Wings and Tears: Part 17

 

            “Where is he, Spirit?!” Michael demanded.

            “Where God took him.”

            “I thought you said you were protecting him.”

            “I was protecting him from Hell. Hell is destroyed.”

            “And don’t you think God will make wherever he is Hell for him?”

            The Spirit looked at his panicked face calmly. “We cannot see him, that means there is one place he can be.”

            “Heaven…meaning I’ve lost him…unless God lets him go.” Michael quickly formulated an idea in his head, “Call the angels to the church, quickly!” he ordered the Spirit and then ran into his bedroom.

 

~~

 

            “Trowa?” Duo asked again.

            Trowa looked up at his friend. His green eyes stared at Duo menacingly. “Trowa?” his response low and ruff, “Ah…I see, Noname has no name, no more…”

            “Trowa?” Duo asked again, his voice had an edge of panic in it. Heero came around to stand behind his husband. Trowa’s green eyes moved rapidly in his head, as if he were thinking very hard and fast. His lips spread into an evil, iniquitous smile.

            “Hanna…” he whispered, tasting the little girl’s name.

            “Tro-man, what’s up?”

            Before Duo or Heero could react, Trowa attacked them both. He socked Duo flat in the cheek and his other hand went quickly to connect to Heero’s body. Heero easily dodged Trowa’s—no, not Trowa, some else’s—brutish but vicious blows. The soul that possessed Trowa’s body used it to kick up quickly, knocking Heero down. Duo swung, but held back, he didn’t want to hurt his friend. The soul blocked and kicked Duo, hard, between the legs. Duo grunted and fell back in pain. Heero jumped forward and yelled, his voice carried through the house and woke some that was sleeping. As the Maquancs jumped from bed, the soul brought the hard coffee pot down on Heero’s head.

            When the Maquancs entered the living room of the safe house they found Trowa walking, hurried, towards them.

            “Master Tro--” Rasid began, but the Possessor acted quickly. The Maquancs were defeated and knocked out cold in a matter of moments and the Possessor was able to walk up the stairs with little trouble. As he walked by Solo’s room he locked the door and then moved dramatically into the bedroom where Quatre and Hanna had been sleeping.

            They hadn’t been woken by Heero’s yell. The only light of the room was moonlight that came from the window. Trowa’s body reacted to the soul’s excitement. Two small bodies, both seemingly helpless and without defense, and he in the body of one of the people they both trusted most. For his sick, twisted mind this was a scene of delight and opportunity.            

            Quatre awoke from the sense of something wrong. “Trowa?” his voice dropped, he knew, this wasn’t his husband. The Possessor pounced quickly and Quatre had two seconds to defend himself. Somehow Trowa’s body ended up on the floor and Quatre quickly scampered off the bed. “Hanna! Run!” Hanna had been woken by the fuss and she quickly jumped up and ran towards the door. The Possessor lunged towards her, causing her to scream, but she had kept to the wall and Quatre brought himself to kick the body hard. The Possessor grunted and Hanna disappeared through the door.

            Solo had been awoken by the little girl’s yell. He jumped from his bed and went quickly to the door to find it locked from the outside. He struggled with the door handle then tried to push his weight against the door, but his light angelic body wouldn’t even make the door budge.

            The Possessor stood Trowa’s body. “Quatre, baby, that hurt,” he complained sarcastically.

            “Shut-up,” Quatre said angrily, his body posed for defense.

            Trowa’s face was contorted into an evil smile. “Come now, little boy, do you really think you’ll win this? I’ve killed all your friends…what are you? I’ll kill you too, and then have my way with that pretty little girl of yours.”

            The words were enough to provoke Quatre. He attacked the soul in his husband’s body, yelling madly. In blind fury he barely got one punch in before Trowa’s fist came down on his face. It knocked him down, cutting open his head on the edge of the bed, and to make sure he stayed down the Possessor kicked his ribs hard. Quatre folded in pain. The Possessor smiled in perverted delight. Then he moved the stolen body on top of the small man. Quatre screamed.

            Solo heard Quatre’s screams and pleas, “Please, Trowa don’t! Don’t!” The boy angel didn’t have to think hard to guess what was happening. Soon Quatre’s screams stopped.

            Quatre sobbed, the struggle in him, dead. His shirt was ripped from the resistance. He closed his eyes and blocked out to the inhuman grunts coming from the Possessor, he used his mind to forget that he where he was. He distanced his from what was happening. Tears followed the tracks made from other tears, then died as well.

            He wasn’t aware when it stopped. He hadn’t been paying attention. What he did remember was hearing the door close. He opened his eyes again, looked around himself shamefully, and started crying again.

            That’s when Hanna started screaming.

            When he had smashed the door open, Quatre saw that Hanna had hidden under her bed and the Possessor was trying madly to grab her. He grabbed her leg and she started screaming, remembering every self-defense lesson she had been given, lessons that had started almost immediately after she had been born, she kicked the Possessor’s arm. This made the hand tighten. The Possessor was too occupied to notice Quatre had entered the room.

            The blonde grabbed a lamp from Hanna’s night stand, and brought it down hard on his husband’s head. Trowa’s body jerked up and recoiled away. His eyes became glossy and then refocused on his husband.

            “Quatre?”

            “Don’t!” Quatre warned, holding the lamp dangerously. Trowa looked at his husband and remembered what had happened.

            “Quatre--”

            “Stop it!” Quatre yelled and threw the lamp. He missed and it shattered on the wall. Trowa got to his feet and ran out the door. Quatre collapsed into the corner of the room and began sobbing. Hanna crawled from out under her bed and walked towards him carefully.

            “Daddy?” she asked.

            “Hanna…”Quatre cried out and opened his arms for his daughter, she came to him, tears falling from her child eyes.

            Solo heard Trowa’s footsteps climb the steps to the roof. Then he heard hurried footsteps come from the living room. His father went into Hanna’s room, his step-father hurried to the roof. He could guess what was happening. He only had a few moments before Trowa died. He looked around the room madly, looking for something that could break down the door. Finding nothing he did the next best thing, he ran to the window, and shattered the glass, falling to the ground himself he let out his wings and zoomed around the house in time to find Trowa’s falling body and catch him before he hit the ground.

 

~~

 

            Michael stepped into the church, a sword hung at his side. His legions looked at him and he stared coldly at the altar where his husband’s body had once been on display.

            “I’ve had enough. It’s time we get our hands dirty.”