Title: Desumasuku (Death Mask)
Author: Sarit (firstname.lastname@example.org)
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: 1x2/2x1 and 3+4/4+3, eventually 3x4/4x3 and 5x? (Don't know yet....)
Warnings: Angst, sap, NCS!!! (graphic), attempted suicide, torture and bastardization of a character (wouldn't you like to know who! ;) )
Rating: NC-17 for subject matter and eventual lemon (which will include NCS as well as CS)
Feedback: Hell yes! I accept all feedback!
Archive: Ask nicely first! :)
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 reflexively, 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 "