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Unknown, Unknowns	By : DanceofDarkness Category: +1 through F > Boondocks, The Views: 2772 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Boondocks, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
Ed leaned against one of the many Greek pillars that lined the southern style wrap-around porch of Wuncler manor. He bit his lip, agitated, bored and more then a little pissed that Gin had left with out telling him. He turned his gaze to the icy sky trying to find solace in the gently falling snow.

It was magic hour the time of day when the sky were thrown into the heavenly dim light of the sun made even more ethereal by the winter clouds. He drew in a cold breath of air and exhaled though his teeth, mist drifting before his eyes like his grandfathers cigar smoke.

The redhead didn't really know how to feel about this grandfather. He knew the old man was a manipulative, hateful, son of a bitch, whose fingers had been dipped into the filth of corruption so many times that they were permanently stained with blood.

But unfortunately, he was only thing that he could securely connect to his father. Ed often was repulsed by the thought that he shared any blood ties with the elder Wuncler, that the sly mother fucker had a hand in making his father or that he sometimes saw the older mans face staring back at him from the mirror.

His grandfather was a trickster, had a silver tongue that was razor edged, he was ruthless and mercilessly cruel. It almost made Ed sick to know that over the years of living with the older man he had inadvertently began to share some of these traits. Features that he had once shared with his parents slowly became replaced, smothered by a seething temper, and a rebellious hateful streak that only his grandfather could replicate.

There was a reason that there was never any harmony between them...they were to much a like in temperament. When they fought, it was brutal and pitiless; they went at each others throats with barbed words and scalding insults. There were times that Ed was sure if any weapons had been with in immediate reach they would have killed each other.

But his grandfather was cruel and played all his grandsons weakness; he knew the wounds left on Ed's soul with the death of his parents were always raw and easily reopened. When he found out that beating his grandson didn’t bend him to submission he found other, more wicked ways punish him.

Ed once had many precious possessions that had belonged to his parents, photographs, jewelry, cologne, letters... Over the years, these things had steadily disappeared, torn from his grasp by his grandfather if he didn't readily comply with him or mind his damn own business.

These treasures were whittled away until he was only left with a picture of his father and his parent’s wedding bands. He remembered that the images of his mother had been the first things to vanish, and it had been so long since he had seen her face the she was beginning to fade from his memory.

He could recall some things, how she smelled, the gentle tone and cadence of her voice, the sound of her laughter…but these were beginning to blur lost to time and narcotic abuse.

The steady purr of an engine roused him from his depressing thoughts and he swung his eyes to the curved driveway watching as Gin’s sleek car rolled to a stop. When the door swung open and his lover immerged, the scathing remark that had been balanced on Ed's tongue broke.

A fresh bruise trailed from Gin’s temple to his jaw marred his face; blood was smeared against his throat and stained the front of his shirt. He halted a few feet away from the blond, his irritation feigning concern.

Gin nervously ran his hands through his hair…fucking hell. He had expected Ed to waiting for him, but not outside. How was he going to fucking explain coming home with a gore spattered shirt and half dried blood dribbling down his neck?

“Ed I…,”

The young heir raised his hand and Gin immediately closed his mouth his lips pursing in a thin line. Icy cold fingers gently brushed against his bloody neck further smearing crimson across his throat. A startlingly intense look was etched across the redhead’s features; it was piercing and burning, and made shame swell against Gin’s chest.

He could handle a wrathful Ed, a screaming Ed, but this was something he was unprepared for, this solemn, searing stare that cut into his very being. Silence threaded between them strained, twisting tighter and tighter with each breath they drew until Gin felt as if his very bones were going to splinter and snap from the tension.

Sweat trickled down the curve of his spine and his teeth began to ache from how tightly he was clenching his jaw, he relaxed the action causing a brief flare of pain to lick at the side of his face. He felt Ed draw away his hand shifting his fingers up to touch the bruise that marred the side of his face. Gin unconsciously turned into the caress closing his eyes a broken smile leaking across his face when he felt Ed’s fingers curl around the back of his ear tucking away a few stray hairs.

“Gin…whateva dis is…whoever is beatin the shit outta a you jus’ tell me…tell me please,”

“I wish I could Ed…believe me…but…,”

He fought to find the right words turning his face further into Ed’s hand kissing his palm, and blood streaked fingers,

“but…there jus’ too much that could…I jus’ cant Ed, I cant…,”

He was so sorry for it, so terribly fucking sorry,

“Why the fuck not Rummy? Why? What ‘ave you got ta hide from me?”

Gin flinched at his lovers tone, anger was beginning to simmer in his voice,

“Cause…,”

Why? Because I don’t want to wake up and find your throat slit, I don’t want to have to worry about someone trying to put a bullet though your skull, because I am terrified that if I fuck up, you will pay for my mistakes….

Gin snarled at his own damning thoughts turning away from Ed, running his fingers through his hair glad that he didn’t have to look the other man in the eye anymore. He rested one arm against the door of his care slouching forward his fingers slipping under glasses to rub feverishly at his eyes. Fuck, he didn’t know what to do! This was all slipping beyond his control and the worst part was he had no one to blame except his own damn self.

He ground his teeth ignoring the stab of pain the jabbed against his temple. A half broken smile suddenly slithered across his lips giving him a slightly insane look. It was oddly amusing that he could easily slay elitist executives, poison their innocent wives, and snap their children’s necks with out flinching. That he could easily, piteously look into a man’s eyes as he pressed the nozzle of his gun to their foreheads and pull the trigger without a second thought.

Now standing ankle deep in snow in a blood-spattered suit in the presence of the younger Wuncler he could hardly gather enough words from his stumbling brain to form a coherent sentence when Ed demanded that he tell him the truth. It frightened him sometimes that he could be reduced to this by just being around the other man. Ed was his weakness and controlled him more effectively then Wuncler senior ever could hope to. He was terrified now as his eyes relocked with Ed’s, he could see the damning shadow of confusion mingling with the flicker of anger.

He took a hesitant step closer his lover his hand reaching up to grip his wrist. He remembered long before any of this stupid shit had started that he had come home beaten, bloody from a mission that had turned out to be a set up.

“Gin what the fuck happened?”

Ed’s voice whispered from the cold almost as clearly as if he had just spoken. Fear had risen into him at those soft words. Rearing from his stomach to his chest almost choking him, it had been a maddening grotesque emotion that had gripped at him so tightly that he experienced a brief moment of insanity. That had been only time he had ever maliciously laid his hands on the redhead. Without thinking he pinned Ed against the wall his fingers gripping, the younger’s shoulders so savagely that later dark bruises had appeared against his flawless skin. Gin could still hear his own voice, a cruel, wicked hiss, a tone he used for men he was about to kill or torture,

“Mind your own fuckin business,”

The confusion and pain that had welled in Ed’s eyes instantly made Gin relax his grip and wrap his lover in an embrace of gentle apologies and latent kisses.

Since that night, Ed had never inquired about his wounds, or his blood spattered cloths until now.

Ed eyes briefly flicked to Gin fingers firmly wrapped around his wrist. A memory that he tried to suppress suddenly lurched from his consciousness. He swallowed fixing his gaze back on Gin’s face. There was no anger there but a deep lingering anguish, he gasped as he was suddenly yanked forward so that he was chest to bloody chest with Gin.

Gin leaned forward resting his forehead against Ed's his hands trailing up to softly rest against the sides of Ed's neck.

“Please understand me Ed, that I can’t tell you…please…I’m sorry…I can’t risk you Ed…I jus’ cant.”

He closed his eyes drawing in a deep breath, waiting for his lover’s response hoping that his own words wouldn’t back lash.

Ed softly bit his lower lip, Gin begging for anything was something rare, hell anyone begging anything from was strange

Gin’s voice caused an icy shiver to slice down Ed's spine, the blonde never begged for anything, granted he had come very close with Ed on...certain occasions but never like this. Ed bit his lower lip trying to think, trying to ignore Gin's warm breath as it kissed away the cold on his face and how exhausted he looked.

The other man's body language was rigid even if the hands against his neck were relaxed and gentle. It made Ed nervous, almost fearful, Gin was never like this, Gin was always calm, Gin always had a plan, always knew what to do when bullets were flying and men were screaming and dying, when everything went to straight to hell so fast it would have made other men’s heads spin...

Except now, Ed could see that the blonde was lost and was fighting desperately with something that was writhing out of his grasp and going for his throat. The redhead sighed pressing him self closer to his lover, sharing his lovers tension and nauseating confusion.

If Gin didn’t want him to know, just what the fuck was going on then the entire redhead could ease some of the burden.

He felt the other man lean into the embrace and felt the tension that had been so tightly coiled within the other man go slack. They were standing so close now that their noses were almost touching; blue eyes that always held the

fire of mischief were void boarding on a hollow glassy stare. It was a grotesque expression and made Ed’s stomach clench,

“Rummy, I under’san whatchoo mean ‘bout me… but dis,”

He reached up and ran his fingers over the bruise on Gin’s temple then swept down his jaw line, over his bloody throat, and tailed down his spattered shirt lingering there,

“Dis, I jus don’ get this Rummy…you neva let someone do dis kinda shit ta you,”

He felt Gin’s hands slide from his neck to wrap around his shoulders in a loose hug,

“I know Ed…but what all’a dis has done ta me…s’been worth it,”

He placed a soft kiss against Ed’s lips tightening his hold around Ed’s shoulders whispering against his mouth,

“S’been worth it,”

Gin let a sigh hiss through his teeth as he gently lowered him self into the marble bathtub. He felt the heat immediately loosen the clenched muscles of his neck and lower back easing the strain of standing so rigidly in the cold embrace of the snow and wind. Steam whisper around his face, curling from the still surface of the water replacing the icy chill that had crept into his body. A rolled up towel was propped underneath his head and an unopened book, the pages becoming warped by the heat lay beside the tub. The steady sound of water dripping from the silver faucet and faint rustle of Ed moving around in the other room were lulling him into a slurred drowsy state chasing away any thoughts of reading.

He was almost asleep when he felt the water shift around his body and a familiar weight settle across his hips. Gin stretched adjusting his position so that Ed could comfortably lie against him. Without opening his eyes Gin ran his fingers through Ed's steam damp hair silently enjoying the feeling, and company of his lover. He felt the redhead lean forward to kiss his throat before resting his head against his chest the gentle clink of his dog tags cutting through the heat of the bathroom.

Ed lay against Gin his eyes half open and staring soothed by the steady heart beat the thrummed against his ear. Gin continued to thread his fingers through his hair and down his neck before trailing them back up and starting the caress all over again. But confusion still lingered in the young heirs mind, even with the blood washed free from his neck and his crimson flecked suit gone the smell of gore seemed to linger on Gin.

Ed had not sensed that scent in a long time not since they were in Iraq together. But that was understandable, death and blood had been all around them, sweat soaked and tepid. It was the fragrance of war, the perfume of death. And he had gotten used it there, because he knew that it clung it to him just like every other man.

But now its silence and clean marble of his bathroom away from the war torn Middle East the smell seemed out of place. He knew that Gin was mixed up in some wicked shit right now, even if the blonde didn’t tell him, Ed knew that Gin was killing other men.

He felt blonde shift beneath arching his back to ease to sore muscles briefly lifting Ed free of the warm water before settling back down. Gin’s hands were beginning to slow his breathing becoming deep and even as sleep began to take hold of his exhausted mind.

Gin gently ran his fingers over his new braids, rubbing his sore scalp, he had forgotten how annoyingly painful it was to have his hair pulled back. It was beginning to give him a headache. The final breath of the sun was threading through the arched windows of Ed's bedroom casting everything in a fiery shade of crimson.

It had been two weeks since his last encounter with Wuncler Sr., the older man had not contacted him to request a contract or give him information on a hit or even summoned him to his presence. This made the blonde extremely nervous, so much so that he was teetering on the brink of abysmal paranoia. He was also beginning to develop insomnia, when night would creep upon him and every sound was the distinct click of a gun, or a long slide being drawn back.

Staring into the darkness with Ed's breath gently kissing his neck Gin feign sleep his hand resting on the handle of his Silverballer only relaxing with the bright fingers of morning sunlight would trail along the wall killing the looming shadows that had lurked so maliciously in the corners.

With ICA it had been less complicated, he was in control of the situation information was constantly being sent to him, he knew exactly what his target was wearing, what they looked like, where their family lived what they fucking at for breakfast. There no waiting, he hadn’t sat on his ass long since he had been sent to Iraq.

He knew what the older bastard was doing though he was toying with him, idly taking his time, making his little assassin sweat, and silently torturing him. It was true show of how much power Wuncler had, of how securely the strings were tied to his to his fingers and how each little movement affected Gin’s life. This was a punishment for his behavior, he was being taught a lesson, it was very subtle, and very threatening.

The last rays of the sun glimmered on the polished silver of his guns before fading completely. Another restless night of waking nightmares clutching shadows of dreams, he slightly turned his head to one side when he heard the door down stairs open then slam shut. The sounds of Ed's voice lashing against the silence followed by the equally malicious tones Wuncler Sr.

Gin automatically tensed straining to hear the jagged words of their vicious argument. He flinched when heard something delicate and fragile smash to pieces. There was an eerie silence after that, a quiet that Gin often associated with a savage struggle that abruptly concluded with a bullet through some ones eye socket, it made his blood run cold. He quietly retrieved his gun from the table and slipped out the door, drawing back the long slide as he walked down the hallway.

Authors Note: Finally, just one more part to go and this installment will be finished! PLEASE REVIEW, and I am so sorry for the long wait.

Waltz
- 8
- 9
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Unknown, Unknowns