cozzybob (cozzybob) wrote in cozzybabbles, @ 2008-01-31 15:30:00 |
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Entry tags: | 2x6x2, dad, duo, zechs |
[GW] Death and the Devil 2/5
Death and the Devil
--The Broken Marquise
Rated: R
Pairing: eventual 2x6x2, mention of 6+9 and 13+/x6
Warning: het, yaoi, language, adult situations, drunkenness, mention of the battle in Antarctica (slight series spoilers)
Note: Written for the gw_jeopardy lj community. The challenge was game 1, table 1, row Zechs, category 'friends and lovers' for 500 words.
Previous / Next--"The Truth."
I don't know how long I sat there, wondering how it all happened. One minute I was alone in a bar with demons and broken masks for comfort, and the next I was looking into the eyes of Duo Maxwell, Shinigami aka the God of Death. I'm sure he felt the same way, though I can't read his eyes, I can't read his face.
I don't know what he thinks of me. Am I stained? Am I beautiful?
He calls me the devil. He says that I am Satan, that if the devil were to ever walk the Earth, he would take the name of Peacecraft and drench his own hands with blood. His says that the devil would still feel guilty--as I do--about his sins, but he would do it, he would kill, simply because it was in his nature to do so. As the devil, he knows no other difference. He is darkness. And Duo says that Epyon was an obvious clue to my nature--built by Trieze, stolen by Heero and traded with me for Zero. Zero was an angel, and Heero was its calling, wreathed with two tremendous white wings of pure gundanium and a power unmatched by any other machine. I could not control Zero because I was not an angel--I was not its proper pilot and I was not destined to fight with it. No, and Heero could not control Epyon, because Epyon was a devil, and Heero--being an angel--did not belong in hell. Epyon was hell, adorned in blood red with leather black wings and eyes so hateful, my skin still crawls to remember. Epyon's weapon was a whip--a heated gundanium whip that could shred any Taurus apart like paper mache through a grater. I was born in hell, I was made for hell, and Epyon was my calling. I suppose with that logic, I really might actually be Satan.
And though I've only known him for about five minutes, I suppose I should give Duo more credit for his observation. He asks like a fool, but his mind runs like a footman in the first charge of battle.
Gunshots are fired, from somewhere down the city. I hear it, faint, and I see a flicker in Duo's eyes, a sign. The breathless shape of a grin. Wry. He's heard it too.
Someone died just now...
Someone was murdered.
I smile too, in an odd kind of way, and lean my stool closer to him. I order another scotch, mixing my alcohol like a good little convict, my brain fuddled with endlessly looping thoughts. But then Duo leans away from me, his chin propped up in his hand as he takes his own swig of beer. He doesn't seem very affected by it, as I have been. Though drunk, he doesn't slur too much, and he has control of his actions. He's graceful. Like a cat.
Perhaps Maxwell has the more experience with beat up bars in the backcountry...
I don't know.
"Zechs, you ever loved anyone?"
That thought takes me completely by surprise and I don't even acknowledge the dull thump of another shot glass hitting the counter, the bartender apprehensive as he dodges my name like a fly to a swatter. I don't breathe.
"What?"
Duo laughs casually and shakes his head. He's nervous, I can tell. I've only known him for about five--no, six--minutes, and now I feel like I've known him my entire life.
Duo sighs. "Love," he says as he waves a hand vaguely into the air. "What's the love life of a Marquise?"
I wince. "Don't call me that. Don't call me... any of that. If you have to call me something, call me..." I squint, temporarily lost in my train of thought. I look at Duo stupidly, the room waving up and down and sideways like a writhing eel speared on a hook. The boat rocks, the room trembles and my voice catches up with me again before I can lose my stomach. "Call me Joe. Remember? Good name for a drunk."
Duo lifts an eyebrow and laughs again, somehow amused. "Okay ...Joe. What's the love life of a Joe? There are rumors, you know."
"Rumors?"
"The you-and-Treize rumors. Back in the war, everyone was talking about it."
Suddenly, I laugh. I laugh so hard, I can't stop myself, and when Duo looks at me, his eyes wide with shocked curiosity, I can only laugh some more. After what had to be several years of maniacal babbling, I finally cool down enough to slip into my pre-ordered scotch.
My voice is rough when I speak.
"...Fuck Treize? Yeah. I guess I fucked him. Fucked him like the whore that he is, I think." I'm smirking, like the devil should.
Duo just looks disapprovingly at me.
I sigh again and wave without direction, as if shooing away a demon buzzing in my ear, poking my brain. Screaming...
"Yeah," I say again, to stop the chaos. "I may have loved him. Like a brother, you know. We never had the chance for anything else; he was always on the top and I on the bottom." I snort, barely restraining the laughter again. I know I'm getting hysterical. I hate talking about Treize.
But I think I could tell Duo anything.
I shake my head awkwardly, in denial. "Never got the chance. Never did. I wanted to, but the only fuck I got was when I survived my second death, in Antarctica. I fucked em good, then. He knew it too, but that was when any chance of a relationship between us had ended. I'm sure you heard about it... that was when I finally broke that goddamn mask." I take a swig of the scotch, revel in the burning of my throat, and then sip the water on my right. I close my eyes briefly as I feel a strange wetness behind them... building...
But I open them again and sneer at Duo--well, not at Duo, more like with. "I hated that fucking mask..."
"What about Noin?" Again, the question is sudden. Perhaps Duo is just a sudden kind of person. Spontaneous. Unpredictable.
Like death?
I shrug. "What about her?"
"Don't you love her? You left with her for Mar--"
"No," my voice is cooler than I intended. "She doesn't... I..." I have think about it slowly, my tongue tied in a hangman's noose. Finally I just shrug again. "I don't deserve her," I mutter quietly. I've never deserved anyone.
And Duo is persistent.
"...Have you ever loved anyone?"
I sigh yet again. I don't answer.
He waits.
"...Yes," my voice betrays after an eternity passes me by. "I suppose so."
"Suppose so?"
I frown. I don't understand the question.
Duo sighs again and looks back into his drink. He smiles oddly, almost... old.
"Yeah," he says. "Me too."