8-16-2001

Title: Too Much Coffee
Part: 3
Author: Sunday
e-mail: all_in_leather@yahoo.com
disclaimers: Gboys are not mine, never were never will be. This story on the other hand is…don’t take it.
Pairings: 1+2+1, R+1, there is absolutely NO 3+4 (bwahahahahahahahahhahahahahahahahaha)
Notes: Hrm. I must say this part is disjointed, because it is where the plot starts…kinda…this is where things * begin* to make sense. This is, I guess, part 1. Now according to popular demand…Relena must die. * shrug* who am I to argue *grin * but we all know that sanity is not my strong suite sooooo….. I dunno, I’m just disappointed with this part…I wrote it from 11:00pm to 5am yesterday…with numerous breaks…I’m NOT a workaholic. And so I guess that it is done, well this part at least. Ah yes, the next part…I’m looking forward to once scene and one scene only, because I feel like being evil and not going much further with this. Bwahahahhahahahahahha…. I’m babbling, excuse me.

I would like to thank all of those wonderous people that replied, thank you so much for your support…I’d name you all, but it is too hot outside to really move much, so I’ll just have to sit here and fester...okay?

 

Too much coffee
Part 3
Sunday

 

 

The ocean was ill,

She would bleed upon the ground, weeping tears of red into the tide.

She no longer bleeds.

I made sure of that.

The waves no longer sing of those who fight.

The water no longer feels of those who kill.

She no longer has a reason to bleed.

I have provided.

She has others to do it for her.

 

It was gray, because metal was always gray, and cold, and unfeeling. It vibrated lightly, the smooth inner shell metal, and the chick within already dead. Quatre placed his hands against the cool metal of the console. He grinned, the smile turning ugly and bitter, as once more, static assailed his ears. ‘Screw them’ a part of him called out, angered at the other’s disappearance. They were acting irresponsibly. All he had done was asked…no ordered, them to stay in one place, for a meager seven days…seven…Heero should know better then that. He should have obeyed. Of course, the psychopath had changed that, hadn’t he? The psychopath making the sociopath all that much more sociable. Quatre sneered.

He tried again.

Static.

It sizzled in the stale air of the cockpit, pushing against the fair boy’s chest, climbing down his throat and into his lungs. He coughed lightly, trying to dispel the oppressing feeling of decay. ‘screw them screw them SCREW them, fucking inconsiderate…incompitent idiots.’ He scowled, and tried again.

“02, 01, this is 04, if you please, pick up.” the formalities had long since left him, and the seemingly polite ‘please’ was by far to elongated and strained to have any respectfulness.

The radio crackled “04 , this is 03…copy.”

“03, this is 04, I hear you,

“I am quite possibly going insane…but do you hear that?”

Quatre lightly turned up the volume of the radio, listening to what was happening in the cockpit of Heavyarms. Slowly, he began to pick apart the sound of Trowa’s exhalations, of the intakes, the slight rustle of cloth, and the constant beep of various machinery…and then…then there were the whispers. Millions of them, moans, curses, all softly spoken, all lifeless. His blood seemed to freeze up.

Whispers…he could hear what they were saying, and his eyes widened.

He chuckled quietly, under his breath.

“the rain in Spain travels mostly in the plain…” lightly the cool voices washed over him, shearing through the monotonous static, breaking the pointless messages within it with a insipid message of their own.

…the house…

Duo, hidden in a room with Heero, had spoken those words. Then he must have heard them too. ‘the haunted house where the walls speak in syllables , and the plaster has perfect pronunciation.’ He shivered again. So what exactly was the choir of the banal rehearsing for?

His slender fingers tightened around the controls, the metal cracking and folding beneath the force of his anger. “Duo.” The damned idiot, somehow this was his fault. Quatre had had them, all of them, and then what? Then the idiot had to sit in the room, had to talk to the foundations.

And with Duo, the foundations would always talk back. An uncomfortable shift of cloth rustled past the noise. “Quatre…did you hear the whispers?”

 

The onyx night shone its shadows through the open windows of an extravagant room. The furniture, caught within the embrace of the night’s silhouette, eluded the light of a single pink lamp. Relena brushed out her silver blond hair. The mahogany brush passing through the silken locks like water over sand, or the wind through ashes.

“one-hundred.” A smile graced her deathly pale lips, she pursed them lightly, standing from her vanity table, allowing her fingers to play upon the polished oak. Vanity table. She smiled at the furniture’s curious name before once more glancing into the mirror.

‘I’m allowed to be a bit vain, aren’t I?’ The brush dropped from her fingers, clattering upon the oak surface, knocking over a small tube of lipstick. The black lacquered tube rolled lightly towards the edge of the table, Relena’s smile grew as it reached the edge.

‘after all, Heero saves all those whose efforts are in vain…the weak. Like me.’ Her smile melted into a thoughtful frown, as her hand snapped out and caught the lipstick as it started to fall. With a smirk, she turned on her heel, and walked gracefully to her canopy bed.

She laid her head upon the pillow, dispelling the nonsense whispers that had accumulated there, but she could not hear them, only feel them, as they crept over her face, breathing upon her temple, tickling the ears that were deaf to them. She ignored them, she always head, tonight would be no different. And slept, her pale hands resting between the ivory skin of her cheeks, and linens as black as the night.

Her sky blue eyes wide open.

 

A sound, a click. The eyes gained awareness, as they scanned their surroundings. She had always had excellent night vision. “Who is there?”

“Just the monster under your bed.”

“Duo?” The whispers were licking at her now, running thickly through her hair, and gaining substance at her hairline, as they trickled with her sweat down her pale cheek. The room was silent. She swallowed lightly, lifting her hand to her face, and brushing back the sweat. The whispers were oppressive, she batted them away from her lips, struggling to bring in an ample amount of breath. No response met her query. Maybe she had just dreamt that sound, the voice…she had had stranger dreams before. Odd things happen when you are supposed to be sleeping, but instead reside in the place right in-between wakefulness and nightmare.

“Duo?” she ventured once more, more hesitantly. Slowly she lifted herself into a sitting position, glancing apprehensively around her room , noting nothing more then the usual blackness. Slowly she let out a ragged breath.

“boo.” A whisper in her ear, the whispers scattering, rolling off her body, collecting on the floor. And a cold hand resting flat upon her chest. She felt herself thrown to the floor, smashing hard into the marble tiles, as her thin frame collided on its side, the whispers rippling away from her where she hit. Most of the impact centered around her shoulder, and she cried out as the bones there grated and broke. Sobbing from the pain, she sat up lightly, her good hand groping in the darkness for the light switch that HAD to be there somewhere. She sobbed again, her fingers colliding with the white plastic, and quickly flicked it on.

The light illuminated his black clothing and ivory skin, as he stepped from the shadows. His ever-present priest outfit had been exchanged for something far more tight, clinging to him in the humid wetness of the night. She did not appreciate the sight, the overdone smile on his face stretching his skin painfully tight.

There was something wrong with him.

“D-duo.” Her anger rose slowly.

“Hiya Relena sama. So, you think the lord is up to taking your soul?”

“Duo…it is…” her eyes scanned the room, fixing on the digital time displayed “…3 am in the morning. WHAT are you DOING in MY room!” The anger soon overrode her pain. His smile never wavered.

Something just seemed off, even more distressing then his mere presence within the current situation.

“Now I lay me down to sleep, pray the Lord my soul to keep, if I die before I wake, I pray the lord my soul to take…funny, this must feel like a really bad dream ojou-san.” It took her a moment to pinpoint exactly what was wrong, his eyes were dead, they reflected non of the sickeningly cheerful smile on his face. She felt the blood leave her face, as she jumped to her feet. He cocked his head, appraising her jerky movements “sick what society is coming to these days…teens dead before they even had a chance to live…dying by the singles in their sleep.”

“Duo.” He stopped smiling, his eyes suddenly flicking to hers, and then, the whispers burst through the wall that had been keeping them back. They engulfed her, slamming into her thin frame. She stumbled, breaking the pink shaded lamp on her vanity-table. The room was once more engulfed in darkness. She could not move. Her limbs paralyzed in fear, as she leaned back upon the mahogany wood that she had been so proud of at one point. “you can’t kill me like this.”

He stepped from the shadows, and into a light that came from nowhere in the room. It was as if the dark washed off of him, leaving no shadows to define his features, his face a blank mask. “it appears that you are correct, I’ll have to find another method. Heero, did you bring a knife?”

A knife flew through the darkness, imbedding itself centimeters from her head, deep within the frame of the vanity mirror.

“What a good boy he is.”

“Heero? Duo what are you doing?” her whispers sliding into the darkness, bouncing off the table and mirror, off the two boys standing in front of her…in vain. A shrug. The whispers were pooling around her now, all chanting, a nonsensical chorus of voices, repeating an insipid line, with a grace that no human choir could ever master for even the most beautiful of songs. “please…” Duo reached around her frozen body, the knife easily came out of the wood, he brought its tip to her neck.

“Do you hear it? The whispers?” another liquid voice penetrated the darkness.

Her eyes grew wide, as she stared past Duo, and into the shadows where Heero lounged against a window frame. His face illuminated by the light of the new moon.

“Relena?”

 

Trowa licked his lips, waiting for the other to respond. His fingers flicked lightly over the controls, the warmed plastic pleasant against his fingertips. He turned the lights off in the cockpit, truly, the greenish bulb was a tad too much for him, especially during times of discomfort. The sick color tinting his skin pale and sick. He felt sick. He was tiered, his body sore from the fight. He had been thrown against the restraints one time too many. He warily glanced at the display, showing Quatre’s Gundam, the other boy had fought…

He shivered lightly. It was like the zero system all over again, but not. Lightly he swallowed, maybe, maybe he was not wrong. The stupid radio had probably picked up some stupid ‘English as a second language station’ that had gotten caught on one phrase. The logic did not hold, after all, they hardly taught you how to whisper as a form of dialect. His hand ran through his hair, as he licked his lips once more.

“did you hear it?” he repeated. ‘Quatre probably did, and was going to talk to him about how Duo was pulling a stupid prank, God knows that it was all that it could be, he was, after all, picking up the feed from Duo’s radio’.

“Quatre?”

“No.”

 

“Yes.”

Heero turned to face her, his face dissipating into the shadows, as the radiance faded into nothing. She swallowed uneasily, before gently pushing the knife away from her throat. Duo smiled at the gesture, this time his eyes were tinted with a cynical amusement that seemed at home there.

“Arial Chassan.”

“p-pardon…Duo you aren’t making sense.” She hated herself, how weak she sounded. The whispers gliding against her naked ankles, slipping beneath the silk pants of her pajamas, and dancing up her thighs, shimmying over her breasts, and pounding against the skin right above her heart.

“She forgot.”

“Then we kill her.”

 

Quatre walked calmly into the safe house, when the door refused to budge he had kicked it off its hinges. Trowa had watched the process calmly, this almost made Quatre snarl. Almost.

Well bred children didn’t snarl.

They just kill things.

Drawing his gun he started towards Duo’s room. Of course he knew that Duo was not in the house. The whispers were gone, the cold however… the house remained as cold as a tomb. He shot the lock off of the braided boy’s door, without bothering to check if the door was locked or not.

All he knew was that someone was going to pay dearly for disobeying him, and he was hoping, against logic, that Duo would be the one to shoulder that responsibility. The door opened with ease, flooding the hall with freezing air. A fire was crackling merrily in the small bedroom’s fireplace. The windows were tightly closed, and yet, the room continued to have a sickening frigid breeze sucking the air out of his lungs. Quatre coughed, before approaching the bed, noticing the piece of paper that lay there.

Hurts to be wrong, doesn’t it?

He frowned lightly, attempting to figure out the stupid note, written in Heero’s ever-pedantic handwriting, before falling to the floor clutching his heart. It felt as if something had caught the organ in a steel fist, slivers of it breaking off and moving through his veins, the pounding pain finally infiltrating into his brain. His eyes widened in fear…Relena.

“don’t…please…I know who Ari-“ she never finished, as a blade passed cleanly through her neck.

“Sharp knife.” Heero noted with appreciation. Watching her lithe body crumple to the ground, her head rolling off her shoulders. Carefully he stepped past Duo, picking up Relena’s head, ignoring the blood which freely ran down his hands, and arms, he looked at her face.

She looked just like she always did, when she was asleep.

Her pale eyes staring unblinkingly into his own. He tossed the artifact to Duo, who caught it easily, inspecting her smooth skin.

“Do you think the Lord will take her soul?”

“Hm?”

“She never answered me. Arial would have known.”

“He won’t take it if we are lucky.”

Duo grinned, before kissing her pale lips, smoothing out her blood matted hair, and then dropping her head to the floor, kicking it under the bed. Heero snorted, before exiting the room, Duo following close behind.

 

*****
rIGHT. so noone painted using Relena's innards... shesh...
*shakes head* sorry for the disapointment *shrug*