POSTED: 09/14/00
REVISED: 01/14/01
AUTHOR: Jay / carboxylated@yahoo.com
ARCHIVE: Gundam Wing Addiction (Tyr), Desolation Angels (Ashura, if
she wants it)
[Full fiction index @ http://www.geocities.com/fenris_wolf0]
Disclaimer: Mobile Suit Gundam Wing is not mine, but belongs to Bandai, Sotsu and Sunrise. ;_; The characters and timeline have been borrowed for my own fiendish fangirl ends.
Title: The Dollhouse
Category: Yaoi, AU, horror.
Timeline: AU (Alternate Universe)
Pairings: 1+2, 3+4, 13+5
Rating/Warning: R. Violence and more than your daily recommended use
of madness.
Feedback: Craved, desired, wanted, coveted, yearned for, wished for,
and longed for. C&C will be repaid with dancing G-boys, my endless
adoration, as well as a nice slice of karma.
/... .../ = thoughts
He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Quatre Winner. It was about thirteen years ago, when they were children at the age of five. He hadn't heard from him, certainly, until five years ago, when the news of a tragic automobile accident reached him. It had claimed the lives of his parents and crippled his only living relative, an uncle with whom he now lived; his parents had told him that he was mildly eccentric.
Meaning that Treize Khushrenada was stark, raving mad. Why else would he reside in a place named Bedlam Manor?
Duo Maxwell rolled down one window of the chauffeured limo and peered out of the tinted glass, glancing apprehensively at the imposing structure. He felt his throat constrict; even into the bright sun, Bedlam held a shadow of... menace.
He hoped fervently, and not for the first time, that his "trial" stay here would be as brief as possible. He looked at the rusty gate, covered in ivy, and crinkled his nose in distaste. Duo was surprised as it slid open without so much as a creak.
"Master Duo," the driver intoned politely, "we have arrived." He swept his hand grandiosely at the three-story sprawling estate as they sped up the circular driveway. The manor loomed against the sky, trapping the limo under its imposing shadow. Duo straightened his tie and jacket and squinted as the driver stopped and opened the door for him. Stepping out, his shoes crunched against the shell and white stone.
The driver briskly shut the door as Duo was left standing in front of a decaying fountain. A stained and weather-scoured cherub, a little girl with wings, stood in an immense seashell-- much like Venus de Milo-- water trickling from her eyes. Her hands were stained green and were held in either welcome or in entreaty. Discounting the gate and the fountain, the grounds were thus far immaculate and well kept. Duo turned to automatically tuck a bill of considerable size in the driver's front pocket, which he stoically accepted, the slightest smile playing over his features. In his capable arms were two of Duo's suitcases, the contents of which were close to bursting. Stepping around the fountain, Duo and the driver walked to the front door. The heavy brass knocker was a grinning imp, its leer only partially obstructed by the ring held in its teeth. The driver rapped smartly, set down the suitcases, bowed, and turned to walk away.
"Wait!" Duo's voice held the slightest hint of apprehension.
"Yes, Master Duo?"
"Where are you going?"
The driver inclined his head. "Although I am employed by Master Treize, I do not... reside at Bedlam," he said smoothly. "His servants will be here promptly to assist you. They know that you're expected."
Duo nodded, unable to shake the pervading air of abandonment and twisting, nervous fear. "I see. Thank you," he said slowly. The man bowed again and briskly stepped towards the limousine.
A mellow voice behind him called, "Master Maxwell, I presume?"
Duo turned to face a boy of perhaps nineteen; dressed as a domestic servant, he was tall and lithe, brown hair flipped over one eye. He looked at Duo expectantly but unimpressed, with an air of polite boredom.
"Y-yes. Duo Maxwell," he stammered. "I am he. Are you--?"
"I am Trowa Barton, Master Treize's butler. I have been directed to show you to your room."
"When will I be seeing him?" he asked softly.
"Master Treize?"
"No, no. I meant Quatre."
An indeterminable look flashed across Trowa's face. "Perhaps after we settle you into your room."
"Very well. Lead the way."
After passing through a long, cherry paneled hall and up a flight of spiraling stairs, Duo decided that he'd never been in such blatantly decadent surroundings. Crystal chandeliers dotted the vaulted ceilings, silk tapestries hung on the wall, and the plush red carpet lined both the halls and stairs. Trowa walked swiftly, his long legs covering the distance more easily than Duo's smaller frame. He finally stopped in front of a room that seemed to be near the back of the manor.
"This is your room, sir." Trowa opened the door and walked in, depositing the two suitcases by the foot of an expansive four-poster bed. The motif was a scarlet and black; there were black sheets, crimson pillows, black curtains, a ruby carpet, and ornate lacquered furniture. Trowa gestured to a curiously shaped device resting on one bedstand. "The telephone, sir."
Duo studied the antique carefully "A... telephone?" It was bone white and heavy, a rotary dial adoring the front. "Is there a video communicator here?"
"Yes, sir. In the master's study."
"Ah, I see. Well, now that I'm settled, may I see Quatre?"
"Certainly, sir. Please follow me."
"Trowa?"
"Yes, sir?"
"No 'master' or 'sir,' please. Just call me Duo."
"Yes, sir." Trowa said impassively. Duo sighed.
"We'll work on that," he promised, but Trowa was already walking out the room.
He followed the taller boy up yet another flight of stairs before they stopped in front of a wide door. Trowa knocked. "Sir?"
"Barton? Yes?" The voice was smooth, but distinctly edgy and clipped.
"Sir, Master Maxwell has arrived."
"Please, Trowa, come in." The other voice was young and melodious, with hints of old world aristocracy touching the vowels. Yet another voice gave a low chuckle.
Trowa pushed on the doors and walked in, motioning Duo to follow him. Three figures were silhouetted in front of the wide window; two of them gazed intently at him, while the third faced the window, gazing at the landscape. His eyes automatically went to who he assumed was Treize Khushrenada, an elegant man with chiseled, handsome features; his physique was only slightly marred by the wheelchair that he sat regally in, as if it were a throne instead of a prison. Treize was younger than he had expected-- twenty-six, perhaps-- and looked, despite his prior speculation of madness and lunacy, like a man of mild temperament.
"Duo, you've finally arrived! It's wonderful to set eyes on you again." The blond boy standing by Treize gave him a beaming smile; he could remember that same glowing smile that Quatre had always worn. Duo smiled and walked over to his old friend, placing an affectionate hand on Quatre's shoulder.
"Quatre Winner!"
"It's been so long..."
"It really has..."
"How is..."
"Oh, wonderful, how's..."
"The same, really, wow..."
"So strange, isn't it?"
"It's been too long," Quatre repeated. His fair skin was flushed, and his blue eyes were dancing, brightly lit. Treize watched the exchange and camaraderie with a wistful expression in his eyes. Duo turned and bowed his head slightly. "Master Khushrenada," he acknowledged the older man.
"Just Treize, Duo." A smile played over Treize's lips.
"Very well. Treize, then. Thank you for extending such a generous invitation. It's been too long, I'm afraid, since I've visited Earth."
Treize waved his hand dismissively. "Thank Quatre. He's the one that suggested it." Duo sensed that the topic was closed.
"Cousin, where are your manners?" The figure that was formally so focused elsewhere turned and stared at Duo, a smirk-- almost a leer-- placed firmly on his face. Duo returned the stare and took the stranger in. He was around his age, with deliciously messy hair and radiantly icy eyes. His eyebrows knit in interest, and Duo found himself taken aback by the quiet force that seemed to emanate from the boy.
"Cousin," Quatre replied playfully, "usually you are not so bashful that you cannot introduce yourself."
Whatever he may have been, Duo was certain that "bashful" was not in the set of adjectives describing the young man. "Predatory" would have been accurate enough... Quatre turned, still smiling, back to Duo.
"This is my cousin from my father's side; his younger sister's only son, Heero Yuy. Heero, this is, as you know, Duo Maxwell. We were childhood friends."
Heero extended his hand. After the briefest hesitation, Duo shook it. "Nice to meet you," he said quietly.
"A pleasure." Heero smiled, revealing brilliantly white teeth; it was oddly discomfiting to Duo. Heero's eyes remained fixed at the plum-and-lilac-eyed vision before him, still smirking. Exquisite. His cousin knew the most remarkable people.
"If you do not mind then, uncle, I believe Duo and I will adjourn to my study, perhaps. To catch up on old times."
"Then I will see you at lunch," Treize replied, wheeling himself over to a heavyset, mahogany desk. He tipped his head sharply. "Quatre. Heero. Duo"
Finding themselves dismissed, the three boys filtered out of the room. Trowa lingered, but his gaze followed the small blond who was jammed between Duo and Heero, jabbering excitedly with an arm flung around each.
"Barton."
He answered automatically. "Yes, sir?"
"Send up Chang."
Trowa bowed. "Yes, sir."
"Oh.... and Trowa?" Treize's tone was softer this time.
"Sir?"
Treize paused for a moment, as if forming a voice for his thoughts. Instead, He shook his head. "Nothing. Nothing at all."
"Yes, sir." A soft click announced that he was gone, and Treize was alone in his study.
"Quatre was always uncle's favorite"
They'd found themselves on the balcony adjacent to Quatre's bedroom. Trowa stood, unobtrusive, in the room itself, a teapot on hand.
Quatre blushed. "It's true that Uncle Treize. Trowa? More tea?" He held up his fine china cup. As Trowa bent down to refill it, Quatre's fingers brushed over his hand. "Won't you sit down for a little while, Trowa? It must be terribly boring to stand here and listen to us."
"Master Quatre--"
"I've asked you Trowa... Quatre. Just Quatre."
"...Quatre, I'm certain that Master Treize did not employ me to loiter around his estate."
"No," Quatre agreed. "*He* didn't."
After a pause, Trowa silently sat down.
Duo waved a hand at the grounds behind the manor. "Rather... interesting landscaping, Quatre."
Quatre looked at the hedges with disinterest. "Oh, the maze? A whim of uncle's." He chuckled. "One of many."
Duo chuckled. "Anyone ever get lost?"
Heero smiled benignly. "Not yet."
"My compliments to the chef," murmured Duo, taking his last bite of his tangerine and orange peel beef. He took a sip of his Alsace Pinot Gris, downing both food and wine.
"That would be Chang Wufei," Treize said lightly. "His specialty is Chinese, as you can imagine." He gestured to the Asian boy that stood off to the side with Trowa. Both were barely older than Duo, but they stood in a silent calm that made them seem-- if not elderly-- more remote from the recklessness of young men their age.
"He'll take your orders for breakfast," Quatre mentioned, placing his fork and knife down. "He makes a wonderful eggs benedict, by the way. And luscious Belgian waffles. Fresh fruit and whipped cream."
Heero swirled the last of his wine. "I'm not a breakfast person myself," he said. "My favorite course continues to be dessert." He flashed Duo a brilliant smile. Duo managed a weak return.
"If you'll excuse me," he said. "I'm really quite... exhausted from the travel."
"Of course," Heero replied, still smiling. "Sweet dreams."
Five hours later, Duo was twisted in his sheets and vainly attempting to fall asleep. Sighing, he rose and smoothed his hair. Jamming his hands into the pockets of his pajamas, he crept out of his room, intending to walk off his insomnia.
Somehow, he found himself on the third floor, standing in front of the last door in the hall. He reached for the knob and turned. He expected it to be locked, but was surprised when it opened soundlessly.
A little girl sat in the middle of the room, playing with a dollhouse.
"Hello," she greeted him.
"Hello," he replied warily. "Who are you?"
"Mariemeia Khushrenada," she said proudly. Her eyes were intelligent and bright; it was almost uncanny.
"Is Treize your father?"
She smiled benevolently. "C'est mon papa." Mariemeia tilted her head and gave him an appraising glance. "You're Duo Maxwell. You're visiting cousin Quatre."
He nodded, walked over to her, and crouched by the dollhouse. It was a replica of the manor, he realized. It was halved down the main hall and unfolded there. It must have been custom-made somewhere, at the hands of a master craftsman. The paint was bright and vivid; bits of brass peeked out on doors and windows, and miniature velvet drapes hung on the walls. It covered a fair amount of floor space. She held a tiny doll in her hand.
"How come I haven't seen you around?" he inquired.
Her eyes glinted. "It's hard to see me sometimes." She laughed, and the sound was like the ping of a hundred small bells. "At night, though..." Her smile was secretive.
"Couldn't sleep?" Duo sounded sympathetic. "I couldn't either. I thought I'd take a walk."
"I do that a lot."
Duo looked around the room. It looked like an ancient playroom; everything was covered in dust except for the dollhouse.
"Would you like to see something, Duo?" she asked, her voice low and her eyes twinkling merrily.
"Sure," he said genially.
Her lips curved into a smile as she pointed to a room in the house. "That's me." A tiny figure lay on the floor. Duo frowned and looked again. Red paint was splattered over the doll. "Can you see it?"
He turned to her and gasped in horror. Blood soaked her clothes and ran down her arms in thin rivulets. He stared, mesmerized-- they were... running up. Blood snaked *up* her arms to reach pale slices of scar tissue; the tissue parted like a stigmata in reverse and sucked the crimson from her skin.
"Mariemeia..."
"I love playing, don't you?" There was an unnatural light in her eyes. She held out her hands, and he suddenly recognized her as the stagnant cherub in the cracked fountain in the front of the manor.
"Oh my God," he choked out.
The door creaked open; the hinges squeaking as they turned.
"Duo?"
He spun around and stared at Quatre, who watched him with frightened eyes. "Quatre! You have to help us!"
"Us?" Quatre asked nervously.
"Marie--" Duo turned around and slowly crumpled to the ground. "She's gone," he whispered. Quatre walked over and placed a hand on his shoulder. Duo stared at the dollhouse; it was no longer pristine, but, like the rest of the room, covered with a veil of disuse.
"Who?"
"Mariemeia Khushrenada."
"*What*?" Quatre's voice was incredulous. "You *saw* her?"
"Just a moment ago, she was sitting here..."
"She-- she was Treize's little girl. She's... dead. She's been dead for over a year."
"What happened?"
Quatre's eyes were pained. "Her mother... Treize couldn't stop her... she..." He lapsed into a moody silence.
They both stared at the dollhouse now, their eyes fixed on the dolls that were neatly grouped in front of it. The little girl was first, the doll now devoid of any red pigment. She had cropped copper hair. One was blond and blue-eyed. Another sat in a wheelchair, slivers of ginger running over its head. There was one brown-haired figure, and then another one, save for the lighter shade of brown, dressed in black. A raven-haired young man in a cook's apron followed. Finally, the last figure stood with a long, chestnut braid trailing down its back.
/Oh my God./
Duo touched the last doll gingerly. "Quatre..."
Before the other boy could answer, an agonized scream echoed in Bedlam Manor.
End Part 1
Um.. C&C's? ::grins endearingly::
Jay
Please send comments to: carboxylated@yahoo.com