Title: Inner Wars
Rating: PG, I guess.
Pairings: Errrmmm, to tell you the truth--none.
Feedback: Hell yeah! Gimme feedback. Now. Please?
It was a word that forced his mouth to twist in a bitter smile.
It was war that took everyone he loved away. First his family, then Solo, and then his one chance at happiness, the Maxwell Church, someone that actually wanted to take in a seven-year-old orphan thief like him.
And they were gone. Everyone who gave a damn about him died, leaving him to face the war and world alone. He was left behind, and there were always days when he wished he too could join them, where he could finally find peace.
But he couldn't. He didn't deserve such bliss. Even though he easily could send himself to the land of the dead with just a tap on the self-destruction button, that kind of death would be futile--an easy way out. He won't find peace to his own wars that way.
He wished he could, though. The screams of those he killed were driving him to his wits end.
It's been eight years ago, since the Maxwell Church was wiped off its existance, but the images of corpses of Sister Helen and the others were still fresh in his mind. It was then, when he realized that the God of Death was a perfect, fitting name for him. It still is, isn't it? After all, isn't he just a soldier that eliminates everything in his way for the sake of 'peace'.
He was fighting for peace.
Duo threw his head back and started to laugh insanely in a bitter way. He was Duo Maxwell, the God of Death--he ran, he hid, but he never lied. But he couldn't run away from his guilt any longer, so why not face it?
It was a proven fact.
He. Killed. Everyone.
Heero, a fellow pilot and soldier, turned around and glared at Duo. "What the hell's wrong with you, idiot?" he demanded in a snappish way.
Duo threw him a lopsided grin. "Oh nothing!" he chirped, being his usual, carefree jovial self. "Just thinking of something funny."
Heero, oblivious to the pain that was evident in Duo's voice, snorted and turned away, back to his laptop, as if he didn't give damn.
Duo kept grinning, gazing coolly at Heero's back. That was just as he thought Heero would react. It was the way Heero reacted to everything.
The five of them, Heero, him, Trowa, Quatre, and Wufei had their hands blood-stained, and each of their minds were battling a war of their own. They experienced pain all through their life, but they all had a different way of dealing it. Heero was detached, cold and anti-social, while Duo dealt pain with grins and laughter.
So no one knew that under the masks, they were really crying.
Duo never cried tears anymore after he was seven, no matter how distressed he became. Because boys don't cry... He could laugh and smile until tears streamed down his cheek, and that will do enough.
There was no use crying anyhow, though, because nothing really mattered anymore. Duo had been running way from those he had killed too long that they had already caught up. He had killed himself. Now he is a dead soul within a living body, never to find peace.
Funny, isn't it?