by Arithkenshin
Disclaimer: Stop rubbing it in, I don't own them, just playing.
Notes: *glomps* to CYT for her usual Musingly bouncy help. Must expressly bow before Sol for having the patience to beta this for me, while my muse was otherwise occupied. thanks hon. *glomps* Casey for the hell of it ;) Go War Room!!!
Thanks muchly to: Enna, Talia, Morgaine, Lex, Shadows, Neko Freak, Anne, Yokaze, Karina, Dulin, Misanagi, Amejisuto, Tyria Darklighter, Zazreil, Anasazi, Tom and Illona. Thank you all so much for your encouragement and answers to my plea! Also big hugs to Makoto Sagara. for lots of stuff!
~#~ indicates flashback
Raphael paced. He was very good at pacing. In fact, he had had eons to perfect the art of it. His eyes flashed, the iris the eye of the storm surrounding it. He was in an extremely bad mood.
That he was in such a bad mood was due largely to the fact that he knew he and his brothers had simply assumed that they knew the status of their opposition. He muttered under his breath for the thousandth time. "Assumptions are the mother of all fuckups."
He ran over everything in his head once again. It was hard sometimes to remember the turn of events from so many years ago and he was getting frustrated. Things were mixed up in his memory. His own relationship with his counterpart had always been seemingly friendly. They may have been rivals, but respect was something they shared.
Raphael frowned, a rare expression for him. He remembered the battle.
~#~
A gale tried to tear Raphael off balance, but the stormy Archangel danced out of the way with a mad laugh. He was invigorated, and as usual enticed. Every time he came face to face with his counterpart, it was a heady sensation. They fed off each other, tested each other. challenged each other.
He saw Zakkiel fall back, as if punched in the gut, his human eyes flashing briefly green through the torrent of blood. Raphael watched in astonishment as his opponent began to drop from the sky. The Archangel was perplexed. He was sure that Zakkiel had had the upper hand. Raphael's eyes narrowed as he took in the rest of the battlefield.
He made a split second decision and dived after his counterpart, anger rising. Raphael managed to catch his fallen counterpart just short of the ground. The man was unconscious and Raphael frowned. His attention turned once more to the field.
Arioch was sprawled face down, his fiery hair fading into unkempt black waves surrounding his head. Agares lay motionless on the ground, his short brown hair matted with dirt. The blood usually contained in their eyes began pooling around their still forms. Raphael raised his eyes to where Michael had been fighting, moments before, and a scowl crossed the Wind angel's face. He was not impressed.
Raphael knew exactly what it was that Michael had done, and while it was always Raphael's aim to win, he liked to do it playing by the rules. His eyes fell on Gabriel, who was struggling to fend of a furious Astaroth. Raphael knew how dangerous Astaroth could be when angered. But before he could run to the aid of his brother, he saw the golden archangel struck down.
Gold flared momentarily red, before Astaroth turned his swirling eyes to meet Raphael's. The Angel of Wind took the hint, and didn't move from his counterpart's side to detain Astaroth. There wasn't much that one gold angel could do by himself, and Raphael figured that he owed his opponents that much, after the way Michael had behaved.
Raphael remained where he was, Zakkiel cradled in his arms, watching the blood slowly seep out of the other Archangel's glazed eyes. Raphael gripped Zakkiel gently and stood with a sigh, heading towards the others. Michael was standing over the prone form of his enemy, leering down as the bloody flow of hair slowed, staunched by the lack of power coming from it. Unlike Raphael and his counterpart, Michael's relationship with Abaddon was not that of a respected rival. It showed in the way that Michael had chosen to implement /Zaun/.
Raphael let his flow through his entire being, after he had gently deposited his charge on the ground. "You fucking prick, Michael."
Michael rounded on his slightly smaller brother. "What did you say?" His eyes glinted dangerously.
But Raphael was not about to be intimidated. "You're a fucking prick. You just went against everything any of us have ever stood for in order to win. You know how it works. you know there is always a next time. You."He was cut off by a cruel laugh and turned questioning eyes on Michael as the other Archangel spoke.
"There won't be a next time."
"What?" Raphael was blinking rapidly, his brain trying to find a way out of what he didn't want to believe. It was wrong. so very. wrong.
Michael's smile could have frozen a volcano. "This time, there won't be enough left of them to warrant a next time."
~#~
Raphael shuddered as a breeze blew through the open window. It occurred to him that maybe he had been wrong about one gold angel not being able to do much. Having seen the condition that the Fallen had been in once his brother had been finished, Raphael was amazed and curious. If he was perfectly honest with himself, it gave him an odd sense of relief. A world off balance was a frighteningly boring place.
Quatre in a foul mood, and the garden fed off it. Vines trailed in his wake as he stalked deep into Blight's garden. The plants would follow him, and watch him. They would judge his mood and they would wait. The blond knew it, and it was annoying the hell out of him. He couldn't figure out why.
He sighed heavily. He actually knew very well why; he just didn't want to face up to it. It wasn't something he was proud of, but it happened every time when they were close to being together again, or when they had just gathered once more.
Quatre was jealous.
It wasn't a jealousy of any one person in particular, but instead a general sort. He liked having Duo, and their surroundings, to himself and wasn't much for sharing. Sure, it could be fun when they all got together, but his temper sometimes ran short.
Quatre sighed and leaned against one of the trees, the vines stopped just short of him, twitching with anticipation. A blue-green glare was levelled at the garden surrounding him.
"Enough! I'm not in the mood." The vines pulled back to watch from a distance doing their equivalent of a pout. Quatre ignored them and turned his attention back to his own thoughts.
He sank down to the ground, folding his knees to the side. When he examined where his thoughts were heading, he realised that it wasn't just the jealousy that was making him moody. It was the upcoming . events.
It was the culmination of hundreds upon hundreds of years of planning, by himself and his lover. Their brethren had been oblivious to everything, sealed away in hibernation.
The memory hit him with no mercy. He buried his head in his hands trying to fight it, but he knew he needed to remember. Quatre needed to remind himself why what they had planned was so important.
He let himself fall.
~#~
Quatre revelled in battle. He thrived on it. It gave him a chance to use all of his capabilities instead of just some. Every move he made had a reason, and every reason took him that much closer to his goal. Gabriel was an even match for him, and Quatre enjoyed how much it annoyed Gabriel when Quatre had the upper hand. The Archangel was a sore loser, and it made him miss obvious openings in the fight.
Then Quatre was hit by a wave of pain from his lover It momentarily doubled the blond over, and he regained his composure just in time to fend off Gabriel's next blow.
Quatre heard the desperate plea through the bond he and Duo shared. Anger flared inside him, and he channelled it, lashing out at his opponent. Gabriel was forced back rapidly as Quatre unleashed the anger of his brethren.
Although Quatre knew that it was logical, that at least one of them needed to escape, he definitely didn't like to run from a battle. The Archangels had reached a new low, and Quatre wasn't sure how far they were going to go. Someone had to be free to get them out of this mess.
With a final blast, Gabriel was thrown back into the ground, which bevelled under the impact. One last look at the battlefield, etching it into memory; one last frown, and Quatre was gone.
The only thing, which stopped him from turning around and going back, was the relief that flooded through his link from Duo.
The Archangels had broken the rules. Quatre would make them pay.
~#~
A melancholy sigh escaped Quatre's lips and he mumbled to himself, his mind a vortex of alternate possibilities. "But is it worth it?"
"Is what worth it?"
Quatre blinked, not entirely sure how to react.
Heero sat bolt upright in bed. His eyes narrowed as he took in his surroundings. He didn't recognise a thing. The frown that creased his face was not a happy one.
He stood up and gingerly tested his legs. For some reason he felt decidedly woozy, as if he'd been drugged. It was making him edgy. But his legs seemed to be capable of holding his weight, and he stood up.
A glimpse of gold flashed outside the window and he approached it to look out. He got there in time to see the dark wood swallow a slender blond form. The gold must have been a trick of his imagination.
Curiosity overwhelmed him and he decided to find his way down there. A person meant answers, and Heero Yuy was used to getting everything he wanted; including answers.
The door was difficult to open, but he managed it. It was a very strange door; mahogany wood with an extraordinary design on it. Something about the design called to him, nagging at him, tugging at his memories. Heero shook his head, trying to get rid of the images plaguing his mind.
He was careful ,though. He didn't want to be caught. Better to be lost and in control of himself, than in the hands of people he had yet to meet. Finally he found the door leading outside, an out door and it was with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that he realised where it was that he was.
Blight.
Heero took a couple of deep breaths to steady himself. He couldn't let his thoughts run rampant with all the stories that went on about the house and its gardens. He also couldn't ignore that the sinking feeling in his stomach had turned. It was no longer a sinking feeling; it was more akin to longing anticipation.
He couldn't understand it, but pushed the feelings aside to be dealt with later. Heero tried to remember where it was he had seen the blond go, and after a moment, headed the same way.
There was something trailing him. He could feel them. Of course, not many people would give him credence if he told them that he could feel something. A snide smirk crossed his face at that thought. People's opinions were so.unnecessary. Nevertheless, he tried valiantly to ignore the presence, but failed miserably. His head kept dredging up images of all the people he had ever heard of having disappeared in the gardens of Blight. They were vivid pictures, and although he could try to deny it, something inside him was revelling in those images, in their purely violent nature.
He almost let it get the better of him, but then he heard a voice. It was surprisingly close to him. And the question that it posed taunted him; tempted him. He couldn't help but ask.
"Is what worth it?"
The blond looked up at him, startled. Blue-green eyes flashed briefly to a colour Heero couldn't identify. It made Heero feel slightly uncomfortable; defenceless. He crossed his arms and scowled.
The other man stood hurriedly, brushing himself off. "Heero. what are you doing out here?"
Heero blinked. He couldn't remember ever having met the man in front of him, but then after going to see Treize, he really couldn't remember anything at all. He frowned. "Do I.know you?"
Blue-green eyes flashed once more, but this time they appeared to be thoughtful, although Heero really couldn't tell. "I know your. Treize." A delicate hand was extended towards him. "I'm Quatre."
Heero eyed the hand warily, and reluctantly uncrossed his arms to reach out on of his own. He rarely shook hands with anyone. There were people with minds that could perceive any weakness through physical touch.
As their hands met, a jolt ran through Heero and he looked up in surprise. The other man had power. Power and deceptively fragile- looking hands, he corrected himself. The other had a grip like iron.
The other hand was relaxed and Heero withdrew his hand in what he hoped wouldn't be perceived as haste. But there was something about the man in front of him that was hauntingly familiar. It was making his skin crawl.
Then Quatre smiled and Heero felt suddenly at ease.
Quatre's brain was racing. He couldn't figure out how Heero had gotten out of his room, or for that matter, how Heero had woken up so early. The man should have been out of it for hours to come, if not another day. Quatre struggled to keep his expression blank. The vines were reacting to the dormant Earth power fused with Heero's being They weren't being very subtle about it.
He smiled at Heero. The man visibly relaxed, which made Quatre feel more at ease in return. "So, how did you sleep?" Quatre felt like slapping himself. Uncountable years of existence, and that was the best opening line he could come up with when backed into a corner? He felt pathetic.
Heero's brow furrowed, and he looked to be seriously contemplating the topic. Quatre wondered for a second if they had actually gotten the right host, but dismissed that idea immediately. The hosts were hosts for a reason. Heero's answer startled Quatre out of reverie.
"I don't even remember. falling asleep." Blue eyes were clouded with confusion, and something else. Quatre wasn't sure, but he thought it was anger, for not being able to remember something that Heero thought he should.
So Quatre just nodded, and said the only thing he could think of at that moment. "I'm not surprised." He ignored the look of shock that passed over Heero's face briefly, and continued. "We're still not entirely sure what happened to you, but we're trying to figure it out." Quatre closed his eyes briefly as he acknowledged the truth of those last words to himself. They hadn't a clue.
Eyes open once more, he looked at Heero. The other man seemed to be wary, which was probably a direct result of waking in a house he didn't know, surrounded by people he didn't know. Quatre was curious to see just what Heero knew and what he didn't. "Do you know where you are?"
Another scowl flitted across Heero's beautiful face, before it was once again swallowed by impassivity. "I'm at Blight." Quatre only barely managed to avoid a flinch at the way Heero had pronounced the name of the house. The blond definitely wasn't expecting the next thing Heero said.
"I didn't know Treize knew the owner." This time, brief agony passed over the otherwise expressionless face and the voice dropped to a pained whisper. "Why am I here? Why am I in his house?"
It only took Quatre a moment to recover from his relief at Heero's obvious disdain for Duo . "You're here because Treize knew we could help you after you collapsed." Well, he thought, that wasn't a complete lie.
Heero seemed to be processing the information. Quatre held still. He could feel someone approaching. He looked up to see Heero watching him thoughtfully.
"I have no idea why I . collapsed." The brow furrowed again, and the deep blue eyes lost themselves in thought. "He. ." The man seemed to be at a loss for words, but determined to say what it was that he wanted to. "Why do you seem so familiar if I haven't met you before?"
The blue eyes had become piercing in their intensity. Quatre was reminded of the power that lay dormant in the man facing him. He didn't want to antagonise Heero, but wasn't entirely sure how to deal with the human. If it had been Agares, Quatre would not have had a problem at all. He knew how to deal with the Fallen, but humans just annoyed him.
The presence was getting close. It was Trowa, and it seemed the Wind Fallen's mood had not improved. Quatre realised he should speak, before Heero started wondering seriously about what it was that Quatre was thinking. So he spoke while broadcasting who was with him to Trowa.
"I'm really not too sure, Heero. Some people are just like that. Faces that everyone has."
A snort escaped the blue-eyed man. "Somehow I don't think there are many people running around with your face."
Quatre blinked. He hated being thrown off balance, and the memories he had been musing, when Heero had arrived, were still running rampant in his head. It wasn't boding well for his temper later on in the day. He replied without much thought. "Maybe you're right. Or maybe we met in a previous life."
Heero's eyes narrowed marginally. "Perhaps we did..." Anything else he was going to say was cut off as his eyes glazed over and he fell into strong arms.
Quatre glared at Trowa. "Why did you do that?"
Trowa raised an eyebrow. "You're off balance. We can't afford that. Go and get rid of whatever put you in that mood. Go play with some light, go tease the crap out of the shadows or fuck Duo senseless. But whatever you do. get back on track, Quatre. One of us is already off balance. we can't afford for two of us to be."
Quatre smoldered, eyes flashed briefly red, but Trowa's was unimpressed. Instead of uttering the words on the tip of his tongue, Quatre scowled and turned on his heel. He needed to find Duo, even if it was only to yell at him so that Quatre could make himself feel better.
Quatre entered the house, feeling for his lover. A frown crossed his pale features as he realised that he couldn't sense him. Not letting it perturb him too much, Quatre went looking in Duo's haven. When he couldn't find him there either, he stalked into the foyer to see if Duo was in there. The only people in the room were the two /durmanis/. He failed to even acknowledge them other than with a nod, before firing his question. "Where is he?"
Hilde looked at him, actually took her eyes off her tome and looked at him. Her eyes were different than usual. they were almost sad.
"I don't know. I can't tell. All I know is that he was really angry. He's blocked me out."
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