04-September-2001

Title: January's Demise
Author/Contact: Asuka
Category/Rating: One-shot / R
Pairings: 1x2/2x1, 4+3
Disclaimer: [located at end]
Feedback: Very much appreciated
Warnings: Yaoi, Angst, Semi Duo-Bastardization, POV, AU-ish, Dark, Violence
Notes: BGM - Linkin Park - "Points of Authority"
Special Thanks: To Meiran, who graciously beta-ed this for me... Thanks a million, hon!!!

January's Demise by Asuka

Things always seem to happen in the way you least expect them. Take, for instance, my own personal experiences. I never expected to be thrust head-on into a war. I never expected to amount to anything more than a filthy street rat. I never thought I'd lose three of the people I loved more than myself so early on in life. I never entertained the idea that I'd be one of the five "saviors" of the world. But most of all, I never expected I'd fall in love, and I never anticipated the little game we played that'd eventually tear us apart.

It was a cold day in January when it happened.

I can still remember him lying there. His stinging blue eyes glaring into mine had never affected me before. But it was different right then. So damn different.

I always hated January.

There were eight, and there were four, and there was one. And they were all so different, but only he fit into them all. Eight, four, one...

I'll never get them back.

The first time... *Our* first time... When it all began. He took me, and I was helpless. I didn't do anything about it, just lie there and watch almost blankly. Don't get me wrong - it's not like he took *advantage* of me - I *allowed* him to. He came into our room (we were roommates) late that night, drunk, yet I could tell he still was conscious of what was going on.

And...

Things happened. I'll spare you the details, but I'll just say that he wanted me, I had always wanted him, so we went at it. I let him be in charge because although I knew what I wanted (and received it - him), I didn't know what *he* wanted. But... I couldn't stand not being in control. I hated it, not being able to do anything, allowing him to guide what happened. Lack of control took away three of the people I've always held dear. I couldn't command a plague, and I couldn't stop the bombings and fires that desecrated a church and everyone in it.

Since then, I've always needed to be in control. Call it a complex or what you will, but it's a part of me that I can't rid myself of.

When you raise yourself, you need that control to stay alive.

In the beginning, it wasn't even much. We'd have squabbles about who got top, but that was about it.

Then, it became like a drug. I *needed* the control. Needed it so badly. So during the times we were together, I'd constantly flip us so I'd be on top, wrestling and hurting him to remind him exactly *who* was in charge.

I damned myself every time I looked into his eyes. Like flames of the hottest fire, full of raging emotions flashing so fast that I couldn't tell what he was thinking or feeling, I felt like they'd swallow me whole, burning me until nothing but ashes was left. And then he'd be rid of me.

It was at those times that I think he never loved me, or at least he never wanted to. God, it was crazy. We were in love - we thought we were - but we drove each other fucking insane. I'd instigate a situation, he'd challenge me back, sometimes vice versa - it was always the same cycle.

Our little game.

Quatre. Sweet, darling little Quatre, who'd always look out for all of us. Always be concerned for us. Always put his nose where it wasn't his damn business.

I admit, I was stupid not to cover up some of the bruises he'd put on me during our last "round." Hell, sometimes I'd even parade them around like fucking war trophies. Like I said, stupid move.

arm or whatever like it was some damn lab specimen.

"Oh, nothing - just a scratch. Fell off my bike a couple days ago." Ah, yes, the motorcycle trick worked wonders. Sometimes.

"You know, you really should be more careful next time. Try wearing some protective gear," he scolded.

"Oh, come *on*, Q! We were *Gundam* pilots, for Christ's sake! We don't need any of that stuff."

"But Duo--" Sometimes you just can't shake him.

"It's ok, really. Stop worrying all the damn time." Hell of a moment for Heero to come waltzing in the room. I looked down and away, not wanting to meet his face, especially during the conversation I was having.

And Quatre, observant as ever, asks, "Duo, has there been...something...going on...between you two?"

Shit.

"O-Of course not! Where would you get an idea like that? Geez, what do you think we are, monsters?" Have I ever mentioned that I hate it when I get defensive? I knew he wasn't convinced, but hell, I wasn't about to spill my guts right then about how fucked up in the head I was. Especially not to him. He's one to talk - I know of his little game with Trowa. Fucking tease.

"No...never. Well if you're sure..."

"I'm absolutely sure, Q-man. Now go worry yourself over something more important...like...politics, or Trowa, or something." And bam! One mention of that name and his gears are going. What a walking contradiction - he can have his game, but I'm not allowed mine? No fucking way.

"You're right," he shrugged, "I guess I should get going. I told Trowa I'd meet him at the cafe, and if I don't get going now, I'll be late. Besides, I don't want to get caught in the traffic in case it snows. I'll see you later, Duo, okay?" He reached for his coat and headed out the door.

"Yeah, have fun."

He popped his head back in the room, "And you know, if you need--"

"Yeah, I know. Shoo! Shoo! Get going already." I made the motions of sweeping him out the door with my hands. He laughed, and I closed the door after him quickly. Damn it was cold out there. Leaning with my back against the door, I sighed to myself. Cobalt eyes were there to meet me. Round two was about to begin.

Eight. Solo, Father Maxwell, Sister Helen, Heero, Trowa, Quatre, Wufei, and Howard.

Four. Heero, Trowa, Quatre, and Wufei.

One. Heero. My Heero, Heeroheeroheero...

My beloveds. Gone. They'll never return, and I'll never return to them. I couldn't face up to it.

They're gone.

I know I'm not the most stable person in the world. Give me an inch; I'll take a mile. Maybe that's why I never got adopted. Huh.

Anyway, when we discovered we, y'know, *liked* each other, I seized the opportunity and grasped it tight with both hands. I took everything I could get out of it, and put equally as much back in. But that push-pull relationship where you don't know what could happen next, and you have to trust each other... well, I don't know. I guess it kind of shook me. And like I said, I'm not the most stable person in the world. How else would I end up here?

You'll have to understand that Heero is a pretty aggressive person. He can be compliant and indifferent as hell sometimes, but when he has his mind set on something, you just better back off. So pressing something on him that he doesn't particularly feel like discussing...let's just say it isn't pretty. I've got marks to prove it.

He's not abusive, either. I admit that I blatantly pushed him at times. It was part of our game. Hell, he'd do exactly the same thing.

And we both can be *extremely* touchy. Especially about on our pasts, our screw-ups...things like that. He can be downright vicious.

And I can be equally so. Shinigami lives in me, after all.

The pain was light sometimes, barely noticeable, and sometimes even pleasurable. Other times, it was immense. I'm not talking S&M, so get that out of your head. But it would be rough enough to leave marks, or a bite here and there. The "force" I'm talking about was rough and passionate, so much we'd hit the headboard, fall, ram against the walls, or knock items off the nightstand.

Heero. He had the most beautiful eyes, you know that? Like the sky. They could be so frightening, though. They would be as clear as a summer night one moment and cold as winter the next. Just like on that day.

He has this kind of unruly hair - chocolate colored. I always thought he wasn't pure Japanese because of the blue eyes, brown hair, and tan skin. He's about my height - just a smidgen taller than me. Gorgeous body - almost androgynous.

But his obvious beauty wasn't all that attracted me to him. He has this incredible determination in him, and even though he seemed so icily distant, I *knew* there was a softer, more human side in him. I mean, he was just like me, like a child forced to grow up too soon. I guess I wanted to protect him or something. He was still innocent under all that training and after all he'd done.

I loved - *love* - him for who he is.

Everything.

A cold, insensitive bastard; an emotional wreck; a workaholic who hogged the sheets; a gentle and understanding soul; a perfect soldier; a terrible cook who tried; an unpredictable and surprising lover; a crazed, self-destructive maniac; my best friend.

I don't know what attracted him to me. I never bothered to ask - I didn't think it was important. Maybe if I had, I could've kept him.

It was unusually cold that day. The weather had been freezing cold, and there were warnings of oncoming ice storms.

I don't remember what triggered such an explosive response from me. One minute things are normal between us, or as normal as they ever get, and then the next minute, furniture smashes the wall and he's flat against the ground with blood dribbling down his chin. He looks as if he hates me. He blurs from his spot on the floor, and before I can blink, he's got me pinned against the carpet. Of course, I, being somewhat of a control freak, decide to take the situation back into *my* command.

Picture this: I'm flat on my back, he's above me, my hands are pinned to either side of my head, and he's staring at me, breathing slow and steady. I start to struggle, but it's kind of hopeless 'cause he's got his entire weight on me. He may not look it, but he *is* pretty damn heavy. I'd guess 100% muscle. Anyways, I start being a smart ass, mouthing off in an attempt to get him pissed further. Part of the "game," you know? But he won't get off. I start panicking. I'm not in control.

So what do I do? I laugh. Not the jolly kind of Santa laugh, the maniacal laugh I got whenever I fought in my Gundam. Looking back on this now, it scares me.

By that time, Heero is completely bewildered, and he's yelling at me to get a hold of myself. I manage to squeeze an arm free, so I take the opportunity and flip out a knife. Don't look at me like that. I *was* a trained assassin, remember. And being one meant to have a means of protection on you 24 hours a day. Where did I get it? Up my sleeve. You wouldn't believe the kinds of things you could hide and where you could hide them. So anyways, I thrust the knife out, and Heero lifts up when I point the tip at him. He's still sitting on me, though, and I make no attempt to get up.

"I'll do it," I say, now pointing the blade at my throat.

He's paranoid as an arachnophobic next to a spider. There he is, all alone in the house (the other pilots had gone off to do whatever they did that day) with his boyfriend pinned below him and threatening to slit his throat. "W-what the hell are you doing, Duo?"

"What the hell does it look like? I'm going to fucking kill myself, what else does it look like?" I move the knife closer.

"Don't do this...please..." He's actually begging.

I smirk. "I'm not religious. There's other uses for the collar, you know."

Boy, is he ever confused. "What? What are you saying?"

I move my other hand to my neck, and I snap the collar off. Back then, I still wore the priest's outfit. I remove the collar, showing the back of it to him. It had old bloodstains on it. "See? This isn't the first."

He looks straight at me. "When did you do this?"

I give him another patented Maxwell smirk. "Didn't notice, did you? If you'd paid a little attention, you would've seen the scars. Not that I can blame you, though. I hide them well and to tell the truth, they're not that visible anyway."

He looks away. "Why?" he asks, almost in a whisper.

"Let's just say there were times in my life when I would've been better off dead."

He snatches the knife from my hand - I tell ya, the boy has lightning speed - and he's standing, looking at me, still on the ground. "Is this why? Are you so eager to die that you'd do something like this?" he asks, almost disbelieving.

I'm feeling like shit then. Guilt wasn't part of the game.

"No! It's just-"

"It doesn't matter what!" he roars. I flinch. He takes the knife and slashes his arm.

"What the hell are you doing!?" Now *I'm* getting hysterical.

"What do you care? If you don't care about yourself, then you have no right to care about others." He chucks the knife to the side in a glittering arc, blood slithering down his arm. It dribbles off his fingers slowly, drop by drop, and making one hell of a mess on the carpet. It's at this time that I realize the extent of what I've done, and what I've put him through. I can see the bruises and scars I've ignored before. I can see the physical and emotional damage I've caused. I can see the vastness of pain reflected in his eyes. I see pity. I see a chance for redemption that I don't consider myself worthy of.

"When...when did I become like this?" I ask. The words come out broken and disheveled, and I hate myself for looking so helpless. Not in control - of myself.

"You've been like that...for a while, now. It's been some time, but I never said anything about it." He's clutching his arm, trying to staunch the bleeding.

There's this moment of silence that permeates the room. We don't look at each other - it's kind of like we're ashamed to.

"I know I need help," I say. God, it was barely above a *whisper*. Heero just kind of nods at me. I can't tell whether or not if he wants to say anything or if he doesn't have anything to say at all. He's just standing there, so I push myself up into a sitting position. "Could you take me there, please? I know it's a lot to ask, but I know I couldn't do it by myself." He moves to go into the bathroom, and for a minute I thought that he'd meant that as a no. But as it turns out, he'd gone in there to wrap his arm up and grab his jacket and keys.

The car ride here was...horrible. We just sat there, him in the driver's seat and me in the passenger's, in that same silence. Not even the radio was on, and there weren't any other cars on the road as a distraction - you know, 'cause of the ice storm and all. It's a little past dawn when we reach the parking lot, and we just sit there after he puts the car in park.

"And so, our game is finally over. What happens now?" I say, almost tongue in cheek. We sit in that same damn silence again.

After a while, he says, "I never promised you a happy ending."

"Yeah, guess so. January never did much for me, either. Seems as if doors are always closed right in my face when he comes by...and nothing ever comes to open another. I'm always stuck - never changing... Wishing for a future, but caught in the past (1)" I look out the window and inhale deeply, letting my breath out long and slow in puffs. There's snow along the edge of the window, and I rub the glass to clear some of the steam up. "Guess it's time. Now or never, naa, Heero?"

We get out of the car, and he comes around to my side to help me out. Heero, ever the gentleman. He doesn't say anything, just looks me in the eye and kisses my forehead. I know he wouldn't accompany me to the door, so I start walking, intending to never look back. He watches me leave, leaning against the passenger side of the car, his arms crossed over his chest.

I went numb as I walked towards the entrance and checked myself in here. It was a couple hours later when I finally had time to get over the shock and fully digest what had happened. And I realized, when he kissed me like that, I knew it all was over.

And that's my story, doc, and why I'm here.

~finis~

Notes:
1. Title is a reference to the Roman God Janus. He was the guardian of the gates, often seen with two faces - one looking to the past and the other to the future, or beginnings and endings. Kinda how Duo is throughout the fic.

--The Full Disclaimer--
The "Shin Kidousenki Gundam Wing" universe is copyrighted and property of Sunrise, Sotsu Agency, Bandai, ANB, and associated parties. Any of its elements and trademarks have been used without permission, for entertainment and non-profit uses only (17 USC 102.a). Original content is a work of fiction, and is considered to be copyrighted to and property of the author. All rights reserved

(:./asuka/january)