Okay, I said I would do it and here it is: the prologue for the sequel to 'Walk this World.'

This story takes place just hours after the events at the end of 'Walk this World.' For those of you who haven't read that story, I urge you to go read it or some of this might not make sense.

For those of you who might be wondering, I got the title of this story from a song off the "Run Lola Run" soundtrack (Run Lola Run is a fabulous movie with an equally wonderful soundtrack). Anyway, I was scanning the lyrics for the song Wish (Komm Zu Mir) and thought they fit all the twisting relationships in this universe of mine. *Shrugs*

If you're interested in reading the lyrics, go to:


This page has all the lyrics for the Run Lola Run soundtrack on it. Just read the list of songs at the top and scroll down. Komm Zu Mir should be the next to the last song on the page.

Standard Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing nor its characters. That honor goes to Bandai, Sunrise, and their respective holders.

Thanks to Ryan, SilverNightBlaze, and Chele for taking time out of their busy schedules to beta this.

Warnings: Blood (This is a vampire story), angst, language, and a possible lemon in future parts.

'...' indicates thoughts.

Feedback? Puh-leaaaaaaaaaaaze?! <Big chibi eyes>


Komm Zu Mir (1/?)


There was never any silence in the jungle. Even now, with night well into its journey, a fat half moon over head, it seethed, the screams of howler monkeys and millions of insects and things unidentifiable echoing across the ancient stone walkways and temples. The scent of charred blood, still fresh, choked her with a thick rich aroma that made her turn her head weakly, sobbing for clean air. Air that was not tainted with the death of a loved one, air not heavy with predictions of her own death even as she struggled the arms holding her.

The feel of tiny teeth and the rough kiss of a tongue against her bleeding flesh made her arch upward. Another bite, this one just on her side, just below the ribs while still another set of teeth clamped down on the inside of her arm. And all the while that sharp sear continued, tears leaking down her face and screaming in pain as it slit down her nipple, painting blood trails where ever she looked. Blank, insect-like faces flickered in and out of her vision, clouded with shadows from each twist of the torchlight. She felt her body growing heavier, pulled in different directions by each mouth suckling greedily at her. Her eyes drooped following the progression of the obsidian, the blade a black hole in the darkness, the only color the blood dripping off to splat against her stomach. And the dance continue, the scoring weapon drifting ever closer to her heart. She stared into the mahogany man's eyes, those glossy eyes as black as the weapon he wielded, reading his intent. Just a little longer and then he would sink it into her chest, lovingly sliding it around in a circle and pulling back the flaps of skin until he would reach in to pull out the still beating heart beneath and then...

Dorothy wrenched awake, the sensation of ghostly tongues lapping at her, the knife still carving its path over breast and hip. There was nothing she could do to stop the bile rising thick and hot in her throat, vertigo rushing to greet her as she swung her legs off the side of the bed, lowered her head between sweaty knees and retched. Her stomach heaved, aggravated by shakes that would not be banished or controlled. Her hair clung to the back of her sticky neck, seeking to fall forward and with a muffled choke, she grabbed it. The last thing she needed tonight was to spend the next two hours scrubbing her hair clean of the scent and color of sickness. She spread her legs wider, then gave up as the soggy mess welled at her toes.

When her stomach finally emptied itself of its contents, she lifted her head, slowly to avoid a repeat performance. She gasped, dry heaves continuing to rack her body but at least there was no more ammo to fire. God, she hadn't had dreams this realistic in months... She had almost gotten back to the point where the voices and the touches and the blood were dimmed, called when she wanted them to be. Now... Well, now she was back to square one.

This was all Duo Maxwell's fault.

Dorothy rubbed her eyes and forehead, trying to banish the stab of guilt. 'I shouldn't have chased him out of the apartment earlier,' she acknowledged reluctantly. That was probably what had spurred the nightmare more than anything else; the fear that another innocent would have to suffer what she had suffered. She had meant to help him. She remembered being in his position, the world turned completely around from what you knew. Realizing that you knew a secret that no one else did or would believe. And the fear, the fear that they were out there, that the next time you met the monster you'd be helpless.

Well, she had been the sacrificial lamb once. It was not an experience she was going to repeat. Ever.

She had tried to get that across to him, that he would have to be strong to survive. Of course, before she could even begin to get that far, she had sent him scurrying away. And why? Because he had hit the nail a little too hard, because he had seen her, more of her than she had let anyone else in a long time and the sudden closeness had made her draw away from him. Because she liked him and as a rule, she didn't like anyone these days.

'Shit,' she swore. She'd have to apologize to him. Another thing she wasn't all that good at doing. 'Tomorrow,' she decided. 'I'll go talk to him tomorrow morning, explain to him that I was... out of sorts.' She made a face. 'Out of sorts... Is that what they're calling it these days, Catalonia? How about just plain bitchiness?'

No argument there. The Catalonia was painfully aware of the fact that she was not the easiest person to get along with. It didn't really bother her. Most people tended to get on her nerves with their meaningless small talk and superficial vanities. The circles she had once moved through were now tedious. Who cared about whom Merrill Lynch was merging with this week or if Lydia's roses were prize-winning this year? There were things out there walking the streets, things that looked like humans, and people were dying from natural horrors as well as preternatural ones. When one got right down to it, her class was just... 'Stupid,' Dorothy growled. 'Too oblivious to see past their Rolls Royces, most of them.'

It wasn't their fault, she supposed. They were the products of their upbringing. She just wished they weren't so damned unaware of the rest of the world. At least Duo had a clue and half a brain.

Feeling that her stomach had settled sufficiently to allow her some movement, she stood, skirting around the vomit at her feet and grateful that the platform on which her bed rested was wood and not carpet. She glared down in the darkness at her sickness-slicked toes then at the hem of her soiled nightgown before reaching up to push down the spaghetti straps, the diaphanous fabric whishing its descent to the floor. She reached out, wiping her feet on it with some regret but it was either this or drag vomit across her thousand dollar plus rug.

The air was cool across her bare skin, prickling under the attention of the overhead fan. She shivered, sweat beads wavering then breaking into a fine sheen under the wind-like caress. It was nowhere near as startling as the sudden chill of tile beneath her feet as she stepped into the bathroom, flipping the switch and heading for the towel rack. Grabbing the nearest towel she turned and paused, towel held against her stomach.

She didn't like seeing her body. There had been a time when she had been comfortable in her own skin but that time was long since gone. Now every time she saw herself without the shield of clothing, it only served as a painful reminder. Her eyes traced the landscape of her milk skin, rosy scars beginning somewhere around her collar bone, a multitude of slowly silvering patches of skins, kisses from the creatures that haunted her in the day as surely as they haunted the night. Down over the curves of her breasts, the pink of her right nipple split unevenly with a track of badly healed flesh. Long trails, the touch of obsidian against her, mapped the rest of her body, circling her breasts and sternum, then down over her belly dusted and dotted with more bite marks. It was only luck that the knife had gone no further. Just as it was only luck that she was able to stand here and stare at her body in open disgust. Lightly, she reached up and ran the tip of her fingernail over a track of silver-pink skin, unable to repress the shudder running through her body as she did so. Hugging the towel tighter, she backed out, eyes burning as she slammed the light off.

As disgusting as it was, cleaning up didn't take all that much time. She wrapped the soaked towels in the folds of her ruined gown, resigned to the fact that it was probably too late to salvage either. With a grimace, she chucked them into her utility room, promising herself to try a wash in the morning. For all the good that would do.

She glanced at the digital clock of her microwave. Just after two in the morning and here she was wide-awake. Sleep meant she would have to chance not dreaming and she wasn't sure she was ready for that risk. 'Maybe a shower,' she yawned, stretching.

The frantic knock at her door caused her to jump, arms rising to cover herself. She hurried across the room, yanking a robe off of the stool of her dressing table and hiding herself in its thin, lengthy embrace. The knocking continued, picking up in volume and the degree of panic it was transmitting. This was not good, she knew before she reached the door. Realistically, people did not come to your door at 2 A.M. and risk waking you up for good news.

Still, of all the people she was expecting to see on her doorstep, it certainly was not Relena Peacecraft. Relena was pale and flushed at the same time, blue eyes tinged with what could only be described as real fear.

Dorothy felt her stomach clench with something other than sickness at the sight.

"Have you seen him?" Relena fired off without introduction. "I've been all over the place. Checked the stores, called his friends, and I can't find him anywhere! What if something's happened to him? He said he was going to the bookstore...That's what his note said."

"Who?" Dorothy managed over that hysterical voice, fearing she already knew the answer.

"Duo," Relena clutched her forearm. "Duo is missing."

She had been expecting as much but the words still came as a physical blow. Missing. Duo was missing. Maybe had been for hours if Relena was this worked up. 'And I sent him away,' Dorothy thought grimly. 'Into God only knows what.'

***End of Prologue

Okay, I know it wasn't Duo and Heero... but I'm getting to them! Next chapter, I promise. ^_^