Disclaimers and warnings still apply

ADDITIONAL WARNING : **ROUGH BLOODY** LEMON. No, this isn’t rape...just
rough, bloody sex. We’re talking Chang and Maxwell here, peoples. NOT GENTLE
STUFF HERE!

Shattered Glass
By Ryu~Itsutsu

Part Seven : Dazzled

"When I threw open the doors of his room, shafts of harsh, brilliant light
struck me full in the face and forced me to shield my dazzled eyes with a
gasp. It was a few moments before I was able to focus on the source of these
cruel rays, and then I saw that his odd collection of mirrors had been set
out at angles around the broken remains of the shepherd boy, to reflect a
maze of macabre images that took my breath away with shock."
~Madeline
Susan Kay’s Phantom

Quatre ran through the woods surrounding the school, unaware that Maxwell
had no intention of chasing him and was in fact dealing with his injured
comrades. All the Winner heir knew was that there was the blood of another
Trowa staining his shirt and it had been a mirror image of himself who had
killed him. The images of the other him, Duo, and Heero looking out with
dead, cold eyes as the one they called Nanashi was thrown back by the shot
to his chest was something Quatre knew would disturb his sleep for weeks to
come.

Students parted as he ran by them, distressed murmurings spreading in his
wake as they caught sight of the blood stain spreading across his white
uniform shirt, but he had not time for them. He had to find Heero and Wufei,
who he knew would be incensed to learn that Duo had been hurt and kidnaped.
But more than that, he had to find Trowa...

file://"Run..get the others...I’m dying anyway...hurry..before they get you
too..."//

file://Trowa’s not dead..he’s not! I didn’t kill him..whoever that imposter
was is no part of me..!//

He caught sight of his tall, slender friend coming out of one of the science
buildings and, unmindful of the odd looks he knew it would earn, he called
out, "TROWA!!"

Trowa was startled at the sound of his friend’s voice and turned, eyebrows
shooting up as he caught sight of the small blond rushing across the quad,
shirt stained with what could only be blood. Heero stepped out behind him
and saw it as well, and they exchanged a look before running to meet the
other boy. "Quatre, what happened?" Trowa asked urgently, checking the other
boy over for injuries. Quatre was gasping for air and reached out, taking
Trowa’s long hands in his own with a strange, wild light in his eyes.

"It wasn’t you! I knew it wasn’t you! I’m so relieved, Trowa, I saw him shot
and he died, and it was *me*!"

"Quatre, Quatre, calm down," Trowa urged, putting an arm around the smaller
boy’s shoulders. Heero looked surprised only a moment before he started
steering both of them away from the small crowd that was watching them with
concerned interest. "What’s wrong?"

Quatre paused, trying to catch his breath and think over the intense relief
of seeing Trowa alive and well. "I don’t even know where to begin..."

"Just speak slowly," Heero said softly, voice almost gentle.

Quatre swallowed and nodded. "This is going to be hard to believe but..there
are *copies* of us running around campus. I just saw mine, Duo’s, yours," he
nodded to Heero, "and..." his voice caught. He could still feel Nanashi’s
pain echoing through his mind and nerves, and he shuddered, hugging his arms
around his chest. "And Trowa’s. But he died...Winner killed him. I’m
not...not sure what they’re doing here, but I’m fairly certain Trowa’s
double had been sent to kill me. But he wouldn’t...and my double...my double
killed him...and..and they took Duo. I don’t know where. He knocked out my
double before he could kill me, but the other Duo hit *him*...And they are
us. I’m sure of it. Alternate versions or something. I felt the one like
Trowa before he died and..there as a sense of Trowa in him. They’re not just
copies or people in costumes."

Trowa and Heero exchanged a glance. The story was almost impossible to
believe, but Quatre wasn’t the sort to make stories up, especially something
so far-fetched. "Where’s Wufei?" Heero asked. "He’ll want to know that Duo’s
been injured."

"I’m not sure. Duo was looking for him earlier. Said something about not
seeing Wufei all day and hearing he’d punched someone for looking at him
strangely."

"That certainly doesn’t sound like Wufei," Heero mused. Wufei still had a
temper, it was true, but the years since the war had calmed it a bit. The
Japanese boy was suddenly suspicious. "Quatre, you said you saw the three of
us and the other Duo, but did you see another Wufei?"

Quatre thought a moment, making sure he hadn’t forgotten seeing the other
boy in the confusion of the moment and Nanashi’s death. "No. No, I didn’t
see him." Heero and Trowa’s eyes met over the shorter boy’s head and it hit
Quatre at the same time. "That means..."

"That means there’s a reason Wufei hasn’t been acting like himself today,"
Trowa finished for him. "We’d better find him, fast. If they’re willing to
kill their own, there’s no telling what they’ll do to our Wufei."

Heero nodded and they all rushed in the direction of the dorm they all lived
in, to Wufei and Duo’s room.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

Chang stretched the kinks out of his back and bit back a dissatisfied scowl.
This business of picking fights over nothing was annoying. His style was
killing quickly and with as little mess as possible. Toying with people was
more Maxwell’s style and it annoyed him to play around instead of just
cutting to the quick and getting rid of his targets; but Winner insisted
they cause trouble before they start killing, so here he was acting like an
idiot, punching stupid college kids who barely knew which way was up when
they were talking to one of their precious ex-Gundam pilots. Clenching his
teeth, he looked in the little refrigerator and was further annoyed that his
double and his moronic bubbly roommate apparently lived off Coke and Hot
Pockets.

He slammed the door shut and turned, glancing at the communicator that he’d
left on the dresser. It was blinking and he arched a questioning eyebrow as
he pressed it and Maxwell’s annoyed voice rang out. ::"CHANG?! Where the
fuck are you? I’m doing twelve people’s jobs here and you’re running around
without your communicator. You call me the *second* you get your ass in you
hear me?"::

Chang’s other eyebrow joined the first. It wasn’t like his lover to sound so
irate. Maxwell was dangerous, sensual, and murderous, but never irate. He
reached for the small device...only to hear the splintering of the door as
something hard smashed into it. Calmly, but fast as lightning, the assassin
whipped out a gun that carried darts with a poison that killed in less than
a second. Efficient. Clean. Expression serene, he faced the door.
file://Finally some action, hmm..?//

Another hit and the door was gone, revealing this universe’s Heero on the
other side, Trowa and Quatre behind him. Chang cocked the gun and tilted his
head to the side. Obviously, his cover was blown. He smiled slowly. "Can I
help you gentlemen?"

"Where’s Duo?" Heero asked flatly.

"Duo?" Chang arched an eyebrow, still relaxed. "In class, I would suppose."

"He doesn’t know yet," Quatre said, standing in front of Trowa, usually warm
eyes hard.

Chang’s eyes narrowed slightly and his finger tightened on the trigger.
file://Obviously, they caught Duo.// He rubbed the communicator in his
pocket. file://And, just as obviously, they didn’t cover their steps well.
These three are on to us. Can’t kill them yet...not until we pump them for
information...damn.//

"Don’t be so certain of yourself," Heero said, voice flat. "Your Trowa’s
dead and your Quatre’s unconscious. You’re alone now." He lifted his hand,
revealing a small pistol that was aimed directly at Chang’s heart. "Tell us
where Duo and Wufei are."

file://Nanashi’s dead? They didn’t kill him..not his style. Which means...//
"Winner. Dammit. Didn’t think he’d do it again. And with only Yuy and
Maxwell there, he’s only got two people to pin it on." He scowled, squeezing
off a shot just above Quatre’s shoulder. The blond ducked as Trowa and Heero
moved in to protect him, Heero aiming at Chang’s knee as the report of the
pistol rang out-

And sailed through empty air.

Chang was already gone, leaving only a black portal that snapped out of
existence in mere nanoseconds.

"Now what?" Quatre asked, stepping forward, already searching the room for
anything that could help them trace the imposter.

Heero sighed. "Now...Duo and Wufei are on their own."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Maxwell cursed softly as he typed up his report. The death of an assassin
was never well received; there’d be another review, mounds of paperwork,
time wasted...and he had to type this piece of shit out before he could work
on getting information out of those two absolutely delicious new pets he
had! As if that wasn’t enough, he’d forgotten to gas the chamber so the
little animals would be asleep, and he hadn’t had time to check on them.
There was no telling what they’d done in that spare half hour...

Maxwell was so caught up in his report that he didn’t hear the door swish
open or footsteps crossing the soft carpet. He was only aware when something
incredibly hard pounded into his stomach and he flew back, the chair
breaking beneath his weight as all the air rushed from his lungs.

"Incompetent!"

Maxwell opened blurry eyes, already standing, hands clawed. The furry blond
image in front of them could be nothing else but their leader, his voice low
with malice, none of his usual faked innocence in his expression. "What the
hell, Winner?" he managed, enraged. "Get the hell out of here!"

"Incompetent," Winner hissed again, hands tightening on the metal bar that
had slammed into Maxwell’s stomach. There was a glint in his eye the
American didn’t like. "I sent you to help him and you killed him!"

Fury mixed with absolute terror tore through Maxwell’s body as the wide
violet eyes narrowed to dark slits. "You’re the one who killed him you
bastard! Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing-I will *not* be your
scapegoat! I’m not as easy as Catalonia, you fucker. You may have been able
to pin Dorian’s death on her, but I was *there* remember?!" He pulled back,
breathing deep and steady. "I’m not going to be executed for you."

Winner growled, a dangerous sound that rumbled up from his chest. He’d
recovered quickly, another plus of being raised in the program. Moving
faster than thought, he kneed the American in the stomach and wrapped his
hands tight around the slender neck as Maxwell went down, smashing into and
splintering a low table. "You think you can stand against me, you slut?" he
spat as Maxwell clawed at him, raising rivulets of blood despite his
declining strength as his body screamed for air.

file://Should have seen this coming! Should have prepared!! Should have
known he’d make someone take the fall for this murder just like Dorian!
DAMN!// Maxwell twisted, dug his nails into Winner’s wrists. Darkness was
dancing across his vision when Winner abruptly let go and he dimly heard the
sound of ripping material as his shirt was torn from his gasping body.

"Where am I going to find someone that malleable?! You think I"m taking the
blame you little shit? You should have stopped me!" Winner threw his light
weight on the knee pressed against Maxwell’s groin, causing the disoriented
American to cry out. "It’s your responsibility..and you’re more expendable
than I’ll ever be. They’d rather kill you anyway. I’ll give them what they
want. I won’t be punished again..I won’t!!"

Maxwell couldn’t see through the haze in his mind, couldn’t move around the
pain. The attack was too sudden and unexpected and he cursed inwardly at his
own stupidity. He felt the blow of Winner’s fist meeting his temple and
struggled weakly, growling. Winner pulled back again, eyes mad, ready to
beat the other boy until he wouldn’t know the truth, until he’d confess as
Catalonia had-

In one smooth movement, a strong hand wrapped around Winner’s wrist as a
long dagger tore through the skin and muscle of his back, scraping against
his ribs.

"No one takes Maxwell but me, Winner."

Winner’s eyes widened as he coughed, blood spattering on Maxwell’s chest.
The dagger in his back twisted, ripped up. "As much as I hate paperwork, I
won’t let you live after touching him," came a low tenor voice, almost
conversationally. Winner’s killer twirled his body, knife still embedded in
his tissues, blood flying. Impossibly dark eyes bore into Winner’s shocked,
blood-shot turquoise.

"Sayonara," Chang said, and twisted the knife just so with expert ease
before tossing his former leader’s body to the side. "Damn."

Maxwell was writhing against the smashed table, eyes shut as he groaned
softly. His erection was a hard, hot heat against the loose school-issue
pants as his slender hands spread the blood that had splashed and pooled on
his body over taut stomach muscles. The Chinese boy watched as that talented
hand slipped into the band of his lover’s pants, slick with crimson liquid.
The American shuddered and Chang grabbed him around the chest to pull him
out of the remains of the table.

Violet eyes dark with lust fluttered open and he grabbed the Chinese boy,
tumbling them over to the floor. "Do it lover, do it lover, you know I need
it-"

Long legs wrapped around Chang’s waist as that low, throaty voice chanted
lewdly in his ear. The violence, the hot flow of life’s blood on his skin,
the sight of his exotic lover in the midst of murder had all combined to
drive Maxwell to a feverish pitch. Chang had seen it before, when the
American would coax one of his victims to humiliating, pain-filled begging
before abandoning him to satisfaction in Chang’s bed. His beautiful lover
was painfully aroused and there was only one thing for Chang to do as his
own body answered.

With one expert slice of the blood-soaked dagger, Maxwell’s pants were
sliced from his body and the young sadist was watching his lover with
thankful, demanding eyes. "Hurry up!" he demanded, ripping off Chang’s
clothes bare-handed.

"Fuck!! Dammit, Maxwell-" Chang was cut off as Maxwell’s tongue dove for his
throat, Maxwell’s slender hands closing tight on his ass and forcing him
down as he thrust upward, grinding their shafts together with punishing
force.

"Inside!" he ordered, legs spreading and back arching to give his long-time
lover better access. Burying sharp nails in Chang’s neck he pulled his
exotic lover down for another deep tongue kiss still moving his hips in
hard, tight little thrusts.

Chang groaned, already hard, and tore his mouth away to latch on to his
lover’s neck, teeth drawing blood as he reached a hand between Maxwell’s
splayed legs, trailing it in the still-hot blood painted over both of them
to provide lubrication before jabbing two fingers directly into the tight
sheath of his lover’s body.

Maxwell’s whole body jerked and he practically purred his contentment as
pain spiked briefly through his body. But he scowled when Chang kept feeling
around, stretching him while the hard bronze stomach pressed against his
erection. There was no time for it now! "Not now, lover!!" Maxwell twisted,
throwing the other boy off of him and growling, "Just do it! NOW!"

Chang almost protested; he had no desire to scar his beautiful, wild lover
despite the rough sex. But Maxwell was on his knees, half-straddling the
Chinese boy’s waist, one slender hand lashing out and grabbing the Chinese
boy’s erection in a punishing grip. "I’m hot, lover," he hissed through
clenched teeth, grip softening once he *definitely* had Chang’s attention
and pulling in hard, steady beats. His eyes ran hungrily over his lover’s
blood smeared chest and across the fresh body so nearby. "Winner’s not
fucking with our heads anymore. I’d call that reason to celebrate. Now hurry
up and do me!"

Chang growled and lunged forward, grabbing the lighter boy and throwing him
on his stomach, forcing the long, pale legs apart with his knees. "Like
this?" he asked, voice half moan and half hiss as he pressed all his weight
on the arm pressing Maxwell’s shoulders to the floor.

"Hard!"

In one sharp motion, Chang complied, beating his way past the tight ring of
muscle that sought to keep him from his lover’s body. The American screamed,
arched his back in pure ecstasy as the pain shattered across his nerves;
then withdrawal and another harsh thrust that slammed against his prostate.
Pleasure tripled merged with pain and he started panting, words pattering
from his lips like rain. "Harder, lover, deeper, lover, break me, tear me,
*harder*!!"

Chang let up on Maxwell’s shoulders, grabbing the slim hips to keep the
American from squirming as he drove into that tight, hot tunnel, senses
filled with his lover’s breathless encouragement. Sweat rolled off his
shoulders, soaking up Winner’s blood and staining the pale carpet pink.
"Come, Maxwell!" he gritted out, and the American gasp at the order in his
lover’s voice, wrapping a hand around his own steel erection with nails
digging into the sensitive skin. His orgasm coalesced in a low scream as he
soaked his own hand it white liquid.

As the muscles around his shaft tightened, pain bit at him and Chang
grunted, voice merging with that of Maxwell’s as he buried himself
completely, hips moving in hard circles as he poured his seed into the tight
channel of his lover’s body.

They collapsed as one, Chang rolling off almost immediately to keep from
crushing the lighter boy. For long moments they simply lay panting, bathed
in the smell of blood and sweat and sex. Then, in a move that would have
shocked all who knew him, Chang reached out and cuddled the sated American
to his chest, running careful fingers down the sweaty, bruised back.

"Mmm..arigato, lover," Maxwell purred, closing his eyes and pressing close,
leaning up for a leisurely kiss, tongues passing from one mouth to the
other. "It’s still you," he murmured, pulling away with a yawn. He looked
over Chang’s shoulder, blinking with surprise when he saw the body on the
floor and the pool of blood still growing around it. "You killed him!!"

"He was going to hurt you," was the only reply.

"He was?" Maxwell sounded curious and surprised.

"Hai." Chang wasn’t surprised that his lover had forgotten the attack;
Maxwell was born, bred, drugged, *created* for sex by the Program. He often
forgot the minutes before climax. "Don’t worry about it."

"I wasn’t." Maxwell leered sleepily and ran his fingertips down Chang’s side
in a lingering, almost sweet caress. "Next time I take you, lover."

"Aa." Chang smirked and nipped the full mouth hard. "Better catch some
sleep, Maxwell, you’ve got prisoners to interrogate."

"Mmm..." The American shuddered in anticipation and draped one long leg over
both Chang’s. "Oyasumi, lover."

"Night, Maxwell," Chang answered, lying awake until he was certain Maxwell’s
breaths had evened into steady beats before slipping into sleep himself.

~END PART SEVEN~