Title: ProDiGY
Author: Sita Seraph
Genre: Supernatural
Pairing: 1x2
Rated: NC-17
Archive: Aya and Sonny’s Aenai Ai - http://aenai.steelsong.com/
Silver Crucifix – http://www.silvercrucifix.com
Beyond Forever - http://crimson.gwyaoi.com/beyondforever/index.html

Warning: Death, language, confusion, (Masamune: Creeeepy!), boyxman–ness, frustrating ending

Author Rambling (that must always be at the beginning of a fic!): Okay, well, honestly…I don’t’ know _what_ came over me to write this story. I was just innocently torturing blue_lightning when I felt bad and gave her a little ficage to cheer her up. Her st-stu-stuttering (^.^) urged me on to write more to the fic that has been sitting there since…well…far too long. In one day I wrote 16 pages and half of it I didn’t even remember doing. I just sat down…and typed my little soul out. I am, unfortunately though, responsible for what my muse punched out. Except the ending. The ending…that is blue’s fault! It IS! She made me mad! So I had to punish everyone else! So if you don’t like it - *cackles insanely at this* - beat up blue_lightning!!! *goes into a hysterical giggling fit*

Anyway…I hope you enjoy. I really gave it everything for this fic.

Dedicated to: Blue (lightning). I wish there weren’t so many friggin’ blue’s around here! I have to keep putting lightning behind your name! >.< Good luck at kendo tonight, hun! And to Kracken and Dragyn – I hope I don’t disappoint you guys with the result of those sneak-peaks in my livejournal. ^_^ Love you guys! *glomps*

by Sita Seraph

The boy laughed softly, the handcuffs wrapped snugly around his wrists cackling with his amusement.

“You think this is amusing?” Heero accused quietly, intertwining his fingers together over the cold, metallic table. His eyes were narrowed, bustled eyebrows slightly out of alignment as the time continued on without them, night drawing in before Heero knew it. The young man, who could only be 15 at the most, gave the detective a crooked grin, those wide, glowing violet eyes staring back at him unfearfully. Heero knew it was useless to ignore those orbs; he had tried once before and failed. There was something…different was about them. They ordered attention from whomever they laid upon; it would be futile to try to avoid them.

“Death is not amusing,” Heero told the young man sternly, his lips down in a tight frown.

The boy gave another deep-throated chuckle, his grin turned haunting. “It depends on how you look at it.”

“And how do you look at it?” Heero asked, slowly leaning back against his chair, a squeaky wail coming from the metal as his weight shifted.

“Like a game,” he answered immediately, not even batting an eye. He kept twisting his wrists around in the cuffs, back and forth, back and forth. His skin was beginning to get raw; , a burning red sizzling into the flesh. Heero’s lips tightened.

“A game?”

“Uh huh. Want to play?”

“No,” Heero scorned, his face twisted into disgust. “I want the facts. How? How did you kill all those people?”

The boy’s smile grew and he tilted his head to the side in a curious manner. “You don’t believe my story?”

“Maybe you should tell it to me again,” Heero replied, crossing his arms. “With truth, this time.”

“I never lie,” the boy answered simply. “I see that you are a man who needs to see to believe.”

“If that’s what it takes,” Heero nodded. “But what can you do? Blow up the department?”

“Do you want me to?”

Heero blinked at the boy. He looked completely serious, even with that little smirk on his face. Those unbelievably wide eyes kept staring at him, waiting for his response. The clinking from the metal cuffs continued in the room, joining with the soft ticking from the clock overhead.

“No,” Heero answered slowly, hesitantly. Something wasn’t right all of sudden.

“Okay,” the boy replied. “I’ll do something else then.”

“What?” The FBI agent probed.

“Oh, I don’t know,” the youth said, eyes rolling skyward in thought. “I guess…”

Suddenly, it was dark. Pitch black. Heero blinked and leaped out of his chair as the lights suddenly flickered then gave out, surrounding the interrogation room in darkness. Heero looked around wildly, bangs getting into his eyes, but it wasn’t like it mattered. Heero searched through the darkness and found the flat surface of the table. Gripping onto it and using it as a guidepost, Heero felt with his leg where the chair was. Then, silently, he waited for his eyes to adjust even to the smallest amount to the darkness around him.

“I like it when it’s dark,” the boy said quietly. Heero’s eyes widened and he whirled around. He swore…He swore he heard him right behind him! Heero reached out but encountered nothing but air. Impossible! The boy was handcuffed by the leg to the table! Heero swung his arm wide, but nothing was behind him. Panting slightly in panic, Heero gripped the table and peered harder in the darkness.

“Where are you?” He whispered, slowly getting a hold of himself and relaxing. As long as he had the table, he could guide himself to the door and push the assistance button.

There was a long pause, Heero forced to wait in the darkness. He heard nothing, he couldn’t see anything but the hollow night trapped in the windowless room. He breathed sharply through his nose, trying to calm his racing heart. The boy still had to be in his seat. He just had to be. And the power just went out…It will be back any moment…

Then why didn’t the emergency lights come on? Why didn’t anyone check on them?

Its okay, the assistance button is just a few feet away. All he had to do was go over…

Then suddenly…there was something else. Heero could feel…

“I’m right in front of you.”

Heero’s eyes grew so wide it hurt. He felt breath being returned on his lips, the soft words carrying air right into his face. He opened his mouth to gasp but he didn’t allow himself the time. His arm swung out, ready to capture the run-away boy…and found nothing.

“Heero, I wish you would stop doing that.”

Heero choked on his panic, mind swirling with the possibilities. The boy ducked, he moved, he did something! How could he miss him!? Impossible! He was inches away from him!! Heero looked wildly in every direction, getting lost within the darkness without even moving. He thought he felt the limb of the chair, but failed to realize his position until it was too late. He stumbled and fell, falling heavily against the wall. The FBI agent gripped onto it, hugged the cool surface to his body. He pressed his cheek against the tiles, closing his eyes so tight that he saw flashes of color. Relax, relax, he just had to calm down. He panted hysterically, nails digging into the unmovable wall. Relax, breathe…

“I think I scared you…”

Heero, desperately swung out again, and already knew he would find nothing. His panic swelled again, not able to comprehend how he could miss the child three times in the row. He started swinging madly, twisting to put his back against the wall, and batting at the darkness. He was here! He had to be here!


“Stop moving!” Heero cried hysterically and pushed himself away from the wall. He ran into the darkness, hitting the air on each heavy, out-of-breath pant. But nothing was there in the darkness.. He didn’t find the boy, the table, or the chairs. Completely blind and searching for the control he had within him, Heero stopped dead in his tracks.

“Do you want the lights back on?”

Right in front of him!

Heero swung out with his fist – and cracked it against the concrete wall.

The detective cried out, bringing his hand back to his body and cuddling it close. He stumbled forward, spinning and pressing his back against the wall. He slid down; hissing in pain as his hand vibrated angrily back at him for the abuse. When he finally was able to sit down, Heero knew his hand was bleeding.

And the boy was giggling.

“You’re funny, Heero,” he said. There was a moment of silence before Heero heard the fall of metal –

The handcuffs.

“I’m going to go now, Mister,” the boy said, his voice right in front of him. “I know we are going to meet again real soon too. So, look for me.”

For once, Heero actually heard footsteps, feet walking to the door. There was a pause after the doorknob was turned – Heero thought he had locked it before – a soft clicking breaking into the darkness. A trail of light stretched slowly across the floor and Heero stared at it, thankful for the small, but growing, measure of golden hew from the artificial lights outside. Then the boy filled the white void as the door slowly swung open, his form shadowed by the bright glare. He smirked at him and for a split moment, Heero thought he saw something dark resting on the boy’s back. He blinked and it was gone and the child noticed the brief moment of illusion.

“You’ll see more of them soon,” the child replied with smugness. “Good bye, Mr. Yuy.”

The child turned to leave, but stopped, looking as if he was thinking. Slowly he turned back with the cock of his head.

“Almost forgot,” he said. “My name’s Duo Maxwell. See ya later.”

And he was gone.


Heero walked home that same morning, tired eyes to the ground and bumping shoulders rudely with strangers; exhaustion taking away any common sense and manners. He rubbed his exhausted eyes one at a time with his bandaged hand, growling as another stranger slammed into his bruising shoulder.

“Watch where the fuck you’re going!” the stranger yelled. Heero’s anger bristled up more but he kept walking even though the man would have been a perfect punching bag to vent his anger. His mind kept replaying the scene in his head of that stupid child and how Wufei Chang, the FBI chief, gave him a real piece of his mind afterwards about carelessness. But he wasn’t even there! He didn’t even know what happened in there!

Fact was, Heero didn’t even know either.

Heero shut his eyes as Duo laughed in his head, taunting him it seemed. He just couldn’t comprehend what happened. He knew he locked the door. He knew the handcuffs were attached to the table and he had left the key with a fellow worker. There was no way for the lights to go out, no way for the emergency lights not to turn on.

Heero rubbed his face vigorously before dropping them as two more people shoved themselves into his shoulders. He growled angrily, frustration for the impossible burning in his veins. God, what happened!? There was just no way…Unless…unless what the boy said was true. Which couldn’t be.

//It was an easy case he had been called upon. They called it the Good Will Case – yesterday afternoon there was a terrorist attack on one of the Good Will buildings that called most of the FBI attention. Heero had been put in charge when he arrived. It seemed that the terrorist had made no demands whatsoever and didn’t bother making contact with the police. Someone just simply had entered the building and started taking hostages, forcing them onto the roof of the building. When Heero had arrived, there were helicopters flying around the twenty-story building but had reported they saw no man with a gun terrorizing the citizens and workers huddled on the rooftop. Heero remembered the flashing lights of cameras going off from the news reporters and innocent civilians standing by, their voices loud and boisterous around detectives.

“What's going on, Yuy?” Wufei ordered as he came up to Heero, his black hair back tight in a ponytail and his Chinese face peering seriously at one of his better agents. Heero shrugged and took away the binoculars from his eyes, straightening up next to his car.

“Absolutely nothing,” he replied, staring up at the top of the building. “They’ve made no demands and even Team 41 can’t spot them from the helicopters. It would seem like they were just up there eating lunch if there weren’t lying on the floor with their hands over their heads.”

“And what’s keeping any of you from going up there and getting them down?” Wufei barked, irritated.

“We’ve tried that,” Heero replied. “One of the members from 41 even landed on the roof and tried to get people on the helicopter. But they didn’t move, sir. They didn’t even respond to him.”

“This is probably some joke,” the FBI chief sighed. “Go up there and drag them down if you must.”

“Agent Heero, this is Team 41, please come in,” came the frazzled voice from Heero’s walkie-talkie. He jerked it off his belt and put it to his lips, clicking and holding the red button.

“Heero here. What's going on?” Heero asked and removed his fingers from the button. There was some static before the voice came through, trying to override the noisy blades of the copter on the other end.

“One of the captives is moving, sir,” the other agent replied. “He is holding a woman in front of him and coming towards the edge of the building. He is unarmed.”

“Are you sure he is one of the captives?” Heero asked, again drawing his eyes up towards the building that the copter was slowly circling.

“Negative, sir,” the other man replied. Heero looked at his chief for the decision but before Wufei could give an order, the two forms came into view. The crowd around them bustled with excitement and fear, many pointing up and screaming. Heero jerked up his binoculars again and peered through them. On the edge was a frightened older woman who kept staring down at the ground far below them, wind rushing up and blowing her red hair upwards along with her purple skirt and white blouse. She was silently crying and holding onto the fist on her shoulder, but Heero couldn’t see who was standing behind her. Periodically, her lips would tremble and move and the agent squinted to read them.

~”Please, don’t make me.”~

~”Y-Yes. I’m…I’m very afraid.”~

~”Please! Please, don’t do it! God, I’m so scared, I can’t-Ican’tIcan’tIcan’tIcan’t-.”~

Heero jerked the binoculars down again and brought the radio back to his lips.

“Team 41, tell me whose holding that woman,” Heero ordered aggressively, watching as the woman screamed and buckled in within herself, terrified on the edge of the building and shaking her head wildly.

“Sweeping around right now, sir,” came the loud voice on the other end. The helicopter just started to move when suddenly the women lurched then chucked herself off the edge. She screamed as she went down and Heero threw the glasses back over his eyes to watch her descent, her arms flailing upwards and her legs kicking as she tried to stop herself. She disappeared from Heero’s view as trees got in his way, but the screaming ended right after.

“Fuck…” he whispered and he drew the binoculars back upwards to see a mere child standing on the edge of the roof top, his clothing whipping madly from the wind at that altitude and the closeness of the blades from the helicopter. His black shirt was open and showing off his white chest and stomach. His black pants were torn at the knees, shredding the sides open to show just another pair underneath them. Heero stared at the very long hair whipping around in a braid behind him, chocolate brown bangs around his pale face. He was looking down, at the body of the woman Heero guessed, before he looked up at the men of the helicopter who were shouting for Heero’s order to shoot. He could only be fifteen at least…he couldn’t be the terrorist. He was probably ordered to escort the woman to the edge, to help her throw herself into the air. Heero studied the expressionless face, surprised to not find him crying or at least a little traumatized by the whole experience. Shakily, Heero dropped the glasses again and was about to answer Team 41’s call when Wufei ripped it out of his hands.

“Shoot him once in the leg,” Wufei answered, silencing the calls on the other side.

“No!” Heero argued, turning away from the building to his commander.

“No?” Wufei grounded out, looking furious. “Did you completely miss what happened?”

“No, sir, I didn’t,” Heero answered. “But he’s just a kid, not a terrorist.”

“We don’t know that,” Wufei replied and silenced Heero’s protests. “Are you suggesting, Yuy, that a kid is not capable of killing innocent people? Because I believe California is ready to argue with that.”

“No, sir,” Heero said quietly. “But he didn’t push her. He was just standing there behind her-.”

“Oh, my God!” came the static voices on the radio. “Sirs, all the hostages are-!”

Heero turned around just in time to watch hostages tossing themselves over the edge, many screaming. The agent’s eyes widened as some paused, seemed to be fighting themselves, before just leaning over and letting the wind force them down to the ground. He jerked up his binoculars to watch as some tried to reach the sides of the building, to save themselves, but the structure was nothing but smooth, glass surface. Shoes flew off the women’s feet, clothes waved frantically as they were drawn to their death, and eventually all of the bodies disappeared behind the ivory trees. Heero looked back up, watching a few captives making their last decision, except one, who sat at the edge, feet rocking back and forth. His long hair whipped around even more crazily, strands ripping out of the tight braid. The mere child watched as the hostages screamed all the way down to the ground. All around Heero could hear the frantic, horrified screams of the bystanders, some fighting the police officers to charge towards the Good Will building to do something. He could hear people crying, not understanding what was happening. The FBI didn’t know either.

“Shoot him!” Wufei screamed into the radio. “Shoot him now!”

Heero watched the boy lift his head as he stood up, the last hostage throwing himself over the edge. The agent could see the red dot resting on the child’s chest and the teenager smiled…and took a bow. People howled in outrage around him, their struggles continuing as if to murder the child themselves.

But no one would murder him, for the child as well leapt off the roof.

“He has a bungee cord! Sir, we need men on the ground now!”

Heero was the first one running towards the scene.//

Heero shook himself from the next part of the memory, about to walk off the curb of the street when he was roughly pushed aside by five obnoxious children who ran across the long street. Heero glared at their bouncing backpacks before sighing, resigning and glancing at the other side of the street.

Duo Maxwell grinned back and wagged his fingers at him.

Heero started and was about to rush across the street to catch the runaway terrorist when a bus flashed across his view and screams of horror surrounded him all over again. Blinking, he jerked out of the bus’s way as it twisted its end too fast and narrowly missed him. It skidded to a stop in the middle of a busy intersection, horns honking wildly and people screaming all around him. Finding himself on his butt, Heero looked for Duo again and found him in front of a horrified crowd. He smiled and pointed out into the street and Heero followed.

He was revolted to see the five mangled bodies of the children who had rushed across the street seconds before. He covered his mouth in shock, watching as blood spilled and soaked into the pavement, papers for school blowing away in the wind. One of the bodies closest to him, of a young boy, stared open-mouthed at the street drain, his arm broken and twisted around the wrong way so that his hand was resting on his cheek. His backpack was covering his tiny body, though it didn’t hide the legs broken at the knees and bent in odd directions. The other four bodies laid nearby, in even worse condition, and Heero’s vision twisted as the bodies of the children were replaced by those 24 bodies of men and women that were crushed upon impact with the ground at the Good Will. The tiled entrance was splattered with blood and Duo had stood in the middle of it, calmly untangling himself from the bungee cord without any sort of rush. When he had turned towards the FBI team, he smiled and waved his hands at the massacre, this childish glint in his eyes as if to say, ‘Hey mommy, don’t you like what I’ve done?’

Heero drew blurred eyes away, the massacre of twenty-four innocent people disappearing and five children taking their place. He looked to the other side of the street. But Duo Maxwell was gone.

That didn’t stop the agent suddenly burning with anger and revenge. He had done it, just like he did to all those hostages. Duo was going to pay for this.


“Duo,” Heero whispered as he slowly rounded the corner. The child stopped from getting in the cab, staring over the yellow roof. The agent’s gun was pointed directly between the shoulder bones of the boy that was covered in hair. Heero moved slowly towards him, waiting for an attack that didn’t seem to be coming.

“Found me,” the kid said, laughing softly. The older man’s eyes narrowed.

“Get in.”

Duo moved gracefully into the cab without hesitation, Heero following quickly and slamming the door shut.

“Don’t move,” Heero growled out. His gun was a few inches from the boy’s temple, the black metal glinting off from the streetlight shining through the car window. Heero shifted his eyes to the cab driver, but careful to watch the tiniest eye movement that the child would make.

“FBI Department,” he ordered the drive to continue before returning his eyes to Duo who stared ahead with a bemused expression. “You did it again, didn’t you?”

“Did what, Mr. Yuy?” Duo asked sweetly, cupping his hands in his lap with delicate slowness for Heero’s ease.

“You killed them,” the detective whispered. “You killed those children.”

“The bus killed them, Mr. Yuy,” he replied with a smile.

“Bullshit!” Heero hissed. “Bullshit! You were there, across the street! You killed them because I was there, didn’t you!?”

“Did I?” came the emotionless reply. The point of the gun rested suddenly against the kid’s temple.

“You killed those five children,” he whispered close to the boy’s ear. “You did it! You killed them just because I was there! Why? Why!?”

“The bus hit them, Heero,” he said, tilting his head away slightly from the pressure of the gun.

“No! NO! I know what you can do!”

“You know nothing of what I can do,” the child accused, narrowing his eyes slightly at the landscape that passed them. “You think you’re special, Heero? Is that why you think those kids died? You think I’d go out of my way to prove some point to you?”

“Then what point were you making with those hostages? What point!?”

Duo laughed softly, throwing his head back, “Why, Mr. Yuy, isn’t it obvious? The point was that humans can’t fly.”

Heero stared at the child’s profile, his gun hand trembling with fury and even a little bit of fear. He tried to control himself; but somehow he couldn’t. He shoved the child against the car door, his head smacking hard against the glass and Heero lifted the gun over his head, hitting the top of the roof, and moved to strike the kid over and over again until he just couldn’t feel this rage anymore. But suddenly his gun was gone and he didn’t know why; he didn’t even have time to comprehend the fist that launched out all too quickly and slammed itself right into his throat. Heero choked and suddenly couldn’t breathe at all. He fell back on the other side of the cab, searching for air, but finding none willing to help him. Duo, with his fading vision, casually flicked away his hair from his face and resettled his ruffled clothes.

“That wasn’t necessary, Heero,” he said unhappily, a hand nestled deep within his hair to hold his sore spot. The cab driver continued to look back worriedly as they entered a tunnel underground and he slid the plastic window shut, as if to save him from the killer on the other side of the car. Duo blinked his eyes over to the innocent car driver, looking blurry and even slightly sultry in Heero’s weak vision, as finally he was able to suck in his desperate need of air.

“My-gun-,” Heero choked out, searching wildly with large eyes for his only weapon against the monster on the other side of the seat.

“The cab driver has it,” Duo replied, dismissing the detective with a simple forgotten glance, with burning violet orbs boring into the back of the man’s head. “Don’t you, David?”

“Y-yes…” the man, gripping on the wheel, stuttered.

“Good boy,” the child purred, blinking thick lashes. Heero stared at Duo with wide eyes as flickers of the night cast over the child’s form, his breath coming harsher and faster through his nose. Heero knew he had to be losing his mind. Perhaps he was knocked out and dreaming all of this. But something told him that this was true reality…and he was just seeing it for the first time. Because, after every flicker from the light posts flew by, the darkness caved in…and so did the form hanging outside the window, staring at Heero with the darkest eyes, right over Duo’s shoulder.

“Oh, my God…” the FBI agent whispered, his voice catching in his throat. Again, the shadow disappeared as light flew by, lighting the stage of darkness for a split second to show Heero the piercing purple stare pointed in his direction.

“Oh, not exactly, Heero,” Duo chuckled, though it didn’t scrape his tone or reach his eyes.

“What's-,” Heero stuttered but Duo interrupted as he threw his eyes back to the cab driver.

“David?” The child called for attention.


“You really should learn to wear a seat belt, David.”

And in one fluid motion that Heero almost missed because he blinked, the door was flown open and David was pulled right out of the car. There was a sickening crunch as the body sank under the tires as they continued on, the screams of the man not even leaving his throat.

“My fucking God!” Heero screamed as he moved instinctively to save a man already dead but Duo had kicked his leg up and shoved him back down, a sneaker resting on the detective’s chest.

“Now, that, Mr. Yuy,” Duo said calmly, a crooked grin plastered on his face, “was because you were just here.”

Suddenly the door behind him popped open and Heero found himself flying backwards. He screwed his eyes shut, waiting for the tires to crush his head as he rolled underneath them…but nothing happened.

Heero opened his eyes to see Duo resting right above him, their upper bodies hanging out of the cab that was speeding up, instead of slowing down. Tentacles of loose brown hair flew around Heero’s line of vision, the smirking child staring down at him and holding onto the agent’s tie – the only thing keeping him from eating the pavement rushing below them.

“Do you know why those children died, Heero?” Duo whispered against his ear, his fist keeping a firm stronghold on him. “’cause little Bobbie Thompson was going to go to school today with a gun and blow one of his teacher’s faces off and continue to terrorize his classmates on the playground before a sniper from your team would pick him off. This would lead to Cassie Hathway, who in her older years will commit suicide after her boyfriend leaves her once finding out she’s four months pregnant. Now, we certainly can’t forget about Guy Russ who would grow up to be a mass murderer, worse than me I dare to tell you, before dying when he crashes a plane into one of New York’s prosperous hotel buildings, killing a few hundred in one swipe.”

“You’re sick,” Heero grunted, eyes squeezed shut. “You’re fucking si-.”

“No,” the child interrupted, taking Heero’s tie and slowly tightening it around his neck. “I was chosen.”

Heero opened his eyes and turned his head just in time to see the light pole that the car was driving straight towards. Then there was darkness.


“Hold still,” the paramedic ordered, trying to put some ointment on Heero’s forehead. The detective twisted his head away again, grunting in annoyance, and shrugged off the blanket on his shoulders.

“I told you, I’m fine,” he grumbled, wincing as the trained medic took another stab at the only wound on his body.

“You’re also delusional,” Ms. Une said as she came striding up away from the crash a few yards away, her loose hair waving with the lazy wind and her suit blown open. She stopped by the ambulance and leaned against one of the open doors, flipping open her tiny notebook, as she crossed her legs, glinting high heel boots catching the red and blue flashing lights around them.

“Thank you, Doctor,” Heero replied humorlessly to his on and off again FBI partner. She rarely did field work; she was mainly someone who looked over all the evidence from the protection of her desk.

“Hmm,” she mumbled back in reply, flipping off her glasses and shoving them into her gray suit coat pocket. “Well, the only reason I can come up with for you not to be split into two pieces right now is because of that boy over there.”

“Boy?” Heero repeated dumbly, staring at her and then smacking away the paramedic’s hands again.

She gave him an irritated, flat glance, “Yes, hun. Turns out to be a Mr. Duo Maxwell. We also found the body of Mr. David Tark - Heero! Where are you going?!”

Heero ran towards the crash site, pushing aside fellow agents and trained professionals. He looked over the flashing lights that blinded him, over the heads of reporters who droned on and on about the accident. Finally, with the help of a camera’s light, he saw the dark corner where the body had collided with the ground and still rested, a white sheet, that was slowly bleeding red, covering it. A few agents stood around the body, talking amongst one another so casually, like there wasn’t a dead child lying at their feet. Heero briskly walked over, eyes hooked to the shoe that lay only a yard away, blood staining the soft white fabric. Red lights kept flashing over the scene every few seconds and Heero reached down, picking up the shoe slowly.

“Pull the sheet back, please,” Heero asked his fellow teammates.

“Dude, we can’t do that while the press is here,” one replied, smashing a cigarette into the concrete wall before flicking the bud away.

“This your lunch break?” Heero snarled.

“No, why?” the cadet snapped back.

“Then stop fucking acting like it,” Heero growled, reaching out and snatching the pack of cigarettes in the young agent’s pocket. He drew the man close, shoving the pack against his chest. “Go smoke these somewhere else and not where someone just died, you sick fuck.”

Shoving the man away, back into the wall, Heero leaned down with the shoe still in hand and threw back the sheet. He stared at the broken body as the sheet fluttered back down to the ground and slowly he knelt down, blinking at the bloody mess. The body had broken in the middle of the spine, instantly killing the boy. His legs were curled underneath him in an uncomfortable position of death. One arm had been sliced off somehow at the elbow and the broken member was missing from the scene – probably thrown somewhere else in the wreckage. The child stared up at the sky above, violet eyes dull and stupid now; so different when they had rested on Heero and they were so…_felt_. Felt because there was an evil passion, a lurking darkness, and yet a cheerfulness in insanity behind it all. Now they played dead to the world, even if there was still a little smirk on those purple lips, blood cells already dead in his face that made him so dreadfully pale. The braid lay curled in blood and…brain particles, curling around the massacre. Heero, shakily, moved the head a bit more to the side, the corpse already stiff and rotting. A large and soft spot was the back of the boy’s head, showing the complete insides to the crafty and surreal mind that seeped out of the soft, broken tissue. Pieces of skull matter had been ripped off, taking clingy brown strands with it and leaving bleeding and bald spots all around his head. His face though was perfect and unharmed.

In one hand, was Heero’s broken tie.

Heero covered his eyes, bile in his throat. He managed out something between a laugh and a sob at the same time, torn between emotions of gratitude, hatred, longing, and sickness. So the boy was mortal after all, and probably insane. Of all the things he said, they were not true. Being chosen, how silly. And the figure outside the window? Probably a delusion caused from lack of air. Oh, and David? Easily explained. Cabs were cheap cars, and he could have just fell out…

“Heero! You stupid bastard!”

Heero was jerked roughly to his feet, momentarily blinded by the bright glares of the cameras around him as Une ordered the men to drag him aside for the moment. Heero glanced down at Duo’s body again, just one last ti-.

What the fuck?

“An FBI agent, kneeling and crying over the loss of Trant Calder, a computer salesman who died tonight in a terrible cab accident,” one of the reporters rambled on into camera as Heero was dragged by.

Heero watched with wide eyes as the body of somebody he didn’t even know was covered back up with the white sheet, a man completely bald and pierced from head to toe. Heero was let go as soon as his back was against one of the police cars, Une storming over to him in fury.

“You’re slipping, Heero!” She yelled at him once she was within earshot. “What the hell were you thinking!? Wait until-.”

“Who was that?” Heero asked dumbfounded, staring over her shoulder at the sheet-covered corpse.

“I already told you!” Une yelled exasperated. “Trant. Calder. Got that?”

Heero shook his head; still not understanding the situation plopped right down in front of him. He gripped something in his hand and slowly looked down at the shoe he was still clutching. He stared at it and brought it gradually up to his face, staring at the leather boot with peeling blood splattered on the toes.

It was suppose to be white.

Not black.

It was suppose to be a shoe.

Not a boot.

Shakily, he dropped the thing, shaking his head.

“No,” Heero said softly, snapping his eyes back to her. “You said Duo Maxwell.”

“No, I didn’t, Heero,” Une sighed, aggravated, rubbing one of her temples as she looked off. “Trant Calder.”

“No!” Heero argued strongly, causing Une’s eyes to snap back to him. “No! There was no Trant in the cab with me! It was Duo Maxwell! Duo Maxwell!”

“Heero!” Une said, shaking her head forcefully. “Duo Maxwell was with the Good Will case. Remember? The only hostage to get away from the terrorist? You’re mixing people up, Heero. I think you should go home and-.”

“I’m not mixing anybody up,” Heero said more calmly, stepping away from Une’s hands. “I don’t know a Trant. I was arresting Duo Maxwell and bringing him to the FBI department for running away. He was the terrorist.” He said this all very slowly, as if Une was the basket case. “That’s when everything got out of control. He-He…”

“Heero,” Une said calmly, also speaking slow for Heero, for he seemed to be going into shock. “Heero, listen to me. We can handle this. I want you to go home and get some sleep. Everything will be better in the morning.”

“You aren’t listening to me!” Heero begged, grabbing the hands that reached for him again and squeezing them. “Duo Maxwell was in that cab and he killed that cab driver! He was going to kill us both! There was no Trant Calder!”

“Heero!” Une shouted. “Heero, you’re hurting me! Let go of me! Let go of me, right NOW! Somebody, get him off of me!”

“Listen to me!” Heero shouted as two detectives pulled off the hysterical agent. “Listen to me, Une! You have to find Duo Maxwell! You have to arrest him! He’s dangerous! Goddamnit, let go! Listen to me!! He’s dangerous! Une!”


Heero laid awake still as the night dragged on, lying on top of the covers with his shoes still on and his FBI jacket still hugging his sweaty body. He picked at his FBI badge, thinking of nothing. Perhaps he was going into shock. He certainly couldn’t tell what was real anymore. Maybe he was dead. Who cared?

Heero buried his head into the pillow and sighed heavily, punching the mattress that just bounced back his fist. His hand landed behind him and he tossed the badge aside, closing his eyes and trying to find some dreamscape beyond this reality. There was none.

“Nice robe, Mr. Yuy.”

Heero jerked up away from the bed, snapping his head as a candle flickered into life behind the Japanese curtain near his bed. A form took shape behind it, a lanky and long shadow as it straightened up, hair being thrown behind it as it threw its head back. The shadow caught the hair and started putting it up, piece by piece.

“Duo?” Heero whispered staring as the shadowed structure pined up its long hair. There was the ring of a buckle as it was unhinged and the outline turned towards Heero, jarring out its hip cockily.

“Of course,” he said from behind the curtain, his voice filled with a smug smile. “I saw that you missed me.”

“What are you doing here?” Heero asked, alarmed, forgetting to defend himself against Duo’s last line.

“What do you think, Heero?” Duo replied, and there was a flutter of fabric as his pants sank to the floor. He laughed softly and snapped his boxers against his skin. “Its obvious you want me.”

“Oh, my God,” Heero replied with disgust and rolled over, hugging his pillow. “You’re a minor.”

“I’m beautiful.”

“You’re arrogant.”

“I’m a mystery.”

“You’re insane.”

“You like me.”

“I don’t!” Heero argued, rolling over again. “And get out of my robe!” Duo laughed from the other side of the paper curtain as his shadow slipped on the Japanese robe and slowly tied it on.

“You and your games,” Heero grumbled and the candle went out from behind the curtain, subduing the two back into complete darkness. The agent watched the end of the paper wall as slowly Duo came out from behind it, long legs seeming even longer in the short robe. He leaned against it, half his hair up in a messy disarray while a few individuals had set an original example to thread around his upper body. He gave Heero another one of his sultry looks, smirking confidently through his dark eyelashes. Darkness hugged his form, even though he was finally wearing something white.

“You like my games,” he whispered, walking slowly towards the bed. Heero stiffened and straightened up, back against the headboard with his pillows scrunched between.

“Tell me something, Duo,” Heero said, searching for a topic to distract the strong-willed teenager until he could find a weapon to knock the insane child out. He was asking a question before he even knew his mouth was moving. “Why’d you let me remember?”

“Remember what?” The adolescent murmured, sliding his knees onto the chest that lay at the foot of the bed.

“You,” Heero replied, staring at the suddenly intriguing figure. A strip of light from outside had fallen into the room and across the bed, Duo leaning into it as he rocked back and forth. His eyes were glittering mischievously, filled with the mystery Heero did indeed find entrancing. “Why didn’t I forget? Why did you want me to remember?”

“You’re so silly, Heero,” Duo smiled sadly, his eyes soft against the light slipping through the curtains. “Everyone wants to be remembered…even me.”

“I don’t want to remember you,” Heero replied coldly. Duo didn’t even react; his smirk even turned confident again.

“Yes, you do,” he said. “Because you think I’m beautiful.”

“I do not,” Heero argued again, eyes hardening.

Duo crawled over, his hands finally meeting the sheets, “You like my eyes.”

“I don’t. I find them dull and boring.”

“You like my hair.” He was now completely on the bed. Heero didn’t move his legs.

“Everybody has your kind of hair.”

“You like my nose.”

“There’s nothing special about your nose.” Heero looked down at the hands slowly running up his legs before looking at the child who was suddenly caving in around him.

“You like my lips,” Duo whispered, settling his legs on either side of the agent’s and easing himself down onto his lap. Heero looked at the close proximity of their faces and landed right on the lips that the kid spoke of, finding that they did indeed look very nice.


“You like…my legs…” the child murmured into Heero’s ear as he leaned forward, running his high cheekbone up the side of tanner flesh.

“They’re…too long.”

“You like my body,” he continued, running his hands up and spreading the robe open as he rolled his shoulders, the silk slipping down the pale flesh.

“Too…” Heero cleared his throat as he found it chalky. “Too lanky.”


“Yes?” Heero looked up then slowly his eyes widened. Duo’s hips began to slowly roll his hips into the detective’s lap, the kid pulling the robe down until it puddled around his waist, the knot holding strong on the tie.

“You like this,” Duo whispered, drawing his face close as Heero’s head fell back against the wall. His lips rested on the Japanese agent’s jaw, watching the flitting emotions flicker on his face.

“Not…bad…” Heero whispered. Duo smirked and wasted no time with Heero’s clothes. Instead he lifted up on his knees and grabbed Heero’s hand, forcing it to go between his legs. The detective’s head jerked up and he tried to draw away but Duo held strong, smirking down at him.

“I want you to stroke me, Heero,” the child ordered. “Make me feel something.”

The detective swallowed and started shaking his head, trying to draw away again. But Duo gripped tighter and forced the hand to cup the soft dick and lazy balls.

“Touch me, Mr. Yuy,” the child whispered. “For once take a chance and touch someone.”

Then he let go and went for Heero’s lips.

When they connected there was no sparks. There was no passion. Instead it was two holes opening for each, spilling out words that weren’t ever spoken and telling secrets they would never think of unless joined like this. Heero thought Duo tasted of blood, of death…and it didn’t frighten him. He accepted the dark and heavy taste and the more his tongue twisted with Duo’s, the more it grew lighter and sweeter. Duo was fumbling with his pants, pulling out the stiff erection and not bothering with any foreplay. Heero didn’t care. He kept his hand on Duo’s soft cock but no matter what he did and how hard he tried, the child did not respond. But he didn’t care. Somehow, Duo wouldn’t let him care.

“Don’t!” Heero whispered harshly as Duo shoved his hand aside and settled himself above Heero’s dick. “You’ll hurt-.”

“I’ve died seven times now, Heero,” the child laughed. “This cannot hurt me.” And he moved himself down, accepting Heero’s intimate and weeping regions into a hole that couldn’t possibly widen and hold him. Heero watched Duo’s face with wide eyes but he just stared back at him, not a flicker of emotion flying across his face.

“How…?” Heero breathed heavily as Duo seated himself down upon the agent, the tight heat making him feel dizzy. He felt blood drip from Duo’s body and fall onto the fabric of his jeans. And all he wanted to do was thrust and make Duo bleed more.

“Yes, Heero,” Duo whispered and he rocked his body into the FBI detective, raising his body slowly just to slice it back down onto the cock that was as sharp as a knife. It was ripping him apart, Heero knew it. Yet…Duo couldn’t feel it.

“Stop…” Heero whispered, his shred of sanity hovering near the window, ready to flee with every rise and fall of Duo’s slow moving hips. He was just going too slowly, it was agonizing pleasure…

“You don’t want me to,” he replied. And Heero didn’t. Suddenly he was on top of Duo, thrusting into him desperately, searching for the one thing Duo would give him freely. His eyes were shut and he was already sweating, thrusting into the body who met him half way. But he couldn’t look at that emotionless face that just watched him like it wasn’t even happening. He couldn’t look at that.

“You asked me once why I killed those people, Heero,” the child below him said, his breath hitching with each hard thrust. Heero groaned in response, tossing his head up, and opened his eyes –

to meet the eyes of a demon, hovering above Duo’s head. It was hissing and laughing silently, little hands caressing Duo’s face and chest, as if trying to get him to enjoy the ride too.

“Do not look at them, Heero,” Duo begged from below. Heero jerked his head to the side, his hips still moving into the child’s body and there was another peeking over the bed, hissing and pointing. And another beside that one. They surrounded the bed, watching with greedy and lustful eyes, cheering the mating pair on with darkness and sin.

“They are always there – but you don’t have to see them,” Duo said. Heero jerked his eyes down to this child he was just casually fucking and was surprised to see him smiling, a genuine smile. “Touch me again, Heero. See only me; I want you to see only me and not them.”

And Heero did touch him and tried hard to get a reaction out of him this time. His hips moved faster, not on his own accord, and he thought, briefly, that one of the demons was behind him, pushing to move faster and harder into the child that kept bleeding all over his bed.

“You asked me why I made those people jump to their death,” Duo said breathlessly, closing his eyes. Heero looked down, surprised to see that the child was growing hard but then softening just as quickly, over and over again. His hand moved faster as well as his hips. “You asked me what the point was.”

“Y-Yes,” Heero stuttered breathlessly, shutting his eyes against the demon who was licking Duo’s face, pulling at his ear with sharp teeth.

“Look at me!” Duo demanded; thrusting his hips up hard and earning a startled cry from the older man, his eyes snapping open to look at that desperate childish face. “The point was, Heero…The point was to meet you.”

“M..Mahh..Mee…” Heero couldn’t seem to speak and his hips shoved in faster, harder making Duo move against the mattress. A small demon slowly had raised both of Duo’s hands above his head, chanting in a tongue Heero couldn’t understand.

“Don’t look at them,” Duo muttered breathlessly and Heero watched as lazy pleasure flittered through his eyes. Duo was hard and was squirming for release. Heero found himself pounding so hard that his lover’s hips were leaving the bed and slowly they were crying out mindlessly with the demons, the child’s legs wrapping around Heero’s clothed form and fucking himself back onto his dick, until two demons flew down from the ceiling and whispered into the lovers’ ears. Then and only then did they climax, Duo screaming out something Heero could never understand. Their hips still moved, softer this time, as they rode out the waves of passion, until Heero was sure he couldn’t take it anymore. Slowly, he fell by Duo’s side, shoving away their snickering audience and burying his sweaty head into the mattress. After dozing what seemed like hours, Heero slowly lifted his head from his uncomfortable position and lazily glanced at Duo. The child was watching him and seemed completely aware, a blank mask over his face.

“Why?” Heero found himself asking as their eyes met. Duo smirked smugly again, the only emotion that seemed to ever grace the perfect, deadly face.

“Why did I have to meet you? Why did I let you remember me?” Duo continued the question and he reached over, caressing Heero’s cheek with false sincerity. “Why did I let you fuck me?”

Heero nodded guiltily as it was put to much harsher words. Duo laughed easily and patted the warm cheek before sliding the digits away and rolling onto his back, staring up at the ceiling with his hands sliding underneath his head.

“Because if those children didn’t rush ahead of you, you would have been hit by the bus instead,” the child said harshly, his tone hushed like he was reciting a mathematical problem.

“If you didn’t take the night off to search for me, you would have been dispersed into an assignment that would make the Calinco Mob even more infuriated with you, if that’s even possible.”

Heero stared at Duo, shaking his head slowly, not quite comprehending exactly what the child was saying. The Calinco Mob was an old case, forgotten months ago. It had basically ended a shoot-out, where three members of Heero’s team had died and the Mob lost fifteen, even some being imprisoned for life. How did Duo know anything about that?

“If you weren’t at the crash site that late at night, you would have come home to your furious girlfriend, who instead of shooting herself, the bullet would have gone to your head.”

Girlfriend? Relena? They have broken up two weeks ago for…Dying? He would have died last night? Two days ago? What was Duo talking about?

“So, you see, I had to meet you, Heero,” Duo said, pausing before rolling off the bed, and pulling the robe over his shoulders again. “Because I had to save your life.”

“An…And now…?” Heero asked shakily then shook his head. “No! You’re fuckin’ crazy-Those kids-Relena-.”

“Are dead,” Duo finished for him.

“…Dead?” Heero whispered, frozen on the sheets. He didn’t even notice that no blood soaked his blankets. “Relena…is dead?”

“Yes,” Duo replied calmly and looked back at him with blank eyes. Heero stared, shaking his head again, but Duo leaned over quickly and took his chin, stopping the motion.

“Stop it, Heero,” the child replied coldly. “Accept it. Your life is far more important than theirs. Besides, Relena would have been a lousy politician anyway. It was good to put her out of her misery for the sake of humanity.”

“You bastard!” Heero raged, swinging a fist that he knew wouldn’t connect. Duo twisted his head away and crawled quickly back on the bed, grabbing Heero’s fists and pinning them back to the bed.

“Yes,” Duo said callously. “I am. And you-.” Duo smirked at this. “-are a dead man walking.”

“W-Why?” Heero asked brokenly, burying half his face into the sweat soaked sheets, trying to block out reality. “Why me?”

“Do you really want to know, Mr. Yuy?” Duo asked, laughing inwardly through the detective’s torment. “Its because that’s what they told me to do. You don’t need to know anymore than that.”

“Who are these people that you always talk about!?” Heero shouted, struggling to get his fists free but to no avail.

“Why, they’re angels, of course,” the child replied simply. Heero froze and twisted his eyes up at him, blinking in disbelief.

“Those…those things are angels?” He stuttered incredulity.

Duo laughed, shaking his head, “What did you think they were?” He looked at Heero’s twisted expression and smirked, leaning close. “Nothing is pure, Mr. Yuy. Angels are twisted and corrupted now by humanity; their appearance is being snuffed out by lies and hate, becoming the evil they try to fight. That’s why they chose me. Because I can fight fire when they cannot. I was born special, Mr. Yuy. I was always chosen and led up to this very moment to be with you.”

“I don’t believe you,” Heero whispered, staring at the child hard. “I don’t believe you.”

“You don’t have to, Heero,” Duo replied also softly. “But it is time for you to go.”

“What?” Heero watched as Duo rolled away from him again and stood up off the bed, the sunlight coming through the windows now.

“There is one more reason why I’m still here, Heero,” Duo replied, his head turned halfway to Heero, before turning around completely. He smiled. “Because at 7:55, you would have gotten up and-.”

Duo stepped in line with the window.

And Heero was suddenly covered in blood.

The detective blinked wide eyes as he found Duo gone and the window shattered, voices screaming from down below. Drapes splattered with blood curled with the wind and Heero tried to comprehend what just happened, what had happened so fast. He lifted a shaky hand and wiped at the blood freckled on his face; shaking his head slowly, he fisted the bloody sheets and dragged his heavy body to the edge of the bed. He panted breathlessly, squeezing his eyes shut before he could look.

Images flashed in the blackness behind his eyelids.

“Because at 7:55, you would have gotten up and-.” Duo stepped in line with the window and immediately; two bullets were shot and sent right through the window. Duo grunted and arched as they penetrated his back and spine, the bullets spilling out on the other side of his body and through the Japanese curtain on the other side of the bed. The loose pieces of his hair fluttered with the disturbance, slowly coming back down, and relaxing around the lithe form. His violet eyes rolled to the ceiling, eyebrows drawing downwards in pain. He stood for just a second more, breathing sharply, and his hazy violet eyes fell and connected with bewildered blue ones.

“And…been shot…by Cal...in...co…”

He collapsed not a second later.

Heero peeked open his eyes slowly. Duo rested on the floor, blood blossoming in the white silk rapidly, and he was breathing slowly, staring up at the ceiling. Heero stared at the boy, before squeezing his eyes, turning his head away.

“Duo, you stupid fucker!” Heero screamed and opened his eyes, about to crawl off the bed and help the fallen child.

And stopped, staring.

A man laid on the floor, coughing up blood through chapped lips with his head rolled to the side tiredly. Blue eyes peeked out from dark eyelashes, his tanned skin splattered with blood. Short, cropped brown hair laid nestled on his head that was messy and unordered with glass in his curls. Blood was pouring out around the body, the white robe turning black with blood.


The man coughed, and smirked painfully, “Its Heero Yuy now.”

The world just stopped turning then.

Duo no longer laid on the floor. The boy was gone. Instead, there was a man in his twenties, coughing up blood, and smirking, and dying, and…and…looking just…like Heero…

“Wa...Wha...” Heero whispered overwhelmed, trying to stop time from ticking just so he could figure out was happening, but Duo wouldn’t give him a chance.

“You...be…better go, Duo…” the dying man whispered.


Heero threw himself off the bloody bed, tearing open his drawer and jerking out his hand mirror engraved with his mother’s initials. He held up the mirror to his face, eyes wide.

His violet eyes wide.

The child stared, horrified, back at him…

Heero stared breathing heavier, faster, and the image staring back at him did as well. He had very long hair falling out of a messy bun.

“N…N…No…NO!” Heero threw the mirror at the wall and it immediately shattered. He threw his fist out and it collided with the paper curtain, tearing it down.

“What have you done!?” Heero screamed, hands falling on his face, his so unfamiliar, childish face. “You fucker! You took my life!”

“N…o. Gave…you life,” came the pained response. Heero screamed with hate, turning around to wreck his revenge on the furniture and stopped, once again in his misshapen life.

His mirror lay perfect and innocent on the desk. The curtain was standing up again, the tear missing, besides the two bullet holes.

“Don’t…for…get your…clothes,” the man whispered painfully from the other side of the bed. “Start o-over, ‘ero.”

“Why…?” Heero whispered, tears forming in his eyes as he touched the silky hair, hair not his own at all.

“You ask…too many questions,” Duo chuckled than started coughing, trying to gasp out his next sentence. “G-o-o!”

Heero stood there longer, shaking his head and eyes screwed shut. He didn’t want to leave. He wanted his life back, however long it lasted now. He didn’t want this body, this stupid, stupid child that he hated so much. How could everything have gotten so mixed up? When did his life turn upside down like this? This situation, he didn’t want to live with it forever! Why was he chosen to live, live like this!? Why? Goddamnit, Why!?

“WHY!?!” He screamed. But he didn’t receive an answer. There was only the occasional cough and the breath that increasingly got slower. Sirens in the distance finally got his legs moving and he walked, defeated to the discarded clothes on the floor. He picked them up lifelessly and folded them under his arm. He looked at his life one more time, through eyes that weren’t even his and were surprised to find so many things that looked dull and lifeless. Boring. He didn’t understand why the world looked so gray now, like he was already dead. His emotions were slowly ebbing away and he put a hand over his chest when he found himself not caring anymore, the panic and pain dying out like a flame. He blinked tired eyes, confused at why he wasn’t scared anymore. Curiously, with the emotion dying just as fast as it arrived, Heero walked slowly to the dying man on the floor and stared down at him.

How beautiful he looked.

Heero tilted his head, fascinated suddenly by the spilling blood and the slow breaths that led each one to his last. While the world around him was gray and dark, that human body looked so light and colorful. Especially the blood. Heero found himself sinking to his knees, understanding just a bit more about Duo as he looked through his eyes.

“Is this how you felt…?” Heero asked slowly, tendrils of long hair falling in his vision. “Is this what you saw?”

The twenty-year old man didn’t answer him. Heero stared longer, not even caring when he heard the police six stories down coming through the front door. He would be gone by the time they got here, he knew. He felt a twinge of sadness and he touched the familiar skin and nose, finding the beauty and light dying out with each second.

Slowly, Heero leaned over and kissed the dead lips.

“I know we are going to meet again real soon,” he whispered as he drew away. Hazed, blue eyes looked at him before smirking weakly.

“So look for me,” Duo rasped out before closing his eyes. Heero stayed only one more minute, stroking the cold flesh, before he gave into the tugging his hand was given by a dark, tiny angel by his side. He stood up.

He was gone before the FBI burst into the apartment.


Author’s Note: Wow, 20 pages. Mind you, that’s a lot for me for a one-shot. Now…I’m sure everyone is reacting just like Masamune, my beta reader…And…hey now! Put that down, Masa-chan! I friggin’ mean it, man! I- no! Don’t do it! NOOO!!!!! Okay! *sob* Okay!

After some…some talking *wearily looking at Masamune*…I’ve decided to write some continuation. Of what, I’m not too sure. Masa…and I’m sure all of you…want some clarity…*puts an icepack over her left eye* So, I must…ah…I agreed to do something. Though when I wrote this ending (there was two – first ending was a piece of poopy crap!), it was with full purpose to not start a friggin’ series/arc. I wanted nothing more to do with this one-shot. But, I agree, it does kind of leave a lot of loose ends, don’t it? So, in the end, I’ll write some final piece to clear up the scrap left over.

Thank you for reading!