Title: Tainted Conviction - Part Seven

Author: Sita Seraph

Genre: Angst, Religious relatings

Pairing: 1x2 eventually.

Rated: R

Warning: Gruesome treatment, stigmata, sixth sense, and a whole lot
of shit.

I'm sorry but this isn't an update.  It seems that I skipped a
chapter when I was posting this.  Please go back to the chapter
called Taste of Death (3).  There, you can read a new chapter but its
in the best.  I'm so sorry for the inconvenience and if anyone was
confused.

Heero stood in the doorway of Quatre's room, watching the blonde boy
sleep on peacefully, head nearly buried into the pillows that
surrounded the head of his bed.  Thick sheets covered the ex-Sandrock
pilot, making only his little head appear from the mass of warm
coverings.  He breathed heavily into the pillows, a child-like
innocence sketched across his face as he slumbered on his side.  He
snorted suddenly, took a deep breath, and then grew still again, lips
moving into the pillow as he dreamt of another place.

And Trowa slept beside him.

Trowa was lying on his back, head turned away from his friend and
the covers reaching his waist.  No innocence shone on his face.  Just
content, a blank content as his chest rose and fell, the loose
buttoned up shirt moving with him.  A hand was stretched out by
Trowa's side on top of the covers right next to Quatre's limp hand
that had been tossed over his body in sleep. Trowa's other hand
rested on his abdomen, rising and falling on each breath.

Heero took a slow breath and stepped inside towards the sleeping
counterparts.  Walking into the dark and silent room, Heero took a
hesitant seat on Quatre's side of the bed, the mattress falling lower
with the extra weight.  One's breathing immediately changed at the
third presence in the room and Heero waited, watching.  Slowly,
Trowa's eyes slid open and turned his head towards the perfect
pilot.  Blinking away sleep, Trowa raised an eyebrow, his eyes
questioning Heero's presence silently.  Heero slowly shook his head.

"I need your help with Duo," Heero whispered.  Quatre slept on,
mouth open now on the pillow and taking shallow breaths.  Trowa sat
up a little, being careful not to wake the third pilot in the room.

"What's wrong?" Trowa asked quietly, even as he started to pull back
the covers of the bed and stand up.  Heero didn't answer him. 
Instead, he sighed and rose from the mattress, walking out of the
room quickly with a call over his shoulder.

"He's in the bathroom."

*****

Heero walked downstairs hastily, keeping his trained eyes away from
the bathroom as he passed it, and walked across the puffy living room
carpet to the kitchen.  He was going to call Sally Po, to tell her
what happened to Duo, and to get some help with his…body.

Heero, after composing himself in the bathroom, had immediately cut
off all emotions like a ribbon against scissors.  He didn't feel, he
didn't even think about what he was doing.  It was like the war
again, just doing as told and not thinking about it during or once
it's done.  He felt empty inside again; the feelings being wiped
clean like a Word Document.  He didn't want to feel right now, he
couldn't. He had to call Sally Po.  Then he could walk away to
someplace where no one would find him, and let his feelings show.

But not yet.

Heero picked up the phone quietly from its hook and started dialing
Sally Po.  The small beeps from the telephone were the only sound in
the kitchen, besides the ticking of the overhead clock.  Heero slowly
raised the phone to his ear, listening to the rings from the other
end.  The clock suddenly dinged as it announced the hour of 3 o'clock
in the morning.  The phone kept ringing.  The clock ticked on.

It was so quiet.

Heero looked up slowly as he heard someone walking downstairs. 
Trowa appeared around the corner of the staircase, confusion all over
his face, as he stared at the ground.  Heero didn't expect that kind
of expression.  Slowly, Trowa looked up and saw Heero in the doorway
of the kitchen.  The ex-Heavyarms pilot moved towards him, dodging
the chairs and furniture of the living room.  The flaps of his shirt
brushed past his black sleep pants as he walked, making no sound on
the carpet flooring.  Heero slowly drew away the ringing tone in his
ear, eyebrow rising at his Gundam pilot.  Trowa was neither scared,
nor sickened.  Trowa wasn't even surprised or stumbling at the death
of their counterpart pilot.  Trowa was though looking a little lost,
confused, as he stared at Heero.  Maybe he was still in shock…

"Heero," Trowa said.  "What's going on?"

"What do you mean?" Heero asked, the confusion on the edge of his
voice.  Wasn't Trowa sad?  Did he block all his emotions out as well?

"What do I mean?" Trowa returned.  "Is this some joke?"

A joke!? "What?"

"Heero," Trowa started.  "Why is the bathroom all hot and steamy? 
And where's Duo?"

Heero couldn't feel the phone in his fingers anymore.  He stared,
shocked, at Trowa, who stayed absolutely neutral in all aspects.  Was
he joking around?  How could he be so cold when Duo laid burnt and
dead upstairs?  What did he mean 'where's Duo?'  Duo's upstairs,
rotting in the bathroom with his flesh reeking the air like putrid
disease.  Duo has been dead for 15 minutes, maybe even more, and all
he can say is 'where's Duo?'  Was he blind…?

…Or was Heero wrong?  Was Duo alive?  Did he crawl out of the
bathroom, whimpering out his agony but not saying a bloody word, and
go to his room?  Was Duo…alive?  Heero was finding it hard to breathe
and Trowa's expression changed to confusion.  His hand flew up to
catch Heero but the perfect soldier moved back.  He was confused. 
Was Duo alive or dead?

Duo alive.

Duo dead.

The world spun for a moment and Heero closed his eyes tightly.  He
noticed, too late, that the phone in his hand was no longer ringing
and Sally's voice was screaming in the phone.  He noticed, too late,
that the phone slipped from his grasp.

And caught by someone else's hand.

Heero whirled around, eyes opened to look straight into piercing,
blank violet eyes.  But not dead, beautiful orbs of purple.  Alive,
unemotional balls of lilac.  Heero almost felt his chest cave in with
disbelief.

Duo was alive.

Duo slowly took a step back, a black robe barely covering his nude
body parts.  Casually, watching Heero with the most intense eyes that
the perfect pilot caught himself watching, he clicked the phone off
and Sally's panicked 'hello!?' disappeared with a beep. 

"Duo, what are you doing?" Trowa's voice broke through Heero's shock
and it was then that the perfect pilot noticed yet a second thing:

Duo was perfectly healthy.  His skin was no longer burnt, but back
to the pale, milky white.  His shoulders were no longer black but
smooth and round.  His nipples were restored to the pink hue.  His
legs were long and strong looking again.  His flesh was intact, not
melting off his bones.  He was Duo again.

Heero sucked in his breath suddenly when Duo leaned forward, his
eyes never leaving the blue of the ex-Wing pilot.  Their bare chests
touched lightly, the only intimate contact Heero had ever had
before.  Duo's arm lifted, as if to draw Heero closer.  Heero held
his breath.

There was a soft click as the phone was returned to the base to
charge.

Heero let out his breath quietly, shoving his dripping excitement
away. Had he imagined it all?  Had Duo been in his room all along? 
Had he slept walk to the bathroom and made it all hot and steamy? 
There had to be some logical answer because Duo was right here, well
and still breathing.  There wasn't even a scratch on him.  Well,
except the wounds that were on his wrists, red and bloody now, and
begging for a changing.  He was perfectly all right.

Him and the ax he was holding.

Heero shook his head once and took a double take down at the ax Duo
was holding tightly.  It was slightly swinging in the pilot's grasp,
making it look perfectly casual in his hand, while it caught the pale
light as it swung back and forth.

"D-Duo…?"

"Excuse me, Heero," Duo said, his tone completely casual.  Nothing
was wrong.  Nope, not at all.  "But you're in my way."

"Duo, what are you doing?" Trowa asked, blocking the doorway now. 
Duo's eyes finally broke from staring at Heero's confused face, and
up at Trowa's.  He smiled slightly.

"Nuttin'," Duo said.  He was acting completely normal.  Acting like
Duo.  But then why did his voice bring chills down Heero's spine?

"Give me the ax, Duo," Trowa ordered and slowly offered his hand.
Duo's eyes snapped to the offering hand then, after a moment's pause,
drew the sharp blade behind his robe.

"No," Duo said softly.  "No, I don't think so."

"Duo…"

"Get out of my way, Trowa."

Trowa blinked, taken aback by the now livid tone.  It was dripping
with menace and in one second, Duo's mask of neutrality shattered
into that of impatience and anger.  The ax suddenly rose and was
gripped by the second hand, violet eyes burning with aggression and
narrowed into slits.  Trowa took a small step back and the ax rose
higher.

"Move," Duo seethed.  Trowa quickly stepped aside and Duo stalked
past, ax lowering again to sway by his side.  As he passed the
doorway, his tense body suddenly loosened up and he walked casually
to the staircase, a soft whistle passing his lips.  The last thing
the pilots saw was the beautiful ends of Duo's loose hair as he
climbed the steps.

"Quatre…" Trowa mumbled, eyes widening.

"Wufei," Heero muttered.  Both of the ex-pilots bolted for the stairs.

*****

SLAM.

CRACK.

Heero ran to his room where the loud noises were coming from.  But
it seemed his feet were heavy, too heavy in fact, and he was moving
in slow motion.  He feared that Duo dragged Quatre or Wufei into his
room and started to attack them…but no, that couldn't be right.  Duo
wouldn't do that.  Ever.  Heero found it was getting hard to breathe
as he neared his room with Trowa.  Like something was sucking his
life away…He felt so weak all of a sudden…

What was wrong with him…?

Finally, Heero's hand closed in on the frame of his door, out of
breath, and peeked it.  He was all prepared to see Duo swinging to
cut off Quatre's head.  He was ready for blood to be splattered on
the wall and small cries out pain escaping his friend's lips…

But Duo surprised Heero again.  There was no blood.  No cries.  Just
his bed, thrown up against the wall instead of in the middle of the
room.  In fact, there was only Duo.  And his ax.  Which kept slamming
into the floorboard.

SLAM.

SLAM.

"Duo!" Heero yelled, confused and furious as Duo hacked away the
beautiful floor of his room.  What the hell was he doing?  "Duo,
knock it off!"

But he wouldn't listen to him.  He kept chopping up the floor,
splinters flying in the air and chestnut strands flying in the air
with the effort of the swing as it crashed into the dying
floorboards.  Heero was growing breathless again…and then he smelt it.

Revolting back, Heero covered his nose as the ghastly smell of death
wafted up to his nose.  He gagged though; he wasn't able to stop it
as he lodged up in his throat.  Oh, God, it was horrible.  Where was
it coming from…?

Quatre and Wufei had crawled out of their beds from the sound and
joined the other pilots in the hall.  Quatre covered his mouth and
nose, closing his eyes tightly and turning away.

"Oh, God!" Quatre's muffled voice came through his hand.  "What IS
that!?"

Heero though didn't close his eyes.  He was the first to see them as
Duo kicked and shuffled away the broken pieces of wood.  It was then,
when he saw them, that he covered his mouth and turned his head away,
eyes closing shut.  But their images still burned in his skull.

Three bodies.  A boy.  A woman.  A man.  Deathly pale and a single
mark, the mark of a bullet, driven into their skulls as they rotted
away.  Scratches and symbols splayed across their bodies.  Heero
recognized some Japanese writing even on their nude bodies.  He
recognized the holy cross for Christians.  He knew what the X over
each heart was.  Oh, God, their dead eyes stayed with him, even if he
just glanced at them.  Blank.  Like Duo's.  They saw nothing now, yet
they stayed open.  Their horror, misery, pain was still masked in
their face.  Oh, God, no.

Heero gripped the frame tighter and slowly opened his eyes as he
heard Duo toss away his ax to the floor.  The nearly nude pilot
leaned down and to Heero's horror, Duo picked up the naked boy from
his resting place.  Rotten flesh gleamed in the moonlight and the
stench grew worse.  But the insane pilot was immune to it.  He hugged
the boy, very tightly to him as he sat down on the floor.  The dead
child's back slumped into Duo's lap, his head limp on his stomach. 
Dead eyes stared blankly out the window, yet Duo kept holding him, as
if it was going to bring the child back to life.  But they all knew
it wouldn't.

Duo raised his lowered head and looked out the window, glazed,
sparkling eyes catching the light of the moon.  But his expression
was nothing; the frown on his lips was neither angered nor sad. 
Emotion was lacking on the normally happy pilot's face and the
blankness did not belong there…

Yet Heero couldn't help think how Duo looked so peaceful and
beautiful that one single moment.

And then he spoke. It was soft, blank, ugly, and…deadly.  "So, you
want to fuck with death…?  Bring it on."

06 <--- Previous Chapter - Next Chapter ---> 08

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