POSTED: 09/20/00
REVISED: 02/01/01
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
The two boys scrambled out into the hall, Duo clutching at Quatre's shirt in a thinly veiled attempt to conceal his trembling.
A dry voice cut through the ensuing silence. "Quatre, Duo-- up a little late?"
Duo turned to stare at Heero Yuy. The flickering candle that he held in his hand illuminated his face, casting eerie shadows around him. He walked over, his strides graceful and measured.
"You heard it," Duo murmured.
There was a small squeak of metal and rubber. Treize's well-bred voice echoed from the far end of the hallway. "You get used to it after a while." He clapped his hands, still elegant, and the lights clicked on.
"Get used to it?" Duo's voice quavered slightly. Heero couldn't conceal the small upwards pull on the corners of his lips.
"It's an old house," Treize said evenly. "And aptly named."
Duo's hands unconsciously crept to his braid, gripping it tightly. /Bedlam Manor./
"Master Treize?"
Duo turned to see Wufei and Trowa standing by the stairs, both hastily dressed but wide-awake. Treize acknowledged them with a nod. "Master Maxwell has had his first taste of Bedlam."
Heero spoke up, his voice holding hints of bemusement. "Wufei? If you don't mind, would you prepare a little green tea for our guest and myself? Cousin Quatre, Uncle Treize, you both need rest. I will answer any of Duo's questions; no doubt he has them."
"I think it can wait until the morning," Quatre said.
Heero looked at Duo expectantly. The violet-eyed boy sighed inwardly, momentarily surrendering to the chase. "It's fine, Quatre. I don't think I could get to sleep, anyway."
"Very well." Heero gestured for Duo to follow him.
Quatre watched as his cousin and childhood friend disappeared down the stairs. He gave Trowa a weak smile and turned his attention to the door he'd just burst out of. It had shut. He tested the handle, gingerly, and nodded to himself.
It was locked, just as it had always been.
Duo shivered and drew his arms around his body. Heero, catching the action, wordlessly offered his coat. Duo accepted it mutely and wrapped it around himself. He could hear faint rustles in the kitchen; Wufei was preparing tea.
"This seems like such a waste," he finally offered as they sat down at the dining room table. It could have easily held thirty guests; he felt dwarfed by its presence, and the heavy varnished oak felt cold against his palms.
"Uncle Treize has a taste for the elaborate," Heero replied.
"Do you call him 'uncle'?" Duo asked.
"Well, one makes allowances. He would be my aunt's-- by marriage-- older brother. We don't share bloodlines, but he is family, all the same."
"Are you visiting?"
"By his grace, yes."
"Heero?" Duo drew the jacket closer around him and looked up at the sparkling lights, still wary.
"Yes?"
"You said you'd explain some things to me."
Heero folded his hands and nodded. "I did," he agreed.
"So tell me. Tell me about Bedlam and Treize... and.,." He added the last word in a whisper. "Mariemeia."
Heero tilted his head and smiled. At that moment, Wufei arrived bearing a tray laden with china. Setting down a cup of steaming green tea in front of each boy, he bowed and walked away, motions unobtrusive in the shadows.
"A man of very few words," Heero murmured. He took a sip of his tea. "Very well. Bedlam Manor was built in AC 65."
"That would make it one hundred and some thirty odd years old," Duo commented.
"It was originally intended as an insane asylum. The following occupants redecorated, I believe, but they left a few cells on the basement level alone." Heero tapped the table thoughtfully. "Those were the solitary cells, mainly used for punishing uncooperative inmates. The electroconvulsive shock treatment rooms were down there as well."
Duo couldn't repress a shudder, ears ringing faintly with imagined screams. "Shock treatment?"
"An archaic treatment used in early psychiatric therapy. Transcranial electroshock, to be specific, was used here." Heero shrugged. "Most of the inmates couldn't remember a thing afterwards: it erased their memory. Very convenient for the doctors here." He leaned in confidentially. "Actually, the story goes that the asylum was just a façade; the doctors here were interested in creating a perfect human being. They were deducing methods of control-- part of it was the electroshock therapy-- and they used human test subjects, but the waste of society. The people no one would miss."
"You're kidding," Duo whispered.
"No," Heero replied with conviction. "This was originally the Whitefield Institutional Manor, Dr. Whitefield presiding. But the inmates just called it 'Bedlam Manor.' It seemed infinitely more apropos."
"And how do you know this?" Duo challenged.
"They left behind papers; you can still read them in the library. The doctors were cryptic in their writing. They were understandably paranoid about their rather... unorthodox experiments. They wrote in code, but..."
"But what?"
"The inmates left behind records. They carved names and dates into the wall, wrote when they could obtain the materials."
"Where does Mariemeia come in?"
"I'm getting to it," Heero said, pausing to take another sip of his tea. "She was five when Treize was in the accident that crippled him. Uncle Treize was-- is-- a brilliant man, but it would be dishonest to say that he was the same afterwards. He began to obsess over the functionality of the human body, the mechanics, and particularly in how he could improve it. Apparently, he managed to retrieve and decode some of the documents left behind by the doctors."
"And?" Duo was half-afraid of the answer.
"He began testing on her in the basement."
Duo swallowed a reluctant lump in his throat. "How did she die?"
"Her mother. Anne was an elegant woman of high bearing, but mentally... distraught. She found out the experiments. She found out and killed them both. It was... a Sunday, I believe. She wore her wedding gown and dressed Mariemeia in a bridesmaid's dress. Then she walked half a mile to the lake on this property, tied stones around her waist and on her feet, and stepped off the dock. They found her when they dragged the lake. Mariemeia was still clutching her neck."
"Oh, God above..." murmured Duo.
"The basements and the cells... they're all locked now," Heero said. "No one goes down there anymore." He smiled thinly. "And the room that you're staying in used to be Treize's and Anne's-- the master bedroom But he left it afterwards. One can understand why."
Duo's hands gripped his teacup, threatening to snap the fine handle. /I'm sleeping in a dead woman's bed./
Heero stared at his empty teacup for a moment. "If you don't wish to spend the night alone, my door is always open." The slightest hint of a feral glint lay hidden in his eyes, and Duo found himself blushing hotly.
"Thank you for your generous offer," he managed.
"I think it's time to retire, however." Heero rose, his chair scraping against the floor.
"Yes," Duo said slowly. "Sleep is the luxury of the innocent, they say."
"Ah," said Heero. "How very true."
Duo looked at himself in the vanity mirror and saw the crimson velvet draped over his shoulders. Heero had forgotten to ask for his jacket back.
A little voice inside him smirked. /He didn't ask for a reason,/ it wheedled. /Because now you'll be reminded of him for this night... his smell on his jacket, smooth against your skin.../
/Don't be silly./ He reprimanded himself, bristling suddenly.
/I wonder what his skin feels like.../ the voice idly wondered.
Duo pushed the mirror spitefully and winced at the shrill, angry screech as the metal scraped against wood siding. There was a clatter as something hit the floor. Peering behind the mirror, Duo stuck out a tentative hand and slid it across the floor. His fingers met soft leather.
Gripping the material, he brought a leather-bound notebook into view, dulled from its former inhabitance, lodged behind the mirror. Blowing the dust away, he opened it and glanced at the first page. Printed with impeccable neatness, but in a childish hand, was:
THE DIARY OF MARIEMEIA KHUSHRENADA.
He glanced at the clock. It was shortly after one a.m. Duo flipped a page and began to read.
October 3rd, AC 193 The weather here is simply beastly; I won't ever understand why daddy moved here, into this dusty old mansion. To be quite honest, I despise it. I despise the empty halls, and I despise the dreary landscape, and I despise daddy for making us move here. He has given me my own room, which, while lovely, is not nearly as nice as the one I inhabited in New London.
It's terribly musty here, and the lights flicker on and off this late at night, so I will be ending this first (and extremely abbreviated) entry right now.
Adieu,
Mariemeia
October 5th, AC 193
Isn't it splendid? Cousin Quatre is coming to visit in three days I adore Quatre, I do; he's darling, and sweet, and brings the nicest gifts-- almost nicer than daddy's (I demanded a dress like mother's, and one has come from Venice, made especially for me)-- but still, wonderfully, wonderfully droll gifts, and I miss him ever so much. He's not like all the other boys his age. They're nasty things, dirty, lowbred, foul-mouthed. He's just wonderful. Father promises that he'll have something new for me-- a special gift for his little princess-- tomorrow. I adore papa. There couldn't be a kinder soul on this earth.Love and kisses,
Mariemeia
October 6th, AC 193
It came! This must be brief, lest my playtime be shortened. It is a dollhouse, a miniature of Bedlam Manor; again, it was made especially for me. The last room on the third floor is now my playroom, and I can spend as many hours of the day as I like in it.Excitedly yours,
Mariemeia
October 8th, AC 193
Quatre has arrived! I really must make this brief, for dinner is about to commence. It's lovely to have a well-traveled cousin to inform you of the events of the world. He has just visited France and has superb tales of the city. My uncle and aunt looked resplendent.Papa has taken to calling me his "petite ange" today. It means his "little angel."
Lovingly yours,
Mariemeia
October 25th, AC 193
I have nothing more to do than to brood in these pages. There was an accident, and now Quatre is an orphan, and daddy is a cripple.I don't think there could be any worse news. As if any consolations could soothe away my dear cousin's pain, and my poor father-- my poor, adoring father, who once walked so proudly... trapped in that infernal machine: I cannot express the agony inside my heart.
I tried to tell mother this, but she only cried and said that I was my father's daughter. Am I?
Tearfully yours,
Mariemeia
November 1st, AC 193
My bettering has begun. Father has made the important decision to erase my flaws and make me into a perfect human being. I'm not to tell anyone about this, however, as it is very confidential. I'll be like my dolls then-- more perfect than the most exquisitely crafted mannequin.This is for the bettering of the world.
Yours,
Mariemeia
November 5th, AC 193
The spiteful man won't tell me what he's doing to me. I demand to know. I demand to know why I wake up on that damned table in that dank basement, with hardly enough strength to move, and why I can't remember a goddamned thing. He's always there, in that wheelchair of his, watching me. What if he's trying to entrap me? I need to know what the machines are for. I need to know why my throat is hoarse after our sessions and why I wake up screaming from dreams. I need to know.Mariemeia
November 7th, AC 193
My papa does this because he loves me.Because I am his doll.
I'm going to play with my dollhouse, now.
November 11th, AC 193
The shrieking keeps ringing in my ears. And blue lights dance in front of my eyes. I can't distinguish from what I was and what I have become. Is there a difference?
November 15th, AC 193
Being bettered hurts.It hurts so very much.
End Part 2
Jay
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