Hi! Okay, there are some IMPORTANT notes I wish for you to observe. ^^ One: Gundam Wing does not belong to me, nor do the characters mentioned in the series. However, I will create some new characters and they will belong to me as does this story... =p Two: This fic is based on Kumiko's fic, Beautiful Stranger! (that's why it seems familiar, right?) ^.-;; You might want to read her fic to understand the background of this one. Unfortunately, she has password-protected her fics (due to explicit debauchery... ). If you are seriously interested, I imagine you can leaf through the GW Fanfiction Mailing List to look for it (mou, even *I* don't have a copy of the fic... which is why my "accurate" reference is going to go downhill really fast...) Her homepage is here: http://www.shinigami.org/fanfics.html Three: Ann-sama helped inspire part of this this, you'll find out what part later on... ^^ And... uh... Four: This is also a shonen-ai fic (where a boy loves a boy and vice versa~ ^0^) That's all I need to say I think... My e-mail is thirteenth_lore@hotmail.com and now I'll leave you to swear at this next, longer installment in peace... Jya ne~ Nemesis: Part One "To be, or not to be. That is the question" ~Shakespeare ::Left me...:: Heero repeated numbly, endlessly. ::Left me... for someone... someone else.:: He clenched his hands, unclenched them, clenched them... slowly knotting the stark linen sheets of his bed into twisted clumps. Empty, cobalt eyes stared glassily at nothing. He... Heero?" Quatre's tentative voice drifted dimly to Heero's ears. "Heero?" The Arab clasped his slender hands nervously. "Do you... want to eat something? You've stayed like this for four days now..." Concern laced the Sandrock pilot's voice. ::This is worse than when he was broken up about it!!:: Quatre thought silently. ::C...concern? Concern? From Quatre? Gods...:: A brief image of long silken brown hair and exquisite violet eyes. ::I wish that...:: he floundered. ::Gods, go away!!:: "Yes..." Heero rasped mechanically. "Could you... get me something?" ::Anything, just go away!!:: Quatre brightened. "Ah! What about some... urr... sandwiches?" he finished lamely for the lack of a better idea. "Fine." "Alright, wait a moment! I'll get it right over!" Quatre hesitantly looked at Heero before quickly disappearing to retrieve the food. Heero moaned inaudibly, the low keen sounding from the back of his throat. He thrust his waxen face into the cold shock of his hands, sending fair dark chocolate hair into frenzied disarray. ::How... how... no. *Why?* Why did it end this way...:: Heero flinched as if struck, a sudden sharp pang slashing at his guts. Spasming, he sank into a crumpled heap, tightly clutching his aching chest. ::Why? Why does it have to be this way? What have I done wrong?:: (You know what you did.) A cold inner voice said sadistically. Heero bit back a moan of desolation. (You know perfectly what you did wrong. You don't need it to be spelled out for you, do you?) Heero cowered before the merciless voice, it would give no pity. (Every single time, every single moment... You have let yourself be weakened... by the pathetic likes of *emotions* no less!) His conscience prodded at him, unrelenting. (And you knew... right from the start, that it was wrong, that you were deluded, but you went with it anyway. What do you have to say for yourself, my "perfect soldier"?) :My perfect solider... My perfect solider...:: Heero froze, eyes wildly dilating. ~*~*~*~*~ "...you did it wrong again!" the harsh voice reprimanded the 3-year old. Soft whimpers worked its way through the child's hoarse throat, his eyes nearly blinded by the wide streaks of blood running down his face. Scowling, the elderly man motioned for the unknown assailant to proceed. Stepping forward, the grinning woman snapped the bullwhip taunt. The sound of impact on fragile skin was sickening, the lazy flick of leather carrying staggering strength. The boy fought the urge to scream as a deep gash ripped into his back. The woman was skilled, she didn't use any unnecessary pomp in her actions-each easy lash of the whip scored and scored deep... none even grazing the intricate wires that snaked into his flesh. Internally writhing at the pain, the boy concentrated on some serious breathing, trying to push the pain into the background, where it belonged... "Wrong!" the older man snapped. Responding to the dissatisfied tones in the man's voice, the woman yanked the looping whip high above her head, ready to hit down with full force. The child's mind froze. ::What? What have I done wrong? Doesn't he want me to push the pain out...?:: The searing knife of agony cutting down into the surface of his chest sent him hurling into darkness, as revelation dawned in the child's mind. ::Oh... what he wants is...:: Watching the child fall unconscious, Dr. J motioned for the woman to stop. He sighed and looked at the S & M slut he had hired. "You too I'm being too harsh on him?" He quirked his mouth into a humorless, dry grin. The woman hesitated. "...." "Come, come. I'd like to hear your honest opinion." Dr. J settled stiffly into a seat. "He is just a child..." the woman finally muttered, looking with self-disgust at the bloody whip in her hands. It was obvious that inflicting pain on children was not her taste. "Yes, a child..." the old man breathed. "And what a child...!" The woman shuddered unintentionally at the doctor's tone of voice-and looked involuntarily at the boy's crumpled and bleeding heap. She bit her lip. As he regained consciousness, Heero was aware that the whipping had stopped. Wary at the turn of events, he peered through dark lashes at gaze at Dr. J's face. "Back online? Good. Now, again. What is the lesson I'm trying to teach you?" Heero opened his mouth, his voice squeaking. Coughing slightly, he wet his lips and tried again. "You do not deny the pain... you make it a part of you." The three- year-old's eyes had a metallic shine to them. The smile that blossomed on the old man's face was twisted, though it probably wasn't intended that way. "Well, now... was that so hard? What do you have to say for yourself, my perfect soldier?" "Sumimasen... I will adapt to the new programming faster next time." ~*~*~*~*~ ::No... what... what was that?:: (What? Can't even remember your own past? Perfect soldier, you're more flawed that I thought.) ::I don't remember that... what...:: Heero shuddered, feeling obscenely cold. (Sumimasen... I will adapt to the new programming faster next time.) ::Programming...:: Heero squeezed his eyes shut. "Duo," he breathed. "I need you... why... why did you choose to... be with Zechs?" Heero choked, barely withholding tears. ::Look what loving someone has done to me...:: (You did it to yourself. Admit it. You intentionally spiked your programming... You've left the logic that made you unique, and chose to break upon emotion's weaknesses like so many others.) Heero griped his hands together tightly, knuckles turning white. He couldn't stand that voice. He knew that voice. The voice was *his*, it was his... from before... before he'd met Duo. Before he started to believe in people. Breathing unsteadily, Heero blindly stumbled to his cluttered desk and shuffled the items on it. Pushing papers aside, he carefully picked up what he wanted and held it tightly in his hand for a moment. ::Flawed... I am... flawed.:: (Yes, and for you-there can be *no* mistakes... so what will you do?) ::Penance... for being flawed. This is what I deserve...:: Quatre trudged despondently back, feeling vaguely guilty. He'd told Heero he'd be back soon with the light meal, but... The blonde sweatdropped just thinking about it... The Managacs had suddenly materialized in the kitchen and found out what he was doing. Indignant that Quatre should have to make a *sandwich*, they adamantly strove to take over the duty despite Quatre's hesitant protests. The result... Quatre blanched. ::Peanut butter and kiwi? Date jam and pickle? Butter, soy sauce, and... spinach???:: Quatre shuddered. ::Thank god Rashid showed up when he did... at least *he* knows what the average person prefers to eat... even though he insisted that I leave it up to him to deliver it to Heero... I wonder how Heero's doing...:: "Eh? Quatre-sama?" a timid voice interrupted. Blinking, Quatre focused on the servant. "Hai?" "If you're looking for that young man, I saw him go outside..." "Ara... honto?" Quatre was puzzled. "Now why would he..." "Probably to get some fresh air... the gardens are lovely at night," the servant nodded, before excusing himself back to his duties. Still not quite understanding, Quatre stopped his walk and headed toward the gardens. ::At any rate, I'm glad Heero's feeling better...:: It wasn't as hard as he thought it would have been... Sneaking out of his room was easy, Heero vaguely wondered at Quatre's security... but in a moment, he'd be beyond caring. Stealing silently with inhuman grace, Heero vaulted over the patio wall... into the gardens, where it offered some dubious privacy. Crouching there for a moment, Heero simply drew comfort from the utter silence... drawing out the razor he had taken from the desk. Flicking out the blade, he stared at the eerie reflection casted in cold steel, illuminated with the shadows of a dark moon. Stars glittered on the edges of the blade, as he drew it to his wrist. ::I... want to die.:: The words burned in the recesses of Heero's mind as he slashed deeply into flesh, to the bone. Quatre was feeling slightly daunted as he strode around in the literal park that made up the gardens of the mansion. ::At this rate, I'll be lucky if I find Heero by morning...:: ::Cold... it's cold...:: Heero thought blearily, slowly collapsing to his knees in the lush emerald lawn. ::I wonder why I don't feel any pain...:: White and shell- pink sakura petals drifted down as he slowly fell into darkness. ::Eh?:: Quatre stopped, noting an ominous red smear touching his shoes. Frowning, he bent down to take a closer look. ::Kore wa... :: His blue eyes widened. ::Masaka...:: Frantically tracing its origin, Quatre practically tore through the thick hedge, nearing tripping over the comatose body sprawled on the ground in artistic mockery. "HEERO!!" Quatre shouted in horror. There was a frightening wide spill of crimson pooling around the Wing pilot's left hand. Quatre didn't stop to appreciate the fragile scene Heero made. Rushing to the still figure, Quatre cursed his lack of strength, slipping off his customary shirt and hurriedly improvising it as a tourniquet, tightly binding it around Heero's blood-streaked arm. "Baka!" he yelled at the motionless form, as he vainly attempted to haul it up. Red stained his hands like dye. "K'so... how am I.... OI! Heero! Are you alright?! Wake up! Shikari shiro!" Despite Quatre's yells, the Wing pilot remained slackly unconscious.