11-20-2000

Title:Breaking that thin line.
Notes: Ummm, this has been sitting around in my head for weeks now….it started out as a `bloody hilarious `relenabashing' ficcie'….BUT it turned into….THIS….
BTW, in case you are all wondering what thad happened to Sun…unnn….welll….you seee…..my internet went frizzy a while back, ass did my phone lines and the like. In other words I was in a technological slump….with only the TV for company…SO…I am not dead.
Pairings: do I really need to say? 1+2
Disclaimers: GW is not mine, it is owned by its owners and noone else….non of these characters are mine…BUT this story is, so don't take it.

Comments and criticisms appreciated:
sun_sunday@yahoo.com and all_in_leather@yahoo.com

Breaking that thin line
by: Sunday

There is a thin line between genius and insanity.

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Blood, it appears that there is more blood in the human body then ANYONE, EVER imagined. Well, unless you were trained to practically revel in it, in which case, the whole volume thing got old after a few hundred deaths. Now THAT is scary...a few hundred, somehow I doubt that any soldier in the great world wars had a count that high.

I sigh, my slippery fingers attempting to push him into the shower.

`Attempting'…Ok, so that bastard did not self destruct. I heave the rest of his limbs into the glass cubicle, before turning the water on the stinking mass. Noooo...but for once in my life I kind of wish he did.

I sigh, pulling off the tight shirt he had been wearing....a hellova lot harder then one would imagine considering the fact that it is soaked through with more blood and god knows what else, then one would have thought possible for the top to absorb...I sigh again, tugging it over his head...it hangs low, his chin almost touching his neck, defeated...ashamed. I sigh again. Unconsious.

He mumbles something under his breath.Yup. All in the name of duty...getting killed because it seemed like the right thing to do at the time...going through...whatever it is that happened to the indestructible one...in order to get a crumb of information. Yuy, I swear, one of these days I'm going to have to show you that your mission is not everything.

Heero's head lolls to one side, and his huge blue eyes, more clouded over then I have ever seen them, stare at me blankly...

"...who...?" I feel my shoulders drop, as I lean into the cool wall. Please tell me that he does not have amnesia too....I glance in the mirror...oh yah, shit. I reintroduce myself...of course we had 'met' in the bar before, but now it appears that he had forgotten. Which is VERY VERY EXTREMELY good.

"Anastasia...Anya, remember?" Yep good ol Yuy', went out to find his fellow pilot, so he could scream at him for not informing `the great perfectionist' of the solo mission...and instead of finding his would be braided idiot, he found himself beat up in an unfamiliar apartment. He cocks his head ever so slightly.

C-ute....really....the sarcasm permeates every word, and my critical thinking giggles...this is going to be a very long shower...and Yuy would not be able to look cute if his life depended on it. Damn it, he is TRYING to look cute, I mean what does that say about his mental state? I mean, what is left of his mental state...has he gone totally bezerk...? Or at least more so then the norm...? if so, and he remembers this in the morning, I am one very dead Shinigami. He smiles at me again.

"Annn-ya..." he tests the name once, shivers run up my spine. Not good...and I need to clean him up too...me fully dressed, of course, him not. I tug at the zipper to the tight black jeans he had been wearing.

"Anya, very good, you can say a name... now these are to come off." The material sticks to his thighs, his legs, as if glued to the skin. I peel it off of him. Ok, so it was glued...with dried blood, but glued non the less.

"Baka." I call out under my breath.

"Duo?" I look up at him, startled, but he is currently enraptured by the water marks on the ceiling, grinning with elation at the patterns he had now found them. Ok I have to know....

I examine the blobs of water and God knows what else on the sagging white.

"One o'those look like yer friend?"

"Iie..." o-kay, so Yuy is loosing it, I heave the rest of the pants off of him, and throw them into the 'to be incinerated' pile. It is then that I see it, while bending to pick him up off the ground...the blood. Oh God, damn it Yuy, you fucking idiot.... a small disk package placed inconspicuously against his thigh, where nothing short of a strip search would find it...information… clatters to the ground. He did THIS for information...

I feel sickens well up in my stomach, and after nearly dropping the `somewhat in' and `somewhat out' Yuy on the floor I heave my lunch into the toilet. I dunno, all signs of rape do that to me...memories I guess. I stalk back toward Yuy, before dropping him in front of the shower, and letting it hose him down somewhat.... kinda hoping that he would not drown.

Kinda hoping he would.

Although eventually, I do get back into the proper frame of mind, and manage to start cleaning him....start. Because damn it all to hell, I could NOT be near the guy without getting an extremely predictable reaction. Not that I can blame my poor hormones, no amount of other people are the suicidal maniac, but still...the pretty fucked over, in more ways then one, suicidal idiot is beautiful... mysterious.... deadly. Everything that attracts an aura of sexuality...which in turn, attracts other people like flies to raw meat.

Worst of all, I have to be in the shower WITH him.

Okay...I run my hands over the leather pants...those are water proof...they can stay...I am about to loose the shirt when I realize...Anya....yep...the shirt stays, although it will be hell to clean later. Finally...I reach out and braid my hair quickly, pinning it up with the clip that I had removed from it earlier. On more glance in the mirror...staring at the unfamiliar face. And...to the shower!

After scrubbing the idiot for nearly an hour, and then rinsing him for about half an hour more, clothed cleaned, and smelling exponentially better, Heero Yuy, Gundam pilot, VERY dangerous assassin, terrorist, and God knows what else, was curled up in a little ball on the bed, hugging a pillow. The irony hung in the air like molasses, and I fought down an urge to gag. That mission successful, I quickly wrote in to explain my absence.

Charge got raped.

Ok, so it was a stretch of the truth...Heero was not my assigned charged, but still...I was going to have a VERY long talk with him later, about coming to L2...doing what I believe he did. That still makes my stomach feel kind of tight...like I had eaten some sort of bad Mexican food or something....and then showing up at my apartment nearly dead. Okay...how he found MY apartment is beyond me...we met in the bar, we talked.

I look up in the mirror, watching the hooped earrings, the reddish hair...the temporary die staining my face. Actually, we did NOT talk….he talked to Anya. I sigh, before heading over to the shower. Yuppers, another day in the life of one VERY fucked over Duo Maxwell….it works in some weird way, that Death is as fucked over as everyone he kills….

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Comments and criticisms appreciated:
sun_sunday@yahoo.com and all_in_leather@yahoo.com
What can I say…I'm a feedback hore
Hmmm fanfics for comments…anyone interested?