There is no Absolution, Part 2
by Jennifer Beacham
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"As a child, I thought I could
live without pain, without sorrow.
As a man, I've found it's all
caught up with me.
I'm asleep yet I'm so afraid..."
--Dream Theater, Metropolis--Part 1
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"I have served faithfully, always faithfully. Is this
my reward?!" With a roar of fury, he seized the tray of
blessed host and slammed it into the wall, sending the small
wafers flying. For several long moments after he stood there,
shoulders heaving as he ruthlessly fought down the anger that
boiled over in his heart. It was an anger born of despair, or
perhaps in spite of it. Without the anger, there would be an
emptiness to face.
"I have never questioned your will...Lord... But why?"
His voice broke, the powerful body crumpling to one knee before
the altar. "Why?" He raked his hands through his hair,
eyes studying the intricate designs of the precious oriental
carpets that covered the chapel's wood floors. "Our love was
not...blessed by the church. I know that. I thought, perhaps--
Surely, so much blood on my hands. In your name, always in your
name...
"You asked too much," he whispered brokenly. "My
life, my soul. Could you not give me one small thing in return?
Speak to me, Father. Speak to me..." Wearily, he slumped
over the altar, hands clutching at the bronze crucifix that was
enthroned upon it.
For hours he lay there, undisturbed. A few dared to look inside
the chapel's doors, but none ventured past them. Lord Heero had
the look of one wrestling with God, and a battle such as that was
one no mere mortal would chance to stumble upon. When the
sunlight began to fade, painting the saints in the windows in
dark, forbidding tones, he at last arose from the altar.
"If that is your answer," he grated in a harsh whisper,
"here is mine." The window nearest the altar depicted
the dying Christ, its panes a mingled hue of amber and deep
crimson. The last of the sunlight fell through that window,
bathing the chiseled stone features of the man standing before
God's judgement... it bathed him in crimson, baptized him in
blood.
He lifted a hand to the cross that hung at his neck, snapping the
chain in one swift stroke. Then he hesitated, looking down at the
simple crucifix as it lay in his palm. Plain, unadorned, as
unassuming as its original wearer. His cross. Bowing his
head, Heero closed his hand around it, the crossbars biting into
his flesh. Witnessed only by the distant, forbidding saints, a
tear escaped his iron will, one of the last he would ever shed.
With a reverence reserved not for the God it symbolized, but for
the beloved one at whose throat the cross truly belonged, he laid
it on the altar.
"You now have all that I will give to you." Cold,
cobalt-blue eyes lifted to those of the Christ on his bronzed
throne. "If you wish more from me, you will have to come
down from your heavens and take it." He took a slow, deep
breath, steeling himself to the course he had chosen. "My
business with you is done."
The saints, in their silent witness, watched as he turned on his
heel and left the small chapel... never to return. Heero had
chosen his path, he went now to war.
*******
"God...Heero." He tossed his head, barely wincing as
the movement made his shoulder throb. It was but one small voice
in a chorus, his body fairly singing as Heero moved again above
him. "Come down here," he whispered fiercely, lifting
his uninjured arm and threading his fingers into his lover's
hair, forcing his head down until their mouths sealed together in
a searing kiss.
The safe house was deserted save for the two of them. Their bags
still lay on the floor just inside the doorway, Heero's precious
laptop sitting on a chair, abandoned. Everyone came down from the
high differently, but something about the rush of adrenaline, the
euphoria of coming so very close to death, made every movement
sensual, every sensation more intense. With the scent of blood
still in the air, the realization of what had nearly been lost
foremost on both their minds...the conclusion was foregone.
"Say my name that way again," Heero murmured against
Duo's cheek. It almost sounded teasing.
"What way?" Violet eyes looked up at him hazily, then
abruptly rolled back as Duo's lithe body arched. He raggedly said
Heero's name through clenched teeth. Much as it had been
intended, it came out as something between a blessing and a
curse.
"That way." Burying his lips in Duo's hair, he managed
to hide something that sounded suspiciously like a chuckle.
"Bastard," Duo gasped, dragging Heero's head back up
where he'd wanted it to begin with, digging his nails into the
hard muscles of his back until that, too, elicited the response
he desired. He met his lover thrust for thrust, pillaging Heero's
mouth even as he allowed Heero to conquer his body. Or perhaps it
was the other way around. Just because you weren't on top didn't
mean you weren't holding the reins. He tucked that thought away
for later, simply because it was getting harder and harder to
think at all.
"Duo..." Cobalt eyes searched his face, every muscle in
Heero's body tensed in anticipation of release.
"Finish it," Duo breathed, then cried out as his own
body gave out beneath the weight of so much bliss. Heero followed
him mere moments after as the world was broken, remade and broken
again around them.
It seemed a small eternity until he could breathe again, nuzzling
against Heero's neck, laughing softly as he received an irritable
grunt by way of reply. His lover's weight still pressed him down,
their bodies still joined. He closed his eyes and relished it,
threading his fingers into Heero's unruly hair. "Ok, that's
enough," he said eventually. "Off. You're heavy."
He chose a rib and tickled it.
Heero's back arched and his head snapped up, blue eyes glaring at
him blearily. "I'm not ticklish," he declared in his
best Perfect Soldier tone.
"Mmm-hmm, if you say so." Batting his eyelashes
innocently, Duo attacked his ribs again, grinning like a fool as
Heero shied away from his fingers, pulling free and rolling to
one side. "Don't go quite that far," he said after a
moment, realizing that the dark-haired boy had every intention of
keeping a safe distance between them. He moved closer, grazing
his fingertips along Heero's taut back before sliding his arms
around his waist.
"I thought you'd had enough of me," Heero said archly.
"I could never have enough," Duo breathed against his
neck, running his fingers through the downy soft hairs that grew
at Heero's nape. That touch elicited a low, soft sound and Heero
turned towards him. The lips that never quite seemed to smile
were incredibly soft against his, delivering a kiss that gave
more than it asked. It was the kind of thing that made Duo's
heart race, along with the knowledge that that tenderness was
reserved for him alone.
"You need to rest," Heero told him firmly, pulling back
just far enough for their eyes to meet.
"Someone hasn't been letting me rest," he
replied acerbically, eyeing the someone in question. Heero merely
cocked an eyebrow at that, his wordless insinuation being that
Duo hadn't exactly objected.
"Rest," Heero said more gently, pressing his lips to
Duo's forehead. He gently ran his hand over the bandaged
shoulder, cradling his braided lover against him in such a way
that it was protected and secure.
Duo lay his head against Heero's chest, listening as the other's
breathing deepened into the patterns that heralded sleep. It
reminded him just how tired he was, how much being injured, (and
being Heero's lover, he added with a smirk) took out of him. It
was a pleasant thing to slide into his dreams lying in the safety
of the Perfect Soldier's arms.... And dream he did.
**
When the dawnlight found them, it discovered Heero alone in the
bed. That was a rare thing, given Duo's penchant for sleeping
late. Frowning, the Wing pilot rose, raking the bedroom with a
searching cobalt gaze...only to find Duo at the window.
"Duo?" He reached for his jeans, pulling them on as he
crossed the floor. It took touching his partner's shoulder before
it seemed he noticed his presence at all.
"Heero..." Haunted violet eyes turned his way, drinking
in his face like a man dying of thirst.
"What is it?" Heero's eyes narrowed and he tensed as
though anticipating an attack from an unseen assailant.
"Duo--"
"A dream," Duo shook his head. "Just a
dream." He swallowed hard, reached out to brush his
fingertips across the window panes. "Do you believe in God,
Heero?"
"No." There was something in the way he said it. A
hardening of his voice, that meant it was more than a simple Yuy
negative. There was more to it, but perhaps he didn't realize the
'more' was there at all.
"Maybe you should."
"Why?" Again, that hardness.
"It's just...a feeling I have." He swallowed hard.
"I think Fate is finally calling in what She's owed."
(to be continued...)