Standard Disclamers apply, peoples. You won't get no money from me! I's be poor!
Now, this may be comfusing, so let me explain a bit first... The Gundam Boys are all angels.. Kawaii! This is about 400 years after the war and about 360 after their deaths. Yes, I will go into flash backs to show all deaths. *Evil!* Heero is the High Arch Angel (Meaning he's the head fighter-guy.) Trowa is just a normal angel, a commoner. And so is Quatre. WuFei isn't an angel, sorry Wu-Fans! He's living life as a re-incarnated human. He may or may not make an apperance. Of couse, this story is *YOAI* and involves 3+4, 1+2 and maybe some WuFei+Sally. (I can't help it! I like them as a couple!) And it may include some serious Relena-bashing. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED! Flames will be doused with lighter fluid, set fire, and sent up a flag pole. But C&C are welcomed and engouraged. Arigatou!
A set of clear Prussian blue eyes watched the lazy clouds float by. It was a beautiful day, no rain, not too hot, but not too cold, there wasn't much humidity, either - it was perfect. No one would have suspected that an unstoppable war would soon be raging.
Heero signed softly and turned around in the revolving chair, now facing his office instead of the glass wall. He was no happy. How come he, the invincible Heero Yuy, was being kept out of the fight? Trowa was out there fighting! So why must he be kept away?! Another sigh escaped his lips, he knew the reason.
A second later, there was a soft knock on the heavy oak door. The blonde angel entered shortly after, hearing no response from his friend.
"Heero?" His tone was concerned. "You haven't come out for two days, tell me what's wrong."
"Nothing." Came the unhesitating reply, Heero didn't even look up at Quatre.
"It's about Trowa, isn't it? It's about the war."
Since answered his query.
"You want to fight again, don't you, Heero?" Now Quatre stepped around to sit on the corner of his busy-looking desk. "Why?"
Even after all of his fighting, ever after almost four hundred years, the ex-pilot still wanted to fight.
* * * * *
Trowa allowed the smallest hint of a smile to trace his lips as he took down another demon. They were going to win this war, he could feel it. He knew they were out-numbered, one hundred angels versus one thousand demons, but he didn't mind. Trowa Barton was used to fighting a losing battle.
Intense green eyes roamed across the bloodstained battlefield. He, himself, was also bloodstained. The once-white robes were slightly tattered and torn at the edges - battle worn. Trowa's wings, once perfectly white and well-kept were now tainted with the blood of others and the dirt of Hell. He didn't understand why the battle had been set down in the pits of Hell, or why he had been one of the first to be sent out to fight there. But he did understand that he was protecting Quatre, the man he loved, and that was all the understanding he needed.
The tired angel silently slashed through two more demons with his sword. Upon seeing no more who dared challenge him, he surveyed the battle-field. Bodies were everywhere - black-winged bodies. Hands were broken at odd angles, or detached, heads were cracked or missing, wings were shredded, legs were gone, throats were cut and chests were ripped open. Blood was everywhere. Though there were few bodies with white wings lying about, the ratio of the death toll was the same. There were five angels left, and fifty demons - plus the re-enforcements that were coming.
Trowa growled softly as the demons closed in on the small group of angels that weren't two hundred feet from where he now stood. The group was making sure to stay back-to-back, their wings touching each other in reassurance. The four angels raised their swords when the black-winged devils closed in for the kill. The ex-HeavyArms pilot could only watch in silent horror as his comrades' wings were torn from their backs, their arms ripped from their sockets and their hearts yanked from their chests. The demons had no mercy.
Once the remaining four angels were dead, the remaining forty-two demons
turned on Trowa. At least that small group had managed to reduce the number
just a bit. But more were on the way and Trowa knew he couldn't get out
of this without grace consequence.
* * * * *
Quatre sighed as Heero went back to staring out the window. The ex-Wing pilot hadn't changed much. The blue-eyed, brown-haired boy was still quiet and anti-social. Quatre had hoped that the years in heaven would change his friend for the better - but they didn't. Maybe if Duo, Maybe if Duo hadn't. But he had, and it couldn't be changed, not now; not ever. Heero was still the same because Duo wasn't there to change him.
Quatre was startled from his reverie as Heero stood up and faced the glass wall of his office, which over-looked the city in heaven. Heero still looked the same, despite his rise in rank from human terrorist to head Arch Angel. He was a king, of sorts, the leader of all the angels who fought for the side of light. But his body hadn't changed - and neither had his demeanor. The blonde signed for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. His green-eyed angel wasn't even part of the fighters! Why should he have to fight again? Heero wasn't the one who had sent him. The head Arch Angel didn't even have a say in the issue; and neither did Trowa. The higher-ups had wanted the best, so they took the best. So the battle-worn boy was still out there, front-line, fighting like he had done before, so many years ago. Oh! Quatre prayed that his beloved would make it back to him safely. Again, Quatre was startled from his daydream, but this time it was Heero's voice, not his movement.
"Do you think *he's* fighting?" Came the soft question.
"Probably. Heero, you have to-"
"Please leave me alone."
Quatre only nodded softly and left quietly, as requested..
After the blue-eyed angel had vanished through the doorway, and the heavy door had closed tightly, Heero bowed his head. He knew he would get his turn to fight the demons, but he wished he was in Trowa's place right now, so Trowa would have to finish off the job, instead of him. Heero knew he was being selfish, but he just couldn't help it. He didn't think that he would be able to carry out his new mission.
* * * * *
A yell echoed through the rocky cliffs and sharpened volcanoes of Hell. The fifteen war-hungry demons descended on the green-eyed angel even as he sliced through another of their kind. Trowa was the last angel. Now Trowa knew he was in trouble, these last few demons were touch. The only remaining angel yelled out again when another black-winged demon tore at his wings. Wings were the most sensitive spots on an angels body, or a demons' body, at that. And his left wing had just been broken.
Now, Trowa was not only stained with his enemy's blood, but also his own. The double-bladed sword he had held slashed open another demon, then plunged into its victim's chest. With a sharp twist and a kick, Trowa removed it from the now-lifeless body. But before the ex-pilot could spin to sling his sword, the rest of the angels-of-Hell took him to the ground.
Their claws dug into his chest, his arms, his legs. Their wings spread out to block all light from reaching him. Their fangs dug into his flesh and his blood ran free.
Trowa's mind raced, looking for a way out, but he saw none. He didn't notice the set of sharp claws heading for his perfect emeralds until it was too late. His last thought, before he let loose a nerve-wracking scream, was how upset Quatre would be if they damaged the eyes that the smaller boy so often lost himself in. The scream was cut short only seconds after it had begun. Silence followed.
* * * * *
"Trowa?" Quatre gasped as he clutched at his head. His eyes widened and filled with tears. Then he whispered that familiar name again. "Trowa?" His soft soprano suddenly rose into a very Duo-like screech, "Heero!!"