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"Friends "Written By: Karina
Series: Friends Pairings: 2+6 Ratings: M 15+ [In Australia] Rated in the event of bad language and violence. Disclaimer: I don’t own Gundam Wing or the characters. That’s the way it is. Warnings: Not a death fic despite how it starts.
Aussie spelling and unbetaed. Summary: When Milliardo Peacecraft is abducted
and left to die a solitary death Duo Maxwell decides to take a hand
in the proceedings.
Chapter 31 “Come out of there, young man.” “No.” It would all go away if he refused to cooperate with the horror. “Young man, I have no idea what you think you are doing, but supper is on the table and everyone is waiting to say Grace. You are holding up dinner.” It was always the same. Always he was told to work for others; told not to be a problem, not to cause problems. He was tired of fighting the good fight for others benefit. “No.” From beyond his concealing shadows he could hear the rustle of her habit, marking an impatient movement. He liked her, but some days she was not as patient with him as others and she expected him to remember his place. He had looked after others for as long as he could remember; since Solo had stopped looking after him. It was the way it was, but he was tired and he was afraid and the horror was beginning all over again. Her voice was firm and coaxing. She had a lovely voice and she sang like the angels he had seen pictures of. There was a statue of an angel in the church and he was beautiful but fierce looking and Sister Helen said his name was Michael. Michael was brave and courageous and defended those who were weak and Sister said that he should be like Michael. He had wanted to be like Solo once and she said he should be like the angel with the sword of flames. He should be strong and know what was right. Her voice could shame him into tears when she was upset with him and some days he had no idea what he had done to make her angry. Angels in Heaven might weep to hear her singing voice, but her voice could flay the skin from him for his misdemeanours. “Duo, come out here this instant.” She was getting angry because he was not obedient and they were all waiting for him, but that was alright. It was alright because he was getting angry too. He recognized where this road he walked was leading. He had been down the self same road too often for him not to recognize it and he had had enough. He was not going to do it all over again. He had let himself believe there could be more for him than the streets and he had promised her he would look out for others. He was a street rat who refused to stay on the streets and she encouraged him to reach beyond the limits of his surroundings and want more. It was going to get worse before it got better, but he had been given hope. Hope he might be able to change the way it always happened. “Duo, what am I going to do with you?” She sounded exasperated. “Must I go in and fetch the Father to see to you?” He had wondered when she would employ that tactic. It usually worked; no one wanted Father Maxwell to be angry. It usually worked, but not tonight. He was not going to leave his shadows and jump feet first into the nightmare. “No.” Ah no, even he could hear the difference in that ‘no’. He was weakening, his defiance less, resolve crumbling beneath the onslaught of habit. He had been down the road too often and the result was always the same. Father would come and talk to him about how we must always think of others and fit in and help. He should apologize to everyone for keeping them waiting. They were hungry and was he not hungry too? Someone some day would come who would want him as a son and he needed to know how to be a good son, an obedient son. He would give in, lose his resolve and surrender to the inevitability of it. He would give in and apologize and they would say Grace and they would eat a meagre but filling meal, and in the new day, as punishment, he would have extra lessons and chores to do. That was how it was. That was how the nightmare always began. “I don’t know what you are hiding from, Duo, but you really must get over it, dear. You are not on the streets now and there are many things, important things, for you to do. You like being here with us, don’t you? You like going to school and you have friends.” His heart clenched. Here it was-it was coming. It would tell him how horrible the nightmare would be. Just when he hoped he could escape it by holding his resolve… he had promised himself he would not give in to the Father this time. However, it might not be the Father, because she had said the Friends word. Friends. Just when he thought it might be alright, she had said it, but no, he could not let that weaken his resolution to endure and break the cycle. He would not fall into the pit this time. It did not matter that his friend would come, that it would be his friend and not the Father who broke his determination. It did not matter and he would get angry if he needed to. He would. He was not going to go down that road into screaming horror again. Someone, some where, some when had told him if you said no you could stop it. “Duo, get your butt out here this instant! If I have to get the Father I swear you will have to stand to eat your next meal.” If he said no he could stop it. “No,” A whisper, the barest breath of air between parted lips. She had said Friends, and that would conjure up one he ached to see and hear. If she had not said it, if he could have avoided this moment, held his resolve, his determination to break out before the horror came… Say no and mean it. That was what he had to do. Say no and mean it. He would not acknowledge it. He would not see it. It was all a lie anyway so why see it? It just was not real. “That’s it; stick it to the bat lady. Nun’s always think they know it all and you have to do what you are told. We know better, don’t we, eh?” He was not there. He was not there, beside him in his shadows. He was alone, just himself lurking in the shadows, trying to get the world to pass him by and he was not about to open his eyes and see who lurked in his shadows. He had to remember the magic word and make it all go away. If he opened his eyes… He might see Solo. He might see Sister Helen. If he opened his eyes he would see their walking corpses. “Nnoo.” Wasn’t he supposed to say it like he meant it? Wasn’t he supposed to be in command? Wasn’t he supposed to be in control of his own dreams? He was dreaming. He recognized the dream, the way it always started. It started with him hiding at dinner time and Sister Helen coming after him. It always began that way, the dreams that ended up really bad and had him sobbing like an infant and curled into a ball of misery; the dreams that left him afraid of the darkness. Say it and mean it, he had said, who ever He was. He had thought it good advice somewhere in the past, or was it in the future? It had been somewhere; somewhere away from the shadows and the nun who still waited for him. He could say it and mean it. He could. It was just a matter of practise. “This is not real and when I say no, I mean NO! You are not real and you will not be there.” “What are you prattling on about? Hey, you really should not pass up a good meal. What did I teach you? Eat while you can, when you can. Now get out there and eat that meal. It’s free. You can say a few hail Mary’s and a yes Ma’am or two to get your belly full. You never pass up a meal. After you eat you can run and hide.” “No.” God, this was pathetic. That sounded so wimpish. He was supposed to be sure of himself, decisive and commanding. He could not command a flea to bite a dog, let alone command the night horrors to leave him alone. “Duo.” He crouched deeper in his shadows. That voice…? He did not recognize the voice, though he was sure he should. There was something familiar about it. It was deep and low, a whisper, more of a rumble from the earth beneath him and behind him. That was problematical. How could it be from beneath and behind him? He had a floor under his feet and a solid wall behind him. He was pressing his back into a cold wall as security against his ghosts coming up on him from behind. “Young man, I am fast losing my patience.” The Sister had been good to him but it was not right, everything was wrong and he was losing the battle to be strong. He needed a darker place to hide, one more secure, where no one would find him. “Duo, we have a problem.” He knew that voice, low and deep. He knew it but… where from? “It’s a free meal, you git. Nosh. Chow. Go on, get into it and then bolt. I’ll meet you under the red sector and you be sure to bring me some of that food. I’m so hungry I could…” “Duo! We have a problem.” The deep voice drowned out Solo. It was shocking to realize it. No other voice he had imagined had ever managed to drown out Solo. Solo would drag him out of the shadows and into the nightmare. Solo or the Father would do it. They would pull him into the light and he would see them, in all their gory glory. Dead, but recognizable. There would be so many of them. So many, all waiting just for him to come out of hiding. All waiting to scream at him and claw at him and blame him. “I can’t do it.” He was hopeless. It was impossible. Command his nightmare? Who was he trying to kid? He was sounding more and more like a little kid afraid of his own shadow and the dream would take a turn for the worse soon. He would be thrown out of his enveloping shadows and be thrust into the midst of Them. They would surround him and start to circle him, a never ending circle of faces. Some he would recognize and so many of them were strangers to him. Strangers, but he knew them. He knew them because he had killed them. They knew him, their murderer. “Enough. There is need of you, Shinigami. Wake up.” The command reached deep within him and grasped something he had been hiding from for a very long time. It grasped him by the throat and shook him, tossing him out into the light and he screamed his fear of the nightmare. He did not want to see them again! He was tired of seeing them all the time. He would not look, he would keep his eyes closed and … Why was it warm? Why did it feel as though strong arms surrounded him, shielding him? He did not understand the change in the sequence of dreaming and his eyes were open, but he was seeing nothing. There was a light all about him, enfolding him in a warm cocoon with these powerful comforting arms. “You will need to learn how to do this for yourself, Duo Maxwell. You must learn to accept who you are, who you were and who you will be. To do that, you must accept the you in every stage of your life. We are never one person; always facets of the one. You are many fragments all contained within the folds of fragile flesh.” The strong arms held him immobile, but he was curiously unafraid of the restriction and he had never liked being restrained. The voice, deep and commanding was not unkind, though it was not gentle. “You will learn to look at your ghosts and you will learn to put names to them. You will know who and what they are when the time is right. Hiding from them is no way to begin.” “I can’t do it.” He felt weak, helpless. He was useless to himself as well as to everyone else. He was hopeless. He always would be. He had only known how to kill, and the reasons for the killings had blurred and become subject to doubt. He had been lied to so many times that he did not know if any of the reasons to fight had been justified. “Fool.” The deep rumble was surprisingly gentle. “It takes time.” The arms squeezed firmly, a comforting pressure, and then released him. He felt large hands grasp him by the shoulders and he was sure the life would be shaken out of him, so firmly was he shaken. “Wake up. We are not alone.” The command was imperative and there was no denying its power. He opened his eyes to darkness and the feel of a larger body pressed close to him. There was harsh breathing close to his ear and hands restrained his reflexive strike; a blow that could maim and kill if it hit the right spot. It was not safe to wake him from a nightmare, as Quatre should know. He supposed he should apologize to his friend, but Quatre should have known not to lean over him to wake him. “What…?” “Maxwell. We are not alone.” He could not gain control of his breathing fast enough to satisfy him. It was all wrong and he needed to focus. That was not Quatre’s voice and why was it so freaking dark? He should know that voice, it was familiar. Just a moment to draw breath and he was sure he would remember where he had heard it before. “I… Zechs?” No matter how he tried he could see nothing in the stygian gloom. “Where the fuck am I?” “Hopefully waking up.” The droll comment was accompanied by a deep sigh. “I… I was…” He shuddered, recalling clearly enough the dream which had not had a chance to drag him in to its horror. “You… You were there. How? How could you be in my dream? How could you make it go away?” “We have company. Do you have a spare gun?”
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