[Author's Note] Wow, I kinda dropped out of the picture for a while.
School... I hate school. Um, just to clarify the weirdness of this little fic, i just read The Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad, really excellent book. And i enjoy the Dune books, so that explains the nature of this a bit. I suppose...
I salute all those who have ready this fic. It's just a silly whim of mine. 
Tendrils of Destiny
CHAPTER 4
"Why'd he do it? I'd've never though?"
"Jealousy, I'd say. That's the only explanation, in my opinion."
"So then, he does love her? Or has he completely forgotten?"
Quatre massaged his temples, his turquoise depths darting furtively around his darkened study. His wife, he supposed, was in bed by now. "He hasn't been the same since he tried to kill himself." He fixed the bright screen of the Vid-phone with a sharp gaze.
"None of us have," Duo murmured, his transferred face grim. "I can still remember walking in and just standing there, staring at his body strewn across the kitchen floor, his head wide open and bleeding. It took days to get the stains off the tile." A shudder passed through the normally relaxed man's body. "That's why I kicked him out. If Hilde hadda had that kid she's been bugging me about, I dunno what?" His normally cheerful voice drifted off into the dark swirls of melancholy, leaving the men sitting in an awkward silence.
Abruptly, Quatre sighed. "It was Dorothy who wanted to take him in. I was open to it, of course, but now I have to wonder if the decision was the right one."
The awkward silence once again draped a thick, suffocating cloth over the men's profiles, cloaking them in an uncomfortable fog.
"So?" Duo said after some length, "I found a few more tidbits about the relationship between the Medical Research Center and NATURE. You'd think if you were a threat to the world, you'd try to?you know?think up a more original name. I'd have??"
"Duo," Quatre warned, though his tone grew somewhat lightened.
The American scratched the back of his head and grinned. "Sorry. Um, where was I? Oh, yeah, the MRC. Apparently, the connection is only one sided. I looked through the MRC database and found nothing at all on any terrorist connections. I did find out about some interesting procedures they're doing over there though. Some of then are downright?" Duo shuddered, groping for the right word, "nasty. Not naught nasty, but just?'ew, gross, never would let them do that to me' sort of nasty."
Quatre was not side tracked. His face creased into a heavy frown as he wrinkled his pale brow. "Should we inform them, then, on this development?"
"Who? The MRC? Naw. I doubt it would do any good anyway. It'd just be better to take care of NATURE before they can cause any trouble at the MRC. Plus, with all their patients (some of which, as I said before, are having a bit of?ewness, and probably aren't entirely right in the head for it), it'd just cause a big panic and an evacuation, causing an easy picking off of whoever they want. Anyway, it would make the MRC a sitting duck if they were to be caught like that."
Quatre's face, grim, broke into a familiar charming smile at Duo's lengthy speech. "So no?"
"Yeah, no. This is supposed to be undercover anyway." Duo winked at his friend.
With a laugh, Quatre stated, "It's heard to think of you as undercover, Duo."
The said man raised his nose in the air haughtily, his face drawn into a scowl. "And what's that supposed to mean exactly?"
The man saved his laughter for later as he once again frowned. "Who is it at the Medical Research Center that NATURE wants? And why?"
"Dunno that one?"
His fingers reaching to the 'OFF' switch, the blonde man was stopped by Duo's sudden outcry. "What! Quatre-man, I wanna tell you a joke!"
A sigh reached Duo's ears. "Fine, Duo. I think I'm up for a corny one tonight."
Duo scowled, but his mind was already too caught up into the joke to even take offense. "What did the right butt cheek say to the left butt cheek?"
A dozen toilet humor responses flashed through the other man's head, and after all proclaimed and discarded, Duo continued. "If we stick together, we can keep all this crap from happening."
Quatre burst into laughter, though his heart palpitated in pain.
* * * *
She was patient number A23. No name accompanied her form, and what title she once possessed was so tainted by the neag? in her mind and body, it no longer related to the woman or even existed. So, she was given the title: Patient A23.
A23 frightened most of the doctors and workers of the Medical Research Center Facility. Those she didn't frighten held her in a vapid light; she was only a sick patient pumped too full of drugs to be coherent any longer. Only one man held her in a light of wonderment: Trowa Barton. A23 suspected, of course, that Trowa still viewed her as the woman she once was with an identity she no longer had. It did not bother her, though. Not many things did bother A23. All she really felt, beside pain and ennui, was a tiny itching impatience for the End.
At the End she knew she would see him again.
At the End, she would finally die.
Though the thought of death pleased A23, it also repelled her with such a powerful and alien force, she often retched at the thought. Certain times, all she could feel was a sweet emotion at the gentle end of her weariness, and at others, it was all she could do not to begin sobbing and vomiting in fear of the End. It was at times like these that she had the feeling her own mind did not make all the decisions of her personage.
For the most part, their influence was barely felt; they simply pushed her in the direction they wished, like the tide in the ocean. Other times, like those at the thought of death, she knew they had far more power of her than she first imagined. Whether it was a bad thing or a good thing, she did not know.
"A23," came the soft call.
The patient opened her blue-within-blue eyes to focus on the woman standing above her. "Doctor," she replied evenly.
The oriental woman smiled condescendingly. "Hold out your arm, sweetheart, so I can put the needle in."
A23 eyed the needles suspiciously. It was far too early to have her blood filtered. It had only been two days instead of the regular five. The doctor offered no explanation for the early procedure as she waited for her patient to comply. A23 did so, leaning back and pumping her fist, watching unflinchingly as the doctor found an unmarked area of her forearm. The doctor did not notice A23's untrusting glance, nor did she note the numerous needle scars littering her arm. The doctor simply smiled that syrupy-sweet smile again, skillfully inserting the sharp point into her patient's arm.
A23 sighed mournfully and closed her eyes. She focused on the blood leaving her body. After a pint, it was filtered nosily and the purified blood was pumped back into her body. The whole process was to be repeated many times within the next day. As A23 lay back in the soft white chair, her lips parted as she stared unblinkingly at the ceiling. As a measure, the woman thought of death and was pleased to find the retching fear was not as strong as moments before.
Details of her past life slowly filtered through her consciousness. Closing her eyes, A23 pictured him in her mind, his beautiful face glaring sullenly from her mists of memory. 'Come soon?'
* * * *
Heero Yuy sat on a cushioned seat in the coach class of a large space-plane. His dark eyes were closed and his chest rose and fell at an even rate. To the common observer, he would have seemed asleep, but Heero was far from it.
The monotonous happiness of the people in the colonies put the man on edge. How was it that in the midst of a great war between all the forces of Earth and the Colonies, that these people could seem to actually possess contentment? Heero understood the emotions they should have been experiencing: tingling excitement, bone-freezing fear, even eagerness. But none of these stirring emotions existed.
Quickly turning from these trivial thoughts, he wondered faintly what his last mission was. His memory, usually so quick and precise, was clouded over. Heero was also beginning to worry about Dr. J. The doctor had not given him any new assignments in?well, since Heero could last remember. Had the crazy doctor finally overdosed on that odd, cinnamon-like liquid? If he had, what would Heero do now? Go on with Operation Meteor? Surely not. Hadn't he already made that decision? As he reached back into the reaches of his memory, Heero Yuy found he could not place the time in which he decided against it.
But what to do now? That answer came almost immediately. 'Defeat my enemies,' he thought. But who were his enemies?
The face of a beautiful girl, with subtle European features and an aristocratic aura flashed foremost in his mind. There was a name attached to the image, but it was soft and slurred, as if snuffed out by a thick cloak. The name was gibberish.
Heero, bothered by both the fact he would feel threatened by such a small, insignificant creature and also that he could not immediately recall her name, searched more deeply in his memories only to find them clouded.
The beat of his heart thudded painfully loud in his ears. His lungs pumped in rhythm, and his hand clenched the armrest. The tragic beat of panic undulated through his body and soul until he knew he would die from the absolute monotony of it all. The closer he looked, the farther away his memories became. 'Who am I?' He shivered, his body breaking into a cold sweat. 'Who am I?'
His eyes opened and Heero stared at her beautiful pale form. 'That girl?' he thought in wonder.
But she was different.
Her eyes were clouded over, blackened entirely. Her hair, once so soft and trim, was now thrown in disarray, making her resemble someone else that hovered near in his mind. Another enemy.
She smiled and he realized he couldn't breathe. Looking downward, a silver dagger protruded from his breast. His blood was black on the white blade.
"The only way?" came her soft voice, and with that voice, her name.
"Relena."
Then, he was being swallowed. Down, down, down he went into the darkness that all souls possess. He drowned in it, unable to think or do, only to experience. He knew he would die, and he prayed for the end to come soon.
"Sir!"
Heero snapped forward, gasping painfully and clenching his right hand, slippery with sweat. The passengers of the flight passed him with odd glances, some vapid, some intrigued as they shuffled impatiently to exit the plane. A computer voice announced cheerfully over the intercom that the flight had landed on L3 and to have a safe and enjoyable trip. Why was he here? Heero was not sure.
"Sir?"
Turning his eyes to the witness, he saw the small girl tugging at his sleeve. For a moment, he could place her from another location at another time, but her form was swallowed in shadow.
"Come on, or you'll be left behind," she said, grinning from ear to ear.
Heero stood, looking down at the small girl, gently detaching his sleeve from her tiny fist. "I always was behind."
To be continued...
[AN] To all those who noticed, this is very confusing.
Just follow through and all will be clarified. Please R&R!