yellowhorde (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
yellowhorde) wrote2004-10-02 07:42 pm
yellowhorde) wrote2004-10-02 07:42 pm
Now and Forever 11/? - Gundam Wing
Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing and I make no money from this or any other fanfic I write.
Pairings: 13x5, 5x1
Category: Angst/AU, supernatural
Rating: R
Warnings: Yaoi, dark, vampirism.
Title: Now and Forever
Author: yellowhorde
Feel free to send comments/constructive criticism to me at yellowhordehotmail.com
Though the pre-rush hour traffic wasn’t very bad – it was in, fact, no worse than usual - Heero, who was in a bit of a hurry, was overly cranky and on edge. For eight weeks he had been hounding the police for information regarding the disappearance of his friend and lover, Wufei, but the entire department had been tight lipped, insisting that he was on a strictly need to know basis. Because of this, details on the disappearance and search of his friend had been sketchy at best. It had been frustrating beyond belief.
But now his wait was over.
(Is that a good thing or a bad thing?) Heero wondered as the traffic finally began moving again. He had thought that the roads wouldn’t be so congested in mid-afternoon, but apparently he had had been mistaken. Though not as bad as it could be just around five o’clock, traffic still moved at a turtle’s pace – an old arthritic turtle on his last legs.
As he glared out of his rolled down window at the strip malls and fast food restaurants that crawled past as he inched his way forward, Heero dragged one hand through his already wild hair in agitation and forced himself to take slow, calming breaths. That was a mistake. The stench of exhaust emissions hung heavily in the stifling air and they burned down his throat like acid. He coughed dryly to clear his throat and briefly considered rolling up his windows despite his lack of air conditioning. Better to melt into a sweaty puddle of goo than to have to choke down that shit.
In an effort to distract his mind Heero recalled the telephone call he had received earlier. Once more hope and dread commenced hostilities within his already battle weary mind. His heart was beating so hard he could actually feel its frantic rhythm in his ears. These feelings fought for dominance as they had so often over the last two months, an endless battle that left him weary in mind, body, and soul. A numbing heaviness seeped through his veins and he found himself actually believing that he wouldn’t care which one finally triumphed just as long as he would finally find closure.
He had taken off early from work early- with permission from his boss, of course – and was no stuck in the slowest moving traffic he had ever seen. Still, he mentally thanked his boss again for allowing him to go. Though a strict taskmaster, he knew that deep down Analisa Morgan, a tall, slender woman with sharp green eyes and a shark-like smile that unnerved much more often than it reassured, was actually a warm, kindhearted individual despite her Dragon Lady exterior. It just wasn’t her nature to be buddy- buddy with her employees. That didn’t mean that she didn’t care about their lives and problems, because in her own way she did. If not addressed, such problems had a nasty tendency to interfere with work productivity and that was, in her eyes, a most grievous sin.
She, like everyone else in the office, had been reading the newspapers or watching the evening news and knew about Wufei’s disappearance, even if the details released to the press were minimal. She had even shocked the entire office by offering to allow him to take a leave of absence during his time of crisis. He had been deeply touched by the offer, but he had politely declined, preferring to keep his mind as busy as possible while his life crumbled down around his ears.
So when Heero had come to Analisa Morgan’s office around three in the afternoon and told her that he had received a telephone call summoning him down to the police headquarters. When he had explained to her that he would need to leave work a bit early, she had actually granted him permission to go. She had even wished him the best of luck and given him what she had probably meant to be an encouraging smile.
Now, stuck in traffic, hope finally won out, at least temporarily, and soared within in him, but he struggled to keep it in check. He didn’t want to get too excited – he could just as easily have been called down so they wouldn’t have to give him bad news over the telephone. It was supposed to be more personal that way, but to tell the truth, all of this waiting was driving him ape-shit. He needed to know the truth, one way or the other.
(Have they finally found Wufei? Is he alive? Or is he... d-d-)
Heero’s mind stuttered over the last word, unwilling to even think that such a possibility existed. Flustered, he pulled into the turning lane just as the light signal at 16th and Maple switched first to yellow then red. Drumming his fingers impatiently against the steering wheel, he cursed under his breath as a car cut in front of him without using its turn signal.
A cold weight settled unexpectedly into his stomach and with some dismay he realized that he recognized this sensation. It was the same feeling he had gotten the night Wufei had disappeared. He tried to shrug it off the same as he had back then, but the feeling only intensified. Despite the ungodly heat, Goosebumps washed along his skin. He shivered once violently, his skin suddenly feeling too tight.
(He has to be alive...) Heero though and he detected a note of desperation in this small inner voice. (I would’ve known it if he had died. I would have felt it.)
The green turn signal flashed on the streetlight ahead of him and Heero pulled forward, his foot pressing down on the gas pedal, his trembling hands turning the wheel. He gave no thought to what he was doing; his body was running on automatic. His mind had slipped through a time tunnel and he was once more reliving the last hours of the worst day of his life.
He stands quietly by the small window in his small kitchen/dining room, watching a late spring storm rage outside. Rain sheets down the windowpanes and the outside is dark and foreboding. Apprehension wells up within him as he waits for Wufei to come home from work. An unknown fear races through his veins, cold as glacial ice, a sense that somehow his life is about to be forever altered, and not for the best. He tries to ignore his unease as he sets the table for dinner- he is using his grandmother’s fine china, which he only brings out on rare, special occasions- but this dreadful feeling stubbornly remains.
Warm and inviting, the scents of lasagna and freshly baked bread perfume the air and still he waits, desperate now for Wufei to come strolling through the door, his thick black hair wet and raindrops beading along his golden skin. He imagines going to him, wrapping his arms around him, kissing him, thinks of Wufei’s lips, how they would taste of cool rain and warm desire. Heero’s own yearnings twist and mingle with fear, a potent combination. Together they fill his heart to bursting then flood through his body, not with fire, but ice, so very cold.
The ticking of the clock is very loud in the silence of the kitchen. Killing each second with a swing of its brass pendulum. Brutal. Bloodless. The storm has finally died down and Heero tells himself that Wufei should be home any minute now and that it doesn’t really matter that dinner is cold and ruined as long as he is safe. Besides, that’s what microwaves were created for, right?
The night’s stars, cold, brilliant, sparkle in the now clear heavens and still no sign of Wufei. The candles lit for their romantic dinner have burned out, thin wisps of smoke curling lazily as they drift into the still air. They twist and fade, just as Heero’s hopes grow tattered and begin to crumble. On a deeper level he fears the worst, though it hasn’t made an impression yet on his conscious mind – it was a deeper, more instinctual understanding, felt but not yet acknowledged.
He eventually slips into an uneasy sleep, his chin resting heavily on his chest, which rises and falls with each breath. Disturbing images haunt his dreams. Dark figures with glowing red eyes chase him down a dark, endless corridor. Fear is strong within him and he calls for Wufei but only cold, inhuman laughter echoes back. His heart booms in his ears, and suddenly he sees a familiar silhouette before him.
“Wufei!’ Heero calls out, and relief bursts through him as bright as a thousand suns at having found a familiar person in all of this darkness.
Wufei turns at the sound of his voice, and Heero gasps at the sight of him. His naked body is smooth and pale, his black eyes blank and silver-rimmed with tears that break and spill down his cheeks. Suddenly a tall figure of a man appears behind him. The stranger’s face is mostly hidden by shadow, but his eyes glow like blue fire. A warning tingle of power radiates out from him, shimmering the air between them, raising the small hairs along the nape of Heero’s neck.
Here, Heero realizes, is the source of all of his fear and anxiety, this cruel creature that stands before him.
Before Heero is able to move or even utter a sound, the man wraps his arms around Wufei, who cries out and begins to struggle feebly. The tall man presses his lips against the flesh of Wufei’s neck, kissing the tender skin, tracing small spirals with his tongue. Wufei’s eyes close, his tears drying on his cheeks, and a small moan, part fear, part longing, tumbles from his slightly parted lips. The stranger smiles triumphantly, opens his mouth to reveal sharp fangs that glisten in the subdued light. He casts his eyes towards Heero, and they are shiny and lifeless as a doll’s. Then, with the speed of a striking serpent, he drives his fangs into Wufei’s throat.
Heero and Wufei scream in unison, both helpless under the overpowering wash of power being emitted from the demon in their midst. Soft sucking sounds are heard and the metallic scent of blood fills the air. After an eternity the stranger releases his victim and Wufei slides towards the ground with boneless grace, would have fallen if he hadn’t been caught up in his attacker’s arms. The stranger offers his strength and Wufei leans against him for support until he is once again able to stand on his own two feet.
Heero stumbles back in horror when Wufei stirs and opens his eyes. Though his body and facial features remain the same, he understands with the clarity seldom found outside of dreams that his lover is fundamentally different now. He senses this immediately though he can’t explain how he comes by this understanding. Its not something that can be rationally explained, only felt with the heart.
This doppelganger that looks like Wufei bares bloody fangs at Heero, and hissing like a serpent. His obsidian eyes are cold and devoid of life and compassion. He tilts his head up towards his creator and their lips meet in a fierce kiss. When they finally break away from each other, Wufei’s head bows back, his eyes closed in something very much like rapture, a beatific smile on his face. He turns to face Heero, and though smiling, his eyes open again and are once more alive, full of unimaginable sadness as tears well up and flood down his cheeks.
Wufei stretches out one arm towards Heero in a beckoning gesture.
“Come join us.”
Heero recoils from the two creatures standing before him, screaming his defiance, a wordless cry of horror, despair. He pulls away, his heart rapping against his ribs, louder, louder.
Not his heart, he realizes with a start as he jerks out of the clutches of his nightmare. His neck and shoulders are stiff from sleeping in such an uncomfortable position. Not his heart. Someone is knocking at the door, a loud, steady, yet almost apologetic sound. It beckons him. He doesn’t want to answer, doesn’t want to know what Fate has waiting for him on the other side of his front door. But he is drawn helplessly forward, trapped in the twisted web of a living nightmare more real, more horrible than any dream.
For one fleeting moment he believes that it is Wufei knocking before he remembers that he gave him a copy of the key two years ago.
Even before he sees the police officer standing at his front door, young and thin, with soft brown eyes, his hat held in his hands, Heero understands that his deepest fears are about to be realized. With a resounding click, sharp and swift as the crack of thunder, everything comes together in his mind. His sense of foreboding, the nightmare, which is mercifully fading rapidly from his mind, their meanings suddenly became hellishly clear.
Somehow, deep in his heart he must have known the truth. He couldn’t explain how he knew, he just did. This horrible truth was all but confirmed by the presence of this stranger at his front door. He could see it written plainly in the police officer’s eyes, in the awkward set of his shoulders, the way his long, graceful fingers fiddled nervously with the rim of his hat.
In that horrible instant he knew that Wufei wouldn’t be coming home.
Not ever again.
A battered and rusty El Dorado of near-indeterminable color cut sharply in front of Heero, shattering his thoughts, his memories, pulling him back to the present with a nasty jolt. He gritted his teeth and slammed his foot down on the breaks in order to avoid a potentially nasty collision. His horn blared angrily, one of many left in the wake of a fool’s recklessness. The driver in front of him didn’t seem to care one bit that he had caused such a disturbance. He casually stuck one sunburned arm out the window and gave Heero the bird as he continued on his merry way.
Shaking from reaction from both his close call and the nightmare he had all but forgotten up until a few moments ago, Heero eased his foot down on the gas pedal again. A few minutes later pulled into the station’s parking lot, muttering angrily under his breath as he cruised through the lanes looking for a parking place close to the entrance.
He might just as well have been on a quest for the Holy Grail. The parking lot was crammed to near capacity and police cruisers took up most of the choicest spaces. After several long minutes of endless circling he gave up and finally settled for a less than ideal space near the back of the lot.
He got out of the car then fished a pair of sunglasses from his chest pocket and squinted against the unholy glare of the sun as it was bounced off of countless chrome surfaces of the idle cars surrounding him. The sunglasses had been a gift from Wufei, who had theorized that if Heero owned a pair of cheap sunglasses, he would never lose them, no matter how much he wanted to. And, of course, Wufei had been right. Normally Heero lost his sunglasses only a few weeks after buying them, but he had had these ones for almost three years now. It was rather ironic in its own bizarre way, really. Just one of the many oddballs Life had a way of throwing when you least expected it.
Heat radiated up from the concrete surface and Heero could’ve sworn that he even felt it cooking its way through the thin soles of his leather loafers. The parking lot stretched out before him, a seemingly never-ending wasteland of still automobiles and blacktop. He locked his door then slammed it shut; the sound was very loud in the afternoon hush. He doubted anyone would try to boost his car while it was parked right next to a police station, but old habits died hard. Besides, weirder things had been known to happen.
Heero made his way through the maze of cars, each step feeling slow and awkward though he moved no slower than he normally would have. Halfway through the lot he glanced down towards the ground as one of his feet dragged infinitesimally, expecting that he had stepped into a wad of used bubble gum. His eyebrows rose in astonishment, his shoe wasn’t stuck in bubble gum at all, but melting tar. He yanked himself free with an irritated grunt and made a concentrated effort to avoid the oozing ribbons of tar that laced through many of the numerous cracks that broke up the otherwise smooth surface of the parking lot. Finally, he mounted the stone steps leading to the front entrance of the police headquarters.
The sunglasses he wore, cheap as they were, did help cut the glare a bit, but they also lent an odd sepia-like tone to the world around him. It was like watching a really old movie in which the hero always saved the day and there was always, ALWAYS a happy ending, no matter how impossible the odds or how scary the monsters portrayed. The tinted glasses made everything seem distant and so very unreal to Heero. He didn’t know if that was a good thing or not.
Regardless of how confused his thoughts and feelings were at this moment, life was not like the movies of old. And he had serious misgivings as to whether the good would triumph over evil this time, if in fact it ever did at all. He was too old to believe in fairy tale and not being a religious man, he didn’t put much stock into miracles.
His reality stood right before him now, an old, nondescript brick building nestled between several newer, flashier ones. Here in this building he would finally have his questions answered one way or the other. And if Fate had no happy ending in store for him, perhaps she would be merciful and allow him closure at least.
Taking a deep, calming breath, Heero reached out with a not quite steady hand, took hold of the worn brass door handles, pushed – the door swung open more easily than he would have imagined. Surely the doors to Hell would be much heavier - and entered the building.
TO BE CONTINUED...
Pairings: 13x5, 5x1
Category: Angst/AU, supernatural
Rating: R
Warnings: Yaoi, dark, vampirism.
Title: Now and Forever
Author: yellowhorde
Feel free to send comments/constructive criticism to me at yellowhordehotmail.com
Though the pre-rush hour traffic wasn’t very bad – it was in, fact, no worse than usual - Heero, who was in a bit of a hurry, was overly cranky and on edge. For eight weeks he had been hounding the police for information regarding the disappearance of his friend and lover, Wufei, but the entire department had been tight lipped, insisting that he was on a strictly need to know basis. Because of this, details on the disappearance and search of his friend had been sketchy at best. It had been frustrating beyond belief.
But now his wait was over.
(Is that a good thing or a bad thing?) Heero wondered as the traffic finally began moving again. He had thought that the roads wouldn’t be so congested in mid-afternoon, but apparently he had had been mistaken. Though not as bad as it could be just around five o’clock, traffic still moved at a turtle’s pace – an old arthritic turtle on his last legs.
As he glared out of his rolled down window at the strip malls and fast food restaurants that crawled past as he inched his way forward, Heero dragged one hand through his already wild hair in agitation and forced himself to take slow, calming breaths. That was a mistake. The stench of exhaust emissions hung heavily in the stifling air and they burned down his throat like acid. He coughed dryly to clear his throat and briefly considered rolling up his windows despite his lack of air conditioning. Better to melt into a sweaty puddle of goo than to have to choke down that shit.
In an effort to distract his mind Heero recalled the telephone call he had received earlier. Once more hope and dread commenced hostilities within his already battle weary mind. His heart was beating so hard he could actually feel its frantic rhythm in his ears. These feelings fought for dominance as they had so often over the last two months, an endless battle that left him weary in mind, body, and soul. A numbing heaviness seeped through his veins and he found himself actually believing that he wouldn’t care which one finally triumphed just as long as he would finally find closure.
He had taken off early from work early- with permission from his boss, of course – and was no stuck in the slowest moving traffic he had ever seen. Still, he mentally thanked his boss again for allowing him to go. Though a strict taskmaster, he knew that deep down Analisa Morgan, a tall, slender woman with sharp green eyes and a shark-like smile that unnerved much more often than it reassured, was actually a warm, kindhearted individual despite her Dragon Lady exterior. It just wasn’t her nature to be buddy- buddy with her employees. That didn’t mean that she didn’t care about their lives and problems, because in her own way she did. If not addressed, such problems had a nasty tendency to interfere with work productivity and that was, in her eyes, a most grievous sin.
She, like everyone else in the office, had been reading the newspapers or watching the evening news and knew about Wufei’s disappearance, even if the details released to the press were minimal. She had even shocked the entire office by offering to allow him to take a leave of absence during his time of crisis. He had been deeply touched by the offer, but he had politely declined, preferring to keep his mind as busy as possible while his life crumbled down around his ears.
So when Heero had come to Analisa Morgan’s office around three in the afternoon and told her that he had received a telephone call summoning him down to the police headquarters. When he had explained to her that he would need to leave work a bit early, she had actually granted him permission to go. She had even wished him the best of luck and given him what she had probably meant to be an encouraging smile.
Now, stuck in traffic, hope finally won out, at least temporarily, and soared within in him, but he struggled to keep it in check. He didn’t want to get too excited – he could just as easily have been called down so they wouldn’t have to give him bad news over the telephone. It was supposed to be more personal that way, but to tell the truth, all of this waiting was driving him ape-shit. He needed to know the truth, one way or the other.
(Have they finally found Wufei? Is he alive? Or is he... d-d-)
Heero’s mind stuttered over the last word, unwilling to even think that such a possibility existed. Flustered, he pulled into the turning lane just as the light signal at 16th and Maple switched first to yellow then red. Drumming his fingers impatiently against the steering wheel, he cursed under his breath as a car cut in front of him without using its turn signal.
A cold weight settled unexpectedly into his stomach and with some dismay he realized that he recognized this sensation. It was the same feeling he had gotten the night Wufei had disappeared. He tried to shrug it off the same as he had back then, but the feeling only intensified. Despite the ungodly heat, Goosebumps washed along his skin. He shivered once violently, his skin suddenly feeling too tight.
(He has to be alive...) Heero though and he detected a note of desperation in this small inner voice. (I would’ve known it if he had died. I would have felt it.)
The green turn signal flashed on the streetlight ahead of him and Heero pulled forward, his foot pressing down on the gas pedal, his trembling hands turning the wheel. He gave no thought to what he was doing; his body was running on automatic. His mind had slipped through a time tunnel and he was once more reliving the last hours of the worst day of his life.
He stands quietly by the small window in his small kitchen/dining room, watching a late spring storm rage outside. Rain sheets down the windowpanes and the outside is dark and foreboding. Apprehension wells up within him as he waits for Wufei to come home from work. An unknown fear races through his veins, cold as glacial ice, a sense that somehow his life is about to be forever altered, and not for the best. He tries to ignore his unease as he sets the table for dinner- he is using his grandmother’s fine china, which he only brings out on rare, special occasions- but this dreadful feeling stubbornly remains.
Warm and inviting, the scents of lasagna and freshly baked bread perfume the air and still he waits, desperate now for Wufei to come strolling through the door, his thick black hair wet and raindrops beading along his golden skin. He imagines going to him, wrapping his arms around him, kissing him, thinks of Wufei’s lips, how they would taste of cool rain and warm desire. Heero’s own yearnings twist and mingle with fear, a potent combination. Together they fill his heart to bursting then flood through his body, not with fire, but ice, so very cold.
The ticking of the clock is very loud in the silence of the kitchen. Killing each second with a swing of its brass pendulum. Brutal. Bloodless. The storm has finally died down and Heero tells himself that Wufei should be home any minute now and that it doesn’t really matter that dinner is cold and ruined as long as he is safe. Besides, that’s what microwaves were created for, right?
The night’s stars, cold, brilliant, sparkle in the now clear heavens and still no sign of Wufei. The candles lit for their romantic dinner have burned out, thin wisps of smoke curling lazily as they drift into the still air. They twist and fade, just as Heero’s hopes grow tattered and begin to crumble. On a deeper level he fears the worst, though it hasn’t made an impression yet on his conscious mind – it was a deeper, more instinctual understanding, felt but not yet acknowledged.
He eventually slips into an uneasy sleep, his chin resting heavily on his chest, which rises and falls with each breath. Disturbing images haunt his dreams. Dark figures with glowing red eyes chase him down a dark, endless corridor. Fear is strong within him and he calls for Wufei but only cold, inhuman laughter echoes back. His heart booms in his ears, and suddenly he sees a familiar silhouette before him.
“Wufei!’ Heero calls out, and relief bursts through him as bright as a thousand suns at having found a familiar person in all of this darkness.
Wufei turns at the sound of his voice, and Heero gasps at the sight of him. His naked body is smooth and pale, his black eyes blank and silver-rimmed with tears that break and spill down his cheeks. Suddenly a tall figure of a man appears behind him. The stranger’s face is mostly hidden by shadow, but his eyes glow like blue fire. A warning tingle of power radiates out from him, shimmering the air between them, raising the small hairs along the nape of Heero’s neck.
Here, Heero realizes, is the source of all of his fear and anxiety, this cruel creature that stands before him.
Before Heero is able to move or even utter a sound, the man wraps his arms around Wufei, who cries out and begins to struggle feebly. The tall man presses his lips against the flesh of Wufei’s neck, kissing the tender skin, tracing small spirals with his tongue. Wufei’s eyes close, his tears drying on his cheeks, and a small moan, part fear, part longing, tumbles from his slightly parted lips. The stranger smiles triumphantly, opens his mouth to reveal sharp fangs that glisten in the subdued light. He casts his eyes towards Heero, and they are shiny and lifeless as a doll’s. Then, with the speed of a striking serpent, he drives his fangs into Wufei’s throat.
Heero and Wufei scream in unison, both helpless under the overpowering wash of power being emitted from the demon in their midst. Soft sucking sounds are heard and the metallic scent of blood fills the air. After an eternity the stranger releases his victim and Wufei slides towards the ground with boneless grace, would have fallen if he hadn’t been caught up in his attacker’s arms. The stranger offers his strength and Wufei leans against him for support until he is once again able to stand on his own two feet.
Heero stumbles back in horror when Wufei stirs and opens his eyes. Though his body and facial features remain the same, he understands with the clarity seldom found outside of dreams that his lover is fundamentally different now. He senses this immediately though he can’t explain how he comes by this understanding. Its not something that can be rationally explained, only felt with the heart.
This doppelganger that looks like Wufei bares bloody fangs at Heero, and hissing like a serpent. His obsidian eyes are cold and devoid of life and compassion. He tilts his head up towards his creator and their lips meet in a fierce kiss. When they finally break away from each other, Wufei’s head bows back, his eyes closed in something very much like rapture, a beatific smile on his face. He turns to face Heero, and though smiling, his eyes open again and are once more alive, full of unimaginable sadness as tears well up and flood down his cheeks.
Wufei stretches out one arm towards Heero in a beckoning gesture.
“Come join us.”
Heero recoils from the two creatures standing before him, screaming his defiance, a wordless cry of horror, despair. He pulls away, his heart rapping against his ribs, louder, louder.
Not his heart, he realizes with a start as he jerks out of the clutches of his nightmare. His neck and shoulders are stiff from sleeping in such an uncomfortable position. Not his heart. Someone is knocking at the door, a loud, steady, yet almost apologetic sound. It beckons him. He doesn’t want to answer, doesn’t want to know what Fate has waiting for him on the other side of his front door. But he is drawn helplessly forward, trapped in the twisted web of a living nightmare more real, more horrible than any dream.
For one fleeting moment he believes that it is Wufei knocking before he remembers that he gave him a copy of the key two years ago.
Even before he sees the police officer standing at his front door, young and thin, with soft brown eyes, his hat held in his hands, Heero understands that his deepest fears are about to be realized. With a resounding click, sharp and swift as the crack of thunder, everything comes together in his mind. His sense of foreboding, the nightmare, which is mercifully fading rapidly from his mind, their meanings suddenly became hellishly clear.
Somehow, deep in his heart he must have known the truth. He couldn’t explain how he knew, he just did. This horrible truth was all but confirmed by the presence of this stranger at his front door. He could see it written plainly in the police officer’s eyes, in the awkward set of his shoulders, the way his long, graceful fingers fiddled nervously with the rim of his hat.
In that horrible instant he knew that Wufei wouldn’t be coming home.
Not ever again.
A battered and rusty El Dorado of near-indeterminable color cut sharply in front of Heero, shattering his thoughts, his memories, pulling him back to the present with a nasty jolt. He gritted his teeth and slammed his foot down on the breaks in order to avoid a potentially nasty collision. His horn blared angrily, one of many left in the wake of a fool’s recklessness. The driver in front of him didn’t seem to care one bit that he had caused such a disturbance. He casually stuck one sunburned arm out the window and gave Heero the bird as he continued on his merry way.
Shaking from reaction from both his close call and the nightmare he had all but forgotten up until a few moments ago, Heero eased his foot down on the gas pedal again. A few minutes later pulled into the station’s parking lot, muttering angrily under his breath as he cruised through the lanes looking for a parking place close to the entrance.
He might just as well have been on a quest for the Holy Grail. The parking lot was crammed to near capacity and police cruisers took up most of the choicest spaces. After several long minutes of endless circling he gave up and finally settled for a less than ideal space near the back of the lot.
He got out of the car then fished a pair of sunglasses from his chest pocket and squinted against the unholy glare of the sun as it was bounced off of countless chrome surfaces of the idle cars surrounding him. The sunglasses had been a gift from Wufei, who had theorized that if Heero owned a pair of cheap sunglasses, he would never lose them, no matter how much he wanted to. And, of course, Wufei had been right. Normally Heero lost his sunglasses only a few weeks after buying them, but he had had these ones for almost three years now. It was rather ironic in its own bizarre way, really. Just one of the many oddballs Life had a way of throwing when you least expected it.
Heat radiated up from the concrete surface and Heero could’ve sworn that he even felt it cooking its way through the thin soles of his leather loafers. The parking lot stretched out before him, a seemingly never-ending wasteland of still automobiles and blacktop. He locked his door then slammed it shut; the sound was very loud in the afternoon hush. He doubted anyone would try to boost his car while it was parked right next to a police station, but old habits died hard. Besides, weirder things had been known to happen.
Heero made his way through the maze of cars, each step feeling slow and awkward though he moved no slower than he normally would have. Halfway through the lot he glanced down towards the ground as one of his feet dragged infinitesimally, expecting that he had stepped into a wad of used bubble gum. His eyebrows rose in astonishment, his shoe wasn’t stuck in bubble gum at all, but melting tar. He yanked himself free with an irritated grunt and made a concentrated effort to avoid the oozing ribbons of tar that laced through many of the numerous cracks that broke up the otherwise smooth surface of the parking lot. Finally, he mounted the stone steps leading to the front entrance of the police headquarters.
The sunglasses he wore, cheap as they were, did help cut the glare a bit, but they also lent an odd sepia-like tone to the world around him. It was like watching a really old movie in which the hero always saved the day and there was always, ALWAYS a happy ending, no matter how impossible the odds or how scary the monsters portrayed. The tinted glasses made everything seem distant and so very unreal to Heero. He didn’t know if that was a good thing or not.
Regardless of how confused his thoughts and feelings were at this moment, life was not like the movies of old. And he had serious misgivings as to whether the good would triumph over evil this time, if in fact it ever did at all. He was too old to believe in fairy tale and not being a religious man, he didn’t put much stock into miracles.
His reality stood right before him now, an old, nondescript brick building nestled between several newer, flashier ones. Here in this building he would finally have his questions answered one way or the other. And if Fate had no happy ending in store for him, perhaps she would be merciful and allow him closure at least.
Taking a deep, calming breath, Heero reached out with a not quite steady hand, took hold of the worn brass door handles, pushed – the door swung open more easily than he would have imagined. Surely the doors to Hell would be much heavier - and entered the building.
TO BE CONTINUED...