[the forsaken]

Title: The Forsaken
Author: Link Worshiper
Pairings: 1=2, maybe some others if I feel like it
Rating: PG-13
Stuff: Fantasy AU, fluff, sap, language, adventure, WoW nerdiness
Disclaimer: I own Gundam Wing action figures? Warcraft and its lore belongs to Blizzard Entertainment. Both things are being played with out of fangirl love.

Thanks to danse and Natea for the once over. Despite the fact this is part of Natea's birthday present, I still needed her to fill me in on the Alliance history they don't teach us on Horde, so thanks for that also =P

Also, sorry this chapter is a bit short, but I felt bad that it's taken me so long to post more, since I basically deleted and rewrote this entire chapter from the ground up after I decided I hated what I'd done so far. I hope it's still good enough!!

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Chapter XVI
Crazy Diamond

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For almost three days, Heero kept himself prisoner in the wrecked guestroom at the inn, too depressed to even drag himself from the bed upon which he'd flung himself the moment he'd ordered Duo from his presence. For five years since he'd last seen Duo alive, Heero had adamantly forced himself into a state of constant indifference, refusing to feel sorry for himself. He slipped between the cracks, also stealing from Dalaran in the dead of night not too long after to make for Stormwind, where he'd planned to start his life anew in an unfamiliar city of strangers. But after squandering all he had but for the enchanted owl charm he wore about his neck, Heero fell onto more desperate times, which left his hands seeking coin from the pockets of Stormwind's unsuspecting townspeople.

It wasn't long before his dubious efforts to land on his feet caught the attention of a man that was simply called Jay, who caught Heero trying to palm a few gold coins from his purse in the market one day. Impressed with Heero's skill despite the blunder, he asked Heero if he'd like to be recruited and trained for a secret guild of rogues that served the king on more discreet missions. And Heero, happy to have anything to keep himself moving forward, was quick to sign the charter.

Yet despite such Herculean efforts to keep his past buried and forgotten, he had come around to the beginning once more. Mere days ago, he had felt as though this excursion with Duo and Trowa was fast becoming one of the most enlightening experiences of his life, and now he could only find the memories of their adventure repugnant. His brow hardened and his lips tightened at the thought, mulling over every instance they had shared since he'd made the laughable mistake of seeking Duo's assistance with the sigil: had it all been some kind of amusement to the warlock? He was certain that Duo had been glibly leading him along on a string since they'd met in the Sepulcher, for he was almost positive that Duo had quickly figured out who he was even before they had exchanged names. Duo had teased him the same way he had teased away his innocence in his youth. The whole thing left the taste of betrayal on his tongue, though he supposed that if he wished enough, even the wisest man could tell lies.

But now, he was left wondering what he ought to do next. Ideally, he'd have liked to flee the whole damned lot of it, but he knew that it wasn't quite that simple. Much as he was loath to do so, he was left trying to remember what clues Duo had left regarding the appropriate steps to cleansing his soul of the Epyon demon. The only person he could think of who might be able to help him was Quatre, but unfortunately, Trowa still had his owl charm. He was unsure if he'd be able to survive a voyage back to Theramore in his current condition, but at the moment, it was the best plan he had. The more he thought about it, the more comfortable he found himself with whatever fate was in store for him. After all, any place was better than here: starting from zero, he had nothing to lose.

It was only with such resolve that Heero managed to pry himself from the confines of the bed on the fourth day since the sundering of their fellowship. His sudden appearance in the lounge area of the inn, however, was met with surprise and uncertainty, but Heero was beyond caring. He supposed he didn't blame them for their concern since he had done nothing but wreck havoc on their little town. Cautiously, he stepped towards the innkeeper's desk, where a graying dwarf perched on the edge of a tall stool. Firmly pressing his palm against the oaken countertop, Heero fixed a pointed glare on the dwarf, silently entreating him to look up from his records and meet his cold stare. He could feel the eyes of all the other dwarves in the lounge scrutinizing his every move from behind him. Out of the corner of one eye, he was sure he saw one of them poise his hand over the pommel of his dirk.

It was with equal caution that the innkeeper lifted his eyes up towards Heero. Trying his best to mask his fear, he said stoutly, "Kinnae 'elp ye, lad?"

Heero only narrowed his eyes, but he didn't acknowledge the dwarf's obvious distrust of him any more. "Supplies and rations," he said curtly. "I need them."

The innkeeper let out a sigh of relief that wasn't so easy to mask, though he was quick to regain his composure. "An' wot ye be needin' in the lands ye be farin' ta?"

"Just enough to get back to Menethil Harbour that I might catch a tide to Theramore," Heero explained briefly, hoping the dwarf wouldn't press much further. He didn't feel obliged to explain the details of his circumstance to anyone, much less a stranger.

"Tha's a real voyage," said the innkeeper, sliding off his stool and disappearing behind the height of the desk. The sounds of rummaging could be heard as he rustled through the wares he kept to sell to departing guests. Clambering back up onto the stool with a small rucksack filled with biscuits and dried fruit in tow, which he tossed across the countertop to Heero, he said, "Are ye sure ye kin make it all tha' way alive?"

There was no suppressing the ire that suddenly built up within Heero at such a thinly veiled insinuation. "Just what do you mean by that?" he snapped, angrily snatching the rucksack off the desktop with a speed that startled the innkeeper. "I am not an invalid or incompetent," he growled before turning his rage on the rest of the room, who was, no doubt, thinking the same things the innkeeper had dared to voice. "In my short life, I have survived thrice the things I'm sure you or any of your kin ever will. If only you knew the curses I've endured: it would surely give you pause."

"Cursed, is 'ee?" muttered a dwarf on the other side of the lounge; "Surely 'ee'd doom any vessel 'ee set foot 'pon."

But despite the hushed tone the dwarf had spoken in, Heero heard his comment anyway, and it only did to further his temper. Taking a few aggravated steps towards the offending dwarf, a hand lingering dangerously close to the dagger at his hip, Heero growled, "My life was doomed from the first moment I drew breath. Now, all I seek is the promise of a peaceful rest, even if I must adventure until the moment I breathe no more." Stooping so that he might impale the dwarf with his deadly glower, he finished with a hiss, "So unless you might have a word or two that suggests a way to break the evil carving which holds me captive, then say none at all lest you wish to meet the edge of my blade."

The dwarf swallowed and then abruptly turned away, eyeing at the tassels edging the carpet upon which they stood. Heero barely had time to let his disgust at such a cowardly action show before the voice of another dwarf interrupted the awkward tension that was building in the room. The commanding voice that spoke came from the fiery haired dwarf that had captured Heero and Duo and brought them to Thelsamar in the first place. Faulkner was his name, and as a proud captain of the Ironforge ranks, it was his duty to oversee the protection of this outpost by the loch.

"A tool tha' might aid ye lies closer than Theramore, rogue," Faulker said, his voice thick with the brogue of his people. Everyone turned to look at him and he easily commanded their attention once they realized who he was.

Forgetting the impetuous dwarf who had just insulted him and turning to face Faulkner as he crossed the room, Heero straightened to his full height, which, while average for a human, was still impressive compared to a dwarf. Crossing his arms, he squared his shoulders and frowned down at the dwarf captain as he asked, "And of what exactly do you speak?" His voice was flat with the monotony of doubt.

"A sacred an' magical chisel, young 'un," answered Faulkner promptly, not about to be intimidated by Heero's size or his attitude. "It is a relic reputed t'be hidin' in the depths o' th' Uldaman ruins in yon Badlands. Th' stories even say t'was even used by the old Titans to hew our own flesh from th' rock when they created us." Faulkner boldly grabbed one of the buckles of Heero's gauntlet and jerked him low so that he might add in a whisper, "'Tis said that it kin even cut through stone tha' be tainted with th' mos' evil magics." He arched his bushy eyebrows at Heero, sending him a most knowing and significant look before releasing his glove.

Heero squared himself at his full height once more, though his face remained locked in the somber expression the dwarves had grown accustomed to seeing. A part of him remained dubious of such a claim, but he had heard of the excavations of the recently unearthed Uldaman and the fantastic treasures that the ancient temple had kept secret for eons. No one quite knew what Uldaman had been built for, or the true depths of its mysteries, but it was at least certain that it was a testament to the old days, when gods walked the earth.

But there was something more prominent on his mind than whether or not the power of the Titan gods was entombed in Uldaman, and that was how Faulkner had come to know the details of his plight. Frowning down at the dwarf, Heero said stiffly, "Come and speak further with me in secret," and finished with a menacing glint in his eyes: "I must know whether or not you mean to aid me or send me to an early grave."

He stalked to the door of the inn and flashed the rest of the room another unfriendly scowl before sweeping over the threshold for the quiet of the outside street. Faulkner followed, not at all mussed by Heero's behaviour, though it was clear that the rest of the other dwarves all shared a concern for his safety that made up for the captain's lack thereof.

The moment they were out of earshot and secluded enough for Heero's liking, the rogue whirled on Faulkner, grasping the clip that held the dwarf's cloak around his neck and lifting him clean off the ground. "What are you playing at? Tell me true, lest I drag you into a shadow you will never leave," Heero threatened, quivering a little.

Still calm as ever, Faulkner responded evenly, "Ye think I'd go all me years an' never 'ave 'eard of th' thing which haunts ye? It didn't take long ta puzzle out what ye be doin' in these parts after I over'eard ye an' tha' 'lock."

The mere mention of Duo made Heero flinch, and he suddenly released Faulkner, sending the poor dwarf crashing to the ground. Pressing a cruel boot heel into Faulkner's chest, Heero pinned him in his place as he ground out, "And just what, pray tell, would that be?"

It was here that Faulkner dared allow a smirk of triumph to tweak his lips, which even his wild beard could not hide. "Do ye really think I kin be in th' service o' King Bronzebeard an' not 'ave 'eard what King Milliardo plans for th' Alliance?" He coughed a bit as Heero drove his heel even deeper into the dwarf's chest, but he didn't allow it to stay his upper hand: "Tut tut, lad, wot will th' king be thinkin' when 'ee 'ears that one 'ee presumed dead still walks 'ee earth - an' wif th' very trinket 'ee was bade retrieve in 'is own possession!" He shook his head, adding, "T'will be a sad day in Stormwind when 'er choice 'ero must see th' 'angin' tree fer treason...."

"Your words are meaningless," Heero snapped, unable to keep himself from letting the toe of his boot clock Faulkner upside the chin. "I keep this cursed sigil not out of want but duty! It would destroy all of Azeroth just as it is destroying me if I were to deliver it to His Majesty."

With one hand his only barrier between Heero's kicking foot and his face, Faulkner managed to say, "Aye, but if ye destroy th' sigil, then ye a liar no longer be! Do ye not see, lad?"

Heero, who was really just more frustrated than angry, at least still had the peace of mind to step off once he realized that the dwarf truly meant him no harm. Stumbling back a few paces, he, too, collapsed to the ground, landing on his ass and staring almost blankly at Faulkner, who was shakily trying to sit up as well. "Oh, I understand that well enough, sir," Heero said, sound calmer than he'd ever been since he'd come to Thelsamar. "It's just, without that warlock... I haven't a clue how to go about it and it makes me nervous taking direction from people I don't...." His eyes shifted to the side, trying hard to come up with another word, but annoyed that the only way he could think to finish was: "...from people I don't trust."

Faulkner let out a long whistle at this, shaking his head in amazement. "'Ee really was yer comrade, eh?" he marveled, digging through his hip pouch for a pipe and some tobacco. "In all me long years, I 'ent never seen a thing like 'et." Pushing the mouthpiece of his newly found pipe through the red thistle of his beard, Faulkner stuffed a small wad of tobacco in the bowl and then promptly lit it, breathing in deeply before exhaling a series of smoke rings. "But ye know somefink," he continued, relaxing now that that was in order, "T'ain't noffin' more powerful or amazin' as a true comrade. Th' ones that're there in th' thick o' 'et - those are ye real allies, 'Orde, Alliance or otherwise." Nodding firmly, he went back to puffing on his pipe.

Heero frowned as he brooded on the dwarf's wise words. He wanted to say that Duo had proven himself the exact opposite of that with his actions, and yet, in the end of it, he knew that it had been he who had sent him away. He didn't want to think of himself as someone petty or fickle, determinedly reminding himself why he had been right to do what he had, though it didn't do much to ease the weight in the pit of his stomach. He didn't understand that despite all the resentment he had carried towards Duo for so long, all he could think about was their every last goodbye, wondering why it was he even cared.

"Lad...."

Heero snapped to attention, startled from his tortured thoughts by Faulkner's voice. He didn't want to admit it to himself, but he had almost caught himself wishing Duo was still there. Reason continued to protest, even as his lost soul wept, but he knew there was only one way to go from there, and that was onwards. Duo was his past, and that was where it was best he stayed, Heero thought with a firm nod. He then stood, which Faulkner took as some kind of affirmation of this new quest, quickly putting out his pipe and clambering to his feet as well.

With another grin that was hard for even his bushy beard to mask, Faulkner said, "I'll jus' be drawin' ye a map 'afore ye leave," and for the first time in a while, Heero felt as if his life had finally taken a new direction.

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