by Arithkenshin
Disclaimer: Stop rubbing it in, I don't own them, just playing.
Notes: *glomps* Sol. thanks again hon *hugs* CYT , *hugs* Casey, *hugs* Trowacko and *hugs* Makoto
Extra Warning: Implied NCS
Relena paused, about to push open the door to the greenhouse. She heard voices inside and despite what her upbringing was screaming at her, she felt the overwhelming urge to defy it and eavesdrop. She wasn't even trying to delude herself. It was just that sometimes she felt that all the Archangels knew more about her and her predicament than they let on, and there was that piece of her that rebelled, needing to know what it was, whether they wanted to tell her or not.
So she listened at the door, keeping her breath as soft and even as she possibly could. Uriel was speaking and a small pang of guilt assailed her as she realised she was really listening to something she shouldn't be.
"You said that he's taking things too far this time. When has Michael ever done anything by halves, Raphael?"
Relena frowned, not really sure what they were talking about, having come into it half way through what appeared to be a rather in depth discussion. She focused on the next voice, recognising it as Raphael's. A small shiver of anticipation crept up her spine as she continued to listen intently.
"Ok, so he's always been melodramatic. It's his flair, part of his power."
Relena had to stop herself from laughing, but it appeared that Uriel had no such compunction. He laughed before his next comment.
"Stop exaggerating. Even you have an underlying respect for him. You wouldn't be here if you didn't."
That statement was followed by a silence, giving Relena time to ponder it. She wondered just what they were talking about and just why they seemed to be treading so carefully. Maybe it was just instinct on her behalf, but they seemed to be hedging. Raphael's next statement deepened her bemusement.
"You're right. But the respect I had is dwindling. We've lost sight of what this should be about. He's solely focused on being the onlypowerful force. Damn it, Uriel. He's blinded himself to what it would mean if we no longer had our counter balance."
She blinked, not quite sure what to make of that statement. Thoughts were whirring around in her head. Raphael had sounded so angry. For the thousandth time in those few minutes, she wondered what had made the Archangel so bitter, so angry. Speculations shot through her mind like fireworks, but she reminded herself not to assume things. It was a piece of advice she remembered Raphael giving her just after she had regained consciousness. Uriel's soft voice filtered back out to her, and she refocused once more.
"We've become complacent. Now we'll reap what we've earned."
Relena blinked again, twice. It wasn't just confusing now. It was a conundrum. She needed to know what they were talking about. There was something pulling at the back of her mind, but she still couldn't place it.
"Do you realise just what we've earned?"
No, she answered silently, but I sure as hell want to. Just let it slip already. It was unusual for Relena to feel impatient. She rubbed absently at her head. She was starting to get another headache and almost missed the soft reply uttered by Uriel.
"As do most of us. It's the lot we chose, learn to accept it."
Relena stifled a gasp. She wasn't used to hearing Uriel sound so. defeated. And why would an Archangel sound defeated in the first place? Her mind started to work overtime, trying to come up with a plausible reason for it, but the holes in her memory weren't letting her work through things in a logical manner like she wanted. It frustrated her and she scowled. Raphaels next words, stilled her and brought her mind to a stop.
"No!"
She could hear the wind whistle through the room, feel the tension even from her position outside it.
"No. He's gone beyond the norm; taking liberties we shouldn't, liberties we have no right to. In taking Milliardo, he's gone against yet another rule of our pact."
The name ripped into her and she doubled over, somehow reminding herself to be quiet. Her head hurt so much, but she knew that name. It meant something to her, as sure as the sun lit the sky during the day. Flashes flew through her mind. Long, flowing platinum hair, a tolerant smile, a rare laugh.
She shook her head, only vaguely hearing the last words Uriel spoke.
"The rules were broken once, brother mine. They are forfeit now."
Relena pushed herself away from the doorframe, trying to block out the memories that were threatening to rip her skull apart. They weren't full memories, just tantalising glimpses into her past that teased and tormented her, while leading to more and more confusion.
She knew she shouldn't have listened. Every grain of her upbringing had been against it. Upbringing? Relena frowned. How had that thought even been in her head? She didn't remember anything about her life before. Again images began to assault her mind. Boats exploding, being thrown into the side of a building before crumpling to rest in the shallow water, noticing blood seeping around her in a detached way.
A hand touched her shoulder and she stifled a scream.
Uriel held up a hand to silence his brother, but he hadn't needed to, since Raphael had heard it as well. As if swept on a wind, which in slight hindsight Uriel realised he probably had been, Raphael flowed to the door faster than the eye could follow, and opened it.
The Archangel cursed. "Relena." It was a simple soft statement, but he didn't need to say anything more.
Uriel dashed out of the greenhouse, stopping only briefly to gather his bearings, before heading in the direction where he could sense her. The black-haired Archangel had been the one to take Relena to the citadel with him. Although it had been somewhat of an impulse at the time, he had developed protective instincts where the young woman was concerned. Michael had thought she may prove useful, and therefore had nothing against her staying. They all knew who she was.
He'd underestimated her. A frown spread across his face. He wasn't going to underestimate her need to know again. All he could hope was that they couldn't cause any damage.
She was stumbling, not moving very fast, and clutching her head. His visage darkened as he saw Gabriel come around the corner, almost colliding with her before Gabriel spun her around. Uriel could see her almost scream as she turned to face the golden Archangel. Her eyes were wide in confusion and pain. She was disorientated.
Just then, Raphael dropped from above them, and slipped a brotherly arm around Relena's shoulders, skilfully guiding her away from Gabriel's reach. Uriel could see his golden brother glowering, and stepped in to stop the inevitable, now near enough to do so.
"Ah, Relena, I've been looking for you."
The look in her eyes pained him. It was the first time there had ever been mistrust in them when directed at him. But it wasn't to be helped. She'd heard something, maybe everything. He needed to find out just how much.
Not missing a beat he continued. "You promised to come and help me in the green-house, remember?" He allowed his eyes to slide to Gabriel meaningfully and back to her again.
Suspicious or not, he knew she didn't like Gabriel, and she took the hint. Maybe she was just choosing the lesser of the two evils she currently had in front of her. "Yes.sorry. Shall we?"
Uriel linked his arm in hers, and smiled at Gabriel. "Want to come and help?" He was well aware of Gabriel's dislike of getting dirty, and was quite certain of the answer. Uriel smiled internally at the double meaning.
Something akin to a scowl passed over Gabriel's face. "No, I have. things to do."
"Oh. Maybe next time, Gabriel?" Relena smiled sweetly, too sweetly, but Uriel was thankful his brother was still brooding and didn't notice it.
The golden Archangel turned and continued on his way. The three of them watched him go. Some of the tension leaked out of Relena's body and she turned a wary eye to look up at Uriel.
Uriel sighed. "We need to talk, I think."
She shrugged, then looked back at him, resigned. Determination stole into her eyes and her jaw set in the same fashion. Uriel realised she wasn't intimidated in the slightest and a small wave of pride rolled through him. He ignored it.
Wufei followed Trowa down the hall, not quite sure of the layout yet. Trowa seemed to know instinctively where they should be going. Onyx eyes examined the walls as they moved past them. The wood was a deep mahogany, which Wufei was quite certain had probably cost a fortune to build. The voice in the back of his mind informed him that, knowing Duo, it probably hadn't cost anything at all to build. For once, Wufei didn't push the voice away.
A figure was approaching them, moving quickly along the carpet, its deep cushion swallowing the sound of the footfalls. Trowa stopped and Wufei almost ran into him. Green eyes followed the figure thoughtfully as the red haired man past them, before moving forward once more.
Wufei could hear the Fallen muttering under his breath. "Treize is in a hurry."
Without really giving it a thought Wufei spoke his question out loud. "Who is Treize?"
Trowa stopped and turned to look at him, face thoughtful. "You should really stop blocking out. /him/. You wouldn't have so much trouble remembering things if you did."
Wufei had the grace to blush a little, and was silent as he followed Trowa the rest of the way to the library. There were so many thoughts flying around in Wufei's head that he was having trouble keeping track of them and he was starting to get frustrated.
"Can I talk again?" Arioch's voice was like a petulant whisper in Wufei's head, causing the Chinese man to grin, despite himself and he simply nodded.
If you let me mesh with you, it'll be a lot easier.on both of us.
Wufei directed his awareness inwards without a second thought, his attention fully on the conversation inside his head. He wasn't minding his surroundings and didn't even realise that their destination had been reached.
I. believe you. Wufei somehow felt as if a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders, once he said that. ~Just what does this. meshing. entail?~
You'll experience a slight disorientation, but it won't last long. And then. it'll be a little confusing at first, because you'll have two sets of memories melding together.
Wufei interrupted him. Stop. That's enough. I don't need to know more now. Not yet. He could feel the pout Arioch was surely wearing and relented just a little. But you don't have to shut up anymore.
He could hear a voice talking to him, or more like, at him. Onyx eyes blinked, refocusing and he realised that they were in the library.
". Wufei?" Trowa was looking at him with concern. Sometimes it was hard to place Trowa's expressions, but they were becoming more and more familiar to Wufei all the time. He watched as the green-eyed man continued. "Are you, okay?"
Wufei nodded and crossed his arms as he leaned back against one of the bookshelves. "I was. discussing something."
One eyebrow raised itself, to be lost in the obscurity of Trowa's auburn mane. "Oh."
Onyx eyes glistened thoughtfully as Wufei contemplated a few things. Then he raised a hand waving it vaguely, dismissing the train of thought and thereby the conversation. "Remind me what our language is like."
Trowa smiled at him. It was a soft quirking of the corners of his mouth, which would seem half-hearted from anyone else, but on Trowa it looked just right. Wufei's thoughts were startling him, and so he turned, briefly frowning, to pluck a book from one of the shelves.
In doing so, he missed the strangely wistful look that passed over Trowa's face.
Treize only vaguely registered brushing past two figures in the corridor as he made his way to where he could sense Duo. He had his mind set on exactly what he wanted to do.
As he burst into the room, he could see Duo fade briefly to nothing. Treize chided himself on startling the Fallen, knowing just what sort of reflexes Duo had. The red head frowned briefly as he realised that Duo must have been deep in thought to be startled in the first place.
Once Duo's form was solid again, a scowl spread over his face, but Treize ignored it and spoke instead. "We need to talk."
Duo apparently swallowed his retort and simply nodded, face still agitated. Treize didn't want to try and push his luck, so he got to the point right away.
"We have an advantage at the moment. Our temples have more attendees than do those of the others. As you know, although they are not the only source of power, they are one that can be extremely useful."
Duo's attention was focused on Treize. Violet eyes alight with comprehension as he listened to Treize continue.
"If we handle this the right way, we can glean their support out from right under them." He gestured grandly. "If I handle this, they'll not know what's been taken from them, before it's too late."
Duo pursed his lips. "Explain."
It was an order without being one, and Treize was happy to oblige. He began to outline his plan, explaining it in detail, leaving nothing to chance. As more of it unfolded his intensity in the explanation grew.
Duo listened, his smile dangerous.
Quatre found himself weaving a path through the gardens once more. He was jumpy and the surrounding entities, sentient or otherwise, read his mood and wisely left him in peace. Not only was he jumpy, Quatre was angry at himself.
He knew the risks of scrying, he knew what he opened himself up to, and he knew how to control it. This time, however, something had gone awry and he knew exactly what it was. He'd lost concentration because he had grown impatient. And all it needed was a split second to get inside his defences and he was history for a few hours at least.
Blue-green eyes focused on his hands. They were shaking, as was, he was sure, his entire body. Emotions tumbled through his mind, like a whirlwind waiting to rip him apart. They suffused with him, seeking to gain control over his body and get it to act on whatever emotion went through him at that given time.
He fell to his knees on the soft earth and pounded a fist into the ground, channelling the pain and the anguish away from him to be dealt with elsewhere. Everything at Blight fed on emotions and shadows. He was sure Blight wouldn't mind helping relieve him of that burden. His fists came down in a rain of punches, hammering at the ground as if seeking to force it to open and rip away all the emotions tearing him apart.
Quatre didn't know how long he pounded at the ground, but he beat at it until his mind numbed and the emotions couldn't affect him as much anymore. He pounded it until the pain transferred to his fists and he pummelled the ground until his hands ripped on the small rocks embedded in the soft earth.
Suddenly the feelings were gone, leaving him drained and numb. The forest felt alive with malignant aspects, but as long as those feelings were out of his system, Quatre really didn't care. He prized his control, and he knew what could happen if he lost it. Every time he embraced his.curse, he ran the risk of losing that control. All parts of him were attacked, from his memories to his thoughts and his innermost secrets. He was stripped bare of all constraints and it was only through sheer willpower that he managed to maintain his fragile grip.
Quatre raised his head, blinking as he realised that twilight had begun to creep over Blight. He wished that his scrying had given more answers than it had questions, because he didn't like the uneasy feeling running through his mind. If only he could figure out what it was that was nagging at him.
A sigh escaped him as he rose to his feet and turned slowly towards the house. He was hoping for a quiet evening, considering they had a Waking to perform in the morning.
Zechs was panting, trying to draw breath through ragged lungs worn out from his predicament. His skin was slick with blood and sweat and he got momentary glimpses of his hair, now tinged a deep red. He felt faint, yet empowered, and he had no idea why or how.
Michael was watching from a few feet away, as creatures of some sort continued to inflict the pain on Zechs that the platinum-haired man could no longer feel. The Archangel seemed to get bored as he gave a dismissive wave to his servants, allowing them to cease their ministrations.
Zechs didn't like the look on Michael's face as he approached, but was too exhausted to react and look away. There was something inside him reacting to the other's presence in a sleepily violent way. As if it recognised him and yet, at the same time, didn't.
Michael's voice was mocking when it spoke. "Are you prepared to die, Milliardo?"
Zechs raised his head, confused, trying to focus bleary eyes on his captor, but it didn't work properly and instead Zechs found himself speaking words he was truly amazed at having spoken. "I will not die. You don't want this. You have me here for another purpose."
If Michael was surprised, he hid it well. Instead, a cruel smile crossed his face and he leaned in to Zechs, running a finger over swollen and bruised lips, ignoring the flinch his captive couldn't quite hide. "Observant as ever." Michael's face turned contemplative, but there was nothing calming about the expression. "Let's see if you remember observing this."
The mist swirled to life from the floor of the room once more, the lights becoming dim and the smile on Michael's face was full of anticipation. His eyes glowed golden as the forms started to appear in the mist, and the keening began once more.
Zechs tried to shut his eyes, but for some reason his body was defying him. It was curious, morbidly so, because Zechs was sure that it remembered what it had seen before. And still his eyelids refused to obey him and close. So he watched.
He watched as the figures once again began to claw their way across the ground. He watched as they were disembowelled and devoured by the constructs that fell on them. And he tried to shut out Michael's whispered commentary, but to no avail.
"You remember the way you played with your creations, Leviathan?"
Zechs shook his head adamantly. He had never been witness to such atrocities, had he? For some reason it didn't even enter his mind that he had answered to a name that was not his own. There was a vague pulling at the back of his mind, trying to remind him of something, of his humanity perhaps.
"Remember the joy you had tearing your human pets apart, watching them being torn apart?"
There was a sickening sound, the ripping of flesh, followed by an agonised scream. Zechs watched in rapt horror at the way the construct tore at the limb with its razor like mouth, while the human on the floor watched in detached terror, still lucid though weakened by loss of blood.
Zechs's stomach began to heave and yet the smooth voice carried on.
"Don't you remember feeding your boredom with torture, your creativity with blood and fulfilling your life by taking it from other beings?"
The spectacle in front of Zechs' eyes continued, and he still couldn't help but watch it with a sick fascination. Was it real? He laughed, a slow, slightly hysterical laugh. But it quieted before long as the visions in front on him intensified their activities.
Screams of terror echoed around the room, as the constructs took their pleasure. Blood streamed from wounds bitten into the backs of the humans, while blood coursed down their legs from the harsh intrusion.
"Do you remember who you are?"
One of the constructs turned to look over the other side of the room, its face gleaming with the prospect of having pleased someone. Zechs managed to tear his eyes away from the thing that appeared to be the construct's appendage. It looked knife-sharp, and suddenly Zechs didn't even want to think about the damage done to those humans. He knew why they had screamed the way they did, and it was more than enough.
Wanting to look anywhere but at the scene directly in front of him, Zechs slowly followed the construct's worshipping gaze. His mind was a haze, thinking and reacting sluggishly. He was disturbed by what he was seeing, and the conflicting reactions his brain was having to them. His gaze focused on what had to be the object of the construct's reverence.
"Do you remember what you are?"
There was a group of six men, shadowed. Zechs frowned as he tried to concentrate on them. He was slightly taken aback to realise that they all seemed to have wings. The shadows gave little away and Zechs felt oddly disappointed. He was curious, insatiably so. He wanted, no needed to know.
One of the figures leaned forward, resting an arm on his knee, maybe trying to get a better view. Long platinum hair fell over his shoulder and Zechs gasped.
He was looking at himself.
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