Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ In the Arms of the Angel ❯ In the Arms of the Angel ( Chapter 1 )

Gundam Wing is not mine. I don't make any money from this. "Angel" by Sarah McLauchlan (I hope I spelled her name right) is not mine either. Damn.

In the Arms of the Angel

//Spend all your time waiting for that second chance\\

Duo stared at his reflection. His eyes were hollow, no longer carrying the sparkle they once held. His hair hung limply from his scalp, and his cheeks were sunken in. He looked like Death. Ever since the fight with Heero, he had cried every night, falling asleep on his tears, and spent his days in the power of the Angel. He desperately needed Heero, but he had told him to leave, with all of the finality laced in his voice. So, he had left, not wanting to be "a burden", as Heero had said. If only…

//For a break that would make it okay||

Duo burst into new tears, knowing they were useless. Why couldn't he muster up the strength to at least call Heero? Why couldn't Heero come find him? The last question was answered easily. Firstly, because Duo kept on the move, not feeling safe in any one spot for more than a week. And secondly, because Heero had said that he "didn't want him". Heero had told him to "get out and stay out." If only Heero would say he was wrong, that he didn't mean it, that he was sorry Then, he might be able to live again.

//There's always some reason to feel not good enough||

Everyone was always asking more and more of him. And they always made comments whispering behind his back. It was like no matter how hard he tried, he could never quite make the grade. He somehow always fell short. It started with Solo dying because he wasn't fast enough, getting sent to the orphanage because he was stupid. Never getting adopted. And now, where was he? He worked some endless job that paid shit money and yelled at him because he couldn't read people's minds. And then there was Heero and that

fateful night when everything went wrong. Why wasn't he ever good enough? Why?

//And it's hard at the end of the day||

He had come home at the end of a particularly hard day at work to a fuming Heero. He was still unsure as to why Heero had gotten mad at him in the first place, but he accepted it as one of the many things he couldn't do right. Three hours later, he was sitting in the rain at a bus stop with nothing but the clothes on his back and the cash in his pocket. He had never gone back, being too afraid of what Heero might do. He wandered into the hotel room, flinging himself on the squeaky bed.

//I need some distraction||

He rummaged through his duffel bag, looking for that clear plastic bag that he held his salvation in. He hadn't ever used drugs before he had been kicked out, but he needed the release. He needed to be sent to a place where nothing could hurt him. Where he was safe. Where it didn't matter who or what he was, where he didn't have to be anything.

//Oh beautiful release||

He felt strong, stronger than he had ever been in his life. He could take on anything that was thrown at him. He wanted to find his old boss and tell him everything he had ever wanted to say, but had been to afraid to. He wanted to find Heero so he could fight back. He could fight back, he wouldn't take any shit. No one could walk over him anymore. He felt whole.

//Memories seep for my veins||

All of his memories slowly seeped from his mind, leaving nothing in their wake. He laid on the rusted bed staring at the ceiling. He counted the flecks of plaster just for the hell of it. It didn't matter anyway there was nothing. Absolutely nothing.

//Then may be empty oh and weightless and maybe||

There was no Heero. There was no Relena, and there had not been a fight. And he had no one. His bed seemed to fold itself around him, trying to keep him grounded, but he knew that there was nothing to him, and reluctantly the bed released him to the wind. He was just a shell of pain, pain that didn't need to exist if he would just cast it off of himself. Then he would be free. Another dose disappeared under his skin.

//I'll find some peace tonight||

He would sleep dreamless sleep, where neither Heero nor Relena could get to him. He would sleep. Could he sleep forever? If not, he would wake up tomorrow, not really understanding what was going on. He could just float through the day, ignoring the strange looks he received. It didn't matter. It was just him and his Angel.

//In the arms of the angel||

He twirled around the hotel room, watching as his arms cut through the air. He giggled and moved his arms up and down, feeling the force tingle along his arms. The Angel had taken over, now, and he wasn't alone. He felt ten feet tall, and felt like he could take on the world but he didn't know where to start.

//Far away from here||

He imagined himself ten thousand miles away, grinning out of the window of some imaginary colony, orbiting nothing in space. He could go anywhere, be anyone he wanted. He just wanted Heero.

//In this stark cold hotel room||

He flopped back down on the bed, the squeaking springs assaulting his ears. He cried, his tears spilling onto the faded comforter. The space heater kicked on and old air circulated the room, drowning out the sound of his sobs. There was nothing worth living for unless he was with Heero. He could end it now, in this run down ass of a place, but he was just too damned emotional to get up and find his gun.

//And the endlessness that you feel||

It was over, whichever way he looked at it. It was over. It had been six months, and Heero still hadn't come after him. He was still alone. Alone. He would always be alone. He couldn't be alone. He readied another injection with shaking hands. His Angel Dust would always be there for him.

//You were pulled from the wreckage of your silent reverie||

He imagined strong hands caressing him. A steely voice gently saying "I love you" and cold eyes melting in love. He imagined them now, as real as they had been when he was with Heero. He image shattered like fallen glass. If they seemed real now, then they weren't truly real then. He fell back on the bed, tears flowing again. Would they ever stop?

//You're in the arms of the angel||

He felt like he was laying on cotton. He felt like he was made out of cotton. The Angel cradled him and sang him to sleep, cooing soothing words of comfort. His Dust lay scattered around him as he closed his eyes, falling into the dreamless sleep that he craved.

//May you find some comfort here||

He finally drifted off into a fitful sleep, tossing and turning, kicking the blankets off. But he never

once dreamed. He still called out Heero's name, though. Even with the Angel, he could never forget his love.

//So tired of the straight life||

Quatre gazed out of the window, high above the colony ground. He pressed his fingers to the glass. He was too young. Too young to have sold his soul to Winner Enterprises. He wished he was sixteen again, fleeing from place to place a nomad. An uncomfortably large part of him even wished that another war broke out so he could go fight in it and get the fuck away from his life as it stood now.

//And everywhere you turn there's vultures and thieves at your back||

The stack of paperwork loomed from his desk mocking him, pulling him even further into the hell that was business. He was never meant for this kind of work he was a musician. He angrily brushed hot tears from his cheeks as he turned back to the waiting paperwork. Maybe the paperwork would kill him and he'd finally be free. He could only hope.

//The storm keeps on twisting keep on building the lies||

It was his secret, this pain. His secretary asked how he was doing. "Fine, fine." He told her lies. Trowa's worried face would study him for long, silent and tense moments on the phone. "I'm fine, Trowa. I'm just busy." LIES! But every day he died a little bit more with the shrieking of the alarm clock. He was fading away from the inside out, and no one would see it until it was too late.

//That you make up for all that you lack||

He desperately wanted to cry out for help, to fling himself at the feet of Trowa begging for support. He wanted to be rid of this Godforsaken business, pass it on to his sisters, or anything. Anything, so long as it got him as far away from Winner Enterprises as possible. But he felt tied. He couldn't breathe, he was bound and gagged to this company. All because he felt guilt. He couldn't have been the son his father wanted in life, so he was the perfect son in death. But it was killing HIM.

//Don't make no difference||

It didn't really matter, anyway. Where would he go? Join the circus with Trowa? Ha! There wasn't any place he could go not alone, not without someone. When he had been younger, he had been free, able to make his own decisions, go where he wanted. But now, he was Mr. Winner. He could go nowhere.

//Escape one last time||

He looked at the white powder whispering escape. Angel Dust. He knew it was wrong to take it, but he couldn't think of any other way. He was long past reason, he was lost. He sat down, staring at the ticket to salvation if only for a moment. He would take it, it would take him, and he would float away. He would fall asleep at some point blissfully unaware of anything around him and when he woke up, he would begin his day anew. Same old shit. Maybe this time, he wouldn't wake up.

//It's easier not to believe||

He didn't want the world to exist. It was better if there was nothing. No job, no Winner Enterprises, no stress, no life. He wanted to live, but not in this form. He had nothing anymore. He had lost his friends a long time ago when his work had finally swallowed him whole. It was time he took his life back. He reached for the mirror the dust was scattered upon.

//In this sweet madness oh this glorious sadness||

It was always a strange sensation, the feel of powder being breathed in. He sniffed a couple times, making sure the Dust was in his lungs. He leaned back against the couch and closed his eyes, waiting for the Angel to embrace him. He took off his shirt, flinging it to the side where his socks and shoes already lay abandoned. He walked through the room, digging his toes into the plush carpet, muscles beginning to unwind from one another. He could finally swing his arms fully, without pain. He walked into his study and gazed at the pile of paper. It seemed to get smaller and smaller until he could crush it with his thumb. He picked up the stack and dropped it into the trashcan.

//That brings me to my knees||

He fell to his knees in his living room, arms spread wide, as if in flight. He threw his head back and closed his eyes. The paperwork was gone, his job was gone. He was gone floating high above his loft, even outside the colony. He was relaxed and free. He began to laugh.

//In the arms of the angel||

The Angel had embraced him, and was showing him how to fly. He swooped between stars and galaxies, stopping only to notice a detail for a painting. He twirled and somersaulted, laughing. How he wished he could stay like this forever. But you can the Angel whispered to him. He nodded, understanding, and took another line adding to his high.

//Far away from here||

He floated in space, though he could still feel his carpet under his back. He swept his arms and legs across the carpet, laughing as though he was making a snow-angel. He was young again and free. Nothing pertained to him unless he wanted it to. He stood up, bouncing to his feet, and made his way to his balcony. He flung open the door and stepped into the chill night air.

//From this stark cold hotel room||

There had been other nights that were worse, before he had found his Angel, and he still didn't know how he survived. But one look at the thin white scars on his wrists told him that he hadn't really survived. Shivering in the night, he leaned out over the rail, his hair flapping gently in the breeze. He lost himself in the blinking lights of the city. Well, he really lost himself a long time ago.

//And the endlessness that you feel||

He lost himself, and he was never coming back. There was nothing left. No hope. Even through the darkest moments of his youth, he hadn't lost hope. But he had now. He rubbed his arms, turning away from the cityscape. He needed more Dust, then he would be okay. He had one more line left, that would help. He would survive for another night. Tomorrow would be a blur until he could get home to another dose of Angels.

//You were pulled from the wreckage of your silent reverie||

He collapsed in front of the coffee table, tears falling down his face. He dropped his head into his hands. His head thunked on the table, it being between his head and hands. The mirror slid off the table, thudding softly on the rich carpet, depositing its contents into the fabric. He didn't notice as he sobbed on the table. Why? Why was he lost? Why couldn't he grip his own life? Why couldn't he stand up for himself?

//You're in the arms of the angel||

Looking up he noticed the mirror on the floor and cried out as he tried to rescue his Angel. He scraped the carpet, always looking for more Dust, but it was too fine and had disappeared into the strands in an instant. More tears rolled off of his chin, dripping into the carpet. He dug his fingers in, feeling his resolve about to snap. He had more it was in his bedroom, he could always get more. He could float away forever, and no one would notice. He trudged resolutely to his bedroom, mirror in hand.

//May you find some comfort here||

He lay on his bed, his brain comfortably numb. It was time. He no longer had to see his office at Winner Enterprises again. He knew that he couldn't move, though he didn't bother to try. It was the end for him. He smiled at his ceiling. Bliss. Nothing. He closed his eyes, reveling in the last moments. He ignored the blood trickling from his nose he couldn't move to wipe it away, anyway. He thankfully traversed into nothing.

//You're in the arms of the angel||

Heero thanked the desk clerk and moved off in the direction she had pointed. Room 145. He watched the doors move past him141, 142, 143, 144 Duo, please be here, this time.

//May you find some comfort here||

Trowa looked up at the top floor, searching for lights in Quatre's apartment. He climbed off of his bike and headed to the front door. He rang Quatre's apartment, but there was no answer. He began to climb up the fire escape.