eirenical | GW x Slayers -- Untitled (Reply)

I haven't posted much recently. *sweatdrop* OK, I haven't posted anything recently. And it's starting to depress me. The last new piece of writing that I posted was my Suikoden III fic... in June. *falls over* Not good. Very not good. So, I decided to get my arse in gear and start posting. It doesn't matter what, or how much, but I'm just going to start posting. Even if it's only a couple of paragraphs.

So, today's posting is my Slayers x Gundam Wing x-over. I have significantly more of it written than what I'm about to post... I just haven't typed it yet. O_O;;; Anyway, this picks up where my last ML post leaves off. Enjoy!

GW x Slayers -- Untitled (5/?)

Valgaav crossed his arms over his chest and leaned on the windowsill, the very picture of nonchalance. Somewhere, he was sure, Lina was watching the spectacle he was making of himself and laughing her head off. She always did enjoy a good comedy and this one promised to be a doozy.

Of the three young men in the room, Val was certain he recognized two of them. One Lina had warned him of -- he had, in fact, been the very reason that the normally impartial Avatar had consented to get involved in this little mess -- but the other had been a surprise. The young Chinese man also had an old soul, one even older than the first.

Currently the young Chinese man with the very old soul was trying to come up with something to say. Amusing, to say the least, because he had never had such difficulty in the past... Val took pity on him and smiled, "You want to ask for details, do you not?"

The young man nodded.

"And you're afraid that if you ask too boldly, I will give you none."

Another nod.

Val's smile widened to reveal his sharp canines, a gift of his draconic heritage, "Rest assured, I am not Lina Inverse. I am not bound to non-interference as she is. Ask of me what you will and I will do my best to answer." For the sake of the one called Trowa, the one who had once been the center of Val's universe, he could do no less.

The Chinese man, having no idea that Val had reasons of his own for doing this, snorted, "You'll forgive me if I don't believe you."

Before Valgaav could answer, Trowa raised up a hand and slowly spoke, "Wufei, I believe him. I couldn't tell you why, but I believe that whatever he tells us..." He trailed off, a confused look crossing his face as some information, source unknown, clearly became available to him. He corrected himself, "No... that's not entirely true. Whatever he tells _me_ is completely trustworthy." He lifted his one visible eyebrow at Val, "True?"

Defeated, though happily so, Val laughed, "In one, I'm afraid." He paused a moment to let the other two absorb the possible implications of that, "But if it will make you more comfortable, I will try to treat your four friends as though they were always in your company. It will keep me honest." He quirked an eyebrow at the man Trowa had identified as 'Wufei', "Will that suffice?"

Though clearly unhappy with the situation, Wufei nodded in acquiescence, "It will have to."

Val spread his hands as wide as his smile, "Then ask your questions and we will see what answers I have."

Before any of them could even begin to take him up on his offer, a slightly nasal tenor voice spoke up from the doorway, accompanied by the click of a gun safety being disabled, "How about we start with who you are and why you're being so damned cooperative?"

Val turned his eyes to take in the two newcomers in the doorway. The one in black jeans, dark red tee-shirt and a chestnut braid which reached nearly to his knees was obviously Xelloss -- there was no mistaking his aura for anyone else's. The short-haired one in blue jeans and a white tee-shirt was unfamiliar, though something about him spoke of a deeper involvement in the current situation than a first glance would suggest. Xelloss had his hand on the arm of the other man and seemed to be trying to coax him into lowering the gun. The irony nearly made Valgaav choke. Instead, he raised his hands to the pair, "No need for violence. I have already promised you as much assistance as I can give you." He quirked an eyebrow and added as an afterthought, "And it isn't as if your modern day weapons could harm me, anyway."

He heard the short-haired man mutter something that sounded like "Damn" before lowering the gun. Xelloss uttered a slightly nervous laugh and immediately began to apologize, "Sorry, man. He reacts that way to everything. Nothing personal, right?"

Val permitted himself another chuckle, "Fascinating indeed. But to show my good faith, I will answer your friend's question, no matter the manner in which it was asked." The young man in question didn't even look embarrassed, he merely looked still, as if he could wait all day in that same position if need be. It was... unnerving. Shaking off the young man's regard, Val let himself in the rest of the way through the window and settled down at the head of the table.

He indicated that the others should sit and then waited until they had done so before answering, "My name is Valgaav. As for why I am being so 'cooperative', as you put it... I have no reason not to be." He held up a hand to forestall the two interruptions he could see coming, "Allow me to finish. By that, I mean that there are no restrictions placed upon me that would prevent me from interfering in the current situation. And since I have a vested interest in seeing one of your number," he nodded in Trowa's direction, "Continue to be among the living, I have chosen to interfere on your behalf."

Unexpectedly, it was the golden-haired man -- the only one of the assembly whom Val did not feel he should know -- who asked the next question, "Forgive my apparent ungratefulness, but why is it that you are so interested in Trowa? You clearly know him and he seems to have recognized you, but neither of you has explained how that came to be...?"

With a pang that Val only vaguely recognized as disappointment, he realized that Trowa and the blond must be lovers. It was the only way to explain the subtle body language he had been observing and the worry in the young man's voice that he was now hearing. With a sigh for what once was, he answered, "Trowa can not explain as he does not remember. He was never meant to. That he has remembered as much as he has clearly speaks for how disorganized the Powers That Be have become in this time of change." Val took a deep breath, "Lina explained to you about the 5 Mazoku Lords, correct?" At the collection of nods from around the table, Val continued, "I served as Priest to the Demon King Gaav. In gratitude for his saving my life and giving me purpose and then later out of love, I took his name into my own. Through events beyond our control, Gaav was betrayed and then killed. Based upon his great love for the human race, the Powers That Be thought it a fitting punishment that he should be cursed to live as one of them, forever unaware of what he had once been."

Val's eyes shifted away from the blonde’s and met those of his one-time master, "Trowa is the current incarnation of my lord, the Demon King Gaav. It is flattery of the highest order that he still recognizes his humble servant, though I really should have known by now not to put anything past him."

Trowa would never display his shock openly. Quatre would never have hysterics in public. In sheer overloaded shock, Duo decided to do both for them. He jumped up out of his seat and started pacing back and forth, hands fisted in his hair to prevent them from doing anything more ridiculous -- like clutching together as if around a staff that he didn't own.

Trying to calm his rising panic, he began to babble, "Oh terrific. Bad enough that *I've* been dragged into this against my will. Now they're dragging *Trowa* into it! Not cool. Definitely not cool. Next thing they're gonna be saying that Heero was one of these dragon kings or something--" An abrupt yank on his braid quite affectively stopped both his pacing and his babbling. He turned to glare at Heero, whose eyes widened slightly as they met Duo's. The long-haired boy snarled, "What??"

Though Duo hadn't been addressing him, Valgaav was the one who answered his semi-incoherent question, "Look to your eyes, old friend. They are often windows to the soul."

Duo turned to face him, "Excuse me?"

Quatre lifted a shaking hand to his mouth as he cleared his throat, "Your eyes, Duo. They're slitted. Just like they were yesterday, when you..."

Duo finished bitterly, "When I went berserk and killed a hundred Mazoku in one shot."

Valgaav chuckled, "Nothing compared to what you are truly capable of. I once saw you slay one thousand in between one yawn and the next. They didn't call you 'Beastmaster' for nothing."

"Beastmaster...?" Something about that rang false. Duo let his mind wander on that word, looking for an association that made sense, "Beastmaster... That wasn't me."

"Oh, it most certainly was, my old friend. I saw it with my very own eyes," was the Ancient Dragon's answer.

Duo shook his head. His eyes began to unfocus, "Not what I meant. They may have called me Beastmaster, but that was never my title." As he concentrated, Duo's lithe form lifted, floating several inches off the ground, "It was *hers*."

Valgaav let his smile turn triumphant, "So it was. So it was. I stand corrected."

A hand reached out to grab Duo's, quite suddenly bringing his mind back to the present. Duo felt himself jerked to rest against his lover's chest and turned to press his face into it. Too easy. It was too easy to let his mind wander those roads. Too easy to let it be sucked down into the seductive call of the wild wolf's howl. He began to tremble. Heero merely tightened his grip.

Duo fisted his hands in the front of his lover’s shirt and whispered harshly into his chest, “I don’t want this. Please make it go away.”

Heero raised his eyes to meet the sea-green ones across the room. Seeing their gleeful smirk, he made a decision. He raised his gun. Even though it was useless as a weapon, it could still make a point. He clicked off the safety and uttered one clipped word, “Leave.”

Valgaav raised an eyebrow at the former pilot, “And what of those explanations you were willing to kill me to get?”

Heero allowed a corner of his mouth to quirk upwards, “I’m still willing to kill you. I don’t need a reason.”

Valgaav shook his head, unconcerned, “I don’t think that will be necessary, even if it were possible.” Looking around the room, Val let his eyes land on Trowa and said mildly, “Then if you all agree…?”

Trowa nodded reluctantly, “I think it’s for the best for now.”

Val bowed his head, “As you wish, then. I will take my leave.” He turned back towards Heero and Duo, “One final piece of advice, my friend: She *will* find you. You can’t avoid this forever. I hope you understand that.”

When Duo made no response except to burrow his head further into Heero’s shirt, Valgaav shrugged and… disappeared.

Quatre ran to Duo’s side and put his hands gently on his friend’s shoulders, so many layers of concern in his voice that he could have made a wedding cake with them, “Duo, are you all right?”

Duo, still hiding his face, answered in a hoarse, haunted voice, “No, I’m not.”

Quatre froze in shock. In spite of all the signs that this situation was not normal, he had still expected Duo to act a certain way. No matter how bad the situation, Quatre had only ever once heard the braided pilot admit to being other than perfectly fine -- the day that Heero had self-destructed and they’d thought him lost forever. And all Duo had said then was: ~I’m too emotionally drained right now to make a decision. Lead on.~ This was so much more. He’d known that Heero was worried about his partner, that something had been seriously wrong with Duo for longer than this week, but this… Duo must be at the absolute end of his emotional rope to admit in public that he wasn’t OK. That, more than anything that had happened in the past few days, scared him. For if Duo wasn’t OK… what hope had the rest of them?

Unaware of his inner turmoil, Duo continued, “He’s right. I can’t hide from this forever. I can’t hide from Her.” His voice took on a shamed hue, “What’s worse… I’m not sure I truly want to…”

Quatre frowned, “’Her’? Who do you mean, Duo? Sherra-san?”

Duo snorted, turning his face enough so that Quatre could see the evil smirk playing with the corner of his mouth, “Sherra? Dynast-sama’s faithful 1st General? She’s nothing. Less than nothing.”

“Duo…” Something was wrong. That wasn’t Duo’s voice. It was darker, reminiscent of his friend’s mission voice. Not his maniacal boasting -- no, it couldn’t be farther from that. This was a voice that Quatre had only rarely ever heard. In the quiet dark hours of undercover stealth missions when the whole world slept but for Shinigami and his assistants -- and Quatre truly had felt like a mere accessory at those times -- Duo’s voice took on this same tone. Grave, serious, deadly -- as if words alone could kill. And at those times, Quatre had believed -- with sudden surprised conviction -- that, from Duo, they could do just that. Now, like then, hearing that voice woke some primal center of fear in the deepest part of the Arabian’s mind. That voice promised Death… and delivered. He felt a moment of insane pity for Sherra, pity that was squashed the moment his friend finally lifted his face from Heero’s shirt.

A knowing smile rested on Duo’s lips, as though he knew exactly what effect he was having on Quatre… and was enjoying it. With a start, Quatre realized that Duo’s eyes had still not returned to normal. It made his gaze more piercing and gave his whole expression a sinister cast. Even the pleasant smile his face now wore reminded Quatre more of the look a cat would bestow on a mouse than of an expression of joy. This didn’t bode well…

Duo’s smile widened, “You see, even Dynast is nothing to Her. With the Hellmaster gone, She is supreme. In time, none will stand against Her. Those that do will face the Hunt… and if they are lucky, they will die quickly.”

The joy, the pride, the sheer savage *ecstasy* in Duo’s words froze Quatre’s voice in his throat. He couldn’t answer. He’d never heard Duo speak of *anyone* with such passion. Heero included. The only thing he could liken it to was the worship in Valgaav’s voice when he’d spoken of Trowa. And if that were the case… then this wasn’t Duo. Quatre dropped his hands from the braided man’s shoulders and backed away. Heero, clearly torn, did likewise.

And now for some chibi-silliness!

Quatre: *mouth drops open* You can not leave it there.

R-chan: *as the cat who got the cream, purrs* Oh, I can... and I did.

Quatre: But... but... that's mean!

R-chan: *eyes Quatre* What're you so upset about? You know what happens next.

Quatre: *waves his arms at the readers* But they don't!

R-chan: *sheepish grin* I'll get to work typing up the rest... Eventually... After Friday's Surgery exam... or Monday's Food Animal exam... or the next Friday's Toxicology exam... *chibi begins to go swirly-eyed -- especially since this morning's Exotics exam was so not fun...*

Quatre: *eeps* On second thought... maybe you should just work on studying, Renee-san...

R-chan: *still swirly-eyed, wanders off* Yeah... maybe I should do that... *dazedly eyes clock* Or maybe I should go to class...