by Arithkenshin
Disclaimer: Stop rubbing it in, I don't own them, just playing.
Notes: *glomps* Sol. thanks hon, you have amazing perseverance with me and my absent beta, thank you for doing such a wonderful beta job as usual, special thanks for the extra input! *hugs* CYT btw. *hugs* Casey, *hugs* Trowacko and *hugs* Makoto
~#~ indicates flashback
Duo deposited his lover on their bed. His expression softened as he watched Quatre's slack face. He really was an angel. Duo would never stop thinking of him like that. Although he knew the nickname annoyed Quatre, and therefore Duo used it a little more than he would have perhaps otherwise. But every time he uttered it, he meant it.
Duo stood there watching Quatre's eyes flicker in dream for a while. Assured that his lover was okay, he left the room, closing the door softly behind him.
He didn't see the frown crease Quatre's forehead as he slipped deeper into slumber. And he didn't see his body become restless as the nightmare dragged the blond down further.
~#~
Quatre hated himself for having fled the battlefield, but he knew one of them had to get away, and he had been the logical choice. Still, he didn't have to like it.
Every particle of power he could muster and command was wrapped around him, concealing him from his enemies. He couldn't afford to be located. The golden Fallen could feel the waning souls of his brethren. Most of all, he could feel his lover's pain and it made Quatre want to wring the necks of the archangels.
He could feel every piece of flesh that was ripped from his partner's back. He could feel the pure determination not to show a weakness and give Michael satisfaction. Quatre was innately aware of every second of prolonged agony Duo was put through, as they slowly tore the wings from his body. The process took days, and Quatre felt every tug and every tear for the entire time.
Quatre couldn't afford to drown in the feelings emanating from Duo. He had to concentrate and stay aware. It was days before they left Duo. Days before Duo's willpower finally failed and he succumbed to unconsciousness. They left him for dead.
Quatre waited until he felt the other presences depart. A derisive snort escaped his lips. Gabriel should have felt Quatre. it was from Gabriel he shouldn't have been able to hide. But the Archangel was too caught up in their excuse for triumph that he hadn't noticed, which was fine by Quatre. They would never know what hit them.
He crept silently into the chamber. No guards had been set, and at first it worried him that it could be a trap. Then he saw Duo, and it was all he could manage not to vomit. Human reflexes were ingrained, but it was something Quatre wished he could avoid.
From the pain he had felt from Duo, Quatre had expected something bad. He hadn't expected what confronted him.
Iridescent wings hung from pegs attached to the ceiling. But they weren't attached to the lump of dripping flesh in the middle of the room. They were hung to either side of the figure; a sick parody of the beauty they could have exhibited. There were tendons, muscles and globs of bruised flesh attached to the wings. The gore coloured the wings an eerie glowing red. The stench was overwhelming.
Slowly, Quatre turned his attention to the body that was Duo. Quatre had to bite down hard, to stop the gag reaction. Duo's beautiful pale skin had been stripped from his body in shreds. The skin had started to regenerate in some area's and the body was a strange mixture of exposed tendons, muscles, fresh flesh and partially re- grown skin.
Quatre walked around the figure, taking in the state of the entire body. The gaping holes in his lovers back made the tears begin to flow down Quatre's face. He couldn't help it, Duo looked like he was dead, athough Quatre knew he wasn't. He could feel Duo; the heartbeat was there, the soul was there. The blond just wasn't sure if Duo would thank him for rescuing him after such pain.
A raspy whisper interrupted his thoughts. The agony in the voice made Quatre's heart ache at the same time as a breeze of relief passed through him.
"Don't. think like that. They will pay. Get me out of here." Duo's head fell to rest on his chest. the extreme effort the speech had cost him, taking its toll.
Quatre positioned himself in front of his lover. Reaching out a hand, he raised Duo's chin, mindless of the way his fingers sunk into soft, exposed flesh. Blood trickled down Quatre's arm, yet he paid it no mind. He released the binds on his lover's arms and caught the body as it sagged.
Quatre hefted the body over one shoulder, weaving his power tighter around them, as he took them both out of their enemy's stronghold. He needed to get Duo to safety and then come back for the others. If he didn't get the souls in time. all was lost.
~#~
Quatre's eyes blinked open blearily. His eyes scanned the dark room. Satisfied that it was a dream and he was safe at Blight, he let himself fall back into regenerating slumber.
Wufei stared at the ceiling. The voice in his head hadn't spoken for quite some time and the tears had dried on his cheeks. His skin felt tight where the salty liquid had dried on his skin, and yet he ignored it. There were too many things to think about, and too many scenarios running through his head, for him to focus on just one thing.
Nothing seemed to make sense, or maybe it was that nothing seemed to make sense the way he wanted it to. His eyes flickered around the room trying to find a distraction, but there was nothing there to maintain interest. He sighed heavily and swung himself into a sitting position, leaning over and putting his head in his hands.
Black hair draped around him, and he realised with annoyance that his usual severe ponytail had come undone. He also had no idea where the elastic had gone. Wufei was rapidly becoming annoyed. He knew he wasn't just irritated about his hair, but it helped his delusion if he let himself think that he was.
Wufei was annoyed with himself. When he got right down to it that was his problem. Everything that Arioch was saying made sense. He couldn't deny the attraction he felt for Trowa and, truth be told, he didn't want to deny it. All he wanted to do was run his hands through that auburn hair, to hold that lithe form.
And they were all things that he had never wanted to do before.not with another man, but his memories told him something else. They told him that he had done just that, and had exactly that relationship, over and over again in his lives. It was confusing him so much he was starting to get a headache.
He was also annoyed at the feeling of loneliness he was getting. Wufei was used to being on his own. He couldn't understand why he was getting those feelings. Unless of course they weren't really Wufei's feelings.they were Arioch's.
Wufei's head was starting to pound. The train of thought made his brain ache. Considering he was a scholar, it was no mean feat.
"You know.if you'd just give up this stubborn streak, they'd be our feelings. And since you wouldn't be mortal anymore. your mind's capacity would be much greater."
Wufei glared directly ahead, hoping that Arioch understood the glare was meant for him. "When I want your opinion, I'll ask for it." He could almost feel Arioch shrugging his shoulders.
"As you wish.just trying to make it easier on you." Arioch's voice was almost pouting.
"Just. Shut. Up."
The voice was quiet again, and Wufei stood up. There wasn't much point in staying in his room. Perhaps he could go down to the library and do some.research on himself.on Arioch.
Determination etched itself onto his face and he exited the room, ignoring the mild chuckling going on in the back of his head.
Hilde raised her head briefly as Wufei stomped down the stairs and entered the foyer. Her eyes narrowed as she took in his appearance. She could tell that he was still fully Wufei and she frowned.
He looked at her and glared briefly before turning his attention to the books in the shelves.
Her curiosity was piqued. "What are you looking for?"
Wufei raised an eyebrow as he briefly looked at her. "A book."
Biting back the retort she would dearly have loved to make, Hilde chose to be diplomatic instead. "What type of book?"
His demeanour stiffened and he turned to look at her, annoyance painted on his features. "It's none of your concern. I am perfectly capable of researching something on my own."
Hilde laughed and stood up from her desk. She stretched her arms over her head, somehow lending the action a grace that only a feline creature could possess. Her eyes glittered with amusement as she sauntered over to Wufei.
The Chinese man couldn't seem to keep the surprise off his face and Hilde couldn't help playing it for all it was worth. To anyone who visited briefly, it appeared that she only sat at her desk. Those who knew her would have recognised her behaviour for what it was. Wufei should been one of those people, so his surprise made Hilde frown a little.
She leaned over him, pulling some fluff out of his unbound hair. He scowled. Hilde ignored him. "You're still Wufei, aren't you?"
Wufei glowered. "I prefer remaining myself, thank you very much."
Hilde shrugged indifferently. "Suit yourself." A malicious grin crossed her face. "But you'll run out of energy soon enough. you're already on the edge of it. This vigilance is costing you. and he will take over completely once your awareness wavers."
"It won't waver. I am stronger than that. I am not /weak/." Wufei's eyes were blazing, and he snatched a book from the shelf, gripping it in his hands tightly.
She shrugged again, and turned away from him, walking towards her desk again. Her voice was matter of fact. "It has nothing to do with weakness or strength. It has to do with inevitability and fact. It's something you can't avoid."
Hilde sat down at her desk, flipping open her tome once more and completely ignoring the looks Wufei was giving her. She only looked up as she heard him open the book and suppress a frustrated sigh. Hilde couldn't help it; she chuckled.
Wufei's gaze switched to her, and he snapped. "What?"
She wasn't able to keep the mirth from her voice, but she spoke anyway. "Oh. probably should have told you. If you'd stop being so stubborn and let him in, you'd be able to read that book too."
The Chinese man scowled. "I can read." The scowl was replaced by a perturbed expression. "I speak eight languages, I don't understand this. I don't seem to know this language."
Hilde chuckled again. "Not surprising. As a human, there's no way you'd know it."
Wufei frowned and the question in his eyes hung in the air.
The blue-eyed woman took pity on him. "It's Enochian."
The Chinese man scoffed. "I know Enochian. This isn't it. Similarities perhaps, but the fact is that it isn't the same. I studied Dee's writings." Wufei's voice was smug, his body language challenging.
Hilde laughed, her blue eyes sparkling and the room resonated with the warmth of the sound. "Oh, he transcribed Enochian." She shrugged, eyes still dancing with mirth, "Just not that dialect."
Wufei looked taken aback. "Dialect?" He frowned.
"Like any language, Wufei." Hilde gave a mocking shake of her head. "Even angelic beings have to differentiate themselves. And after a couple of millennia, any language will change a little. That's the Shand dialect, as it is in most of these books." At the continued look of consternation on Wufei's face, Hilde continued. "The dialect of the Fallen."
Zechs studied the statues in the chapel with a frown on his face. He was sure they used to glow for him as a child. He could remember the warmth that seeped off them and bathed him in a protective light. Now all he could feel was an emptiness that was so cold, it burned him.
He reached out a hand to touch one, and scowled as he pulled it back. It felt like an electric current running through his system, making him.angry. He couldn't understand it; he'd never felt anything like it before.
His mind kept going back to the conversation he had had with Gabriel. There was something off about the whole situation and it was annoying him. Of course, he knew it was blasphemous to even think such thoughts, but for some reason he couldn't help it. He felt like he should be questioning the reasons, because there was something wrong with them.
Why should he have to make sure that people worship, pray or believe in the Archangels? Wasn't that their own job? To give the people something they could see and believe in; to give them proof? Why was Gabriel so adamant that Zechs be the one responsible? Why hadn't the Archangel's taken care of it? And why was it so desperate that it be done now? Shouldn't they have realised that prayer leant them power? Or was it that they now needed the power, and only just realised it had dwindled? And just what did they need power for?
The anger was almost overwhelming as he made his way through the chapel. The site of the main altar enraged him even further and before he knew what he was doing he had snapped the lectern in half. He was panting from an exertion he hadn't even realised he had made. Zechs took a few steps back, warily looking around him. He made sure that no one had seen his actions, because he didn't quite know why he was acting that way himself and didn't think he would be capable of trying to explain it to anyone else. Head of state he might be, but he wasn't above the law more than anyone else.
One of the laws was that all chapels were sacrosanct. Nothing was to be touched except by the ordained. Which was another point that made Zechs frown. Shouldn't a belief be all encompassing? Shouldn't every person who believed have right to feel the tangible side of that faith?
The walls of the chapel suddenly felt like they were closing in, confining him; trapping him. Resentment welled up in him, its source unknown. All Zechs knew, was that he suddenly needed to be somewhere else, anywhere else. He pushed his way out of the chapel and towards his rooms, still feeling a well of pent up energy. His long, platinum waves tangled as the night breeze whispered around him.
Zechs reached his rooms and closed the doors behind him. Relief enveloped him like a welcome home and he felt at ease once more. Right then he didn't want to dwell on why he felt like that. He was suddenly very tired. He just wanted to sleep.
Michael glared at Raphael, who just grinned insolently. No mirth reached his eyes and his entire body was rigid, as if he was expecting something to happen.
A laugh bubbled from his throat and he glided over to his brother, placing a hand on his chest. "Did you want to say something, Michael?" The tone was mocking, taunting; daring. It pushed against the barriers Michael had set up so long ago. It challenged. Green- eyes locked onto brilliant blue and Raphaels voice dropped to a sensuous whisper. "Do you have something you want to say to me, Michael?"
Before Michael could retort, he was sent flying into the wall behind him. A cruel laugh echoed through the room, causing the two brothers playing chess to look up at the commotion. Uriel stood to the side, fighting to hide a smirk as he watched Michael and Raphael.
Raphael's eyes were flashing and there was wind howling through the room. Curtains were blown into the room, torn in a dance before briefly settling to their original position. Furniture shook slightly from the force of the air stream. And all Raphael did was continue to smile.
Michael tried to get up from being slumped against the wall. He was angry and it radiated from him in waves. His wings were glowing, clear pearlescent. His hair whipped around his face. He opened his mouth to speak, but didn't get far.
A gust of wind slammed him against the wall once more, winding him. Enraged eyes looked up at his Wind brother, promising a slow and painful death at some time in the near future.
If that glare had any effect on Raphael, he didn't show it in the slightest. Instead, he knocked his brother back into the wall, over and over again. Each time the wind grew stronger, each time it was harder for Michael to get back up. Raphael advanced on his brother, slowly. He made no count of how often he had smashed his brother up against the wall, and he didn't care.
He reached down with one hand and picked Michael up by the neck. With the aid of the wind, Raphael could hold his brother against the wall, so that he was unable to move.
Raphael leaned his face in close and let scathing words drip from his mouth. "It's because of you that this has happened, Michael. It's because of you and your greed and your lack of honour, that they will be satisfied with nothing less than our complete annihilation."
Blue eyes flashed to silver. The molten metal gleamed in anger as the hand tightened around his throat. Michael's rasped, "I did . what needed to be done. We would never have been rid of them otherwise."
Raphael chuckled; a hollow, empty sound. The wind answered his mood, and squeezed Michael tighter. "And you call this. rid of them? They're alive, you idiot! And I can assure you of one thing. They're not likely to forget your little.embellishment."
There was a hint of doubt in Michael's voice as he spoke; yet his voice maintained arrogance. "That is of no consequence. We won then. We will win again. There is no reason to be anxious."
The Wind Archangel smiled this time and abruptly released the hold he had on his brother, watching dispassionately as he fell to the ground, clutching his throat. Raphael hovered above Michael, eyes gleaming. "I am not anxious. far from it. I am ready."
"Ready for what?" Michael's voice was still recovering, but there was a tension underlying his curiosity.
"To accept what I am meted out by fate, brother."
At Michael's blank look, Raphael sighed. An evil grin crossed his face before he continued. "Fate has always been just. Sometimes it just takes a while. I am prepared to fight the next battle and atone for my betrayal of our pact.for my part in the betrayal. So I ask you this, Michael. "Raphael ignored the dawning comprehension on his brother's face. "Are you ready to atone for yours?"
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