Goodbye LJ...

[windandwater]

This is just to make it official for those who don't know, but I'm leaving LJ completely. For the rest of this week at least. Tomorrow is the Bar Exam and it runs for three days, so don't expect to see me about at all until Thursday night. Or even until the weekend since I plan on spending Thursday after the Bar drunk and crying. No online time for me at all. *whines* It will be hard, but I know I can do it.

So, because I'm a total h0r like that, I am declaring this to be a spam post. Go ahead. Run wild! Give me fics, give me links, give me pics, just babble to your heart's content and rape my inbox so I have something to see when I finally DO come back to the wonderful world of LJ. I don't even care if you write me a drabble and post it one word at a time. XD;

Though, I've tried to make a spam post before and it failed a bit miserably, so I don't have very high expectations this time around. Feel free to prove me wrong though!

♥

Comments

Re: Spoil of War, prologue

[mikkeneko.livejournal.com]

+++



“Are you sure he was telling the truth?” Wufei questioned skeptically.

Heero glared at his commander. “Duo doesn’t lie. What would he have to gain by it?”

Wufei shrugged irritably. “It just doesn’t fit. The man he described couldn’t have been a Southerner...”

“Well, if you didn’t see fit to confide your theory in him, then it isn’t his fault the data doesn’t match up with it,” Heero snapped.

“Then the whole exercise was worse than useless,” Wufei returned. “Now we’re back to where we began again...”

“Then perhaps he was doing you a favor, not that your stubborn pride would ever admit it! By the Gods, Wufei, what did you hope to get from him?” Heero demanded. “I am thoroughly disgusted by this unreasonable hostility you hold towards Duo! You’ve practically been searching for an excuse to brand him a threat ever since I took him in!”

Re: Spoil of War, prologue

[mikkeneko.livejournal.com]

+++



They knew.

They knew he was telling the truth.

They knew there weren’t any other rebels.

They just didn’t care.



+++

Re: Spoil of War, prologue

[mikkeneko.livejournal.com]

A scowl etched itself deeply on Wufei’s face, as the words sank in, but he had no counter to them. Instead, he turned away, silently. Heero struggled to put a lid on his seething anger; he could read his answer from his friend’s closed, defensive posture, the guilt that he didn’t want to admit. Just for the moment, he held a position of strength over the General, but if backed Wufei into a corner, then Wufei’s stubborn pride would lash out at him.

“I understand the pressure you’ve been under lately,” Heero finally said, in a much calmer tone, “and I admit that I... have not been giving you as much assistance as I ought. But that is my fault, not Duo’s, and it in no way makes him a threat to us. If anything, Wufei, he is an ally, not a danger! He hates Oz more than you and I combined ever could!”



+++

Re: Spoil of War, prologue

[mikkeneko.livejournal.com]

A scowl etched itself deeply on Wufei’s face, as the words sank in, but he had no counter to them. Instead, he turned away, silently. Heero struggled to put a lid on his seething anger; he could read his answer from his friend’s closed, defensive posture, the guilt that he didn’t want to admit. Just for the moment, he held a position of strength over the General, but if backed Wufei into a corner, then Wufei’s stubborn pride would lash out at him.

“I understand the pressure you’ve been under lately,” Heero finally said, in a much calmer tone, “and I admit that I... have not been giving you as much assistance as I ought. But that is my fault, not Duo’s, and it in no way makes him a threat to us. If anything, Wufei, he is an ally, not a danger! He hates Oz more than you and I combined ever could!”



+++

Re: Spoil of War, prologue

[mikkeneko.livejournal.com]

+++



The dream swept inexorably onwards, downwards, clicking forward and forward in time, deeper and deeper into nightmare.



+++

Re: Spoil of War, prologue

[mikkeneko.livejournal.com]

+++



The dream swept inexorably onwards, downwards, clicking forward and forward in time, deeper and deeper into nightmare.



+++

Re: Spoil of War, prologue

[mikkeneko.livejournal.com]

“I think,” Wufei began stiffly, then stopped. “I think that I... have been misreading the situation. I assumed a... considerably different relationship, between General Khushrenada and the boy... than actually existed.”

Heero stared, shocked, as Wufei’s reluctant admission suddenly cast an entire new light on his behavior towards Duo. He had to stifle a fresh wave of anger against the injustice; how could Wufei have thought... that? Had he actually thought that Duo had shared Treize’s bed willingly? Had he truly believed that Heero would have taken him in if he had?

“You should have known me better than that, Wufei,” Heero growled furiously. “Did you think that I would succor my enemy’s whore?”

“I did not know what to think,” Wufei confessed softly, turning back to Heero. “You’ve grown strange, these last few weeks, Heero. You’re no longer the man I once knew.”

“You never knew me, Chang,” Heero said coldly. “You never knew me at all.”

He turned his back on Wufei, and left the tent to return to Duo.

Re: Spoil of War, prologue

[mikkeneko.livejournal.com]

The water game.



This time the voice was rough and jeering, not smooth and cruel. This time there were two of them, this time they were outside, and the air was bitingly cold and scouringly damp. One of them held his arms pinned behind him, twisted back and up so that he couldn’t have broken free even if he had tried. But aside from the trembling he couldn’t control, he stayed limp and unresisting as the men dragged him to what he knew was coming. Don’t fight, he told himself, a constant mantra. Don’t resist, and it will be easier. Don’t react, and they’ll get bored of it sooner.

It came in sight ahead, too simple and harmless an object to inspire the fresh terror that coursed through him; his heartbeat sped up, his breathing stuttered, and he squeezed his eyes closed as he silently chanted, Don’t resist -- don’t react -- don’t fight -- oh, Gods, not again not again not AGAIN --

“Thirsty, little slut?” the voice jeered in his ears. “Want a drink?” The wood planks hit him in the stomach, but the hands on his arms pushed up, and forward, forcing him to bend over the tub. He took deep breaths, trying to fill his lungs with air, hopelessly trying to prepare himself for the ordeal that nothing could ever ease. Don’t resist! He caught sight of his own reflection, in the wavering circle of water; a face discolored with permanent bruises, misshapenly swollen, disfigured with angry red scars crossing and recrossing the skin. Gods’ mercy, what have I become?

The wavering circle of light shattered, as the hand on the back of his head forced him forward, his face plunged into the icy cold water. The coldness flooded his skin, invading his eyes and nose and mouth and everywhere that the air was supposed to be. The only sound he could hear was his own pulse in his ears. Don’t struggle. Don’t scream.

It was unreal, dreamlike, the way the water seemed to grasp him, suck him down. Don’t react. Don’t resist. As he felt the air begin to fester in his chest, he could almost hear the water whispering to him; calling to him, almost seductively, just to open his mouth and breathe... just to give up, and let the coldness fill him, and wash away the pain... Don’t resist. Don’t struggle. Don’t fight. I can’t... I have to!

Re: Spoil of War, prologue

[mikkeneko.livejournal.com]

His body did not want to die. His body wanted to breathe. Pure, animal reflex set him struggling frantically against the hands that held him in, held him down. Splinters dug into his flesh as he fought for some leverage, fought desperately to be free of the water’s cloying embrace. His chest was a whitened, pulsing ball of agony around the poisoned air that his lungs fought to expel. He screamed, underwater, the last of the air exploding from his chest in a wave of useless, soundless bubbles. His body bucked once more against the restraints, but it was useless, their grasp only tightened and forced him further down into the water. His mouth opened, and his chest heaved reflexively for air, and the water poured in, drowning him. Spasming, his lungs fought to be rid of the water but found only more. His blood hammered in his skull, no longer cold, but burning in his veins as spots of darkness burst in his eyes.

Just before the light was gone, just before he slipped into merciful unconsciousness, the hands holding him moved once again and he was wrenched out into the air again. Water streamed from his nose, his mouth, his skin, burning as it left him. It’s just water, how can it burn like fire? The muscles in his chest and stomach twitched and spasmed uncontrollably, desperately trying to be rid of the water and take in air. He retched, filling his mouth with the taste of bile, and acid dripped down the back of his throat to sear in his lungs.

He heard the coarse, gleeful laughter above him as he desperately coughed, and barely had enough time for his mind to scream in protest before the vise-like grip tightened on his flesh and pushed him down once more. Not again! Someone help me, please!



Heero, help me...

I can’t breathe!

Re: Spoil of War, prologue

[mikkeneko.livejournal.com]

+++



His eyes were open, but they stared blankly at the ceiling; not truly asleep, but wrapped in nightmare, unable to distinguish the outside world from the world of his memories. Heero knelt on the bed above him shaking his shoulders in a desperate attempt to break him out of the half-waking he was in. “Duo!” he yelled, but his voice had no effect, no more than the shaking. “Duo, wake up!”

Devils take me, how could I have been so stupid? He told me he didn’t want to sleep, but I left him alone to run off and talk with Wufei! I should have known he would have a nightmare -- but I’ve never seen a nightmare like this -- Out of options, he slapped Duo across the face. The longhaired boy’s head snapped to one side, but rolled back limply with no effect. Oh Gods -- oh Gods -- he’s barely breathing! Heero’s mind shrieked at him. His lips are nearly blue! What’s happening to him?

Instead of breathing in a normal, steady rhythm, Duo’s lungs were convulsing uncontrolled, the muscles pulling uselessly against each other and bringing no air into his chest at all. It was almost as though his lungs were paralyzed, twitching with no more effect than your arms or legs in the grip of a dream. He’s not getting enough air, Heero thought in a panic as he shook the boy once more. “Damn it, Duo, snap out of it!” I need a doctor, someone who knows what to do -- but I can’t leave him, not even long enough to get Quatre! If this keeps up much longer, he’ll die...

The thought filled him with such a bleak coldness that it drove out every other consideration. He couldn’t live without Duo again, he couldn’t let Duo die! “Wake up, Duo, wake up... don’t leave me... please wake up...”

His own limbs shaking nearly as badly as Duo’s, Heero did the only thing he could think of. Taking Duo’s face in his hands, trying not to see the gray-blue pallor of the skin, Heero gently pulled Duo’s cold lips apart and covered them with his own.

Re: Spoil of War, prologue

[mikkeneko.livejournal.com]

Duo hung trapped, suspended between dream and waking. All he saw was darkness, the smothering, suffocating darkness that pinned his limbs and stifled his chest. He choked on it, gasping for air, but none came. Drowning, he was drowning, and this time they were going to hold his head under until his blood burst from lack of air...

Sound filtered through the darkness, the sound of a voice, but it spoke only gibberish to him. He was seized by panic, prompting him to struggle, but his muscles seemed weak as water. I can’t -- I can’t breathe! was the only thought that filled his mind, over and over again.

He barely registered the weight that settled over his body, the touch on his face and lips, until something warm and wet pushed into his mouth. The sensation triggered other memories, memories of agony and shame and blood; he fought against the intrusion hopelessly -- feebly --

And then, there was air. Sweet, sweet air moved in his lungs, filling his chest in a rush and gently drawing out the poison. Another breath followed the first, and another, none of them his own doing. Slowly, the numbness began to fade from his body, to be replaced by tingling pins and needles. His muscles ached, they were sore from the abuse, but oh how good it felt, to feel them move once more! The gentle, steady rhythm continued -- breathe in, breathe out -- even as his own chest muscles twitched and jerked without direction. Slowly they, too, calmed, and began to work together, following the cadence of the air moving through his lungs. He became suddenly aware of a warmth lying close on top of him, blocking out the cold -- a second heartbeat, thrumming in time with his own. Another breath filled his lungs, and something moved away from his mouth as he exhaled on his own. “That’s right, Duo, just breathe,” a voice whispered, and as something closed once more on his mouth and gave him another lungful of air, Duo knew who had saved him.

At last the blackness cleared from his eyes, and he blinked rapidly to pull the world into focus. The first thing to meet his vision was a pair of luminous, intent, and very worried blue eyes; the rest followed.

“Duo?” Heero whispered hoarsely, pulling his mouth away from Duo’s. He, too, was breathing hard, from the exertion of sharing his breath with another body. The cadence of air moving in and out of his body exactly reversed that of Duo’s. “Are you awake, now?” he asked, his eyes still locked with Duo’s.

Re: Spoil of War, prologue

[mikkeneko.livejournal.com]

Duo nodded, and felt Heero’s hands on either side of his face. He carefully preserved the rhythm, feeling it calm and reassure him. “Y-yes... Heero, I’m --”

Speaking was a mistake; his airflow broke again, and he coughed raggedly, his tongue clogging his mouth and throat. There was barely time to panic, though, before Heero’s warm lips touched to his cold ones again. Heero’s tongue pressed gently over his, holding it down and out of the way as the air passed from his lungs to Duo’s again.

He lay stunned, when Heero finally pulled back again. “Don’t try to speak, Duo,” the soldier admonished him. “Just breathe...”

Duo stared at him in utter shock; Heero didn’t even seem to know what he had done. One hand was rubbing soothing, encouraging circles on Duo’s back; his free hand came up to brush the sweat-drenched strands of hair away from Duo’s face. “I was so worried,” Heero murmured, almost more to himself than to the other. “I thought you were going to leave me... don’t ever do that again, Duo...”

Holding onto the steady rhythm, Duo allowed his eyes to slowly slip shut. There would be no nightmares, no memories while the soldier was there. He pressed against Heero’s warmth, feeling the movement of blood within his body, the steady pulse of his heart. Duo imagined that even if his heart were to falter and stutter to a stop, Heero could restore it with the beating of his own.