing this impression to the museum-quality mansion at his destination. "Yes, certain," Heero replied uncertainly. "Thank you. Good bye," he added with dismissive emphasis. "If you say so. Hope they don't have guard dogs," the driver shook his head as he shifted gears to leave. "Agreed," Heero muttered to himself as he ascended the stately stairs to the pillared front of the building. He folded his fist to wrap knuckles at the polished mahogany door. Upon first contact, however, the portal opened wide, with a screech of infrequently used hinges. "Melodrama," Heero told himself, trying to shirk the unease that surrounded his entry. There came to him no feeling of familiarity, no matter how desperately he combed his muddled memory. "Hello? It's Yuy. Are you here?" he shouted down long echoing passageways. The call was greeted with a lonely lack of reply. Seizing his courage firmly, he walked inside. His shoes clattered upon ceramic tiled floors. "Hello? It's only me," he called aloud to the emptiness. He shuddered aside from suits of armor and marble statues, briefly mistaking them for people before perceiving his mistake. Turning to look about him as he broached another vast corridor, he collided with solidity, then drew back, rubbing his sore knee. An armchair, he perceived. Placed haphazardly in the middle of a hall intersection, where clearly it represented an impediment. But why did this object alone seem familiar? Ah, the bar, the hotel, the beginning of this particular Ticketeering journey. The Point on the Line at which he had discovered such instability in the Source. Instantly, Yuy plunked down into the chair's comfortable depths, challenging the muddy ripples of his remembrance. He had come aware, sitting thus, his arm folded around someone. Folded with a deep feeling of contentment. Folded around someone possessively. Folded around. "Duo," he said aloud. "Maxwell? Are you here?" he spoke desperately to the reverberating distant walls. He jumped up and ran down the corridors, shouting. "Where are you? Please answer me." Now he heard voices, over in that direction. He directed his hasty steps toward the noise, only upon arrival finding the mocking sound of laughter in an entirely different location. With dogged determination, he redirected his steps. Past brocade draped windows opening upon shadowed tree branches. Past mirrored walls and ceilings with dusty chandeliers, offering little light. Conglomerated furnishings reflecting the tastes of expired generations, slowly wilting into a forgotten love that was worse than death for sheer neglect. "Duo Maxwell," Heero shouted. "Where are you? Please answer me," he begged the sharp edged emptiness. "Who is that?" the voice asked. Heero jumped in alarm, gasped, grasping at the Ticket tingling against his flesh, as if it were a talisman against evil. A movement he took for aggression caught his attention, and he whirled around to confront the danger, his feet ready to dodge, his fist cocked to throw a defensive punch. He stared at his own image in the mirror. Which caught a similar reflection of his form from another looking glass on the opposite wall. An infinite progression ahead of him, an infinite digression in retreat, mocked him, until blurred with distance, they merged. An unending line of self entities all lorn and forlorn. "There you are." Again, Heero spun about to glare. A mahogany desk against a distant wall. A small figure, sitting there, alone also. "Doctor Gee?" "Yes, boy. I'm just sorting through Jay's papers. But of course, finding nothing practical. How typical of my old friend, to lead us on such a convoluted scavenger hunt." Breathing deeply, allowing the pounding of his heart to subside somewhat, Yuy strode up to the office area. The mundane scene was a soothing balm upon his disquiet. Disappointed relief beckoned him toward this outpost of reality. "He shouldn't have said that." "What, boy?" "He shouldn't have said so. It was cruel. Said that I wouldn't cry at his funeral. What have I done to deserve it? Why would Jay say such a mean thing?" "Oh, that. Who knows?" Gee shrugged his wizened shoulders. His grimace had a gargoyle quality to it, facial features, once handsomely aquiline, now ridiculously enlarged in the advancement of age. Yuy caught a glimpse of mirrors in declination, with handsome young Doctor Gees, depicted in a long chain of reflections. It caused Heero's heart to twinge in his chest. "I suppose," Gee chuckled, "that it is the nature of the species. Youth is, by definition, selfish, and age is intrinsically cruel. We willingly give of ourselves, in care of our youngsters. And they, being born incompetent, must accept our care. With growing young competence comes a reasonable desire for independence. The elderly are left to contemplate being left behind, increasingly ugly, incompetent and unnecessary. You see how it is, perhaps?" Heero nodded, trying hard to relinquish his resentment. "All we oldsters can do is to kick ourselves, in reminder of when we first matured and soared free of restraint. And all you young folks can do is imagine yourselves in our place, knowing full well it is your fate to sometime travel to that destination in fact. And in so reflecting, strive for a little sympathy." "Yes. What is beyond that door?" "I don't know." "What is wrong here? Why is the Source so unstable?" "I have yet to discover any answers." "Perhaps Jay isn't really dead?" "That is possible. He might be counterfeiting demise at this Point. If so, it may be because he wants, or needs to avoid us. So that we direct all of our energies to this quest he has given us." "Then why hide his papers? And why be so mysterious? Why not give us explicit instructions?" "It may be a case of a 'need to know' basis. Perhaps his own greater understanding of the situation is impairing his movements. If he tries to remedy the instability of the Source, and by his efforts, makes things worse? So he wants us to act on instinct alone, rather than on information that would misdirect our steps." "It is extremely discomforting." "Yes, quite so. You said something about a professional mourner? Jay indicated your search in his last will and testament?" "Duo Maxwell," Heero nodded emphatically. "Once you see him, you cannot mistake him. A boy, somewhat slighter than myself. He has a whiskey colored braid, worn very long down his back. And brilliant amethyst eyes." "You've met? Spoken together?" Gee asked eagerly. "Indeed, yes. At a minimum of four different Points along this Line have I encountered the boy. Only to lose him again," Heero shook his head sadly. "Another Ticketeer, then?" "I believe not," Yuy said thoughtfully. "I have seen him stark nude. And he retained no power icon upon his person." He stopped abruptly, when he perceived Gee's rather suggestive smirk. Heero flushed hotly, and choked to silence. "A Traveler along the Line, but not a Ticketeer?" the Doctor demanded excitedly. "That was my impression. He shows certain yestermarks about him. And he is somewhat odd in appearance, although very attractive, almost magnetic in his multiple persona." "You, my dear boy, are smitten," Gee laughed out loud. "Perhaps," Yuy looked down at his feet, shifting his weight awkwardly. "Try not to let it impair your participation in this wretched scavenger hunt of Jay's. The consequences of misaction on our parts may result in a Universe gone seriously awry." "I'll do my best." "Concentrate on the boy." "That, I can readily promise," Yuy retorted ruefully. The comment drew another chuckle from the Doctor. Heero eyed the double doors at the opposite end of the study. He felt irresistibly drawn in that direction. Fingering his Ticket against the violent pulsation of his heart, he opened one door a mere crack and sidled through to the other side. The crowd roared. He fell down, in immediate danger of being trampled. A kaleidoscope of brilliant colors and dim shadows swirled around him as he drowned. Doctor Gee's voice echoed from a vast distance. "Mind and shut the door against the draft. There's a good boy." |
