Disclaimer: you know I don't own Gundam Wing. The characters aren't mine. This is a work of fan fiction, An AU Fantasy to be precise. No actual wolves or slave boys were harmed in the writing of this story…I can't say the same for the fleas…but really they were fleas, they deserved it.
Author's Note: this is a stand alone ficlet as such is won't be particularly long. note- Some of the dynamics and interactions in this story were inspired by and alluded to in my other Gundam Wing fantasy entitled 'Cursed.' You don't need to read 'Cursed' to understand this story. This story takes place several years prior to that timeline and may contain a few spoilers to Duo and Heero's shared history. The only warning i have is this qualifies as a slave fic and makes allusion alludes to things that are not particularly plesant but having said that it is still pretty up-beat.
If you wish to go on to read 'Cursed' after reading this story you might have a deeper understanding of some of the things that happen. And if you already have read 'Cursed' then this story may fill in some of the blanks you were wondering about. Either way I hope you will not be disappointed. Many thanks to Archsage Soren and my Ami-friend who were kind enough to act as beta for this; you are great! And to all of you who read, I hope you enjoy this story as much as I have. R&R ~wraith
Part 1: The Assassin and the Kitchen Boy
"Oi, you there, kid!" The voice belonged to a blonde man of average height with broad, squared shoulders and a no-nonsense attitude that few dared question. He was Odin Lowe, one of the most successful bounty hunters/assassins in the Yuy Empire.
"Who me?" The chestnut haired slave blinked up from his impromptu bed beside the hearth. Soot smudged his impishly upturned nose, and his clothes were tatty and worn; but there was intelligence in those strangely violet eyes. The man leaned in and lifted the boy's sleeve to view the mark branded there; it read D2O-MX11.
"Duo hm? Yes, you'll do," the man nodded smartly.
"Do what?" the boy queried hesitantly. He had seen the blonde man meeting with his master on occasion, and everyone in the lower districts of the city was well aware of his reputation. But that wasn't enough to quell the boy's curiosity.
"Your master has contracted me for a few jobs, and since you aren't up to doing your regular duties, the house steward has agreed to lend me your services while you are healing. Do you mind attending to something for me?"
The boy's hand ghosted gingerly across several bruises to rest on his tightly bandaged ribs. As the man implied, Master Deklin Barlett's heavy handed ministrations limited his usefulness with increasing frequency. At present he couldn't run messages or pick pockets. He wouldn't be breaking into any houses or sneaking into places to eavesdrop on his master's enemies. In fact it took more effort than he cared to admit just to stay standing for any length of time.
Some of his master's less savory business partners might take advantage of a slave unable to fight off their advances, but he'd never heard Lowe classed among them. Still the boy couldn't conceive of any other way he could be of assistance to the prominent assassin. But one never knew, really. "What sort of something?" the youth asked.
"This sort." The man reached into his voluminous jacket and instead of a concealed weapon, as the boy had suspected, he withdrew an unruly mass of brown fur with oversized paws and the deepest blue eyes the boy had ever seen. He was captivated instantly. "Puppy!" he declared holding his arms out, opening and closing his hands in the typical 'gimmie' sign.
The blonde man reluctantly transferred the animal into his arms. The boy buried his nose into the top of its head. In a sing-song voice he asked, "Are you a He-puppy or a She-puppy?"
"That is a wolf boy, and his name is Solon," the assassin volunteered. "I found him living on the streets. He's been ill so I've barely begun his training. He isn't terribly dangerous at the moment, but needs looking after while I'm on the job," Odin explained.
The boy only shrugged, unconcerned. "You and me are gonna be great friends, right Solo?" the boy declared.
The pup had been looking sleepy as the man held him by the scruff of the neck, but now he struggled in the boy's arms. It was a weak effort, illustrating the truth of the assassin's assertion that he'd been sick. "Iiiirrooo!" The wolf's cry was little more than a raspy whisper.
The sound tore at Odin's heart; it spoke of hunger, fear, loneliness and pain. It hadn't been so long ago that he'd found the starving creature grubbing about in a refuse cluttered back ally. The animal looked so pathetic: fur dirty and matted, infested with parasites, ribs protruding from living so long on the brink of starvation. Solon had gained a little weight while under the man's care but still had quite a way to go before he could even come close to fulfilling the potential the assassin saw in him. Still, the pup had proved he already knew how to defend himself; the rest would come.
The man absently rubbed the meat of his palm. The marks those sharp teeth had left were barely healed but it seemed the pang of leaving the creature with a stranger was greater. Still, there was no help for it. "I've got to go," Odin grumbled, turning away. He knew it was best to ignore the pathetic whimpers. But it wasn't easy. "Perhaps you'll have better luck with the fleas," he tossed the words over his shoulder bitterly as he strode out. The violet-eyed boy didn't seem to be listening anyway.
"Don' cry lil one. I'm sure Ol'Lowe'll be back soon," he soothed cradling the cub to his chest.
"Ooolowll!" the pup howled, almost as if attempting to mimic the name the slave boy had so mangled would lure the man back again.
"There, there Solo," the boy soothed. "Shhhh shhhh it's alright. I'll look after you. You'll be fine." Toying with the pups delicately pointed ears seemed to calm him, and soon both fell into exhausted asleep.