Disclaimer: No miney. `Cept for the story. That miney. Lucky Bandai. ;_;
Warnings: ANGST. Blood. Violence. Horror. Changing POV. Foul Language.
Pairings: Very slight 1+2
Rating: Horror-NC17 (just to be on the safe side)
C&C: Please? Say it sucks, call me a sick, mental case; if that's
your response, just let me know . .
Note: For Blue Lightning, without whom this story would *never* have existed
past its first, few hesitant paragraphs. It's her fault. ^_~
Whispers To Me + Part 8b (alternate ending)
My head was throbbing, pulsing with the pain. I felt as if someone had
dropped Deathscythe on it a few times. I thought my skull might burst
because the pressure was so great. Even in the partial dreamworld of gray
I could not escape the agony of it. It was a searing, bright light in
my world, cutting through everything as easily as knife through hot butter.
Finally, I opened my eyes. I needed painkillers. I needed them then, right
then. I groaned with the pain, the animal groan of simple instinct. I
hurt, therefore I was.
I wasn't in my own room. I was in Wufei's. My wrists were handcuffed and
I laid on his pile of mats. I wasn't alone. Heero bent over me. His blue
eyes were empty, simply watching. No false concern from that one. Not
"Ugnnn . . ." I said.
"He's alright, if you care," he told me in that matter-of-fact-I'm-
one-hell-of-an-annoying-bastard voice of his.
"Who's alright? And why would I care?" I mumbled, covering my
face in my hands. Cracks of sunlight filtered in through the curtains.
Each of those cracks was a bullet in my skull. This was a hangover without
the liquor. I moaned quietly.
"Quatre. And I didn't think you would," Heero said.
"What happened to Quatre?" I asked. I looked at him out of the
corner of one eye. There was something odd going on. Heero was being conversational,
almost chatty. Something boiled beneath the cool exterior. And I had a
sinking feeling I would be on the receiving end soon enough.
"He was attacked this morning. You tried to strangle him, then stab
I stared at Heero.
"What. The. Fuck. Are. You. Trying. To. Pull," my voice surprised
me. It was deadly still, icy even. But then, it matched my insides at
"It isn't a lie, Duo. You did. He has the marks to prove it. And
you, if I'm not mistaken, have the headache to confirm it as well. He
had to knock you out to protect himself," all in that same tone.
As if he'd just told me the sky was blue or it had rained last night.
I smashed the cuffs against the hardwood floor. I'd meant to leave that
night hadn't I? I was supposed to be gone by midnight. I was supposed
to be free by now.
Had I attacked Quatre?
I reached into the second twist in my braid. No lockpicks. I glared at
Heero. He sat there, cross-legged, in a pair of jeans and a blue sweater.
It was getting too cold for spandex, I suppose. But there was almost a
trace of a smile on his lips, a cool smile. The kind of expression that
is gloating without words. And why wouldn't he have reason to gloat? Heero
had caught me at last. No amount of fast- talking or taunting would get
me out of this one. He'd been right about me along. I was a traitor. I
was dangerous. And he'd get to shoot me.
I guess he wouldn't expect that I was relieved.
"Now what happens? I noticed you got me locked up. To tell the truth,
Heero, I was never really into bondage. But hey, whatever turns you on,"
"We can't let you go," he said.
"Destroy all obstacles; I know, buddy boy," I smirked.
"We can't let you stay," he continued.
"I'm a danger to your little team. No worries, I understand."
"You have to die," he pulled out the gun. It was small and black;
this was Heero's favorite kind of weapon. Not very accurate at long range,
but it would get the job done. I smiled.
"Then what are we waiting for? Pull the trigger!"
"What?" he blinked, even falter somewhat.
"Kill me! I'm waitin'!" I reclined casually against the workout
pads. They were whispering again, adding to the pulsating headache which
settled in my brain. Their whispers buzzed louder and louder like a hive
of neurotic bees. I could almost see them in the air around me, almost
see the details of their faces. Like in my dream, they were gathered around,
watching. They were waiting for me to join them, become one of them. I'd
finally pay the price for my crimes. That's what they'd wanted all along.
Heero loosened his grip on his gun, "You want to die?"
"Might as well, you know. Not much point to hanging around this popsicle
They were almost real, almost solid. The air around me was thickening,
turning opaque, taking shape. Human shape. I shuddered.
"Hurry up, Heero," I growled.
"But. . ."He looked at the gun, then at me.
"It's not rocket science; pull the goddamn trigger!"
I'd missed my chance again. He wasn't gonna do it. Heero wasn't cold enough.
He never had been. He wouldn't kill Relena. And he wouldn't kill me. At
least, not without some encouragement. They had arms and legs, but no
faces. I could feel their eyes on me, watching me. I swallowed hard. Heero
was standing now, the gun clenched in his hands. He couldn't see the still
forms on either side of him. They were all around, watching me. Always
watching me. And their whispers were louder than ever, still accusing,
still chanting the mantra of my own guilt.
I screamed; the sound was an unearthly noise that surely came from hell
itself. Heero's eyes were on me as well, wide with surprise. And. . .understanding?
I threw myself at the gun pointed towards my chest, confidant in the outcome.
Heero's finger snapped on the trigger.
Great reflexes, Superman.
The shot was the last noise to reach my ears.
The moment I pulled the trigger, I realized what I'd done.
My legs propelled me forward before I could think. I caught him as he
He was still, deadweight in my arms. Dark, sinister liquid stained the
front of his shirt. I pressed one hand to the wound, trembling as liquid
bubbled up between my fingers. His eyes stared; he didn't notice my presence.
I cradled him against me, not registering the tears streaming down my
"Oh God. . ."
I turned towards the source of the voice, though it was more of an echo
than a word. The room filled with icy mist. It made the walls even more
drab, stained the floor a duller shade of gray-brown. I shivered, gooseflesh
forming on the exposed skin of my neck and face. There were figures standing
around Duo and I. They hovered over my shoulder. A pale white hand even
passed through my flesh at one point. It was strange sensation, like pins
and needles. I stared up the owner of the voice. It had no face, but it
seemed to be a woman. She stood over us in front of all others.
"I. . . "
With one hand I unconsciously stroked Duo's hair. The warmth was rapidly
escaping from his still form; it raced into the freedom of the open air
and abandoned him.
"It's time," she said.
Duo stared blankly at her, his jaw working in fear. With his fading strength,
he tried to fight me. He wanted to get away badly for some reason. I stared
into the almost-discernable eyes of the phantom above me. I saw a reflection
of my comrade. He was younger, softer. Whatever had happened in his past
had not yet touched that reflection. What the fuck was going on?
The room faded from us to reveal a landscape of a destroyed city. Apartment
buildings had collapsed around us, crumbled monuments to destruction.
I'd been in a similar city once, with the same pillars of smoke rising
from the wreckage. Fires died in the morning light, as they had before.
The dead escaped into the dawn, using the soft pink clouds of early morning
to ride into the next world. On the colonies dawn was an illusion. There
were no clouds, no streaks of violet and gold. I sat on a emerald lawn,
Duo still wrapped up in my arms. He was lighter now and his head wrested
against my chest.
The phantom crouched before us, her face mere millimeters from Duo's.
He was trembling, but whether it was from fear or death, I did not know.
My own fears were beyond the body. My soul trembled as I held Duo, who'd
taunted me every day since I first met him. He was a nuisance, a constant
thorn in my side. But I'd never meant to shoot him. I never would have.
Believe me when I say that I never would have.
The phantom passed her icy hands through Duo's cheek. She ran her fingers
through his hair, barely able to touch. He whimpered. She dropped her
head down to lay a kiss on his face. Then her attention turned to the
wound in his abdomen. She looked at me, the features on her face forming
into a kind expression. She whispered something in Duo's ear, something
I thought I heard, but prayed I hadn't.
"You're one of us, now."
Then there was a brilliant flash. She disappeared into Duo's chest no
into the wound I'd made in him. As she passed through him, she passed
through me. I felt my insides grow cold, then warm. My heart pounded against
my ribs. My lungs could not bring in any air. I was detached from the
Earth. I felt only her, as she streamed through both of us. Then, the
decimated city was gone from my sight and we once again lay on the floor.
Duo was still in my embrace. I watched, my throat tightening until I couldn't
breathe even if there was air to be had. His skin was flaxen; his eyes
were glassy and empty. Soulless. Unconsciously, my fingers closed those
gaping eyes. I can still see them, not accusing but grateful. Too grateful.
I did something I'd never done before.
"Heero?" a voice stretched across the abyss, but I ignored it.
Hot tears streamed down my face, touching my lips with their salty moisture.
I shot him. I'd never meant to shoot him. Or anyone.
Trowa, Quatre and Wufei looked down at me. Their eyes were wide with surprise.
Quatre's mouth tightened in grief. What could I tell them? What could
I tell any of them?
I looked down at Duo and something bubbled up in my chest. An impulse.
I leaned down and pressed my lips against his icy ones. I held him for
a long time; to this day I don't know how long. Trowa left the room; Quatre
followed shortly. When only Wufei remained, he looked at me with a compassion
I'd never noticed before. Then, he too left me alone.
When it was silent save for my breathing, I listened.
He was whispering. To me.
And if I listen, I can truly hear him.
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