Fathoms

This Thing of Darkness

Summary: Duo turns from savior to prey.

Author’s Note: Thank you. That’s all.


Duo’s muscles burned and he began to feel the drag of current push against him. The lights of the dome were still so far away, barely visible as he swam through masses of thick seaweed and navigated the divide between corridors of hardened magma. The normally peaceful darkness of the deep felt oppressive in the absence of silver stars and misty clouds…

He had to get home. Zechs would surely kill him, or whatever was left of him once their father finished with him, and Duo felt a rash of shame creep over him as he remembered his last exchange with his long-suffering brother. Zechs meant well; Duo acknowledged it readily enough, but it wasn’t enough to learn from his brother’s mistakes or grudgingly obey his orders and follow wherever he led. It was Duo’s prerogative as his younger foster brother to make him wish he’d never been spawned. That was uncomplicated enough, wasn’t it?

Unsettling fear and caution replaced the relief he felt at reaching the clearing beyond the walls as Duo emerged. His scales prickled and his fins twitched as he slowed his trek, expanding his awareness of his surroundings. The only hint of light was the reflection of the luminous bodies of a swarm of jellyfish. He narrowly avoided their long tentacles, not wanting their acidic stings as a souvenir of his night outside the dome, but he shivered as though they had grazed his flesh anyway.

He was being watched. Duo was certain of it.

You don’t want to follow me, he sent to no one in particular. You go about your business, and I’ll go about mine. All he heard was a low rumble of the ocean floor beneath him, and Duo wondered if Sanq would suffer more seaquakes during the next moon or so. Memories of the last one that he remembered from his childhood made his sojourn in the darkness more ominous, and his heartbeat tripled.

If you’re smart, you’ll leave me alone, Duo added carefully, wanting to sound blunt, yet nonthreatening.

If you were smart, you wouldn’t have shown up to our little party all by your lonesome, bait. Duo made a face and sputtered at the faint flavor of ink that suddenly pervaded the water, and he felt nausea churning his gut at the guttural voice in his head.

Mersharks! Blast! They were too close for comfort, less than a quarter mile away, and Duo cursed his own lack of perception for letting them get the drop on him. Dimly he remembered his father’s advice – too little, too late – not to swim blind through the murky corridors when he had no way of knowing what was at the end of it.

He looks young. Nice and tender, to me. He’ll be good eating…

The hell I will!

There were three of them, and they showed no signs of the exhaustion that was weighing down his limbs and tail. He cursed them for their innate inability to stop moving, making them nearly unsusceptible to fatigue. Two of them were adult bulls, and the juvenile was still a head taller than Duo was. Their flesh was the characteristic lilac gray, translucent enough that Duo believed he could see the blood pulsing in their spidery blue veins; they no doubt craved his to mingle with it now that they had a taste, thanks to Duo’s betraying wound.

You could make this easier on yourself, guppy. The largest of the three bared serrated teeth at him that craved the feel of his throat ripping apart between them.

What on earth would I do that for?

*


Zechs swam hell-for-leather with Noin hot on his tail. She fought to stay beside him to avoid drinking his wake and the flood of bubbles that threatened to push her back. Her muscles burned with their frantic trek through the cavern as they left the grotto behind them.

He’s in trouble; I know he’s gotten himself into a mess. I feel it in my damned bones!

Calm down, Wind. If he was surprised by the use of her old pet name for him, he didn’t give himself away. You won’t feel him if you fall apart now. She referred to their empathic bond, still as strong as that between full-blooded brothers. The sudden lack of Duo’s presence in his mind when he deserted their chamber woke Zechs as sharply as a slap; even in sleep, a part of him remained linked to him, sometimes to Zechs’ frustration and disgust.

As if on cue, Zechs felt panic stronger than his own swamp him, and his heart suddenly beat in triplicate. He felt an aura of sickening, stomach-knotting fear and futility that was completely out of character for his brother. DUO! Zechs swam furiously for the reefs, hoping he wasn’t too late. Beside him, Noin was already fiddling with the harpoon, arming it and loading it with the deadly, razor-pronged darts. Her composure was grim and she braced herself for whatever they might find when they caught up to the errant mer-prince.

Zechs’ fear slowly shifted to caution, then anger as he caught sight of a familiar chestnut braid. The illumination was scant to none, but Zechs could also make out three shadowy forms closing in on him. Get that thing ready! he barked.

Already done, Noin snapped as she raised her arm and projected the harpoon toward Duo’s pursuers. But the three sharks were quicker than she could have anticipated. Two of them whipped their way around Duo, mere yards away, and the three of them began to circle him, closing in on him for the kill. It was the nature of mersharks and their brethren to surround their prey before taking them down.

Hold still. It will only hurt for a second.

No. YOU hold still. Duo feinted left, heading in the direction opposite of what the predator expected. He felt rather than saw the third shark coming up behind him. Gathering all of his flagging strength, Duo bucked, landing the equivalent of a donkey kick in his foe’s craw. He heard the other two curse and they pinned him with glaring red eyes.

That wasn’t very nice. Lucky for you I don’t mind when my food fights back. Makes you taste that much sweeter, meat.

Lucky for me? Duo wriggled away from him, brandishing the wrist harpoon. The creature only grinned at him.

Well, lucky for me, the shark emphasized smugly.

No. Lucky for them. Duo discharged the dart, aiming it straight into his mouth. The mershark released a strangled growl, clutching its throat with clawed fingers. Its body writhed and arched and he recoiled, revealing the back of his neck. The dart had worked its way through his flesh, releasing gouts of his purplish black ichor. Now who’s meat, meat? His companions hesitated; Duo was a prime specimen of live-mating youth and no doubt succulent, but their friend was now easy prey, and they were opportunists.

The decision was taken out of their hands. YOU! Don’t even THINK about it!

ZECHS!

So help me, I should leave you to be eaten next time!

Next time?! What about THIS time?

The harpoon, Zechs! Fire the harpoon! Noin scolded. His ice blue eyes sparked with barely suppressed lightning and his long, white-gold hair rippled around him like a shroud. The sharks paled, but their bluster outweighed their fear or sense of self-preservation. The youngest of the three sneered, baring his sharp teeth and he swiveled around Duo in a sharp arc. Before he could blink, he lashed out and bit Duo in the neck, sinking into his flesh with a moan of satisfaction.

Soooooo sweeeeeeet… Duo didn’t waste time screaming, instead thrashing and bucking to release himself from the source of the searing sting at his neck. The creature’s red eyes rolled shut in rapture and lust as the warm liquid filled his maw and trickled down his throat. Noin watched in horror as a river of Duo’s precious blood stained the water around him crimson. The third shark moved to seize Duo’s arms and wrenched them painfully behind him.

Fuck this, Zechs tsked casually, but Noin knew his calm tone was a prelude to a soul-staining violence and retribution that was fearsome to witness.


Far from the fray, Une watched in amusement, drinking in her minions’ confusion and fear and relishing the death throes of the third. He deserved to die, if the youngling could take the advantage over him so easily. She had no time for empathy, nor patience for failure. She contemplated the older, blond prince, musing that her nephew had grown into a striking adult male. Despite the vestige of fondness – or whatever passed for it that wormed its way into her cold breast – that she felt for him, she didn’t have a vested interest in Zechs, not yet. Milliardo’s heir wasn’t a threat to her until her brother’s likely – eventual – demise.

Zechs flight to confront Duo’s captors was beautiful to behold, muscles rippling and churning the water around him into a wild froth. His tail glowed in the pale, greenish light emitted by the coronet on his brow, which was outshone by the sparks shooting from his eyes. Noin’s hair stood on end just watching him, let alone from feeling the faint static from being within close range. The mersharks mocked him.

That puny thing will hardly - The one holding Duo fast assumed Zechs would use the harpoon; that would be his last mistake. Zechs’ hand flew out and he glowed as he gathered up currents in his fist, borrowing from the creatures in their realm who possessed a natural charge as their means of defense. The blue ball of lightning danced in his palm before he clenched his fist around it. He drove it forward, his aim true as he punched his way through the center of the startled bull’s chest. His body jerked and whipped in brisk, sharp spasms, eyes bulging from his head. Zechs’ face was a cold mask of indifference and satisfaction.

When I say “Don’t even think about it,” chances are I mean it. He didn’t let go, even after the remaining shark pulled Duo free from his grasp instinctively, more for his own preservation so that the charge wouldn’t conduct itself through Duo to him, as well. He clutched the auburn-haired prince possessively to his chest and wrapped his long plait around his fist, exposing his neck.

Zechs wasn’t through with his companion. His veins stood out in sharp relief, bulging beneath his skin. Zechs pulled his hand from his chest cavity, gripping his grisly prize, a heart that clearly had no role in the choices the mershark made on a daily basis. The gaping flesh was cauterized from the heat of the blast, and the blood flowed out in narrow rivulets that trailed behind the rapidly sinking body. Behind him, Noin paled but swam resolutely beside him.

I’m not afraid of you! the creature claimed, backpedaling and still holding Duo, whose struggles had weakened from the loss of blood and his exhaustive journey.

Then obviously you haven’t heard the word on the reef, Duo boasted weakly. No one messes with my brother. Do yourself a favor, and just say goodbye to your sorry tail. The creature hissed in annoyance at his meal’s refusal to beg for freedom and brandished his claws at the sight of the strangled, yet impish smile, the mocking laughter in those cursed violet eyes.

You say goodbye! Say hello to my innards once I pick my teeth with your puny bo- He howled in pain as his next jerk of Duo’s braid resulted in stabbing pain across his palm. He stared disbelievingly at the long, ugly gash left from the small silver blade that protruded from the sloppy plait.

It was just the distraction Noin needed. Duo, DOWN! NOW! She discharged the harpoon neatly, as always a crack shot. The dart struck the creature in the bridge of the nose, and his howls became a sickening gurgle in his throat as shards of cartilage shot back into his brain cavity. Even in death, however, his hand still convulsively gripped Duo’s hair. URK! Leggo! Damn it, let GO!

Noin shot forward and grasped Duo’s wounded hand and struggled to pull him free. Zechs relieved her of the burden and shocked the creatures offending fingers loose with a low-voltage spark, making them spasm open. Duo was released and he sagged gratefully against Noin’s neck, huffing and panting for breath. The sound was stertorous and labored, and he was dangerously pale.

Poor, stupid child! Spoiled brat! she scolded soundly, scowling thunderously into the drowsy violet eyes. But her touch was tender as she probed the wound in his neck.

Didn’t…know you cared. And Noin? Could y…you…turn it down? Don’…think…rest of the reef…heard y… He mercifully blacked out. The hectic energy faded from Zechs’ eyes and they filled with true fear.

Don’t die. Don’t you dare die on me, you ungrateful little bastard. Father will kill you if you die on me, and he’ll kill me next. Do you hear me? Stay, Duo. Stay with me. Zechs forced the panic from his thoughts and he collected Duo from Noin’s embrace, since he was physically stronger.

But more than anything, he needed the reassurance of his brother’s weak heartbeat and slow pulse to give him hope. They sped toward the grotto and never looked back at the mangled gray bodies sinking into the crags of volcanic rock.

Don’t die on me, little brother.

*


“Stay with us, Mr. Yuy. Do you remember what happened? You’re in a hospital.” Heero dimly wondered why the voice above him thought he would question that, between the prick of the IV in his arm and the cannula crammed up his nostrils. But the woman staring down into his face was kind and concerned and her touch was gentle as she felt the pulse in his neck.

“The Coast Guard crew said you were in bad shape when they pulled you out of the water. Thank goodness they found you, huh? This isn’t the big fish story you wanted when you went out on that boat, was it?” Heero didn’t know whether to laugh out of politeness or tell her to fuck off, but she meant well. He felt a blood pressure cuff slip around his arm and grunted at the uncomfortable squeeze. The blankets wrapped around him were scratchy and rough, and his teeth wouldn’t stop chattering.

“Can you tell me your birthdate?”

“F-f-february,” he managed. His teeth clacked together, and the effort to speak made his jaw ache. His eyelid was pried open further and a penlight beamed a blinding pinpoint of glare into his pupil.

“Good, dilation’s good. Still think we’ve got a concussion.”

“Feel’s…like…got hit by a…fuckin’ Mack Truck.” One of the male EMTs beside her chuckled as they lifted his gurney and rolled it down the ramp of the ambulance. It rumbled beneath him as they carried him through the loading dock and in through the emergency room doors. The relative quiet of the night was replaced by the noise and buzz of a busy ward and too many smells for his nose to process, some clinical, some antiseptic, and others resulting from bodily fluids or patients’ overindulgence. He closed his eyes as the rapid flash of passing beneath so many of the long, fluorescent ceiling lights as they wheeled him to his waiting cubicle began to dizzy him.

“You have hypothermia. We’re going to warm you up for the moment, Mr. Yuy…”

“Heero,” he insisted.

“Okay, Heero. We’re going to give you some fluids, both through this IV and a little sweet, hot drink to get your metabolism going, and we’re going to lay you under a warming blanket. Once your temperature and color start to look a little better, we’re going to have our X-ray techs come in and give us a few films of your ribs, okay?”

“Y-your th-the b-boss,” he offered. His arms shivered and quaked, negating his attempts to shrug. “What…about my boat?”

“I really couldn’t tell you.” She didn’t indicate whether or not she actually knew, which burned his ass.

“C-cameras,” he insisted. “Got my cameras.”

“I’m sorry, Heero.” She stalled conversation momentarily when she prodded his tongue with a depressor and shone her light down his throat.

Over the next hour he was propped more comfortably and laid under a warming blanket and checked regularly for improvements to his color, temperature and pulse. The pulse ox monitor on his finger annoyed him; he had to keep reminding himself not to try to scratch his brow with that hand after he accidentally smacked himself with it. Heero was grateful that the privacy curtain had been pulled around his bed on both sides. He couldn’t help musing how homely it was; the local hospital was an old building in need of refurbishing and was in the process of an expansion. He swirled the dregs of a cooling cup of bland cider in the Styrofoam cup. His head and ribcage throbbed painfully, but he was relieved to finally be warm and free of the worst of the clammy chill. His toes were still numb, and his skin itched all over as his blood circulation regulated itself. The stiffly starched hospital gown wasn’t helping matters any.

“Excuse me, could you lower the bed, please? My head really hurts. Could you give me something for it?”

“No. I know you’re having a bad time, but we need to do your head x-rays and we don’t want to dose you with anything until we know how bad your injuries are.” Heero heaved a deep sigh that made his ribs ache.

“Right. Thanks.” For nothing. The nurse made her way back toward the desk and made some notes on his chart. Heero continued to watch the flow of feet moving back and forth from beneath the edge of the curtain.

Quatre’s familiar voice reached him, soft and plaintive. Is he this way? Can we see him? How is he?

“Quat,” Heero called out hoarsely. The blond sounded worried, even slightly frantic, and Heero steeled himself for what he knew would be an emotional greeting.

But Quatre surprised him. “Are you decent, Heero?” his nurse inquired. “I have some of your friends here to see you.”

“Sure.” She pulled back the curtain, and sure enough, Quatre’s face was the first thing he saw, and it nearly broke his heart. Quatre’s slender hand covered his mouth, and his blue eyes filled with tears at the sight of Heero’s bruises and cuts, at how small he looked hunched beneath the too-big blue robe printed in garish triangles.

“Hey, Quat.” He waved limply and Quatre didn’t hesitate, joining him at his bedside.

“Be careful with him, he’s pretty banged up, particularly his scalp,” the nurse admonished. Her words were cut off as Wufei materialized behind her.

“How is he?”

“He’s up and around, but don’t wear him out.”

“Thank you,” he said tersely, and he flanked Heero’s opposite side. Quatre had helped himself to a chair and had reached over the bed rail to hold Heero’s hand. He squeezed it tightly in his cool grip.

“We were so worried.” He longed to hug him, even though Heero would no doubt flinch out from under it the way he usually did when Quatre was too effusive. But Quat was handling him with kid gloves, bowing his head briefly to pinch the bridge of his nose. Heero could have sworn the gesture masked furtively wiping his eyes.

“Hey, sport,” Wufei offered casually, but Heero could tell he was shaken up, too, when he took his other hand. “Couldn’t just let me have one quiet night in without you, huh? There’s Heero, always gotta bring the drama. Most guys call me up and say ‘Hey, ‘Fei, how ‘bout pizza and a game? Wanna shoot some pool?’ Not you. Heero calls, tells me he’s taking off so he can have some ‘space,’” he emphasized, holding up finger quotes, “whatever the fuck that means, since it isn’t like we smother you, anyway, and then scares me out of my fucking wits when I hear him being boatjacked. Christ,” he snorted. “There’s something seriously wrong with you, you know that?”

“So you’ve told me.”

“You’re not a good listener.”

“I listen. Doesn’t mean I do what you tell me or give a damn half the time, but I listen.” ‘Fei grunted and shook his head, then tightened his grip in his hand.

“Asshole.”

“Sure. Heero’s got jokes,” Quatre murmured before his voice failed. “So…scared…”

“Ssshhhhhhh,” Heero soothed as his friend bowed his forehead against the bedrail and wept quietly.

“Damn it, there go the waterworks. Quat, he’s okay, all right? It’s all right, Heero’s not going anywhere.”

“My legs won’t let me,” Heero shot back easily, but his dark brows drew together at the almost rhythmic quake of Quatre’s shoulders, and his hot tears dripped onto the back of Heero’s hand before he gently disengaged it from his to stroke Quatre’s nape. “Calm down, Quat. It’s okay. It’s okay, all right? I’m in shitty shape, but I’m all in one piece.”

“Thank God,” he murmured.

“Yeah,” Wufei agreed, and his voice became a soothing lull. “We know. He isn’t leaving us. If he had, I would have had to kick his ass. I might do that anyway, once you’re well.”

“Have fun with that.”

“Drink some more of this.” Wufei handed him the remaining cider at first, then drew it back and sniffed. “Smells like piss.”

“That’ll make me wanna drink more of it. Thanks.”

“Just looking out for my main man.”

Quatre raised his red, blotchy face and pinned them with watery eyes. “What are you two talking about?”

“They made me drink this stuff while it was hot. Wanted to get me going a little faster and warm up.” Quatre reached over him and took the cup. He sniffed it and actually risked a sip.

“Ugh. Right.” He threw the cup dispassionately into the trash bucket. “First chance that they clear you, I’m bringing you some Starbucks.”

“You and Heero. How can you stand that shit, let alone pay that much money for it?”

“Philistine,” Quatre pronounced, wiping his face on the cuff of his expensive, black suede bomber jacket.

“Seriously. Still don’t see what you see in that crap.”

“I’d rather have a shot of Jack Daniels right about now. Head’s killing me.”

“They haven’t brought you anything for the pain?” Quatre scowled and looked around as though he planned to interrogate the first nurse he could reach.

“X-rays and lab work,” Heero shrugged. “And the usual ten thousand delays. I hate coming here.”

“I’d be worried if you liked coming to the ER,” Wufei muttered. “Don’t do this again any time soon. Place gives me the heebie jeebies.”

“We passed a guest bathroom in the hall on the way here that was absolutely foul. The smell could have dropped a moose at ten feet. I kid you not. The housekeeping here is deplorable.”

“It’s the middle of the night. The housekeepers are probably in the basement, playing poker. What’d you expect?” Wufei sighed deeply and rose. “When are they letting you out?”

“Probably in a few hours, but they won’t let me drive. Kind of a moot point, since that isn’t how I got here.”

“I’ll send a car. I’ll have my phone turned on, Heero. And ‘Fei or I can pick up your ‘scrips at the pharmacy if you need us to.”

“And check your mail for a couple of days if you’re feeling too much like shit to leave the house,” Wufei added. “I was gonna do that, anyway.”

“Thanks, guys. I mean it.” Quatre reached down and squeezed his hand again.

“Do this again and I’ll smack you. Whack!” he pantomimed, then slapped the bedrail for emphasis. “Get better.” He blew Heero a kiss, and Wufei gave him a cavalier wave. But Heero could tell by the hesitant way that Wufei turned back once more to make sure that he was okay before they left that he was really rattled.