Disclaimers: I don’t own them. I can’t own them. *sob* but I want to so much!
Pairings: 1+2
Warnings: Strange.
POVs: (too many to count!) Duo’s POV, Duo’s Mind’s POV, Heero’s Status Report, oh the list goes ON!
Notes: Fic’s title’s based on the Lord of the Rings’ song, “Requiem for a Dream”. This one’s straight from the twisted psycho mind of yours truly. The creepy weird stuff’s what keeps us going, ne? *^_^*
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Requiem for a Dream - Part Two
by Veste Notus
It’s pretty cold. Damn this. I thought it would a nice happy trip back home. Simple as that. Finish the mission, check out that freaky cathedral, and waltz on back home for a little relaxation. Simple plan, ne?
So where am I now… The walls are pretty black. No, that’s the inside of my eyelids. If my eyes didn’t hurt so much, I’d try to open them. But it’s not stinging hurt. This is throbbing hurt. Ow. My eyelids are so heavy, like that time I went sleep deprived for three days straight. Aw shit, I gotta wake up. On the count of three.
One…
Two…
*******
“Three!” he shouted, his violet eyes opening wide – irises dominating tiny black pupils for a short time before the light rushed in, blinding him. I’d be a liar to say I’m not relieved. I wrap my arms around him and just hold him for a short time, secretly wishing that his sight doesn’t come back, so he won’t see this tender moment… So he won’t know whose arms are squeezing him so tightly, yet gently. He’s so frail and fragile in my arms, in his moment of blindness.
Blind. What must it be like? I suppose it’s a lot like naivety; being unable to see anything, let alone the good from the bad. Duo is blind to himself. He sees himself in the mirror, but when he looks through the looking glass, he sees himself twice. He sees himself as the Duo we love…I love… demo…
“Heero! You’re bleeding!” Duo’s pupils are pinpoints now… It’s happening already, and he doesn’t even notice the change. All I can do is hold him close, trying to keep him steady, as he thrashes to attend to my ‘wounds’. “God damnit, Heero! Let me help you!” he practically snarls through his teeth. It’s hard to tell him straight. My mouth goes dry. Time for Plan B.
With a resounding SLAP, I smack him across the face in an effort to revive him. His face looks hurt, but when he looks up at me with those shining eyes, I can see that he’s alright. It’s like waking up from a dream, only his is perpetually real. He can’t escape himself, nor what is slowly…
“…taking over you…”
*******
“Say again?”
“Nn.”
“Fine then.” Heero doesn’t even acknowledge me. He just passes a hand through his hair and helps me up… Over his shoulder. I remember now.
*******
“Heero, what just happened to me?” comes the weak voice from over my shoulder.
“…” I can’t tell him… What would he say? He wouldn’t believe me, even if I did tell him. I won’t. I can’t. I feel him shift with anger over my shoulder.
“Heero… What happened? Why won’t you tell me? I have a right to know! I have…”
I fell his body go limp over mine. I know he’s not dead though… just unconscious from blood loss.
I have to get him to a hospital. No, no time… I need to get him somewhere safe… with medical equipment… he needs blood… He’s losing it fast…
I can feel it trickle hotly down my leg.
I run outside – to the car. Throwing the door open with all my might, I gently cradle the braided baka onto the back seats, cursing under my breath.
I fumble a few minutes through all the assorted first aid kits I keep before finding exactly what I need.
He’ll be able to take the pain… He’s *got* to be able to take the pain… He’ll live. He always lives. He’s Shinigami…
Please, gods, let him live.
*******
Heero rolled Duo onto his back and, wincing, removed the bullet from the back of his neck. Duo’s heavy clothes provided some padding and, fortunately, the bullet wasn’t shot at the best angle – thereby only causing a deep flesh wound.
Hands covered in Duo’s blood, Heero’s eyes darted for a sign – some indication of Duo’s blood type. He searched for a dog-tag, a medical note, *anything*.
*******
Duo wouldn’t be so dumb… He has to have his blood type on him… I search like a madman, without relent. I refuse to believe that a Gundam pilot could really do something so risky as to not have his blood type on his person at all times…
Maybe he’d been planning this all along…
I shake my head and try to ignore that bizarre, sinking feeling.
Success! His dog-tags are in the secret pocket hidden away in the folds of the front of his shirt. I run my chilled fingers over the frozen metal, staining it red with his blood. My eyes widen.
Since when did we have the same blood type?
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