"The Darkest Reflection"

Written By: Impish

Rating: strong R

Pairings: main 1+2+1, background 2+3, OFC+5 and 4+3

Category: Duo POV with angst, action, drama and politics.

Warnings: creepiness, more graphic images and gore

Summery: The earth sphere has moved on into an age of peace, but Duo is fighting battles of his own. He has reluctantly joined the Preventers, and is surprised to see Heero sign up as well. With an assassin on the loose and an increase in suspicious activity, he’s beginning to realize the fine line between genius and insanity, and how easily it can be erased.

Disclaimer: I don’t own Gundam Wing. Surprise! And none of the songs or titles belong to me, either.

"The Darkest Reflection"

CHAPTER 10: Feathers

"To the person in the bell jar, blank and stopped as a dead baby, the world itself is the bad dream."
– "The Bell Jar" by Sylvia Plath


If there were one thing I had to say I liked about dreaming, it was that I got to wake up. Dreams to me were horrible things, and to have the opportunity to escape them was beyond relieving. But sometimes what happened in real life was just as bad, or worse. The things that fed my imagination were often more horrifying than anything imagination could come up with. And made far worse with the knowledge that I couldn't wake up from the real world.

Right now, at this very moment, it wasn’t too bad. In the way that it was nothing my subconscious could use against me, anyways. And as embarrassing as it was, I didn’t consider the acute humiliation of a very obvious hangover usable. I had to let Heero pilot the Preventer craft at first because I was still drunk, and now because I was puking in the shuttle’s head. First the drug thing and now this… he had to be thinking I was ready for rehab or something.

Screw that. He was probably just waiting until we reached L4 to commit me.

I finished up, washed my face and hands and chewed on some toothpaste. Straightening a bit, I stood and stared in the mirror, willing myself to think about drinking water without throwing up again. Sighing, I drank as much as I could handle, and then went into the back again to sleep this thing off. Strangely enough, I fell into a deep, cold sleep without dreams. Must have been the hangover.

As far as awkward silences go, there hadn't been time for any. Heero had figured out that I had drank myself under the table about a minute after we met at the shuttle field, but didn’t say anything. I guess he knew that nothing he could do or say to me was going to keep me from going, especially since this involved Quatre.

He worked out my math on the notes and came to the same conclusion as I had. It was a letter-number-assignment code. Well, a couple codes actually. The letters from the poem were translated into numbers, the translated back to different letters with a different code, and then using the numbers, certain letters were dropped out. The result was fairly simple- FAREWELL QUATRE WINNER.

I slept until I recognized the feel of the shuttle entering the colony shuttle space and the muted sound of Heero asking for docking clearance. Sitting up, I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and went about straightening my clothes, then re-did my braid and made my way to the co-pilot's chair to show I was awake and useful again.

"Are you all right now?" Heero asked, not looking at me while he guided the craft.

"Yeah." I said, and we were quiet until all the docking procedures were complete and the engines were fired down.

I finally broke the silence. "I’m sorry."

"So am I." he said quietly, got out of his chair, and left, and I felt a strange sensation of déjà vu as I wondered exactly what he was sorry for.



I was pretty much over the hangover thing by the time we got to Quatre’s house. The guy who opened the door was a butler-type figure, and not the Maguanac I was hoping for.

"Hey, man. Is Quatre in?" I asked, wishing we could have called Quatre ahead of time. He's just impossible to get a hold of when he's not expecting you.

The man looked almost startled at my informality. Heero and I were in street clothes, hoping to make our appearance on the colony less conspicuous, which I’m sure also had something to do with the guy's expression.

To his credit, he pulled himself together and dropped the face. "I apologize, sirs, but I don’t have any record of Mr. Winner receiving visitors at home today. If you would like to leave a card-"

I put up a hand, cutting him off. "We really need to see him in person. So, is he here, or at the office?"

"I'm sorry, I'm not at liberty to divulge that information." He told us, looking formally apologetic.

I was about to pull the Preventer card when a distinctive voice came from behind the butler. "Master Duo?"

Relieved, I grinned widely. "Hey, Abdul!" I greeted, recognizing him from my brief stay with Quatre that seemed so long ago. The butler looked surprised again, this time with the affirmation that I just might actually know Quatre.

"Master Quatre is at his office. You’re welcome to wait for him here; he should be back in about an hour. Or I can show you there, if you’ rather see him immediately." He offered helpfully.

"Thanks, man, that’d be great. It’s kind of important."

Abdul drove us himself, chatting with me most of the way, relieving what awkward silence might have been. The Winner Corporation building was beautiful, stately, and totally not to my taste. Not that my humble opinion counts for much. Quatre’s personal office was a lot better though. I had a feeling it used to be a lot different before he took over the family business, and as such, the décor was much more comfortable and inviting than the rest of the place.

We were immediately allowed in. Quatre was standing up and coming around his desk as we walked in. He gave both of us a friendly hug in greeting, and I noted the extra muscle in it. He had a little height and weight on him, but it wasn’t flab by any means. He looked like he'd been keeping himself busy. He looked good.

"I’m so glad to see you both! Duo, it’s been so long!" His smile was sharp and his eyes were sparkling.

"It’s great to see you too, Quatre." Especially since you’re still alive, Quatre.

"Congratulations on those satellite contracts you were working on. I heard they went through to L4’s benefit, thanks to you." Heero said.

"Thank you, I'm just glad you were here to help out with a few of the details." Quatre said politely as he studied us carefully. "As wonderful as it is to see you again, this isn’t a social call, is it?"

He always was a quick one. "Sorry, man. I wish it were." I sighed, rubbing at the back of my neck. "Is this room clear?"

"Of course." He said, waiting for me to continue.

"You remember the Sandman?"

He paused to think. "The assassin? Vaguely. Are you trying to find him?"

"Listen, Quatre, we think he’s been hired to kill you." I told him bluntly.

His didn’t even falter, looking as if I’d just told him navy was the new black or something. "I see. But doesn’t he kill using a poison in the eyes? I don’t really see how he could get that close to me."

I shrugged. "Yeah, but he has killed a few guys in other ways and then adds the poison postmortem."

"Hm." He looked pensive. "Well, I’ll tighten security and lay low for a little while. I assume you’ll be staying with me."

"If that’s not a problem. I was thinking…" I looked at Heero. "Maybe you want to try and track him down, and I’ll sit on Quatre?" That way, we were both in effective positions, and I couldn't say that I thought it was a bad idea for us to take a little space from each other.

"That’s fine." He said, and I noted with some relief that the curtness in his tone seemed to be related to the business at hand and not indifference to me. "Give me your notes on the money trail, and I’ll see if I can find anything new."

I turned back to Quatre. "That okay with you?"

"It’s fine with me." He paused, his eyes tracking back and forth between us. "Heero, I’ll have a Maguanac stay with you if you need anything. We’ll check in every hour or if anyone comes up with something useful."

"Thank you. I’ll need a computer."

"You can use the one in here. Duo and I might as well go home and tidy things up."

"Right." I said, thinking how easy it was for the three of us to fall back into planning together, even after being apart for so long. "I guess we'll contact you in an hour, then, Heero."

I had kind of expected a chauffer and a limo or something, but I should have known Quatre better than that. He drove himself, and his car was a small and very efficient model you didn't see the rich and famous usually driving.

"So what happened between you two?" He asked as soon as we took off.

I chuckled. He was always so observant. Some regarded it as some kind of "gift." Empathy, or whatever a Space Heart is. But it wasn’t that, not really.

Don’t get me wrong, it isn’t that Quatre isn’t extremely affected by emotions. He is. But he’s just… very in tune with people, and very, very sensitive, especially to those he feels connected to. What it adds up to is being smart, emotional, and perceptive.

"I should have known it wouldn’t slide by you."

"Well? Don’t avoid the question. Last I spoke with him, Heero said you were working well together." He talked to Heero? Wait, Heero knows how to use a vid-phone?

"Yeah, we were." I sighed. "I fucked things up pretty bad though. I’m surprised he’s still speaking to me, really. And then I went and made a fool out of myself… again."

He gave me a small smile. "That’s very vague, Duo."

"Yeah. I know." I smiled back. "I had a very altruistic day yesterday. I certainly secured a place in heaven."

He laughed. "Oh really? How noble of you. Save me a spot, will you? Charm St. Peter into taking the rest of us?"

"Very funny. What am I supposed to do, seduce him? And aren’t you Muslim?"

"Only a little." His smile grew.

"Oh, really. How are you a little Muslim?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Do you really want me to answer that?" he asked slyly.

I blinked at him. "When did you acquire such a dirty mind?"

He snickered. "You started it. With all that talk about fucking St. Peter."

"A kangaroo couldn’t make that leap." I remarked with a little surprise at his language. But hell, I hadn't even spoken to him in two years after all.

"I said *seduce* St. Peter and *fuck* up my relationship with Heero." I rolled my eyes. "I swear, if I had no eyes, you would make fun of me for being blind." I accused, knowing full well Quatre wasn't at all like that, but just wanting to get off the topic.

"That’s because if I don’t tease you, then no one will." He told me mirthfully.

"That’s the point. You shouldn’t make fun of a blind man." It came out a lot less playful than I’d meant it to, and he gave me a slightly startled look.

"Sorry." I added in a more subdued tone.

"Duo-" He sounded concerned.

"You really shouldn’t push it. Not now. We have more important things to worry about. Like your life, for example."

"With the three of us together, I’m not really that worried." He smiled reassuringly. "We’re good at this kind of thing, remember?"

It always had been in his nature to be ridiculously optimistic. "Yeah. I need to show you the notes he’s written me. He actually got into our office and left them on my desk. I still haven’t figured out how."

I didn’t really want to tell him was that the most recent note had been left in my apartment.

"Really?" He looked surprised. "That’s very… forward of him. For such an anonymous character, that’s very risky. Highly unusual. And even more so that you don’t know how he got in."

"He’s pretty good." I admitted.

"We'll just have to look into it together. We’re going to take all the necessary precautions." He said, pulling into the circle drive at his house. "And we get to catch up. I want to hear how everything’s been. I feel horrible, not keeping in touch."

Leave it to Quatre to make a death threat into an opportunity to socialize. "It’s okay. We both have pretty demanding professions. But I’ve missed you a lot. I’m glad we get to see each other now, even under the circumstances."

And I really was. We got out of the car and Quatre handed the keys to the butler who Heero and I had met before. "Miles, would you be so kind as to park the car for me? A situation has come up, an I need to meet with Rashid as soon as is possible."

Miles’s eyes flickered to me. "Of course, Master Quatre. I’ll inform him immediately."

"Thank you so much, Miles."

We went inside. The house… mansion, whatever… although smaller, was grander than the office. There was marble everywhere, expensive glazing, and gold-plated everything. It was tasteful, if not decadent. Quatre swept past it all without so much as a glance, but greeted every servant we passed with a genuine greeting and smile. Stuff like that still got to me about Quatre, that he could look as natural in this setting as he did on a battlefield or hiding out with a bunch of roughneck rebels in a cave.

We went upstairs, this part of the mansion was much different from the rest, kind of how his office had been different from the building it was in. Much more comfortable and personal, with pictures of friends and family adorning the walls instead of the paintings and portraits found downstairs. We ended up in a room something like a den. The typical TV, sound system and couches kind of room, just upgraded a little.

"So, let’s take a look at those messages." He said, sitting comfortably on a leather sofa.

I slid down next to him and pulled them out, letting him read them over first before commenting.

"What do you think?"

"I take it you knew about the masque? And that’s how you knew to come to me?" He asked, still inspecting the poems.

"Masque? No. I de-coded it." I drew him the pattern, scribbling out all the math while he looked on.

"Well. It seems he left you more than one clue." He said, studying everything over carefully, deliberately moving the sheets of paper around to analyze them in different orders and contexts. "You see… the poems seem to have many layers. There’s the code you figured out, the symbolic meanings of the lines themselves which I’m sure you’ve studied as well… and then there’s the masque."

"What masque?" I asked slowly, getting a bad feeling.

He looked at me with resignation, knowing I wasn't going to like whatever he had to say. "Every year, our family used to put on a masquerade ball. Ball gowns, masks, the whole deal. It was a rather illustrious social charity event, but was put on a hiatus during the war for obvious reasons. This is the first year since that we’ve held it."

My eyes were drawn wide at the undeniable parallels. "Shit. And when is this thing?"

"This Friday night." He responded uneasily.

"Oh, damn… okay, that's something to let Heero in on." I worried at the pencil in my hands. A masque. How could I have overlooked this?

Quatre spoke to Heero, though past his initial alarm over the whole thing he didn’t have much immediate input on the matter excepting the obvious concern for safety and general security measures. He sounded distracted, and we left him to his computer with the understanding that we would talk more about the masque later.

"Should we cancel it?" Quatre asked after hanging up. "I don’t want the guests put in danger."

"No… then he’ll just strike at another time. This way we can actually prepare for him." I murmured absentmindedly, my mind already working on plans.

"I suppose you’re right… and if Sandman doesn’t kill me, Hana and Janan will for spoiling something they’ve been planning for a year." He told me broodingly.

"Janan… is she the doctor?" I honestly don’t know how he keeps them all straight, even if they are his sisters.

"No, that’s Iria. Janan’s the fashion designer and Hana’s my vice president."

"Right. I’m glad you got to know your sisters. I know how much you wanted to meet them all." I said, toying with the paper.

He lit up a little. "I’m glad, too. They’ve been so helpful in running everything. I always knew my family was large, but hadn’t actually met most of them before the war. I’m just so happy I get to enjoy them as a family now."

"I have to say I’m relieved." I said, sitting back. "I kind of expected you to put up more of a fight with this security slash protection thing."

"I’m not happy about it, but we really can’t help it, can we? I know you aren’t insulting my skills. You’re just trying to help, and I do appreciate that very much."

"Well, I’m glad we got far enough to help. Where is the masque going to be held? We should take a look at the space and see how easy we can secure it."

"Another good idea. We have a ballroom downstairs, and that’s where it’s supposed to be. Things will be more than ordinarily difficult in this case, since everyone will be disguised. It will be very difficult to distinguish friend from foe."

"I know… it’s a security nightmare, for sure." I stood, not really expecting less from Sandman. "Well, let’s take a look."

When we went down to look at the room, there was a long moment where I couldn’t even speak. "Quatre, this is creepy as hell." I finally told him.

The long walls were floor to ceiling mirrors, flashing me back to the dream I’d had with Quatre’s heart. I shivered.

"I know." Quatre said pensively, frowning.

A masque… in a mirrored hall with marble floors.



Heero didn’t get anywhere with the computer, or any other trail for that matter. He, Rashid, Quatre and I worked out security details to a fault. We decided that Quatre should fake an illness, nothing serious but bad enough so that he wouldn’t have to dance, as he was easier to protect if he were stationary. He would have men around him at all times, with others stationed throughout the hall and manor. Thank god there are forty Maguanacs. Heero was going to act as a sniper incase we had to raise hell, and I would stick like glue to Quatre. By the time Friday rolled around, we were as prepared as we could ever be, and Quatre’s sisters were thinking we had gone crazy over the security.

Quatre provided me with an outfit, the full coat-and-tails thing, and a mask. Really, what else would I be but a jester? Heero didn’t really need anything, since he would be hidden throughout the evening, but carried a white Phantom of the Opera-type mask just in case. Quatre, in an uncharacteristic act, wore a mask of death and blood fit to have come directly out of Poe’s "The Masque of the Red Death."

"That’s very morbid of you," I had said when I first saw it.

He just smiled back at me. "And unusual. I doubt it will really throw him off, but it might make things more confusing should I act a bit out of character."

"Makes sense. It can’t hurt, anyway." I said, grinning, even though my insides were churning that I wore the Jester’s mask and he wore one of a skull.

The dance really was beautiful. Part of me grumbled that the cost of each dress could probably feed entire orphan populations (ironic, since this whole deal was a charity), where the other part of me was just in awe of how beautiful the costumes were. I’d never seen anything like it. The colors were incredible. Jewel tones seemed to be en vogue, so the majority of the gowns were rich blues, emerald greens, and ruby reds with the matching stones, of course.

My hands were just itching to reach out and pluck away the fancy gems, knowing how easy it would be to do so. The masks were just as elaborate as the costumes, delicately sewn feathers, pearls and jewels adorning interesting shapes. The sweeping movement of the expensive fabric was echoed in the mirrors, giving the impression that there were hundreds of dancers more than there actually were.

There was a lot more drinking and dancing and a lot less conversation than at the political functions I’d been to. I guess it was because you couldn’t see who you were sucking up to when everyone had a mask on. Made my life easier, anyway.

Everything went smoothly, save for one incident. Three of Quatre’s sister’s practically dragged him over to the orchestra to play a violin solo. He performed a piece by Tchaikovsky without a difficulty, even though I thought one of us was about to die at any moment; either him by way of assassination, or me from a heart attack. I was relieved when the song ended, the last notes wresting enthusiastic applause from the guests.

"Master Quatre, you realize how foolish that was?" Said Auda lowly, leading the way back to the corner.

"Yes, Quatre. *Incredibly* foolish." I growled quickly. I shifted uncomfortably, as standing with my back to a mirror felt somehow just as vulnerable as standing with my back to the rest of the room.

He glared at me through the mask and whispered, "What the hell was I supposed to do? Tackle them? Raja’s pregnant for God’s sake!"

I poked him in the chest. "You’re *supposed* to be keeping a low profile. You’re *supposed* to be where I can protect you from bodily harm. You’re *supposed* to be trying to stay alive!"

He glowered at me and purposefully coughed loudly.

"Care to dance?" A voice asked just at my right ear.

"Sorry, I don’t dance." I responded, not even turning to see who’d asked.

There was an amused chuckle. "Apologies. I only asked because we seem to have the same mask."

I stiffened and half turned. Sure enough a man stood directly opposite me, wearing an identical jester's mask. He bowed his head slightly and turned to disappear amongst the crowd, when I saw something in the mirror, up in the balcony where Heero was supposed to be. But it wasn’t Heero.

"Shit!" I whispered, then ordered, "Auda, you’re in charge of Quatre ‘till I get back down here. If I’m not back in five minutes, get him and everyone else out of here. You hear that Quatre? You take the pregnant sister and get the fuck out!"

With that I sprinted through the dancers towards the stairwell, weaving through all the spinning colors that seemed to multiply before me. Reaching the stairs, I took two at a time, fear increasing with every step, and I hoped to hell that Heero was okay. When I made it to the top I thought I saw Heero at the balcony railing. I called out quickly to him, but something dark came over my eyes, something else hit me across the shoulders and I was knocked to the floor. Throwing the thick velvet fabric away, I pulled myself up by a curtain, my eyes searching for the assailant but not seeing one.

In a panic, I looked to where Heero was supposed to be. My heart froze in my chest, an icy chill soaking through my body.

Oh god.

There was blood everywhere. And Heero was gone, nothing but a thick, dark stain soaked through and matting the carpet.

I searched everywhere but couldn’t find him, panic steadily buzzing through me, and then suddenly, I noticed that there was a deadly silence. No music, no laughter. Dread accompanied my fear, and I sprinted back to the balcony to check out the situation downstairs.

*Fuck.* Quatre was still there, the only one still inside. How had everything happened so quickly? It had only taken minutes for me to run up and look for Heero!

Quatre seemed to have been unarmed somehow, his gun halfway across the room, and there were at least ten bodies around him, most of them appearing to be Maguanacs. He faced away from me, staring up at the opposite balcony where the other man in a jester’s mask lay, a sniper rifle aimed down at Quatre.

Heero's rifle was still in place on the floor through the railing, so I dropped swiftly down to my stomach and looked down the scope as Sandman aimed point blank at Quatre’s head. Slowly, I squeezed the trigger, two shots ringing out simultaneously and one of the mirrors was hit, huge veins splitting open in the glass.

"Quatre!" I dropped the AWM and leapt from the balcony, forgetting about my ankle and almost collapsing on it. I limped as quickly as I could make it to his side.

"I’m okay." He murmured, catching his breath as he got to his feet. "I just ducked to avoid the shot."

"I can’t find Heero…" I choked out desperately, swiping his discarded gun from the floor and handing it to him hurriedly. I had to go look for Heero and make sure Sandman was really down.

"Oh no." Quatre froze, looking at the bodies around us. "Hana."

"Oh, god. I’m so sorry, Quatre. I’m so sorry." How the hell had this all happened so damn fast?

He sank down to the floor, and his eyes watered up, but he wiped his tears away with the back of his hand. I placed a hand on his shoulder, the gesture of comfort seeming incredibly lacking.

"It wasn’t your fault, Duo." He said mournfully, kneeling down beside his sister's body.

"It never is." My voice said, but it didn’t come from me.

"What? Duo-" Quatre started, moving swiftly to his feet.

"What the hell…?" I looked for the source of the voice.

Quatre slowly backed away, raising his gun warily. "Who the hell said that?!"

"I did. And you did." The voice spoke again, chillingly familiar.

Quatre looked at me in horror.

"What?" I asked in confusion. "Quatre what is it?"

The voice laughed. It was the hollow, psychotic sound I had used in mobile suit battles. "It’s you’re reflection."

I whipped around and looked in one of the mirrors. My reflection stared back at me, grinning.

"It’s you, of course." It laughed. "Aren’t you beginning to understand yet?"

"Oh my god. Quatre, get out. Get out now!" I tried to back away, but found myself strangely incapable of the movement.

"Oh, no. He can’t leave." My reflection grabbed Quatre’s by his gun arm’s wrist.

"Duo, what the *hell* is going on?" Quatre shouted, trying to wrench his hand free.

The reflection twisted the weapon from his hand, and Quatre punched him in the cheek with his free left fist, my reflection’s face snapped to the side, but his hold did not loosen. My cheek stung as if I’d been the one hit, and I couldn’t take my eyes off myself.

Quatre didn't stop, knocking my reflection's feet out from under him, and we both fell to the floor, but the gun was still in his hands, aimed back up at Quatre. There was an dynamic struggle over the weapon, and just as Quatre wrested it from the reflection's hands, he… I… elbowed Quatre in the chin, knocking his head back against the marble floor, and the blonde went limp in my arms.

"Stop!" I screamed, desperation and anguish streaking my voice. "You can’t do this!"

I raised an eyebrow at myself. "Don’t you mean I? And I can’t stop… I have a job to finish."

My breath caught sharply.

His smile widened. "That’s right… you’re beginning to catch on. I’m Sandman. *You* are Sandman."

Only then I realized there was no body on the balcony above, and only the barrel of one rifle peeking over the edge. "I can’t be… I can’t have killed all those people… I wasn't ever…"

"Asleep? What did you really think you did in all those hours?" The reflection looked at me expectantly.

"No… no, I couldn’t have hurt Heero…" I would have given anything to be able to wake up now.

"You’ll find it’s easiest to kill those you love when you’re… a little out of it." Quatre was lax in his grasp, and the reflection held him up with a fist tangled in his golden hair. The grin slithered over his face. "You *are* Shinigami, remember? Don’t worry… I kept Heero's heart for you. That’s what you really wanted, wasn't it? His heart?"

"Not like this…never like this. I’m not like this!" It was a dream, a dream, a horrible, terrible dream.

"What, you think this isn’t real because the images are like the ones from your nightmares? Or was it me who took those images and made them real?"

"Wake up, wake up, wake up!" I chanted in distress until the whisper climbed to a full scream. "I have to wake up, I *have* to wake up! Why can’t I get out of my head?!"

"I am staring you in the fucking face and you can’t even get it. How do you think those messages got to your desk? In your backpack? In your apartment? In your *handwriting*?! How do you think Elise really died?" He shook his head, the sick grin never fading. "It was you. It was *me* all along.

"You can’t save anyone from yourself. You always did have a talent for trickery and deception. Joking until they didn’t realize something was wrong, and disappearing before they realized they had never even heard your footfalls advance." He looked pleased. "You’ve even managed to fool yourself, this time."

He let Quatre’s limp form fall to the floor and knelt beside him.

"No!" I screamed in defiance again, and ran to the mirror, pounding on the glass with as much strength as I could.

"I really am sorry, Quatre." He said, almost kindly. No matter how hard I pounded, the mirror refused to shatter.

My reflection took the knife from my boot, and sunk it deep between Quatre’s ribs, just right of the breast bone. He slashed it sideways along the groove between ribs, and bracing his other hand on Quatre’s chest, pulled the knife back out and let it fall beside them with a clatter. The blood poured from Quatre’s chest, spilling to the floor in thick ribbons. Lungs slashed, Quatre’s breathing turned from ragged to nothing in seconds. The reflection stuck both hands in the gash he’d cut and pried the ribs apart, reaching in to pull the heart out. It was squeezed out through the bones and he rose to his feet.

The grin was manic, a grin I’d seen in the mirror so many times before. Only now I stood with Quatre’s heart in my hands, his blood dripping down my arms, dripping to the floor. "A gift. From me to you… or you to me? This shit's really getting confusing."

He threw the heart to me, and I stumbled backwards, sliding across the marble. My eyes were finally torn from the mirror, immediately settling on the real Quatre, still and bloody, just as dead as his reflection. Two hearts lay at my feet. One Quatre’s, one Heero’s.

The blood was on my hands, so much blood. The smell of it was making me sick, and I couldn’t breathe, the light fading in my sight, blacking out blotches of vision.

I pulled myself to Quatre’s side, a wake of smeared blood in my path across the gleaming stone. He wasn’t warm anymore, he was cold. He was as cold and as dead as I was.

"Sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry." I couldn't even whimper. I lay down beside him, the blood soaking through my white dress shirt and my hair. "So sorry." I whispered again, and my breathing shallowed even further, until I couldn't pull any air in at all. The patches of darkness in my eyes consumed my sight and in a flood, took me under.



I woke up.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Feathers" by the Kidneythieves

~ Wake up,
is this a dream of a dream of a dream?
What is real today?
Until the dawn, away
So I take my lot of a few feathers from the sky
Into a ritual and let my spirit fly
Simple pleasures
Falling feathers
Skating on this machine
Alone between my trip and me.
The price of all this vanity
is getting way too high
The maintenance of my sanity
is taking too much time
Simple feathers
Falling feathers
7000 reasons to dream, 1 reason to live, 1 reason to me ~

~ * ~

Chapter 11

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