|
"Evolution"Written By: The Plotting Housewife Disclaimer: Gundam Wing belongs to Bandai, Sotsu
and associated Parties. This work is written for pleasure not profit. Rating: NC 17 Warnings: AU, yaoi, quasi-dark, genetically engineered
pilots, test tube babies, lab-created Gods, pseudoscience. Pairings: 1x2, 3x4, 5x13, 13xUne Summary: Zayeed Winner, founder of The Human Perfect
Project, makes miracles happen in the laboratory by creating genetically
engineered children. It's only when it's too late that he discovers
playing God can result in catastrophic consequences. " Evolution" Chapter 2 - The Perfect Soldier
"Heero. Heero, look at me." The five year old turned his head away from the wall and blinked up at Zayeed. His blue eyes were blank, vacant, and Zayeed got the feeling that the child knew what he'd done was wrong. He simply didn't care. Zayeed crouched down to his eye level. "Do you know why you're being punished?" The child stared at him, eyes still eerily empty. Slowly, he nodded his head up and down. "Why?" "Because I pointed my gun at a person and I should never point my gun at a person without the intent to shoot." He was reciting from the rule book and Zayeed wondered, as smart as the child was, if he was really comprehending the situation. Still, he'd surmised that much, which was an improvement. He nodded. "And why don't we do that?" The child kept staring at him in that unnerving way. He opened his mouth, closed it, then tried again. "Because - because I could accidentally shoot someone by accident?" "Is that an answer, or a question?" Heero cocked his head. He looked utterly angelic and Zayeed gulped down his discomfort. Looks were indeed deceiving. The boy's gaze was so intense, Zayeed could have sworn it was burning a hole in his head. Then the child said, "But, what if I was intending to shoot that man?" Zayeed was taken aback. He watched, stunned, as the child stared back, waiting for an answer. How did one respond to that? "Is - was that your intent?" His pulse had accelerated, breathing harder as Heero's eyes darkened. Or, was it only his mind playing tricks on him? The child simply shrugged and turned back to face the wall. "Maybe, maybe not," he answered cryptically. "I'm going to finish my punishment now. Just let me know when it's over." He spoke with such authority and Zayeed almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. He was being dismissed by a fucking kindergartner. "Heero, that's not an answer." "Yes, it is." "No, Heero. No, it's not." The child's head turned again, the faint hint of a sneer on his face. Zayeed suddenly felt like he was the child. He had the distinct impression that Heero was not looking at him, but looking down on him, as though he were an inferior creature. Zayeed was far too disturbed by this development to be offended. "Well, what kind of answer would you like, Father?" The way the child said "Father" was a very deliberate slight, his voice dripping with disdain. Zayeed ignored it, for the meantime. "An honest one." Heero's blue eyes narrowed and he studied Zayeed like a fly under a microscope. "No, I don't think you would." He glanced at the clock on the wall behind Zayeed's head. "I still have ten minutes left." He turned back around to face the wall without another word and Zayeed was too overwhelmed to question him further. He left the room, only to have little Duo smack into his legs as he tore down the long hallway. "Whoa, little guy. Slow down, okay? I don't want you hurting yourse - hey, what do you have there?" "It's a scythe," the child answered happily, showing it to Zayeed. "Did you make it?" "Yep!" "Wow, that's very good, Duo." It actually was. It was made out of black and gray construction paper and Duo had even drawn a face on the blade part. Zayeed examined it further, shuddering as he took in the sharp teeth and angry eyes that had been scribbled with red crayon. "Who's this?" "It's Death." Zayeed had to do a double take, unable to believe this five year old child had just said that. "I'm sorry, what?" "Death." "Oookaaay...why do you have Death drawn on your scythe?" Duo looked at him as if he was nuts. "Because it's a Deathscythe," he said, enunciating the words like he was talking to someone who was a little slow on the uptake. Well, that made all the sense in the world then. "Alright." No, Zayeed wasn't disturbed at all...okay, maybe a little. "Is Hee-chan going to be done soon?" "Uh, well no. He still has to do his studies after his time out. Then he can play." Duo shot him a strange look and Zayeed almost took a step back. It was gone as quick as it came and then Duo was smiling brightly again. "Okay," he chirped. "See ya!" He took off down the hallway and Zayeed watched his retreating back as he collided with another staff member then disappeared around the corner. Huh. That was weird. For a moment there, it almost felt like the child had been planning his untimely demise. He checked his watch. "Okay, Heero, time's up." He placed a hand on the door to push it open when it was suddenly yanked open from the other side. Heero stepped out and strode past him, not ever bothering look at him. "I know." Zayeed couldn't say that Heero was his most difficult child. That honor probably belonged to his own flesh and blood, Quatre. But Heero was most definitely his scariest child. Unlike Quatre who came from his sperm and his wife's egg, the other four boys were a conglomerate of varying genetics built from the blood of anonymous donors. In Heero's case, he'd singled out Japanese, Irish, and Italian ethnicities. The combination was striking as the child had a mix of Asian and European features. His distinctly almond-shaped eyes were a bold, cobalt blue. The boy was intensely serious with very little of the typical rambunctiousness that often accompanies boys of his age. He was strangely quiet and when he did speak, he spoke directly, bluntly, and with the air of someone who knew, at the age of five, that he was already leaps and bounds ahead in terms of intelligence. He also had an unnerving knack for staring through you like you were some obstacle that was in his way. At the age of two, he was reading at a sixth grade level, and by the age of three, he'd announced that he wanted a BB gun with the confidence of someone who knew he was going to get one, even though Zayeed had not been planning on it. And Zayeed had told him as much. He remembered clearly how the boy had looked at him, almost as if to say, How dare you? Zayeed tried to explain to him that he was just too young and he'd have to wait until he was older. Heero stared at him with those laser eyes for several minutes, then turned on his heel and stormed from the room. He locked himself in his bedroom for a solid week, refusing to come out. Not even to eat. Duo, who was the closest to him had walked up to Zayeed on the evening of the seventh day and informed him that Heero was going to starve himself to death unless he got a gun. Zayeed smiled and placed his hand on the boy's shoulder, but immediately took it away when Duo looked at it like it was poison. "Don't worry, Duo. He's not going to starve himself to death." "Yes, he will." "No, he won't." "Yes, he will." "Duo -" Zayeed pinched the bridge of his nose, exasperated. How to explain to a three year old that Heero would eventually be driven by instinct to eat once he got hungry enough, though Zayeed had to admit he was impressed with Heero's stamina. He'd held out much longer than he thought possible. "He will, Father. And he'll die. And I'll have to take him to his eternal resting place -" "What do you mean you'll have to take him?" Duo puffed his little chest out. "I am the God of Death. It's my job." Zayeed was stunned into silence. Where in the world did a three year old get an idea like that? "Yeah, okay. No more TV for you before bed. And as far as Heero is concerned, I can assure you he will eat before he dies." But little Duo shook his head. "But he won't. You don't know him like I do. He'll die...and it'll be all...your...fault..." Duo's eyes were comically wide when he said that, but there was nothing funny about it. Zayeed looked into those indigo eyes and saw the promise of horrible things if that were to happen. Duo turned away then, and slowly walked from the room, but he watched Zayeed over his shoulder as he left, his face stormy with the prospect of doom. Zayeed sat in his study for nearly an hour, frozen, completely gobsmacked, and utterly creeped out. He didn't want to give in to the child. If he learned he could get his way by behaving like this, then he would do it every time he wanted something. At the same time, he found himself actually scared. What if Heero did wind up killing himself? Or at the very least, cause his little body some serious damage by not giving it the necessary nutrients that it needed. He relented only because he began to seriously worry that Duo was right. He couldn't believe he was caving in to a three year old, but the consequences, at least his his mind, was not worth the price of a toy. He knocked on the boy's door and waited for a reply. It was ominously silent for several minutes. Long enough for Zayeed to begin panicking that the child had already collapsed from hunger. He was preparing to shove his shoulder against it and break it down when he heard a tiny voice on the other side. "What do you want?" "Heero, it's me. Can you let me in?" More silence, then. "Why would I do that?" A muscle in Zayeed's jaw twitched and he huffed in irritation. "Because I'm your father." "You're not my father. My father is some guy from Japan who donated blood for beer money." "Wh - how the -" How the fuck did he know that? "Heero, open the door." "What if I don't?" And now the child was challenging him. Zayeed raised his eyes to the ceiling, blood pressure reaching dangerous levels. "Then I'm going to break it down." He was quiet for a minute and Zayeed almost thought he was going to unlock it. Then he said, "Go ahead." "Why you little - fine." Fine. If that was how he wanted to play. Unfortunately, the door was a lot harder to break than he'd thought, even with his adrenaline running on high. He shoved his shoulder into it like he'd seen in numerous films. It hurt. It hurt and the door still wouldn't give. He cursed as he bounced off it again and again, glancing around to make sure no one was watching this indignity. Holding his aching shoulder, breathing hard and now particularly fed up, he stood in front of the door, raised his fist, and bellowed. "Heero, you open this door right now, or I'll -" He stopped when he sensed someone nearby and spun around to find Duo standing a few feet away with wide eyes. He whispered in a tiny voice, "You'll what, Father?" Zayeed couldn't remember the last time he'd blushed, but now he could feel the burn as the blood rushed to his face. "Eh-heh..." He rubbed the back of his head. "Nothing - nothing, Duo. Run along and play with your brothers, okay?" "You're not going to hurt him, are you...Father?" "Duo! How could you think - of course not. When have I ever hurt any of you? No, I just want to talk to him, okay?" Duo stared at him as he took a step back, then another. Zayeed watched his snail-paced retreat, their eyes locked in a proverbial stand-off. Finally, Duo spoke. "Good. Because if you hurt him...that would be a very bad thing to do." Was this kid threatening him? Or simply telling him that hurting Heero would be bad? "Uh...yeah, Duo. It would be. Go find your brothers, okay? It's time for your snack. I'll bring Heero down in a few minutes." Duo's eyes shined with something he couldn't decipher and he had the almost uncontrollable urge to run away screaming. But he remained frozen in place. Duo suddenly smirked, winked, then whirled around and ran down the hallway, out of sight. Zayeed watched him go, scratching his head, and muttering to himself. "Damn, but these kids are some kind of weird." He turned and jumped as Heero's door was now open and said boy was standing in the doorway watching him with an unreadable expression. When had he opened it? Zayeed never heard the click of the lock, or the handle. Heero's eyes bore holes into his head and Zayeed slumped, defeated, too exhausted by this battle to keep going. Goddamnit. "Okay, Heero. You win. You can have your gun." Heero's face split into a wide grin and while Zayeed should have been delighted to see his rare smile, it spooked him more than anything else. Heero got his pellet gun and Zayeed was shocked to discover he was an automatic prodigy. A crack shot. He hit every single target head on, without fail. The incident that got him in trouble was when Heero pointed the gun at one of Quatre's caregivers as he tried to drag the hysterically protesting child off for his bath. Granted, it wouldn't do all that much harm, but it was the principle of the thing. You just don't point your weapons at people unless you're planning on the possibility of using it. Zayeed was disturbed that apparently, Heero had been planning on using it. The child had never done that before. He didn't even point his gun at animals. Zayeed had walked into the room and was met with a vitual stand-off of almost laughable proportions. A five year old pointing a BB gun at an adult, eyes dark and sinister, while the adult stood frozen, unsure how to react as little Quatre dangled from his grip by the arm, howling like a banshee. Zayeed rushed forward and grabbed the gun and the child and ushered him away, apologizing to the caregiver. He took him up to his room, berating him the entire way about the dangers of pellet guns. "If you can't be responsible with it, you will not be allowed to use it." He made the child stand in the corner for thirty minutes to think about what he'd done. Heero took the punishment in stride, standing with his face to the wall, still as a statue. Zayeed took the gun for twenty four hours and told Heero he would get rid of it if he ever pointed it at anyone else. The child glared at him, almost in challenge, then shrugged and tucked into his supper. Zayeed sipped his wine as he watched him eat. He realized that everything Heero did was measured, calculated, controlled. The child would cut his meat into tiny pieces with careful precision. Then, he would take a bite, chewing thoroughly, no trace of pleasure, or disgust on his face. Heero didn't eat for taste like most children did. He ate for sustenance. Zayeed suspected if he set a cooked rat down in front of him, he'd simply pick up his knife and fork and get to it. Zayeed just couldn't figure it out. He had five five year olds who were exceptionally bright and talented. Zayeed should have been thrilled by their development, but instead he found himself increasingly unsettled. It seemed there were eyes everywhere, watching his every move, waiting for a moment of weakness. Sometimes, they would look at him as if he was nothing but a wisp of smoke, sometimes like they wanted him dead. He'd taken to locking his door at night because he'd woken up once to find Heero standing next to his bed at two thirty in the morning. He didn't say anything, didn't even move. Just watched him silently. Zayeed felt him before he saw him. He groaned and rolled over, cracking open his eyelids to see his five year old son staring at him in the dark. The moonlight that streamed in through the window cast eerie shadows along his face, giving him a haunted look. Zayeed jumped three feet off the mattress with a yelp, arms and legs flailing, hopelessly tangled in the sheets. If his life had really been in danger, he would have been screwed. He took a few deep breaths, trying to calm his racing heart, and sat up. "Heero? You okay?" The child continued to stare at him, unmoving. Zayeed wondered if he was sleepwalking. He waved a hand in front of the boy's face. "Heero! Wake up. You're sleep -" "No, I'm not." He paused, startled by the calm, almost monotone voice. "What?" "I said I'm not sleepwalking." "Then...what are you doing?" "Just standing here." "Doing what?" "Watching you." Zayeed was mildly concerned about his blood pressure as his head pulsed. He tried valiantly to remain calm. "I can see that. Why?" "Because someone asked me to." "Who?" "No one." He shook his head, at a complete loss. Untangling his legs from his rumpled bedding, he swung them over to the side and stood up, ushering the child forward. "Come on. Let's get you back to bed." The boy obediently allowed himself to be led back to his room and Zayeed tucked him in. "Alright?" Heero nodded. "Good." He turned to leave, disturbed, not sure he'd be able to get back to sleep after this. "Father?" "Yes?" "How does it feel?" "How does what feel?" "To be human." Zayeed was speechless. What kind of question was that? How was one to answer? He never spoke of his musings, not even to Sally, though he figured he probably should. He suspected she may have also wondered the same things herself. Over the past few years, he toyed with the idea that his creations were not actually human. They weren't just odd, they were...something else altogether. The question was on the tip of his tongue for a long time, but he'd never been able to ask it. Now, it slipped out before he could stop himself. "What are you?" He could see Heero's blue eyes, seemingly almost glowing in the dark. The child whispered, almost so low he couldn't hear it, but he did. And he wished he hadn't. "A soldier." "A soldier?" "The Perfect Soldier." "Well, you know, Heero. Good little soldiers follow orders." "I know." "Well, maybe you can be a good soldier in the future and mind me when I -" "I don't follow your orders." Well, then. "Whose orders do you follow?" But, apparently Heero decided the conversation was over. He turned onto his side without another word. Zayeed watched for a few more minutes, overcome with affection, but also a helpless confusion. He simply didn't know how to reach these children. They were his creations, but he had no idea how to connect with them. It occurred to him that since he'd created such an advanced race of beings, that maybe, just maybe they were beyond his reach. He was the lowly ant looking up at a human God, trying to figure out what made them tick and he felt despondently unqualified. "Goodnight, Heero," he whispered into the dark. He didn't expect an answer. He didn't get one. ~ * ~ |
