My hand to yours
Let our spirits run free
Let our souls intermingle
For brothers of blood are we~Blood Brothers - Heather Alexander
Heero wasn't sure exactly when the mission went wrong. He'd crept into the house and eliminated the target; a quick slit to the fat man's throat had sent the politician face first into his soup. Messy, but it was what was requested of him. The death was to be obviously a murder.
Before a servant could so much as register the splash of broth, he was gone again, the fire in his blood humming at the perfect execution of the mission. He'd leapt to the grounds below, between the two sleeping attack dogs that the man had kept. His footfall didn't stir either cur.
"It's a great moon tonight, don't you think?" A voice had called out, chilling the pleasant heat racing through his veins. The tenor was airy, lilting like he was telling a joke in some taproom instead of commenting to a blooded assassin about the weather. "It really pretty from here. You should look at it more."
The second comment was all the boy needed to find the interloper. He drew a kodachi from his belt, stepping back warily as his keen eyes searched the night. They stopped, meeting the amused gaze of luminescent purple.
A boy, not much older than he was, was hanging upside down by the knees, legs wrapped around a limb of the tree he'd just climbed down to escape. The wide, almost childlike face of the blackclad boy was drawn into an impish half grin, and a braid had escaped the confines of the other's clothing, the length of the hair allowing the tip to sweep the ground, tickling the nose of the huge dog below.
Heero froze. The mission had been compromised, a witness in plain sight. The city in its intrigues were tolerant of assassins; they were a favored tool, and almost considered a sign of aristocracy, provided that they were never caught. The justice that came down upon a discovered assassin and their unfortunate employer and guild was dramatic, bloody and slow.
"Your name," Heero said flatly, raising the slender blade in both a salute and a challenge. "Arm yourself stranger."
The other tilted his head, without losing the grin. The treed boy gave an upside down shrug, and let himself fall, righting himself in midair. With a brush of unruly bangs, he bowed, unconcerned with the deadly animal his foot had fallen not an inch away from.
"Duo Maxwell." The boy said cheerfully, waving. Exactly when he'd drawn it, Heero hadn't been able to discern, but the boy now bore a silver hand sickle in the other hand. The blade caught the moonlight, sparkling around small pools of blackness, onyx stones inset along the pure metal. "And you are?"
Heero didn't respond. The rules of honor and combat by which he was bound were fulfilled. He attacked. Visualizing water, his seemed to slide with the short sword, following the deadly arc as if it were a dance partner in the lead.
Duo seemed actually surprised by the move, and, stumbling back, only just managed to keep Heero's blade from dipping into his lifeblood. With a quick twist of the sickle, he caught the blade within the semicircle of his own. Skipping backward, he drew back from combat, stepping over the sleeping dogs and into the darkened fields.
Heero pursued relentlessly, the point of his blade flashing, following every twitch of the black cloth in the darkness, pursuing the target with eerie and unstoppable determination.
"You're good!" Duo complimented, if a bit breathlessly. His violet eyes, narrowed in concentration, seem to glow slightly, reflecting the light of the fat moon above. "But I think I want to lead this dance." He ducked a slash of folded metal, turning the movement into a courtly bow suitable for any ballroom.
When the strange boy had righted himself again, Heero suddenly found himself on the defensive. The other moved with alarming speed, dancing in and out of the shadows. Silver metal bit into his skin, ripping a deep slash across his right arm.
Heero didn't flinch, the pain of the wound nothing in the face of his training. The muscle would tear though, his mind supplied quickly, coldly analytical. It was an unacceptable hindrance. He switched his kodachi to his left hand quickly and lunged.
The tip of the weapon slipped through black fabric, parting the fibers with its razor edge as the other twisted aside. A welt of red against pale skin flashed before the assassin's eyes, a testament to how close his opponent had come to being disemboweled.
Duo dropped to a crouch, a booted foot kicking out. The hard heel slammed into Heero's leg, sending the boy sprawling to the ground, a small cloud of dust rising around him from the dry, barren land around the estate. His weapon clattered to the ground, slipping from nerveless fingers.
Heero gazed up at the other boy. The blank set of his features were belayed by the sheer intensity of those icy blue eyes. Again, Duo grinned.
"Aw, come on, just your name?" Duo asked, his tone wheedling. "You know mine."
"Hn." Heero growled. Pain lanced up his leg as he lunged for the kodachi, twisting the battered limb in the desperate attempt. His fingers had just brushed the leather-wrapped hilt when the curved blade bit his palm in a flash of silver, striking and recoiling like a snake.
He withdrew the wounded hand reflexively, staring at the blood welling up from the slash for a moment. A belated pain sunk in as the nerves of his arm finally seemed to realize that he'd been hurt again. Forcing down the unproductive feelings, he glanced back up to find the other boy's wide-eyed face, a mere inch apart from his.
"I just can't call you Hn. As interesting as that would be, it would make social occasions difficult. Grunting at the dinner table could be so rude." The boy backed up, meeting the fierce glare of the assassin with curiosity. "Still mad at me about the fight then? You shouldn't complain--after all, you started it. As strange as it seems, I'm really NOT the bad guy here. Not saying that you ARE, of course. It would just be nice to know your name."
Silence. The boy on the ground stared up at Duo, coiled. Bright cobalt eyes were promising his death.
Duo sighed. "Guess not. Okay how about this?" His palm facing Heero's, he drew the tip of the sickle along the lifeline, creating a shallow cut to mirror Heero's own. "I'm not here to kill you. I'm not here to reveal the dirty work you just did." The boy's voice held no accusation; the tenor was filled with a simple earnestness that danced with a tone of resignation. "So, I've evened the wounds a little."
Heero simply stared, memorizing everything about the boy. The set of his feet, how he stood--hips thrust slightly forward, reminiscent of the cocky posturing of a boy half his age--old eyes set into a young face. Duo Maxwell. He hardly listened to the words the other spoke, absorbed in this process. The patter of bright blood into the dust broke the self-induced trance.
He swallowed, trying to rid himself of the dry mouth he'd suddenly acquired. Blue eyes traced every rivulet of blood from the other's palm; something eldritch about the display entranced him as he watched the thick, red fluid gather at the wrist, then fall in fat droplets, one by one, to the parched land below. Finally he focused on the other's words as the violet-eyed boy spoke again.
"Fine, at least let me help you up," the strange boy said, offering the hand he'd just slashed.
Warily, Heero reached up, taking the outstretched and bloody palm with his own, slipping deep within the ancient violet eyes. Their fingers brushed and the lips of two identical slashes met, blood mingling.
The touch... was a painful ecstasy. A simple completion spiraled into a mourning for an emptiness filled, unknown and forgotten until it was banished. An orgasm and a mortal wound, both fulfilling and emptying at once, intertwined. A part of him was stolen, just as something new rushed into the breech.
Chest heaving for air, clarity returned to the young assassin one gulp of oxygen at a time. He was standing now, pulled to his feet while he was drowning in sensation, and swaying slightly from the force of... of.... whatever had just happened. His hand was still curled around the other boy's.
"Why?" Heero asked, voice ragged.
Duo grinned, the gesture transforming his entire face from the serene smile he'd donned to the mask of an imp. "Why? Why does the moon rise as the sun sets? Why does a dog hate a cat, but a puppy greet a kitten? Because I felt like it mostly. I'm balancing the scales." At that, he dropped the blue eyed boy's hand, taking a light step backwards. The shadows swallowed the boy an inch at a time, gliding across the planes of his face as he spoke. "It's only right, you know. After all, you are the one who's destined to kill me, so I figured I'd give you a little taste of life."
With that, he was gone, and it was a full year before the fey boy again dropped, literally, into his life.
TBC
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