POSTED: 8/28/00
REVISED: 12/27/00
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: Scroll down (invariably at the bottom)
Title: Eden
Category: AU, yaoi, shonen ai, angst, horror
Timeline: Adapted Post-EW (Treize is alive to serve my purposes...
^^)
Pairings: 1+2, 3+4, 5+13, 6+9
Rating/Warning: R. Violent, and graphic descriptions of what is best
describe as "icky" situations. AU somewhat confusing, especially with flashbacks
and whatnot. YAOI = little anime boys snuggling. You've been warned.
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.
Note: It gets much more violent later on. ^^;; Right now, I'm, uh, building up! Yeah... that's it.
/... .../ = thoughts
"Oh, God, this is fan-fucking-tastic!" Dorothy fell back onto the downy sheets of her bed. She glanced around the room. "It's huge! Relena, I'm so glad we came."
Relena shot Dorothy an amused look. She was efficiently unpacking her suitcase. Dorothy scowled. "You're actually unpacking? You're supposed to live out of your suitcase when you're on vacation. Literally."
"I prefer to unpack," she answered blithely.
Dorothy paused "Relena?"
"Yes?"
"What were you saying to your brother, outside?"
Relena hesitated before answering reluctantly. "Don't laugh at me or anything but... I just... had a bad feeling about this place-- this-- city. I was... so cold. Like the warmth passed over me, but the cold... it sunk to my bones."
Dorothy looked at her for a moment, eyes grave, before bursting out in laughter. "This place? Bad? This is Paradise! Abso-fucking-lutely."
"It was just a feeling, that's all!" Relena said, miffed and indignant. "And what's with the curse injections?"
Dorothy sighed contently. "This place makes me feel so lax," she purred. "Have you seen the bathroom? Marble bathtub! My GOD! Luxury, thy name is Presidential Suite."
"Bathtub?" Relena looked at the sprawled form of her friend. "Maybe I'll take a bath."
"Lucy told me that lunch was at 12. You have plenty of time."
"A bubble bath." Relena's eyes lit up. "It's been-- forever since I've had a bubble bath."
"Hmmm. Sounds wonderful. You go lather up and I'll go sleep."
By the time Relena sunk into her bath, she felt much better. The sun was up, Eden was alive, and her mind filed the cold as just a little early morning nip. It had happened before. There was nothing to do here but relax.
"Fan-fucking-tastic," she murmured, smiling.
"Lucrezia."
"Yes?" Noin looked at her husband expectantly.
Zechs shook his head. "Nothing. But-- I'm the only one that calls you that."
Noin laughed merrily. "Not jealous, are we?"
"Of course not," he kissed her cheek. "Just... mentioning it."
"Well, I get to call you Milliardo. I like the way it rolls off my tongue. Milliardo."
"My sister mentioned something too," he casually mentioned.
"Yeah?"
"She had a bad feeling about this place."
"Really?"
"Yeah. And she wasn't the only one."
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing... it was just seeing it, for the first time... it's so urban. Cold. Stark. Impersonal. The people here seem friendly enough, but it was just... like we passed into another world. I... feel old."
Noin pinched his cheeks. "Yeah," she murmured. "Old. Real old." She peered at his forehead. "I can see the wrinkles already. Whoa, wait, hang on-- is that a grey hair?"
Zechs threw her a glare.
"And I've got the strongest craving for some fruit," Noin added lightly.
Zechs laughed. "Lu?"
"Milliardo?"
They walked over to the window that stretched from floor to ceiling, giving them a view of the city and the rising sun.
"It's beautiful. It's not at all cold," Noin whispered.
"No," Zechs replied softly. "It's you. You make it beautiful."
He sat in his chair, immensely pleased and admiring the fine handiwork. There were two angels, their wings stretched in a canopy, gilt in gold. Stones glinted, inlaid in the legs. On closer inspection, however, the angels were weeping, grasping daggers in their cherubic hands.
/I think I like this better,/ he mused.
It would be time soon; it would be time at dusk.
He grinned, planning.
Wufei was having nightmares.
He was weak in this dream, he noted spitefully. Pitifully weak. Only someone weak would allow himself to be captured like this.
His hands and feet were tied to poles of bamboo. He was being hoisted, carried by a host of people he couldn't see. His mouth was gagged, and he could feel blood seeping out of a wound in his side.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, they stopped. There was a clearing in the forest with a single bonfire. He was set down and released from the poles, only to be bound and tied again.
/So weak.../ he thought. The blood loss made him dizzy. He added grimly, /I will have my revenge./
"Hello, my little dragon." The voice was clear, aristocratic, and melodious. Male.
Xiao Long. His name here was Xiao Long.
"Are you sweeter now, for all these lives?"
"Who are you?" He tried to make his voice hard, but it faltered.
"Don't you remember me?"
"I can't see you," Xiao Long snarled. "Only a coward remains out of sight."
"Oh, that was always your philosophy... for longer than you know, my little dragon..." The name was said possessively. "From the beginning. Did you know how it pained me to kill you? To kill all of you?"
"What are you talking about?" His voice was tinged with incredulity. He had been captured by a madman.
The voice sighed. "You don't remember. Very well."
"Remember what?"
"You're dying forever," the voice gloated.
"And I will be forever reborn." The voice that emitted from him was not his own; it was stronger, more mature, and deeper.
"Oh? See? There are parts of you that are... inherent with your soul, I could say. Little pieces that remain... shards of memory. No matter, you will die again to slack my thirst and fulfill my hunger."
"I do not fear you." His voice was his own now; his own unsteady vocals declared an untruth.
"You lie."
A hand grabbed the back of his neck and twisted savagely. He heard a loud crack before his eyes fluttered and closed, mouth sealed in a grimace. The voice drifted through the pain into the last moments of consciousness, of life...
"And you die."
Treize smoothed his jacket. Wufei had been clutching his sleeves since he'd woken up. It was unlike his dragon to be so high-strung. He sighed and half-snorted. But, you never knew with Wufei.
Lucy raised a glass of wine. "To coming friendship."
"Hear, hear."
Throughout the meal, he glanced around the table. Duo was using the wrong fork, he noted. Hmm. At least, he *thought* it was a fork... the blur of food and metal made it hard to tell.
The braided boy beamed in-between bites to offer fragmented comments. "'S wonderful! Need recipe! Compliments to the cook!"
/I wonder if he even chews,/ Treize thought absentmindedly. /No, probably not./
Heero was eating slowly, as usual, his wine glass half-drained. He shot Treize a long-suffering look from across the table, and mouthed: CPR. He held up two fingers, and then four.
CPR 24 times. Treize was impressed. He lifted up his own glass and gave Heero a solemn look before draining the glass. Heero acknowledged the silent toast with a slight smile.
Quatre, Lucy, and Zechs talked in tones of voices reserved for aristocratic conversation. He chuckled inwardly. Zechs could act the snob when he wanted to. He was jabbering about foreign policy now. Quatre chimed in with his light, obey-me voice, gently arguing and waving his butter knife around for emphasis. Trowa ate and watched his little lover with rare tenderness on his face, content to listen.
Noin, Dorothy, and Relena were holding a whispered, giggled conversation.
"...bath... you know... spa..."
"...yes... Milliardo... makeover..."
"...seaweed wrap..."
Treize hastily decided that it was better not to attempt to understand the workings of the female mind. He glanced at Wufei, who was suspiciously prodding his chicken. He had a hard enough time understanding his own gender.
Trowa listened, carefully. Foreign policy. Quatre was passionate about the strangest things.
"I see you've begun without me," the deep, good-natured tones rolled across the room.
"Daddy!" Lucy rose and walked over the gentleman by the door. He was tall, well built, with just a touch of grey in his hair. Handsome enough, but Trowa could see that Lucy's blood came more from her mother. They shared only their eyes in common, a lustrous green akin to the shade in his own eyes.
"You're late," she added, reproachful, but her eyes were shining.
/So this is family,/ Trowa thought.
"I'm sorry darling, I got caught up... so many things to run... now, introduce me."
Lucy introduced them all. Quatre made a speech of thanks, which Lukyan-- peculiar name, he noted-- modestly declined.
"We are honored," he said, and it seemed enough.
Lukyan seated himself at the head of the table, and the chatter resumed. When the meal had finished, he stood up. "I'm sorry to say this, but my business, much to my regret, prevents me from spending as much time with you as I would like. However, my daughter will see that you are duly entertained. Won't you, my dear?"
"Yes, daddy." There was a sparkle in her eyes.
Lucy withdrew from her former conversation, leaving her father to fill her place. "We can go to Purgatory," she announced.
Relena blinked. "Pardon?"
Lucy laughed. "It's a nightclub. Um, it's very popular with kids in the city." She smiled. "You know, our age and over, mainly. It's a real trip."
Trowa and Quatre fumbled through the crowd, Quatre's laughter intoxicating and almost delirious as he pulled Trowa towards the center of the dance floor.
Finally, Trowa caught the blond boy's wrist and stubbornly held his ground. "Quatre... did you actually take a shot of whatever that man was handing out back there?"
Quatre blinked owlishly before bursting into fresh peals of laughter. "Oh, don't be silly." He smiled sheepishly and bowed his head, his other hand fumbling with the collar of his nearly translucent shirt. "Maybe just a one."
"Quatre..."
"Fine!" Quatre threw up his hands in mock-despair. "Maybe a few more than one. What does it matter? Come on... let's dance." He threw Trowa a seductive glance before his face dissolved into giggles again.
Trowa shook his head, but allowed Quatre to loop an arm around his neck and draw him closer. He relented.
"Just one dance," he whispered. It was lost in the house music, however; the steel rhythm and wail of voices throbbed through the crowd, lights rippling over strangers' faces. He grimaced, and wondered how Heero was doing.
He had allowed Duo to convince him to go to this-- this place. He had even yielded, and worn the uncomfortable leather pants that Duo had packed, "just in case." Heero scowled, wondering if Duo could have possibly known...
He would not, however, allow that braided maniac to drag him out onto the dance floor and molest him in front of dozens of roving eyes. Duo had feigned hurt, and then flounced off, arms linked with Relena and Dorothy, to cause friendly havoc.
A voice rose over the music. "Hello, there."
He turned around and stared.
This youth was a little older than he was, with long, black hair that fell in cascades and eyes that reminded him of his own. The look in them was almost predatory, and Heero nearly took a step back. He was dressed in leather, top to bottom. The smile on his face was angelic, sinfully so.
"My name's Lucas," he drawled. "Yours?"
"Heero."
Lucas winked. "Waiting for something? Someone?"
"I'm here with someone," Heero said stoically.
"You look pretty lonely for someone who's here with someone," Lucas teased.
Heero fought his mounting irritation. "I'm not much of a party person," he said dryly.
"But I take it your little braided lover is?"
Heero's head jerked up, and he stared at Lucas.
Lucas laughed. "Relax, I saw you come in with him, earlier. That big group of you."
Heero grunted and turned, scanning the crowd for Duo's face, or at least his trademark braid.
"He went down, into the Underground," Lucas said helpfully. "It's another level of the club."
Heero's eyes narrowed. "You notice a lot."
Lucas snorted. "I can't help it if your boy stands out, can I?"
Heero grudgingly admitted that Duo's appearance was less than ordinary, and that he was bound to attract attention wherever he went. "Hn. I suppose."
"Come on, I'll take you down there."
Against all better judgment, Heero took a step forward; really, it was before he realized what he was doing. "He can take care of himself."
"This City is a wild place, and Purgatory has a-- how shall I say-- a reputation for being a hunting ground. Your boy stands out, Heero. It's hard to ignore him. I noticed him, after all." Those stunning eyes hit his own. "It takes a lot to grab my attention."
Heero allowed himself to be lead, around the dancing bodies, to stairs, going down. Heero felt his feet move, as if pulled by the light. He and Lucas disappeared into the mist...
...into the Underground. There were more boys and girls everywhere, packed close, greeting Lucas by name, giving him a smile.
"So, where is he?"
"Lucas!" A body emerged from the crowd, a boy. He was lanky and blond, though the lights splashed color over his pale hair. He smiled at Lucas; it was an intimate gesture. Heero felt suddenly intrusive.
Lucas grinned. "Hey, Damien, this is Heero. He's new here." One arm snaked around Damien's neck, and the other gently brushed across the boy's high cheekbones.
The lights flickered for a moment, before the room settled into darkness. Shrieks were heard, and wild laughter. Heero's keen ears picked up a low, breathy moan.
The lights were on again, and the people around them were still dancing.
Damien lay on the floor. Heero looked at him slowly, then up to Lucas, who flashed him a bright smile. His lips were covered in...
Heero dropped to the floor, rolling Damien over and forcing himself to assess the situation with a soldier's mentality. His eyes were closed and peaceful. His throat was ripped out. Blood was dribbling down, coating his skin...
His throat was ripped out.
Heero felt the slick wetness on his fingers. He held them up, numb. They were covered in a scarlet sheen of blood.
Lucas was still smiling, lips smeared with red. His tongue darted out, and Heero watched, fascinated, as it licked the last traces of blood away.
"I told you," he said softly. "It's a hunting ground down here."
End Part 3
Jay
Comments should be directed here!
On to Part 4: In The Belly Of The Beast