Title: Desumasuku (Death Mask)
Author: Sarit (suboshi_yui@yahoo.com)
Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing. Duh! If I did, I'd be living in
a mansion, not looking for a job! So, don't sue!!!!!!
Pairings: 1+2, 1x2 and 3+4, 3x4
Warnings: Angst, death, NCS!!! (graphic), attempted suicide, torture
and bastardization of a character(s) (wouldn't you like to know who! ;) )
Rating: NC-17 for subject matter and eventual lemon
Feedback: Hell yes! I accept all feedback, except flames! Do not flame
Archive: HUGS & KISSES

Part 1

Blackness.

Tattered clothes fell from the limbs of the battered youth. Bright red
blood flowed freely from numerous wounds. Death seemed to be
near and the young man did not fight it. No, he welcomed death.
Death would be a release from the pain, terror and humiliation that
had been his life for the past month. His hair was matted to his face,
which he no longer cared about. Nothing mattered at this moment,
except death. He longed for it, prayed for it every day, every second
of his pitiful existence.

But death did not come. Nor would it. His injuries, although extensive,
was not quite life threatening. At least not yet. But they would be, soon.
He knew for a fact that...HE was coming back. Whenever HE came, the
torture and humiliation began. HIS desire and lust never seemed to be
quenched. HE always came back, never leaving him alone. Never leaving
him to heal, to get his wind. He would be left alone for perhaps an hour,
two at the most. Then HE would return, as lustful as ever.

In the beginning, the pain was something to hide from, to seek shelter
from. But as the minutes turned into hours, and the hours to days, the
pain had become a friend. A confidant that never left him. It was here
with him when HE came and it was there when HE left. It was soothing,
in its own way. Peaceful. It surrounded him, letting him bask in its
nearness. It was a constant companion, one that never left him.

Light filtered in, blinding him. He cried out in surprise, his eyes
shutting instantly. A shuffling sound, then his arms pinned above
his head. He gasped, the stiffness of not moving muscles sending
shards of excruciating pain up his arms. A hot mouth takes his in a
fierce kiss, teeth biting on his lower lip.

He moans, but not from passion. The teeth bite into his lip,
drawing blood. A tongue invades his mouth. He momentarily
thinks of biting the tongue, but knows the punishment for such
an action. He lies, quietly, allowing HIM to do, as he will. He knows
that it will end as soon as HE is sated.

Moment's pass, minutes or hours, he does not know. HE has finished
with him, as HE always does. He can tell his assailant is getting tired
of him. HE no longer feels the need to hurt him. He knows his death
will be soon. He welcomes it with open arms.

Time seems to have stopped for him. He closes his eyes, not that it
does any good. His cell is always dark; no light penetrates. The only
light he has ever seen since arriving here is when the door opens. He
had come to fear and hate the light. Light brings pain. Light was
death. Not the comforting death of darkness, but the death of
despair and pain.

Sound penetrates his dark, dank hole. He is confused, for there has
never been any sound since his arrival. None except for his own
moans and screams. His assailant does not even make any sounds
when he is taken. It confuses and frightens him. What does it mean,
for there to be such noises now? Is this the hour of his death?

The door bursts open with a loud clang and he shuts is eyes painfully
against the intrusion of the light. He hears gasps, voices crying out
for help. He wonders who they are and who they are so concerned for.
It can't be him, since he is already dead.

A figure kneels before him, placing a hand to his bloody face.
He flinches; touch has always meant pain. A loud, pain filled sigh
can be heard. "Gomen nasai…we didn't get here in time…"

Opening his eyes, he sees a face. A sweet, caring face.
Violet eyes filled with tears stared down at him. He reached
out a feeble hand, touching the tears that fell. A hand reached out,
grasping his. "It's okay. You're safe now."

He shakes his head, his voice croaking from lack of use.
"He'll come back…"

"No. He won't." Another pair of eyes comes into focus. These are
blue, a deep Prussian. The violet's stare at the newcomer. "We have
to get him out of here. He's hurt bad."

"I can see that, baka." The Prussian blues kneel, lifting him up.
He cries out, his whole body on fire with pain.

The violets return. "Shhh…It's okay. We're here now. We'll take
care of you."

He nods weakly, accepting. He can do nothing now, but accept.

*                *                   *

Duo Maxwell stood next to the ambulance, his long chestnut
braid flying in the breeze. He watched as the ambulance took
off for the hospital. They had arrived too late. The things that
bastard had done. The worst…they hadn't even found the guy. He
apparently had heard of the operation and fled. The authorities were
on the lookout for him, but Duo knew they wouldn't find the guy. He
was too good at covering his tracks. It had taken them over a month
to find this place.

An arm snaked around his shoulders, holding him close. He laid his
head on his koi's shoulder, tears filling his eyes. "How could anyone
do that to him?!"

"I don't know, Duo. But we will find who did it and they will pay."
Heero Yuy watched the ambulance take off as well. "We will avenge
him. I promise."

"I hope so. I truly hope so."

*                *                   *

Death comes in many forms. Duo knew this more than anyone.
After all, he was the self proclaimed God of Death. He was not
afraid of death. Death was a friend; a comrade. He had seen it in
all its myriad forms. In fact, he had impersonated Death Himself in
battle. Deathscythe and Deathscythe Hell had both helped him in
his quest for vengeance. Vengeance against OZ, Romefeller and
White Fang.

In this moment of time, however, he had hoped to put aside the
mantle of Death in favor of Life. Life was what he had created, in
a sense. His new life with his koi, Heero, had served to heal the
gapping wounds of his heart. With the destruction of the Maxwell
Church on L2, his heart had shattered, never to be whole. At least,
that was what he thought. But his life now, with Heero, was a
blessed. Everyday he thanked God for the chance to meet his beloved.

His sweet, intoxicating world had been shattered a little over a month ago.
And now, after a long, seemingly fruitless search, it was at an end.
Or was it? The bastard that had done this was still at large. What
was worse, they didn't even know who he was. That was one thing
they were certain of, however. It was a male. No female could exact
such…torture upon a young man.

Such torture was inhuman. Duo gazed at his friend, unable to
believe that anyone could do such things. He reached out a
hand to touch their friend, but his hand pulled back at the last minute.
He turned from the hospital bed to look at his friends.

All of their faces were expressions of agony. His violet eyes
turned to his koi.

Heero stood against the wall, his arms folded across his chest.
He looked at his koi, his expression deadpan. Both were thinking
the same thing. Perhaps death would have been better for their friend.

Silence filled the room; the only sound the normal noises of the
life saving machines. The room itself was a sterile white. Floor,
walls, ceiling; all were a deep dull white. There were no windows,
other than the ones at the entrance to the ICU ward. Next to the
occupied bed, a heart monitor beat sporadically. The small green
line passed over the screen, its progress slow and unsure. As if
it didn't know whether to stop altogether or keep going.

On the other side of the bed was the respirator, its humming
sound filling the room. The small pumps went up and down in a
rhythmic fashion as they imitated the movement of the human lung.
The tubes were connected to the young man on the bed, providing
him with an external support.

Duo turned his face away from the sight. It was too much for him to
handle. His eyes fell on his friends. He gazed back at the one boy
closest to him. Onyx eyes met his violet, a deep sadness pouring from
them. The owner of those eyes looked to bed and shook his head sadly.
It was indeed a great tragedy. One that hopefully could be avenged.

The braided youth could almost see the word "injustice" pouring from
his friend's mouth. He sighed, turning away. They were all
hurting deeply. It was as if they too had suffered the agony
and humiliation their friend had.

The glass door slid open, revealing a nurse of in her late thirties.
She gazed at the group silently, nodding. She turned to the young
man in the hospital bed, her expression sad. Turning back to the others,
she sighed. "I'm afraid you'll have to leave now. Visiting hours are over
and he needs his rest."

Duo was about to protest, stating that they were his friends and they
weren't going to leave him. But Heero placed a hand on his koi's arm
and shook his head. Duo sighed, nodding. The other three followed
the nurse out.

The last member turned and gazed back at the hospital bed. The heart
monitor continued to beat with its soft, almost hesitant, beat. The
respirator and other equipment gave off an audible hum as they
continued to preserve the life of his friend.

Shaking his head, Wufei turned from the room and closed
the door behind him.

*                *                   *

Darkness fell outside, bringing with it a light snowstorm. Winds
kicked up, battering the windows of the hospital. The staff moved
quickly from window to window, shutting them and making them
weather proof against the violent elements. Snow, ice and wind
battered the outer walls of the hospital, bringing with it a sense of
loss, despair and agony. The outer shell of the building took on a
decidedly evil look, frightening passersby with its rock hard and
desolate look.

Inside, the atmosphere was very similar. Pain and death permeated
the halls, driving away all happiness and joy. Those who worked there
ignored it. After all, it was the same feeling day in and day out. Visitors
crouched in their chairs, waiting for word of loved ones and friends.
Their pain was the same as well.

The patients themselves never noticed. Consumed with the pain that
brought them there in the first place, they took it for granted that the
rooms they stayed in were sterile, ugly and filled with loss and death.
The walls were filled with an aching despair, the kind that has no
remorse, no sympathy.

In the ICU ward, all was quiet. Nothing moved or spoke. The only
sound that could be heard was the life-saving machines that buzzed
and clicked all day and all night. The nurses' station was quiet, as
they made their rounds among the various patients. They went
about their duties, ignoring the patient within the ICU isolation
room 4. The young man had been brought in after a brutal one-month
session of rape and torture. The wounds he had sustained frightened
them. It was a miracle the boy was still alive.

Not only alive, but apparently determined to stay that way.
The young man was currently locked into a deep coma. The doctors
surmised he would awaken at any time. The coma was due to his
body trying to heal and preserve itself. Others, however, felt his
body was just trying to preserve the boy's sanity. What horrors
did he go through, they could not imagine.

All was quite, nothing stirred in ICU isolation room 4. The respirator
hummed, steadying the injured young man's breathing. The heart
monitor beeped slowly, in time with the boy's heart. It was a sad
sight to see, as the heart was moving at a rapidly slow pace. A
normal heart beat at two beats per second. This young man was
lucky to have two beats every twenty seconds.

His fingers twitched, his mind caught in a dream. Only it wasn't a
dream, but memories. Memories of the past month in captivity. As
he was slowly tortured, raped and beaten almost to death. A gasp
is heard, shortly before a pair of eyes open wide in terror. A strangled
scream emits from his throat but there is none to hear it. Eyes widen
as they take in the surroundings. Medical equipment is scattered all
around. Two large monitors rest at the head of the bed, near his pillow.
He looks at one, realizing it is regulating his heart. It is beating very
slowly. He understands why. He just feels…dead.

A tear slides down his cheek as he turns his head. He swallows r
eflexively, seeing the respirator. He knows instinctively what it is
and that it is helping him to breath. Tears fill his eyes again and he
allows himself to sob into his pillow. His body was filled with pain,
but the pain from his own memories hurt far worse.

He looks up as a nurse enters. Her gaze is startled, having
not expected to find him awake. She leaves quickly, calling
for the doctor. Minutes or hours pass, he does not know.
He flinches as a large group of people enters the suite. His eyes
widen in fear. He can't take so many people around him. He just
wants to be alone. Why won't they just leave him alone?!

Moving towards the bed, a kindly old man stares down at the young
man. His face is filled with sadness and kindness. It is an odd mixture,
but one that seems to keep the young man calm. The elderly doctor
turns and dismisses everyone in the room.

They glare at him, not wanting to leave. The young man had
become a sort of celebrity. No one had ever survived such a
brutal attack. Their hearts were in the right place, but their
actions were not. The boy was obviously frightened. Terrified,
in fact. The elderly doctor, Doctor Kefler, glared at them demandingly.

The resident nurses flinched, heeding his request. They gathered the
remaining techs, volunteers and whatnot, out of the room.

Dr. Kefler turned his gaze back to the young man. He smiled
reassuringly and smoothed the young man's sweaty hair. "It is
all right now. You are safe with friends. No harm will come to
you here, I promise."

The young man nodded, still frightened. Terror was plainly written
on his features. Dr. Kefler took a chair and sat it next to the young
man. Sitting down, he took various tests, heart rate, temperature,
and blood pressure. Satisfied that the young man was within normal
specs, at least considering his condition, he sat back, smiling.

Slowly, he began to grow calm. This man obviously wasn't
hurting him. In fact, he appeared to be a doctor. He was in a
hospital, which was obvious. He allowed himself to breath a
small sigh of relief, but kept his eyes opened, wary.

Sitting back comfortably, Dr. Kefler allowed for silence to reign
for a time. He wanted the young man to grow calm. His next set of
questions was going to be very difficult for him to answer. If he
could answer them at all. He took a deep breath and began.

"I know the last month has been very hard on you. I want you
to know that you are safe now. No one will harm you here.
Understand?"

A slow nod.

"Good. I have some questions that I need to ask you. I know
that they will be difficult. You may not be able to answer some
of them or any of them. But I want you to try, all right?"

Another slow nod.

"Good. Then lets get started. Mr. Winner…"

"Quatre. Just…call me Quatre." The aquamarine boy replied,
pain in his eyes.

Dr. Kefler smiled and nodded. "All right. Quatre…"

onto chapter 2! --->

comments so far? e-mail Sarit