//Home at last, not an ounce of blood shall stain my hands. You are stronger than all of those weak fools Wufei; the ones that allow all the bloodshed of war to get to them. No you are stronger that those idiots that shouldn�t be fighting in the first place.// The black haired boy stepped out of his Gundam, leaping to the ground. He had been away for what seemed like an eternity, but what relief did he get from human companionship. The Chinese boy did find the other pilots somehow worthy of him, even if he didn�t like to admit it. They were just like him in many ways; brought up to fight and to show the world the good and bad of fighting and death. They were although so different to each other; each being brought up differently, trained differently. He had gone through so much in his short life already; the kind of hate and action that a normal man wouldn�t see in his entire life. Wufei was content though with the path he had chosen�well he couldn�t even remember if he had chosen his destiny by himself.

The boy walked through the dimly lit hanger; the shadows of his thin figure projected onto the great walls making him seem like a thousand marching giants. The sound of his footsteps echoed through the concrete floored chamber deep beneath the Winner mansion, the coldness hitting Wufei�s skin like a bitter wind. He stopped suddenly; looking down at the floor beneath him before a gasp was uttered from his pursed lips.

The stream of black liquid fell into the white ceramic cup like a gentle mountain stream, bubbling as it hit the cold glaze. Two trembling hands grasped the cup of coffee firmly, before bringing it to a pair of white lips. It was true, Heero Yuy; the perfect soldier was dead. As well as being dead he had been murdered; murdered in cold blood. Duo shivered as the hot liquid trickled down his seemingly dry throat, its bitterness biting into his shocked flesh. Why did it have to be like this? Sure, the American knew the dangers of being a pilot, but�but Heero hadn�t even been killed in battle. He just wanted to know where the cobalt-eyed boy was, let alone who had done this to him. But wait! Heero might not be dead; after all they had only been sent some of his hair and a photograph. Surely the person who did this could have just got some of his hair from�from a barber and the blood might have been that of a pigs. Duo shook his head; no; Heero was dead; he never had his hair cut that often, he mainly did it himself, and who was he kidding thinking that it was the blood of another animal. His great friend was gone now, but whoever had killed him would feel the wrath of Shinigami sooner than they expected; Duo would make sure of that.

//Oh Heero, I�m sorry that I couldn�t help you�I just wish that I�d been able to be there; that I had been the one there instead of you. How you plagued my dreams with your presence every night�now you�ll be there for a different reason. I just wish that you were here right now�so I could tell you that�//

�Duo�� The braided boy�s eyes flung wide open and he spun around, his chestnut hair flying from the sudden action. Duo stopped cold; his eyes receded once more in disappointment as he stared at the figure that had just called him.

�Oh, it�s just you Wufei.� He whispered. There was a snort from the Chinese boy.

�Since when did you take to calling me Wufei?�

�And when did you take to calling me Duo�� The American turned away back to his coffee. He had believed that it had been Heero, and with a burst of hope had spun around�only to find that it wasn�t his cobalt-pooled friend. He cursed his mind for playing such cruel tricks on him, for trying to make him believe that his fantasies could be granted.

�Maxwe�I mean Duo. There is something wrong; I mean, something has happened to Heero hasn�t it?� The American couldn�t stop his feelings any longer; even in the presence of the stern Chinese pilot. He burst into tears, resting his head on the tabletop. The Chinese boy�s onyx eyes widened at the sight that befell his eyes. Never before had he seen the loud mouthed, happy go lucky boy cry, let alone burst into tears like this. He walked forwards and slowly put his hand on the teenagers shoulder. Duo jumped at the gentle intrusion on his skin.

�How�how did you know?�

�Duo, I�m sorry; it�s just the blood that�� he was cut off as the American spun around and grabbed onto Wufei, his eyes now red from the salty droplets, yet cold and disturbing.

�What...blood?!� he muttered, his eyes fixed upon those of Wufei. The black haired boy didn�t know what to say. He had just been comforting the boy, but now was being confronted.

�The blood in the hanger�� Wufei didn�t need to say any more for Duo had already gone from the room, sprinting towards the door of the hanger, his heart racing faster than it had ever done before, in any battle.

//No, it isn�t true�Heero can�t be down there, no not there!//

Duo flung the door open, and leapt down the stone steps to the cold concrete floor of the Gundam hanger beneath the great Winner mansion, tripping slightly over their uneven surfaces. All the time his mind kept playing tricks on him; there in front of his eyes he see his friend; lying there in his blood, thick and crimson like a scarlet stream.

//Oh Lord, please don�t let it be him�please Lord.// he kept saying this over and over in his mind, trying to rid his sight of the visions that appeared from nowhere. His heart was beating faster and faster with each second, Duo feeling dizzy from the constant thumping in his chest. Suddenly he went flying, the step beneath him putting an invisible foot out and tripping him. The braided pilot hit the ground suddenly, but when he got to pull his body from the floor, no longer was it a dream. There on his hands was the blood. It�s foul stench of death made the bile in Duo�s throat rise as he just stared at his hands, coated in the thick life of Heero Yuy. He felt the coldness of it against the skin on his face, and the dampness of his navy top and trousers. The American could no longer keep his disgust in, the vomit pouring from his mouth onto the concrete, mixing together with the stains of blood that covered both him and the hanger.

A gentle touch made the chestnut-haired youth spin round, only to find his wide violet-eyed stare to be met by that onyx one of Wufei.

�He�s�he�s dead Wufei�he�s�really dead!� Duo screamed, collapsing in a fit of fear to the ground, his hair being bathed in the sickly mixture of bile and blood. Wufei looked around the cell for the light switch. At least a little light would help the situation he thought. In finding it the black-haired pilot pressed it, the brightness blinding them both. Wufei walked over to the American and pulled the quivering boy up, no longer the God of death, but just a frightened child; lost in his own forest of fear and hate. He hated to see his friend like this; yes that was what Duo Maxwell was; his friend. If only he hadn�t have come across the crimson liquid, then perhaps it would have been alright. But that was the worst thing to do; putting off the truth was worse that lying. It may have been a ghastly sight, but at least the worst was over�wasn�t it?

Duo allowed the arms of Wufei to comfort him, his tear drenched face resting on the olive skinned boy�s shoulder. If only he had kept his eyes shut; then the reality wouldn�t have become so nightmarish.

There was a knock at the door of Trowa�s room; the brown banged pilot lying on the large white-sheeted bed, wet with his previous salty tears. Trowa had got over the letter; even though his mind was being plagued by the same images that he had seen in his dream. The gun, how it smoked after a single bullet had been placed into the head of the perfect soldier; the blood that trickled continuously in an ear deafening beat. There was another knock; this time the green-eyed pilot noticed it.

�Come in.� he called, his normal emotionless tone covering up his fear. Trowa sat up immediately when he saw the platinum blonde hair of Quatre enter. �Qua�Quatre, it�s you.� He looked into the large sweet eyes of his little angel, desperately trying to suppress the want to just hold him close and tell his Little One how much he loved him.

�I brought you some more towels�I thought you might need some clean ones.� Quatre lied. He hadn�t really just come to bring towels; he was worried about his green-eyed love, and how he was feeling. Quatre knew that Trowa had experienced the most from the day�s events already�he just wished that he could help. //No Quatre, he�d push you away�it�s queer what you feel for him, everyone knows that it�s not right for two boys to be lovers.// Quatre wished secretly that the world wouldn�t blink an eyelid if he and his silent clown were together, but that was nothing but a dream to the small Arab; he and his Trowa would never be allowed to be together�Trowa wouldn�t want someone like him anyway. //You know how all the girls in the street give him looks when you go somewhere; Trowa could pick any girl he wanted�so why would he even think twice about you.//

�Oh�thank you Quatre.�

//See, he didn�t come to see you like you hoped. He came to bring you more bloody towels! Like you haven�t got enough already. He probably thinks that you are a freak, look at how you scared them all with your dreams! It�s probably all your fault that Heero is dead!// He picked himself up and walked towards the little blonde boy, Trowa reaching out with long arms.

//He�s going to hug you Quatre!// the Arab�s mind called out, Quatre�s heart thumping in his throat. This was so unexpected to him, so exciting. Perhaps Trowa did feel the same way then, perhaps he did know how he felt. Quatre looked up, eager for the tall boy�s loving embrace, only to find that his tanned hands gripped themselves around the pile of fluffy white towels and went to remove them from the Arab�s firm grip.

�Quatre, I can�t take the towels from you if you won�t let them go.� Trowa called out, actually liking the close distance between him and his angel.

�Oh�right. Sorry, I just went into my own little world there. Ignore me.� The blonde angel piped back, letting go of the fluffy sheets. Trowa didn�t expect this and tumbled backwards, falling to the floor. Quatre leapt, pulling his hands in front of his mouth and rushing forwards. �Oh I�m so sorry my silent Trowa.� He called out, reaching down to him.

�What did you just say?� Trowa asked, unsure of whether what he had heard was what his angel had said. //Did he just call you his silent Trowa?// Quatre realized what he had just said and shook his head.

�Um�I just said Oh I�m so sorry Trowa�why?�

�Oh nothing�I must have imagined something else�sorry.� //See he didn�t say that, your mind is playing cruel jokes on you again! Why can�t you stop seeing all these things and live the reality that you were born into!// The green-eyed pilot picked himself up from the carpeted floor with the helpful hand of Quatre and checked to see if he had got anything on his trousers. Quatre was burning inside as he watched the Latin boy check his tight buttocks for any trances of carpet fluff on the tight material of his jeans. He felt as if he would go the colour of an overripe tomato if Trowa spotted him looking at him like this so quickly turned away. Oh, but Trowa was so perfect, his beautifully sculpted body was a god like image to Quatre�if only he had eyes for the Arab alone. Quatre sighed and turned to leave the room. �Quatre�� The Arab spun round, his turquoise eyes eagerly wide.

�Yes Trowa?� He asked quickly. Trowa felt like he would melt as he looked into those wide puppy like eyes that were in front of him. He quickly restrained himself and made sure that he kept his mask on, the mask he always wore.

�Thank you for the towels��

�Oh�right. It�s okay Trowa.� He turned and left the room, the door shutting quietly behind him. �My Little Quatre.� Trowa continued in a hushed voice, eyes fixed upon the spot his angel had been in but a few seconds ago.