FicWad

Tainted Souls

Part I
Backstabber

"I must be cruel only to be kind;
Thus bad begins, and worse remains behind."
William Shakespeare

The moonlight sparkled on her golden hair. Her skin was glowing and as smooth as always. She was like an angel lying on silk sheets as if posed by God. The gossamer curtains fluttered in the draft from the open balcony doors and she shivered in the cool breeze, curling up on herself even more.

He could not help but think this was the perfect position for her to be found in the morning, the red of her blood accented on the ivory bedclothes. What a gruesome portrait that would be. It was a perfect position - with her curled in a fetal position, looking unbelievably beautiful - for her to die.

His heavy limbs began to tremble and he gripped the small gun in his hand. No silencer. He would be dead long before they discovered her - she with him - forever locked in eternity, love and hate.

She whimpered in her sleep and muttered his name.

His head snapped up at this. He felt something akin to a smile light upon him but he could not really tell as his face seemed to now have a permanent frown.

He walked toward her and gently pulled back the curtains and took in her sweet form, listening and counting her deep and even breathing. She shivered again and he touched his warm hand to her cold skin. It was intoxication. Once he touched her, he could not find it in him to stop.

Touching her face, she rolled over in her sleep and slowly opened her eyes. She did not scream at seeing him. She did not jerk away from his touch. He raised his gun with one shaking limb while his other hand she grasped in her own. He was paralyzed by her deep blue eyes, the same color of the water on the beach he had met her. She stared at him, determined, resolved and happy.

"I knew you weren't dead, Heero."

He stared into her eyes unable to speak, unable to move.

"'Come to kill me, Heero?"

She pulled his limp body closer to him. He went to one knee beside the bed, never losing his gaze with her. She leaned over and cupped his cheek. It had been too long since she had looked at him like that. He stared at her milky white hand as she reached for him. She gripped the dog tags around his neck and he allowed himself to be pulled towards her face. With lips only an inch from his, she smiled at him.

"I've been wanting... I've been waiting... Heero..."

He pounced on her, claiming her lips, his hands taking hers, holding them above her head. His gun clattered to the floor and her body arched against his once before she lay underneath him, as if a prisoner, submissive but with a tiny smile on her face.

She was not afraid of the fire, the hate, the passion in his eyes.

He was not surprised. She never was.

Her wrists squirmed under his and she lifted her head a tiny bit. "Please..."

He kissed her again, slowly and his hands began to travel her body. He placed himself on top of her, ever careful not to crush her with his body weight. Once her hands were released she reached under his thin shirt, fingers feeling the raised scars on his back. He shivered and became still, and with a rough unused voice, angry and hateful, spoke to her.

"You betrayed me."

Tears flooded her eyes as she reached up her arms to latch them around his neck.

"I know."

And she pulled him back down upon her, her tongue instigating a kiss, so needy that he succumbed easily.

No more words were needed in the night.

Chapter I
Killer Games

When you stared at me betrayed
A traitor that I am
The love that once was made
Now lies forgotten
Except by our broken hearts
Your rage and my guilt
One day, you will understand my part
In this war I've built

He walked in the dark night, avoiding the streetlamps and bonfires of the homeless. He was shaking horribly as his mind played and replayed the events of the night. He hadn't killed her.

Would he ever? Things would be better then. Revenge would have been made. Things would have seemed so less complicated - at least for him - if she was out of the picture. But he had turned into that same fifteen-year-old boy he had been when he looked at her. She was an angel, beautiful, tragic, and dangerous. He had not been able to end her life, end his confusion and the pain deep in his chest.

She remained alive.

And she had even begged him to kill her.

That was the part that left him puzzled. Why? She had her perfect life, riches, a wealthy, respected suitor and soon to be Queen of the New World Order - what had once been the ESUN. She would have everything.

Except peace.

He snarled. If she had wanted peace then why had she condemned those that fought for her idealistic dream? Why had she loved him, taught him to love, and then handed him over to the enemy. He had become a lab rat, a hunted man, and a shell of human once again.

For these last seven months, he had eaten, drank and breathed revenge against her. Yet he had been unable to even pull a trigger, to even hold on to his gun in her presence.

Turning the corner he saw the dilapidated house a few yards away. The house was dark, silent and seemingly empty - except a man sat on the stairs, illuminated by a single candle sitting beside him. He was flipping a silver pocketknife over and over in his hands and didn't look up until Heero had stopped in front of him

"What did you do, Heero?" he whispered though the night was full of voices, the growling of car engines, and the shouts of soldiers patrolling the night. "You didn't..." His voice trailed off, unsure of how to proceed.

"She's still alive." Heero muttered, walking past him and up the chipped concrete stairs.

"'You lying to me?" Duo asked softly, rising and taking the candle with him.

"I didn't kill her, Duo." Heero growled out. "I couldn't even hold on to my damn gun." He disappeared into the house and Duo stared at the door for a long time before casting his eyes up to see the full moon above him.

"Princess, I hope you really did do what you did for the greater good. 'Cause this is some shitty life for him." He turned to go into the house. "And you too, I'll bet."

*

Relena looked up with bloodshot eyes at her bedroom door. Spending half the night crying, she had barely noticed when the sun had come streaming into her room. She lay in bed nude, sore and bruised and very unhappy but not regretful. Just seeing him had been wonderful.

But she had never expected to see him again and live. She had always counted on dying by his hand.

She began to realize that this was much better torture, much better revenge whether he had known it or not. She wanted him to kill her because she was tired of secrets, of war, of fake smiles in the presence of the "needed eradication of rebels against that of peace." That was, at least, Anton's words. She did not ever agree to his ideals.

She knew they all were monsters, looking for global domination.

And she had become their puppet. She had had no other choice. She touched the tiny silver locket at her throat that Heero had not even noticed in the night.

Yes, she had had no other choice but to surrender.

"Miss Relena! Miss Relena!" screamed her servant girl that Anton had appointed her as if a Christmas present.

"Just a minute, Maddy," she said as loudly as she could, but her voice sounded scratchy and thick. All the same she heard the maid's soft footfalls heading down the stairs.

Relena sighed and forced herself to sit up. Wincing she hobbled out of bed, reaching for her robe draped across her vanity chair. Looking down she spotted her ripped nightgown on the floor and with tears flooding her eyes again, she kicked it as far under the bed as possible.

Another day. Another lie to be told, fake emotions on her drawn face.

Another day.

A day in which she would remember him. Remember what she had done, and why. Remember how much she was alone.

Remember how much she wanted to die.

*

With the New World Order's government faction coming to Mars to survey the Terra-forming Project as well as inspect the citizens, the base was on tethers though the project was going well. It was more the citizen inspection that worried many.

The NWO was coming to presumably "seek the needs of people outside of the earth's gravitational pull."

However, the truth was they came looking for refugees that might have fled earth and the colonies. They were wanted people with blood money on their head, most of them innocents. And of those that were killed in order to keep the fear of the people down to a minimum, most were of these innocents. With the lack of knowledge on the Gundam pilots, the NWO - especially the Renegord Family - sought to kill needlessly only to keep their own names out of the muck.

It was to the son and heir of this family that Relena Peacecraft was to marry, form a union that was to bring "total peace without the need for soldiers."

This was the man that his sister had promised herself to.

Indeed, Zechs Marquise - formally Millardo Peacecraft - was not happy with either situation. He was in charge of the project and had not been killed purely on his sister's begging. She had agreed to marry him, an option in which the negative would be death.

Heero Yuy was not worth all of this.

But as he looked at his wife, striding worriedly beside him, staring down at the baby in her arms, he felt his eyes burn with rage and sadness. Lucrezia adjusted his blanket and smiled weakly as the child blinked up at her with dark blue eyes - seemingly old eyes within an infant's face. Zechs sighed.

The child was worth it.

Rounding a corner of the base, Zechs saw the bright red uniforms of the New World Order Police and felt his heart grow cold. His wife stalled behind him and shifted to where he was standing between her and the baby. He knew it was by no means for her safety.

The officers stared at the couple before parting as their leader walked through, polished shoes making a snapping noise on the concrete floor.

Anton Renegord was about six inches shorter than Zechs but did not feel his lack of height. He walked with a pompous air and self importance and arrogance wrapped around him. The man's brown eyes were not warm but cold, like the muddy ground in winter season. His hands were placed almost casually in his navy suit jacket and a small smirk was on his face.

"Good evening, Mr. Peacecraft," Anton greeted pleasantly. Zechs felt his muscles clench as the man walked straight up to his still body.

"What do you want, Renegord?" He growled out.

The shorter man rolled his eyes and twitched a finger in front of Zechs' face. "Tisk, tisk, Millardo. I have only come to visit my soon-to-be brother-in-law-" His eyes swayed to the baby staying strangely quiet. "-and to see the bastard, of course."

"You care nothing for Alex." Noin spoke up quietly.

"That is where you are wrong. I care a great deal about the brat."

Anton looked back at his men and nodded. Suddenly, large rifles were aimed at the two. Noin stared with shocked eyes yet her husband's did not stray from Renegord's form.

"You are going against your word, Anton. You promised my sister-!"

"I promised that bitch nothing! I only said that he'll live. I'm not planning on killing him... only you."

Anton took both hands from his coat and aimed a pistol at Zech's chest. One man came forward and began to wrestle the child from Noin's arms. She screamed and then, another man walked forward, knocking her out with the butt of his gun. Anton grinned widely and looked back into Zechs' eyes.

"I shall have your throne... See you in Hell, Mr. Peacecraft."

It was as if hard balls of molten fire hit him, once, twice, three times. Zechs was barely aware of hitting the ground, the cold concrete, and the hot liquid that poured from beneath his fingers.

Alex was screaming, shrieks of primal fear of a being that knows only danger and no preparation of what's to come.

He heard Renegord's boots walking away from him, mumbles, the clicks of the officers' heels leaving him behind.

He tried to look at his wife's crumpled form, knowing that when she awoke he'd be dead. His vision was swirling black, violet, green. He could not look at her face one last time.

He was afraid.

Afraid of the fire in his body swiftly being replaced with ice. Afraid of Lucrezia going on without him. Afraid for Alex, for Relena, for humankind.

Some small part of him wondered why he wasn't afraid of dying.

*

Heero laid still, fully clothed, gun by his side. The bed was old, with springs that tended to poke in the night. The coverlet was a scratchy wool fabric and the sheets beneath them were bleached white and stiff. The room was bare, much like the other rooms throughout the dilapidated house only without the few personal touches the others had.

Not to say that their rooms were large and lavishly adorned. Possessions didn't mean much when you were running for your lives.

Feeling the prods under his hands, the rough blanket, he remembered silk sheets, gossamer curtains, soft skin against his callused hands...

He pursed his lips, cursing his memory.

She should have been dead by now.

He should have been dead by now.

But perhaps, he thought, staring out the window as the faint morning sun trickled in, what would his friends, his only family do without him. Would they survive, riddled with illness, continuing until death as burdened, broken people? They all deserved better.

She should have known most of all.

A small knock came on his door and Heero rose up from the bed. Standing up, placing his gun in his shoulder holster, and walking the few steps it took to cross the tiny space, he opened the door.

The boy stared up at him, dirty black hair falling into big, bright violet eyes. A pad of paper sat on his lap and three markers, black, red and blue, were clenched tightly in his small fist. He smiled demurely up at Heero, standing and the two walked quietly side by side down the flight of creaky stairs.

The sound of bacon frying and the bubbling of the old coffeepot would have seemed cheerful in any other house. In this one, people were very rarely ever cheerful.

"Good morning, Heero," greeted Hilde Maxwell by the stove, the one and only female in the house. 'Very rarely ever cheerful' did not mean that no one tried.

Heero grunted, watching as the boy silently climbed up a small step stool watching his mother cook. The child listened carefully to his mother's soft voice and he helped in scrambling the few eggs that Hilde had found in the cheapest grocery - and no where near well-stocked as it should be. The boy only winced when the grease popped, burning his pale skin. No tears came to his eyes. He smiled a small smile when Hilde complimented him on being so helpful.

Heero sighed inaudibly.

He stayed still as padded footfalls came into the tiny kitchen and dining area followed swiftly by snapping steps of shoes. He did not look up as Duo came in, kissed his wife and his silent son or when Wufei made his way to the coffeepot.

Duo greeted Wufei and plopped down in the ill matching chair beside Heero's own. Looking up at his best friend, his brother, and whispered, "Did you sleep well?"

"What do you think, Maxwell?" Heero growled. The question was inane and incredibly stupid on Duo's part. Perhaps the man was hoping to begin a conversation like a normal family would in the kitchen before the day began.

Or the man had finally gone insane.

"Is she dead?" Wufei deadpanned, ignoring the child's wide eyes as his head swiveled toward the table. Hilde had gone rigid but slowly, stiffly went back to her cooking. The child stared at his father who glared across the table at the Chinese man.

Heero glared at the table, letting Duo say simply, "No, she isn't."

"And why the hell not?" The other answered back, taking a plate from Hilde and ignoring her stare. Hilde stood in place for awhile before she mumbled to her son and shooed him out of the room.

"I'd appreciate it, Chang Wufei, if you would not talk about these matters when my son is in the room," Hilde spat, placing another measly portion in front of Heero. Duo just sat glaring darkly from behind his short brown fringe.

Wufei nodded curtly and caught eyes with Heero in a way that assumed their conversation was not over.

*

Relena entered her study with a warm cup of tea to calm her nerves. Seeing him again had been a shock to her system. The utter disbelief that he left her alive felt surreal. It was dream surely. He had been nothing but a dream.

It would have been so easy to believe if her body didn't speak otherwise.

Sighing, she flipped on the television on her vid-screen and began to make her way to her chair.

"It is my deepest regret to mention that this morning at four colony time, the Mars settlement was ravaged by a group of rebels. There appears to be very few survivors and we of the New World Order offer our condolences to the families who have lost loved ones."

Her own fianc