Well...I know that I haven't written anything in a while...don't worry, I'm working on Borealis 4 and P:D 4 and a few other short ficcies...my muse just hasn't been speaking to me, is all. But I'm working on them, they'll be done soon, I promise! (relatively soon, that is...) So anyways, I wanted to write a little ficcy in honor of Halloween. Ok, ok, it's two days late, so sue me. This is the first time I've written something like this, so please, let me know what you think. The title is "Night Walker." ^^;;; If you don't know what a Night Walker is, hopefully the poem in the beginning will give you an idea. ^^;;;

Disclaimers: GW doesn't belong to me, don't sue, I'm not worth your time. There are a few slightly yaoi bits in this fic near the end, so proceed with care if you don't like that. Be warned, this is written in fairly bad first person present tense. ^^;;;; Ok, I think that's everything, on with the fic now.

}Night Walker{

Come with me into the cold night
Under shattered shards of glass
Take my hand and walk beside me
Over my muddied grave we pass

Don't struggle so, my darling
You've held my hand, there's no escape
Don't mourn so, my darling
In my arms you've lost your way

In the flash of knives I crossed
Made to scream in the warm red light
Let me bring you the glory of my death
Meet my eyes when I walk the night

Don't beg so, my darling
You've seen the damned, you're mine now
Don't pray so, my darling
It was you living that made me, after all

You'll taste my poisoned lips now
And bathe in my wash of poisoned breath
I'll caress you with my steel tipped fingers
And love you into death

Don't worry so, my darling
No one will miss you in the end
Don't cry so, my darling
You'll see them soon enough again

Can you see your coming death?
Reflected in eyes, frightened blue
I'm the Night Walker, my love
And I've come back from Hell for you.

--"Night Walker" by Kathryn Jinks

 

It's cold.

I don’t think I’ve ever been so cold before, or so empty. I feel as if someone has tilted me and poured out all of my life, until nothing is left but the tiny, naked child that is me, completely bereft of every experience and remembered emotion that I'd been cloaking myself with.

I'm freezing. I...but...

Who am I?

There isn't any name in the cold, there aren't any answers. All I know is that there's me and there's not me. The not-me is cold, too cold, deep and crushing and wet like the bottom of the ocean. I want to breathe in, but there's nothing, only a terrible pressure that holds me and keeps me from moving. I can’t move at all, no matter how I struggle.

Terror!

I'm going to drown!

Am drowning...

Have drowned.

/Help me!/ I scream. I know I'm screaming; I can feel it tearing at my throat, hear the raw words in my ears, but there isn't sound in the cold. There’s nothing at all, not even me. Perhaps I am nothing.

But if I am nothing, how can I be thinking like this? Am I really thinking, or do I just believe I am? How ridiculous. I must be something, since nothing wouldn't even be able to wonder about itself. So I am. I exist.

Too cold.

Who am I, then, since I'm something? I have no name. I have only the few simple thoughts I'm thinking. And...a purpose. I have to do something. What? What is it that I have to do?

/Oh god...oh god in heaven...oh god...oh dear god in heaven...help me...please...oh god, what have I done?/ I hear it in my mind, the voice of a young man. It's blurred with distance, with time; perhaps it's a memory. Who is it? I know this boy. What's happening to me? /Oh god...tell me what I've done...oh God...I didn't mean to.../

The cold suddenly retreats, and I gasp for breath. I can breathe again! The ground is solid, hard and cold underneath me. Perhaps that's where the cold came from. I open my eyes and look into a black sky, filled with sharp, bright stars. It's cold, but strangely enough, my breath doesn't steam in the air; perhaps it's not as cold as I think. Why am I lying on the ground like this? I hastily sit, then stand, brushing my clothing and hair out. The ground I was lying on is a section of filthy blacktop, part of a street, covered with moldy leaves that are sticky, with mud probably.

The street is deserted; it must be very late at night. The lights are flashing yellow instead of holding in steady green or red...very late indeed. I don't recognize any of the buildings; nothing is familiar with me. Where am I? Who am I? My head aches. Perhaps I tripped and fell and knocked myself unconscious and have a concussion. That would explain a great deal, I think. Temporary amnesia. Wonderful. There's no one around to get help from; the buildings are all locked, there's no one out on the street.

So I begin to walk through the night. There's nothing else for me to do. I pick a random direction, one that feels good to me, and begin wandering, hoping that soon I'll come across something familiar. I come to an intersection of streets and stop for a moment, trying to decide which way to go. I turn right; the direction feels nice, like I'm being tugged in that direction.

It's on that street that I finally see someone. He's stumbling and weaving, falling in and out of the gutter. A drunk. Wonderful. He's all that I have, though, my only chance at getting help. I walk up to him and clear my throat softly. He shudders and looks up, his eyes unfocused.

I smile at him, as well as I can manage considering my head feels like it's about to explode. "Can you tell me where I am, please?" I ask quietly.

The man pales, and he looks down, shaking his head. His shoulders hunch for a moment, and then he begins to vomit into the gutter. I hastily step away and walk around him. I have a feeling that he won't be of any use to me, after all. The man is still vomiting behind me, harshly, and he's making choking sounds. I quickly move on.

I continue down the street, looking for something, anything familiar. I come to another intersection, and this time I turn left. I hope that what is leading me is some vague memory, that I'll find where I'm going soon. I'm beginning to feel a little frightened.

After what feels like hours of walking, I find myself in front of an apartment building. It's old; only about twenty stories tall and it's built of red bricks that are starting to crumble. I walk up the cracked concrete of the steps, careful to step over the piles of soggy paper and sodden leaves that cover them. The front door is unlocked; it doesn't present much of an obstacle when I come in. The inside of the building looks far better than the outside. It's clean and neat. I take the steps, since I'm not sure which floor I'd pick if I took the elevator. I stop after only four flights of steps, though. This is the floor I want; I know it.

I go to the apartment at the end of the hall. The door for it, too, is unlocked. I go inside with no small amount of trepidation. I hope that this is where I really want to be.

There's a mirror across from the door, and I glance at it as I walk in...

/oh God...oh God...what have I done? What have I done...?/ The world tilts crazily for an instant, and I see purple eyes, repeated thousands of times like facets of a jewel, over and over and over...

I fall to my knees, clutching my head. Purple eyes...purple eyes...that voice...what's happening to me???

/Oh god...oh god...oh god...what have I done? I didn't mean to! No! I didn't mean to!/

Blood and death and pain and fear and anger and jealousy and rage and hatred and love and horror and agony and...and...

/I didn't mean to! God, I didn't mean to!/

The mirror shatters into a thousand shards, and each shard reflects those purple eyes...

Everything stops, abruptly, as the glass rains down on me, shattering further on the floor. The voice stops, the turmoil stops, and I am nothing but calm. Now I know why I'm here.

I'm here for him.

The calm freezes over, replaced with jealousy and anger and rage, colder and colder as I stand and glance down at the mirror, smiling at my reflection in the perfect parody of the dead. I'm almost shivering, which is ridiculous considering the situation. I need warmth, though, want it so badly that my body aches with the need for it.

I walk silently down the thinly carpeted hallway to the bedroom. The door is open a crack and I slip through with ease. The room is fairly empty, its furnishings simple but well cared for. There are two lumps on the bed, and I can smell sex in the air. I smile, becoming colder.

One of the figures in the bed is uncovered, and I stand next to him. He's completely naked, his skin shining and slick with sweat in the moonlight, his dark hair sticking out in uneven spikes. He's beautiful. He's mine. Mine. I bend down and kiss him on the lips. When I straighten back up, there is blood there, running from between his lips, tracking small rivulets down his cheeks and chin. He doesn't even wake to see who kissed him; instead, he merely lets out a soft, long sigh of one that's just settled down for a long, long rest.

He was warm, very warm, my Heero, despite what anyone might have said about him. I hug his warmth to myself as he grows cold and peaceful. He deserves that peace, the peace my love gives him. The other, though...the other...

There is much more warmth to be had there, and I will wring out every last drop. I move over to the other side of the bed and strip away the blankets. The person there, half covered with their long hair, sits up abruptly and looks around, eyes large and shining in the almost complete darkness.

"Wha...?"

I smile. "Hello, Duo."

His eyes grow wider and he looks up at me, all color draining from his face. "No..." he whispers.

"Yes." I smile and sit on the edge of the bed, caressing his cheeks with the tips of my fingers. He hisses with pain, but can't move, can't look away from my eyes. "I'm here for you, my darling..." I say softly.

He tries to shake his head, but he can't. "No..." he whispers. "I didn't mean for it to happen..."

"It did happen, though." I say, still smiling. I can feel his warmth through my hands, draining slowly toward me. Heero is mine, but Duo is mine too, made mine eternally. I hate him. I hate him with ice. I hate him so much that I love him for all time. "You panicked and you shot me, out in the street, and left me there to die. Stupid, jealous boy."

He tries to pull away. I laugh. "You're mine, now. You've looked into my eyes."

"I've looked into my own damnation." he says softly.

"You knew I would come back for you." I say. "Because I love you. I hate you. You're mine."

"I'm sorry..." he whispers, his eyes flickering over to Heero, or, rather, what's left of Heero. There are tears running from his eyes. I like them, they're pretty. So I bend down and lick them from his cheeks.

"I know you're sorry." I say. "Come with me, my love." I bend down and kiss him, deeply, probing his mouth with my tongue, as I know Heero has done. Heero is mine now, and what was his is mine as well.

/My love my love my love my love.../

There's blood running from Duo's mouth, now, and the life is draining from his eyes as I hold him against me, smiling down at the beautiful face of my love.

He whispers "I'm sorry...Relena..."

"Hush, my darling." I say, smiling. I hold him until his struggles cease.

 

~owari~

--
Katsu no Miko (ICQ me! 13773131)
Wufei no Seishi
Keeper of Duo's Angst
Duo's Grand Inquisitor and Head Torturer
Keeper of Duo's Stake, Mallet, and Browning .40 Hi-Power III
AND: Keeper of Ad's Sanity! (*snicker* What sanity?)

"Erst wenn die Wolken schlafen gehen/kann man uns am Himmel sehen/
wir haben Angst und sind allein.../Gott weiss ich wil kein Engel sein..."
(~Ramms+ein~)