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"Sayonara" Written By: Stone Angel Disclaimer: Gundam Wing and its characters belong to their various copyright companies. Rating: R Warnings: SAP, *ANGST*!, BAD JAPANESE GRAMMAR,
VIOLENCE, BLOOD, GORE, Spoilers: None. We've all seen Gundam Wing here
have we not? Quick Pairings: 1x2 or 2x1 ? 3+4. Authors Notes: Here's the last bit. The song is by Lifehouse on their No Name Face CD and it is track 9. I can't remeber the name. I think it's Breathing. If the club scene sucks, it's cuz I don't know a damned thing about strip dancing. I hate it. Everything is explained here in the last chapter. I hope you like it. The end is my favorite part of this thing.
* * * * * = flashback * * * * * * * * * * = flashback WITHIN a flashback * = perspective change * * * time/perspective/place change (any combination
of those you can ///TEXT///= dream sequence /TEXT/ = written word or song lyrics for way later.
Sayonara Part 3
The beat and flashing colored lights in the bar were enough to make anyone feel dizzy. Accompanied by the haze of cigarette smoke and the stench of alcohol too potent for the drinkers' good that permeated the air, it was no less than nauseating. Heero stood on the small stage, dressed in a pair of tight black spandex pants secured by Velcro strips along the outer hem, and an equally tight black muscle shirt. Small, tightly fitting, black leather bracelets and anklets adorned his wrists and ankles. Upon each were a line of shiny metal studs, and to each side of the line was another line of white rhinestones that shimmered and sparkled in the flashing stage lights. His face and body were lightly painted for the most part, only enough to accentuate his features slightly, his lips painted a delicate pink, clear mascara coating his lashes highlighted his eyes, causing them to seem all the more blue. His hair contained speckles of silver and black glitter, that sparkled in the multi colored lights aimed at the stage on which he stood. He wore body foundation, his skin given a shimmering effect. Beneath his shirt, upon his back, covering his shoulder blades, were painted a pair of black wings of such detailed perfection, to anyone but the wearer, they looked to be tattooed upon the skin, save for the sparse coating of silver glitter atop the paint. The wings were painted to appear partially bent, the midnight feathers drawn out carefully upon the skin by the back stage artist before the paint had been applied, each feather an individual and seemingly real, the ones at the end curving outward slightly, giving the wings all the more grace. A new beat started, sounding both new age and Renaissance in origin. Heero began to move to the music, occasionally looking to his audience, giving random people a smirk, said people grinning from ear to ear and either whistling or hollering at him to come over to their table. /I'm finding my way back to sanity again Heero ran his fingers through his hair, head tilted back, eyes closed, lips slightly parted. Pumping his hips to the rhythm. He began to slowly remove his shirt, every so often pausing to smirk or wink at the onlookers. Turning his back to them as he slowly pulled the shirt over his head, he scowled to no one. He hated this. Tossing the shirt to the floor gracefully, revealing the wings upon his back that flexed with his arms' every move, he plastered the confident, sexy smirk, for which he was notorious, once again upon his lips, as he turned to face his patrons. More cheers from the onlookers. /Cause I am hanging on every word you say He slowly crouched near the edge of the stage, facing his audience, head tilted back, captivating blue eyes open only a fraction, just enough to see... Quatre sitting a few tables from the stage, alone, looking for all the world like any other man in the strip bar, watching the show intensely. 'SHIT!' Heero thought as faltered almost imperceptibly, quickly finding the beat once again and resuming the dance. He continued to slowly crouch to the floor, hands splayed on the inside of his thighs, slowly moving towards his groin, hips swaying to the music closer and closer still to the wood platform on which he performed. Finally, knees bent as far as they were able, Heero looked to his audience, raising one finger to his lips, and biting it lightly, a seemingly innocent smile upon his painted lips. He crawled slowly, swaying his hips, towards the nearest table to the edge of the stage, reaching out to the man seated there and delicately running his finger tips under his chin towards himself, the touch barely there at all. Smirking at the man as he stood to attempt to grab him, Heero crawled in reverse, still moving to the beat as he did so. /I'm looking past the shadows Standing, he ran his hands over his chest then to the waist of his pants, gripping them tightly and ripping them off of himself, the Velcro separating at the edges with a sound of rending cloth, clad now only in a small black thong and the leather bracelets and anklets. The crowd cheered and men declared their love for him, as was done each performance. Walking gracefully to the pole, Heero quickly glanced sidelong at Quatre, who hadn't moved from his chair, and looked on, seemingly enjoying the show. Heero knew better, however. It was a mask, just as the one he wore every night was. And what was more, he knew for certain that Quatre saw past his mask, to his well hidden disgust. /Cause I am hanging on every word you say Heero moved up and down the pole in a provocative manner,
he shimmied at times, at others, he stopped and shook his body, glitter
falling loose from the strands of his hair to rain slowly to the floor
about him, sparkling in the lights during their graceful descent.
His eyes remained closed, a faux expression of bliss upon his face
as he thrust his groin lightly against the pole to which he clung,
driving his fans to near insanity. Men were standing and hollering
phone numbers, addresses, promises, anything to convince the demi-god
their /I don't want a thing from you Heero moved to stand, back leaning against the pole, sliding downwards, hand lightly grasping the pole behind him as he sunk to the floor slowly, derriere sliding down along the cold, glimmering surface of the vertical metal bar. The expression of ecstasy remained upon Heero's face, his lips parted slightly, eyes heavily lidded. After a few moments of this, Heero stopped sliding on the pole to stand and face the crowd, forcing a smirk. He knelt before them, then seemingly fell to his back, hips pumping into the air. Needless to say, the men were behaving more as a group of hungry dogs may, rather than a group of human beings. /Cause I am hanging on every word you say and Heero rose to his feet, hopping off the stage to dance among the patrons, nimbly avoiding hands, stroking a knee here, a shoulder there amongst the sex crazed men. /Cause I am hanging on every word you say and Heero returned to the stage doing a few more steps, and winking at the people who desired him with all their hearts as the music died down. He laughed silently for show as the music ceased and he remained in a fixed pose, bent forward at the waist slightly, and looking to the crowd almost expectantly. /Where I wanna be Men rushed the stage en masse, as the music faded to nothing and the light dimmed. A loud voice was heard on the speakers over the din of the crowd, "Please give all tips to the bar keep. Be assured that Black Wing will receive them. Thank you." Once the room was dark, Heero ran off the stage in the
linear direction of the showers, past the hallway that held access
to many rooms, supplied to the 'dancers'. 'More like whores for show.'
He thought disgustedly as he looked upon the sign that read in bold
red letters /DANCER'S BATHS ONLY/. He quickly removed the horrid article
of clothing that passed as underwear, and all but ripped the bracelets
he need wear on stage to hide the matching set of scars upon the inside
of his wrists from himself. He had no insight as to He stepped onto the tile floor of the shower, grabbed the soap and abrasive sponge from their shelf upon the wall before him. He turned the water to its hottest and scrubbed the paint and glitter from his body and face. The water falling from him alternated between slightly tan to black, and anywhere between the two, depending upon whether he was washing the painted black wings from his back or the tan shimmer which covered the rest of his body. Glitter flowed from him with the water, as he continued to scrub even after there was no longer any paint contaminating his skin and the water ran clear. His skin turned a reddish color as it did after such punishing abuse every night. Once satisfied that he was no longer tainted, externally at least, he continued to stand under the spray of hot water, hands resting at his sides for a brief while swaying back and forth slightly, eyes closed. He repeated a mantra in his head that he mouthed silently upon his lips as the painfully hot water soaked his hair and ran in rivulets down his body. `I need the money. I'm not a whore. I don't want to fight any more. I'm not a whore. OZ would never think to look for me here. I'm not a whore... I'm not a whore... I'm not a whore......' He continued to repeat this mantra, bringing his hands together and fingering the enigmatic scars on his wrists. The process had become a ritual at the end of every night's performance long ago. Feeling the water grow cool, Heero welcomed it, waiting until the water had run completely cold before he turned off the shower, shook some of the water from his hair and wrapped a white towel around his waist. He had showered at the club rather than at home because he hadn't any desire to meet with Quatre on his way home. Hopefully he had taken long enough that Quatre might think he had escaped, so he would not lurk in wait for his exit. With that task completed, he dried quickly and dressed in his now typical black jeans and black T-shirt. He ran a hand through his wet hair to tame it as best he was able. As he was walking to the back door through which he had planned to escape, boots near the doorway, against the wall a couple of meters from the exit along with the other 'dancer's' and a chair, his employer approached with a grin that barely hid the malice beneath. "Heero-kun!" He said as he walked to him, placing hand on his shoulder, making Heero feel he had to shower yet again. 'I hate it when he calls me that. And he knows it, damn him.' Heero thought with renewed disgust. "Heero-kun, here's your tips for the night. Quite a stack for one dance, ne?" He continued, taking Heero's hand and placing a large stack of bills into it. "How much?" Heero asked looking at it with disinterest. "Six hundred, twenty-seven." Replied the repulsive man, seeming to falter slightly. "Isn't that kind of light, ...considering my average?" Asked Heero, looking to the man through the corner of his dark blue eyes with a knowing glint. The man paused, then laughed, taking a few large bills from his pocket and adding them to the stack within Heero's hand. "I never was able to put one over on you, ne, Heero-kun?" Shoving the large wad of cash into a pocket, Heero sat down on the chair near the door and placed one of his black boots on each foot, tying the laces neatly. "It's `Heero'. And no." He replied coldly. "Eh. Right." His employer said as he dropped the grin all together in favor of an insistent expression. "Uh, Heero..." He asked as Heero stood and stepped to the door, turning his back on the man. "When are you going to work for me in the back rooms? Have you thought it over yet?" He inquired hopefully. Heero stiffened. He had said a few months before that he would consider it. He had only said it to rid himself of the degrading conversation. He'd had no intentions of becoming a whore. "I'll triple your pay." The offensive man offered, again placing a hand on Heero's shoulder. Heero nearly shook with rage. He closed his eyes and bit his lip to keep from screaming, scowling deeply, though he knew the man he worked for could see none of it. He craned his head to the side, looking at the hand resting upon his shoulder with disgust. "Keep your money." He said icily as he walked out the door, relishing the feeling of the hand leaving his person, and into the cold night. * * * Quatre followed the figure from a distance, watching its every move intently. He watched as Heero walked up the groaning stairs of an apartment complex within a particularly bad section of the city not far from the seedy place at which he performed. The complex itself was rather small and looked as if it should have been condemned long ago. 'So this is where you've been hiding, Heero.' Thought Quatre sadly. After waiting a few moments for Heero to be out of earshot, Quatre made his way up the loudly creaking stairs. Once reaching the second and top story, he came upon a door that seemed it would easily break down with the next strong gust of wind. Quatre tried the handle finding it to be unlocked. 'Probably figured it was pointless to lock it.' He thought as he stepped within the building, looking about for a moment. It was a slum within as well as without. The light bulb that hung from a simple chain from the ceiling, shook slightly with the vibrations caused by closing the door. The once light blue carpet, was stained a grayish hue in the center of the walkway, deep liquid stains of various colors scarred the carpet in many places as well. The entire building stank of old cigarette smoke, rotting food, and alcohol. Quatre walked down the single hallway, hearing hacking
coughs from behind some of the doors and drunken screaming and sobbing
from others. Still others were completely silent. 'Where do I start?'
He Empty cans, bottles, crumpled bags that had once contained
foods of one kind or another, paper plates that had been used, and
articles of clothing were cluttering the floor of the simple one room
apartment. 'It can't be Heero's pad.' Quatre thought to himself. 'Heero
was pretty neat.' He continued, recalling Heero's A voice came from the door opposite the room from Quatre that seemed to be a balcony access, sounding somewhat bored. "You coming in?" The voice was changed, slightly huskier and unhealthy sounding, as if the speaker had smoked and drank far too much for their health. But it was definitely Heero. The light Japanese accent alone was proof enough for Quatre. He walked into the room, avoiding the objects littering the floor, and made his way to the balcony. There was a vacant stool in the balcony corner directly before him. He looked to his right to the opposite corner than that which he faced and saw Heero lounging in a lawn chair, an unlit cigarette in one hand, an open, half empty bottle of Vodka in the other. Both were resting in his lap as he gazed over the railings on the edge of the balcony at the dimly lit street below with disinterest. The street lamps cast a dim yellow glow upon everything they touched, the pavement of the street sparkling as if wet, though it had yet to rain since the day Heero had begun his residence in the slum. Quatre looked at the objects Heero held in his hands. 'That explains the voice. And the fact that he hasn't grown a centimeter since he left.' Quatre thought, recalling Heero's small stature upon the stage. He had not grown in the last year the least. While all the other pilots had grown many centimeters, Heero's height remained that of the day he had left. The only changes he exhibited were caused by drinking, smoking, and fatigue. He was thinner than he had been, ribs slightly visible beneath his pale skin. Dark circles that had been well hidden at the club were now evident beneath his tired seeming eyes, betraying his lack of sleep. His skin and hair seemed unhealthy, the tobacco and alcohol clearly having taken a toll. "Nice place." Quatre offered politely, though his heart was not in it. He added in a slightly condemning but for the most part sad tone. "Black Wing." "How'd you find me?" Heero asked bluntly, ignoring his guest's words. "Does it matter?" Quatre countered. "You knew I was coming?" "No." Heero replied simply, taking a sip off the bottle and grimacing only slightly. "But... Do you always leave the door wide open like that?" Quatre asked, obviously puzzled. "Yes." Another swig. Quatre gazed for a moment at his once friend, now a stranger to him. 'He doesn't care what happens to him. Heero...' Quatre thought sadly as he sat upon the stool, facing Heero. The dim light of the lamps below cast one side of Heero's face in darkness, the other was dimly lit, however illuminated enough to be visible. The lighter side of Heero's face was closest to Quatre, yet when he moved just so, Quatre would glimpse the other eerily shadowed side. `It suits him.' "Why did you come?" Heero asked, still not looking at him, but pulling a silver lighter out of his pocket, opening it, flicking the small metal wheel against the flint beneath it, lighting the fluid soaked wick to the fore of it. Bringing the lighter to his lips where rest the cigarette, he lit the tip of said cigarette and closed the top of the lighter with one hand, all of this done swiftly and with ease. Quatre did not like the expertise with which Heero had handled the small shiny device that glimmered almost menacingly in the dim yellow light of the street lamps below, and the faint white of the stars above. "I want you to come back with me." He said, forwardly, rather than beating around the proverbial bush. Heero took a drag from the cigarette, blowing a small but thick cloud of smoke into the air before him, having removed the cigarette from his lips. "No." He said, lifting the bottle of alcohol to his lips in the cigarette's stead, and taking another sip of the poison of choice. "Heero, we need you. The colonies need you-" Quatre began. "The colonies betrayed us, Winner. You know that."
Heero interrupted taking another drag from his cigarette. "They
don't need us. As far as they are concerned, we are terrorists."
He concluded, still "People don't always know what's good for them, Heero-kun." Quatre replied. The implications were not lost on Heero. "Don't call me that." Heero said, taking another drag from the cigarette. "It's just `Heero' now." Quatre pressed on, respecting the wish but ignoring the words, determined to regain his old friend. "Heero, have you watched the news lately? We're all fighting, but we have had to retreat from each battle we fight. OZ is winning." He said, staring at Heero who had yet to even glance at him. "It's not my problem anymore." Heero said, tilting his head to look upon the stars. "Oh what? You think you can just get away? Run?! Hide?!" Quatre exclaimed angrily. "People can't escape their pasts, Heero! That's why we remember things! Even when we don't want to." Quatre took a breath to calm himself. "Heero, what happened to Duo was wrong. It was terrible and it was tragic and it left a gaping hole in all our hearts. But you can't let it stop you. I know, and you know you're a fighter. Why are you giving up?" Quatre asked. The blonde looked to his friend of old for long moments in silence, before speaking softly. "Remember when we got back from Antarctica? And you wouldn't let anyone touch Duo, even though you could do nothing for him? You would literally snarl at anyone who came near you. I thought then that you hadn't been conquered, that you would still fight." Quatre paused taking in the look on Heero's face that told of his thoughts on the memory. Painful. "And then... After they had taken him away..." A solitary tear escaped one of Quatre's eyes as he recalled the events that took place on the night of which he spoke. "I found you. In the bath tub. The water was so red." He said quietly, voice wavering with his sorrow. "You lost a lot of blood, before we got you to the hospital. After we got you there, they found pills in your stomach. The sleeping pills I had given you. You took the whole bottle. Before you went into the bath and... They said if you had been found a few minutes later, you wouldn't have made it." Quatre wiped away the stray tear. "I was so scared." He added so softly that Heero had to strain to hear the words. Heero looked to the set of matching scars that adorned his wrists with new understanding plain upon his features. "You didn't know." Quatre surmised from the expression on Heero's face. "You didn't remember anything when you woke up. I thought it would be better if we didn't say anything about it. You were so out of it that you hardly noticed the bandages anyway." Quatre explained. "But, after that, you were so distant. I knew you had lost. Everything." Quatre paused and looked at the stars. "I wish it wasn't so." He said. "You were a good friend and an even better fighter." His stare remained fixed upon Heero's still form for long moments of silence. "Is it so much better dancing for strange men every night?" Quatre prodded. "Was this worth abandoning your allies and turning your back to your only friends or family?" Silence. Heero did not respond for long moments. Then, in a voice so soft, Quatre had to lean forward upon the stool to hear, Heero replied simply. "I knew." Quatre was puzzled. "Come again? Knew what?" Heero took another drag from his cigarette and replied, smoke coming from him in small individual clouds as he spoke. "I dreamed it. I knew Duo was going to die." He said, raising the bottle to his lips but going no further. "Yet I did nothing. I didn't stop him." He took a gulp of the clear liquid that was much larger than any of the others Quatre had seen him take. "You mean the dream you had after you passed out? Heero, that was after the fact." Quatre said, trying to comfort the fallen pilot. "There was nothing you could have done..." He trailed off as Heero shook his head slowly. "No." Heero said quietly, a tear forming in one deep blue pool. He turned to Quatre, one side of his face shadowed, the other illuminated only enough for Quatre to see the tear fall from Heero's eye to slide slowly down his cheek. There was a short silence as Quatre processed the words he had just heard. "Oh, Allah." Quatre whispered to himself, though certain he was it was perfectly audible to Heero. `That explains so much. He knew before. Oh, God. I feel ill.' Quatre held his hand against his heart, watching as Heero turned back to look at the street silently, not wiping the tear away, simply leaving it to its own devices it to dry upon his cheek. "Heero... I didn't know. I'm sorry..." Quatre apologized. Heero gave no indications that he'd heard him, he simply continued to look at the street, saying not a word more. Long moments passed. A man meandered down the street below, mumbling insanely to himself, his voice and his erratic footsteps the only sounds on the small balcony. Eventually he passed and there was silence once more. Quatre sighed and looked to the stars again. "Heero... I know...you never knew what you had until it was gone. You never told him. But as much as it hurt him that you didn't say it, he knew. Even when you didn't. ...You loved him..." Quatre said, thinking and remembering the way Heero's posture would relax slightly in the presence of the braided boy. And the way Duo's eyes had lit up nearly imperceptibly when ever Heero would walk into the room. "He loved you, too." Heero was silent for a moment. Then, clearing his voice, he said, slightly strained, "How...?" He was unable to finish his question. Quatre smiled sadly at Heero, understanding shining in his light blue eyes. "Because you always hurt the one you love." Long moments passed as Heero and Quatre let the words sink into their hearts in silence. Quatre finally spoke. "It will happen again, Heero. To someone else. All this pain. Won't you help us stop it?" Heero said nothing. Quatre waited a moment before going a step further. "What would Duo have done if things had been reversed?" Heero gazed at the stars that twinkled happily above. Centimeters of ash clung to the tip of his cigarette as he had not moved in any manner so it may fall off. "I'm not Duo." Heero said quietly. "I will never fight again." He vowed, both to himself and to Quatre. Another tear fell from Quatre's crystal blue eye to the plank floor of the small balcony as the words struck him. "I'm sorry to hear that." He said quietly, waiting a moment before he stood and faced the door, turning his head to gaze for another moment at Heero. "I suppose wars are meaningless if you have lost what you fight for... Ne?" Quatre paused briefly. "Watch your back, Heero." He said softly to the statuesque figure before him, silently stepping into the doorway. "No one else will." And then he was gone. * Heero sat on the small balcony until the sun peaked over the horizon, refusing to sleep, prussian blue depths gazing into the air before him, thinking of all that Quatre had said. The cigarette's cherry eventually reached the filter and burned out, the long tail of ash upon the tip, at last falling, as the sun rose, to the floor silently. * * * * * Heero took his gaze from the sunset, eyes reflecting the brightly colored sky before them as they shimmered only slightly, and returned it to the gravestone of his lover. "Duo..." He fingered the engraved letters yet again. Reading them to himself as he had countless times before. /DUO MAXWELL Not one of the pilots, including Duo himself, had known his true date of birth, so they had no date engraved in the marble. They were content with it as it was. "Duo. I wish you were here." He said to the stone. "I... I made some mistakes. I did some things that I shouldn't have. Didn't do things I should have done. When you left, I felt that there was nothing holding me here. I stopped fighting. And tried to kill myself. Twice, apparently." He paused, looking to his wrists and the now tell tale scars upon them. A small gust of wind blew oak leaves to dance across the ground only to pause and await the next whim the wind may grace upon them. "But it has to stop. I can't go on like this." He said softly, thinking of all the time he had spent drinking over the very grave he now knelt aside. He stared at the name carved into the stone for long moments. Then spoke so quietly he could scarcely hear himself. "I know I never said it, but you knew, didn't you? You knew more about me than I did at times." He paused, knowing what had to be said, but lacking the courage. After a few moments he had gathered enough strength to utter the words that would have been better said long ago. "I...I loved you. I still...love you. But.......
I'm... I'm not coming back." Heero said so softly it was barely
audible over the gently blowing wind. Feeling his throat tighten with
emotion, he crushed the feelings swiftly, wishing not to break down
now. Not now. "I have to do what I can only hope you would have
done if things He was acutely aware of the burning in his eyes that arrived shortly before the tears, but no tears came. "I brought you this... I can't keep it." He said, hating the way his voice wavered, holding up the now worn looking ring Duo had given him, the symbols on the interior sparkling in the diminishing sunlight. /KOIBITO/ /BELOVED/ Heero dug a small hole directly fore of the gravestone, placing the ring inside and burying it slowly, watching as the small band of silver was gradually covered until it was no longer visible. He watched as the sun set in silence. Once the small graveyard was cast in dim shadow, a few stray rays of sunlight highlighting parts of the ground and trees above, Heero stood, looking to the marble stone. "Sayonara, Duo-kun." He said softly. He turned and walked through the chain link gate to his motor bike, sunlight silhouetting him from behind with a glowing orange, eyes closed, hands formed into fists at his sides, not looking back, a gust of wind, scent promising rain blowing his hair and his clothing slightly. As he sat on the bike seat and turned the key in the ignition, bringing the engine to life, he felt a drop of water fall upon the back of his hand. Looking up, Heero saw the dark clouds over head, the graying hues clashing on the horizon with the sunset which cast reds, oranges, yellows, pinks, and light purples. It had begun to rain. He shifted the bike into drive and sped off, wind whipping his hair, rain falling upon his face as he rode over the country road hidden by trees. His green muscle shirt whipped in the wind created by his rate of speed, as he was rained upon. 'Hn.' Heero thought to himself. 'It finally rained. But I have no tears.' A few kilometers ahead of him, a flash of lightning lit the clouds for a brief moment, and thunder rolled loudly. Not looking back, Heero traveled swiftly along the road, away from the graveyard, the darkening sky, quickly becoming night, crying in his stead. He had a war to fight. OWARI
Well, there it is. I hope I didn't piss off too many people with this. I loved the ending. The talk he had with Quatre and the one he had with Duo. The "you always hurt the one you love" thing was meant two ways; Heero hurt Duo by never telling him he loved him, and Duo hurt Heero by dying. Fucked up, isn't it? Hn. Feedback is welcomed, craved, begged for. Like I said it was my first fic written last summer so I really need some honest comments, here. Please? Ja, Mina.
Sorry to anyone who hated this. You're not alone.
For A.
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