My life for your own.
Your truth for my lie.
When we walk we are one,
And thus, together we'll die.~Blood Brothers - Heather Alexander
Heero limped back from the estate that night. It only took him a week to recover, and to discover what exactly the black clad boy had done to him. The 'taste of life' granted to him, manifested as he gave another their death. He felt their emotions in that single moment. No mission was ever the same again.
While different, the year passed without him having any second thoughts. The gift had only made it easier for the assassin. The last moments of the men and women he killed were usually bitter, cynical, hatred filled and fear laden. Nothing that he felt or saw from them gave him so much as a pause in his work. In fact, it had only reassured himself that the Duty was right.
The first to baffle him came nearly a year from when his life had changed so much, a year after meeting the boy outside the politician's homestead. It was no one important, merely the wife of a man he was asked to assassinate. The target was finished off quickly in his sleep, giving Heero nothing more than vague wisps of a nonsensical dream. But the woman had awoken, some sound or perhaps difference in the atmosphere had stirred her, making her a witness and a target as well.
She had neither screamed nor wept. She instead sat up, looking at the form of her husband. Her hand traced along his jaw slowly. There was a sadness in her eyes, too deep to be stilled by mere tears.
She looked up at Heero. She knew her death was there, and the assassin felt her mind, a prequel to what he was about to do. There was no fear, no petty emotions, merely a deep devotion, stirred on by some undercurrent that Heero had no name for. She merely waited, watching Heero, her mind wandering like quicksilver through memories, so fond of the man who lay too still beside her.
"Why are you devoted to him still?" He had asked. His hand clenched around the hilt of his weapon in frustration. It didn't make sense! His words normally would never have been voiced, but were given life by the soul-deep confusion that the woman inspired in him. "He's your death. You are going to die because of his acts. Why do you still think of him like that?"
She never responded. She simply closed her eyes and tilted back her head, exposing her neck. She was a vision of serene acceptance.
The kodachi flashed and red liquid marred that perfection. The woman slowly collapsed, as regal in death as she stood in life.
Heero left quickly, almost convinced that he'd just completed his mission. That warm sense of Right couldn't completely drown the feeling that he hadn't struck because of his orders, but in self defense.
"Hey Hn!" He'd heard that voice only once before, but it was already ingrained deeply into his reflexive mind. He turned instantly, pausing his stalk back to what served as a headquarters for the assassin. Cobalt eyes fastened onto the tip of a chestnut braid and followed it upwards, to where the owner was sprawled lazily, upside-down, on the marble stairs of Heero's destination, as if taking a suntan at night.
"What are you doing here?" Heero asked, still trying to digest the strange sight. No one around seemed to notice the strange man as they walked up and down the steps. They simply just never seemed to put their foot where he lay.
"Just thought I'd talk to you again," Duo replied, turning his gaze upwards. "I saw the moon like it is and was reminded of you."
Heero moved in closer, trying to get a closer look at the black clad boy, something he hadn't been able to do during their last meeting. Besides, something set off his sense as very wrong about the scene, setting his hackles on the rise.
Under the light of the moon that the boy was admiring, a dull reflection off of the other's chest caught Heero's attention and confirmed the nagging suspicion. A standard of the deepest black was nearly hidden against the dark cloth. No matter which way he looked at the symbol, he never could make out exactly what shape the symbol was or what was on it.
Heero stared for a moment, quietly. Laying innocently on the steps of the largest and most influential building in the Church of Order was someone wearing the black colors and standard of the only rival order in the city.
It in some way explained things to Heero that had been bothering him for a year. The clergy of those that followed the way of the goddess, Chaos were almost all insane. The boy's babble didn't mean anything most likely. But his "gift"... Duo Maxwell had to be high within the ranks to use such sorcery.
The assassin's quick mind compared rumor with observation, finding little tales and recorded characteristics clicking home with what he had seen in the fey boy. Only one detail rang discordantly. Somehow, when he'd struck the boy and he had bled.
Priests, particularly of the highest order of that church, didn't just die. Not unless they wanted to, anyway. He himself had witnessed that when he was young.
While traveling through the countryside with his caretaker, they had once found a nearly empty village. Every one there had gathered in the square where a woman wearing the same robes had been tied to a stake, firewood piled beneath her. They'd tried to burn the priestess and she merely grinned, untouched by the flames. She had gone so far as to lean back, her hands tucked behind her head and ask anyone if there had something she called "marshmallows." She explained that the fire was too nice to waste without them.
A man, who Heero assumed was the instigator of the execution, had little tolerance for this nonsense. He called her a witch amongst other profanities and attacked with the spear he held. She slid effortlessly out of the way of the tip of the weapon, tolerating the attacks for a long while before looking out at the crowd assembled.
"Aren't you going to stop him?" She asked. Not a man moved. They had all found more interesting things to look at suddenly, such as their shoes or a passing bird.
With one hand she caught and snapped the spear in half casually. With a sad look at everyone she shook her head and whispered in a voice that inexplicably traveled to every ear. "May death find you early."
Spooked, his caretaker at the time fled the village with Heero. They got word three days later that the entire village was wiped out with a plague. A day later, his caretaker had died and Heero had volunteered himself to the Church of Order, the methodical opponent of the priestess' church. They'd put him and his wish for retribution and protection to good and quick use.
It was to that church that he was on his way back to in order to report his mission's success when he'd found the odd boy on its doorstep.
"Oi.. Hn?" Duo asked. Returning his focus to the braided one, he was inwardly startled. The old violet eyes had fixed on his with an intense curiosity. "You got all quiet again. What'cha thinking about?"
The assassin quickly tried to rearrange his thoughts into something viable as an answer. Something minute managed to make its way to the forefront of his mind to be voiced.
"Everytime I meet you, you are upside down." Heero managed to make the statement imply a question that demanded an answer.
Smiling indulgently, Duo replied, "Oh, it's just another one of those things you should try. Everyone looks at the world right side up. Their entire life is spent staring at a single angle. You'd be simply amazed at how much it transforms if you shift your perspective juuuuuuuussssssttttt that much."
The cobalt-eyed boy simply shook his head. Taking advice from a priest of that ministry was a fool's road. The thought caused him to scowl again. He shouldn't be talking to Duo. The boy wasn't just an enemy, but a high ranking enemy.
"I should kill you." Heero stated flatly, striding past the other boy.
"Oh, probably," the braided one agreed amiably. He didn't seem the slightest bit set back but the declaration or sudden change in the conversation. Duo pulled himself to his feet and fell into step a foot away from Heero, walking at his side. "But not yet. It's not time."
"You are so sure that there is a time."
"That's because there is."
In some off-kilter way, that made sense. Heero shook his head and turned to the other. "Why are you following me?"
"Because I have the answers to the questions you have." Duo replied. "I'm sure tonight was really confusing an--oof!"
In an instant, the braided boy found himself dragged to a stop and in front of Heero courtesy of a fistful of his black shirt. "What?" Heero demanded.
"Ah ah ah." Duo admonished, attempting to free himself with a sharp twist. "I want your name first."
"Heero."
"Heero." Duo repeated slowly. He grinned. "That's much better than Hn. It's more like a sigh than that grunt. It suits you."
The assassin managed to convey extreme irritation without ever changing expression. "The answer."
"Simple! Emotion." Duo said. "More specifically love."
Heero stared at the other boy, not sure he'd heard exactly right. Love, emotions, they were physical reactions, a prequel to reproduction. They did not factor into logic. "That's no answer."
"Of course it is. You just don't understand the question yet, Heero-koi."
Heero dropped the boy's vestment and walked away. "I should have known better than to expect more from a madman."
Duo laughed at that. There was a note beneath it that Heero couldn't identify. It grabbed his attention and turned him around to face the priest. Violet eyes glittered from some knowledge-borne madness. The ever-present grin was stretched so wide it seemed painful to Heero.
"I know the secret to it all, you know," the boy began, the statement jarring in its wayward tangent. "I've touched a god. Shinigami. Do you want to know why that woman acted as she did? Why when you scrape away the surface, there's always something hidden there that cold logic just fails to understand? Do you want to know why, in the end, nothing ever makes sense?"
Unable to look away, to tear his gaze from the wild violet of the other's, Heero nodded once, mutely. The boy leaned closer, as if he was confiding a great secret to the wild-haired assassin.
"Nothing makes any sense." The other reached forward, the palm of his hand drawing across Heero's cheek like a caress. He could even, somehow, feel the minute drag of the scar there, healed from their encounter a year ago. Heero felt himself leaning into it. "Because it's not supposed to."
Heero snapped upright, glaring at the boy. If Duo was mocking him... "That's it!?" he growled.
"That's it!" Duo nodded. He touched his index finger to his lips, a moment, as if calling silence from his already quiet companion. He turned and then raised his voice, intoning like a storyteller.
"Twice upon a time, everything was chaos. Things floated, walked and flew all at once, swimming through the earth and breathing the water of air. Weird, strange, monstrous and unique. They were divinity, the children of the great one, she of Chaos. But then her sister, Order, came about, and tried to organize, giving semblance, race and time. Uniformity chained what once had been free. She granted Life. Things came into being for a reason, following a pattern. So Chaos became Death, Shinigami, to return her children to that which they belong. Order isn't the basis of the universe, only the paint on the furniture, and as time wears down, more and more of the truth, that ancient woodwork, can be seen."
Duo leaned back. Somehow, the simple way he spoke gave certain words capitalization. The pronunciation was too regal to inspire less. "There is no logic that will explain the world; it can only explain the paint, since logic is the child of Order. To understand everything, you have to know absolutely nothing. When you can manage that, you can do anything, because the Rules no longer apply."
Heero was shaking his head in denial. It was lunacy, implausible and ridiculous. Where was the proof? "That's like saying that you could fly if you just didn't believe in gravity enough." Heero said, trying to convey ... something... anything to the other boy. His frustration at Duo's inability to make sense was starting to get to him.
Duo's face positively lit up. "You know, I hadn't thought of that before," he replied speculatively, face turned upwards with calculating expression as he resumed walking.
Heero sighed loudly, following the boy with some resignation. "Given what you're saying is right, how is it that every little child doesn't fly."
"Ignorance isn't the same as believing in something else. That is really just not knowing that there's anything to believe in."
"If this is true, why haven't you done anything fantastic?" he began, trying yet another tact. "How did I even get close to you with my blade, if these rules don't apply to you?"
Duo seemed to sober for a second, violet eyes falling from their star-watching to catch cobalt with a melancholy, measuring look. "When you know the answer to that, it will be time for you to kill me."
"And you'll die?" Heero asked skeptically. The image of the priestess in his childhood was still too strong in his mind to refute.
Duo nodded, the stillness disappearing in the flash of his grin. "If you let me," he said softly. Heero simply gave up at that point.
"Hn."
"Arg! Back to monosyllables!" Duo sniffed indignantly. "I thought we got over that conversational roadblock."
"Baka."
"Two syllables! An improv---ITAI! Not the braid!" Pulling the length of hair from Heero's grip, Duo cradled it protectively. The glare he shot at Heero transformed into an awed and wistful look as he dropped the braid and ran to a nearby rail to look over its edge.
Their unguided wanderings had led them atop of a high terrace overlooking the city. Hundreds of brightened windows dotted the black landscape as if acting as a celestial mirror to the sky above.
Looming on other sides of the landscape, were the two Churches that held the faith and politics of the city in which they stood. Both were lit up in the midnight hour, and Heero's sharp eyes could just make out tiny figures moving about their turrets in preparation and anticipation.
"They're going to start soon," Heero said, his eyes darting between the two buildings. The rivalry always tore the city in half every fifty years. It had happened for as long as anyone could remember, like clockwork. It was what his mission had been about that night. The man he'd been sent to kill was leader of the sole neutral party in the city's political circles, attempting to hold back the hostilities. The Church had wanted him removed, so things would be on time and according to schedule.
This drew a sigh from the boy beside him. Uncharacteristically silent, the other simply nodded. It was full moments before the quiet tenor broke the stillness. "I wont see you again until it has."
"Hn," he replied, agreeing with the assessment. When his work was found, things would escalate quickly. It would be any day now before a civil war broke out along already well defined lines.
"I hope we get it right this time," Duo whispered, his voice barely on the edge of Heero's range of hearing. The assassin turned, to ask the other what he meant, but found only empty air.
With a half smirk he swore that the next time he saw the fey priest he'd tie him down. With the expression widening into something of a grin and a memory of their earlier winding conversation, he added, /And believe really hard that the ropes will hold him./
TBC
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