AN: I love Duo, so I wanted to try writing him. And I figured this would be a good enough start. It's shonen-ai, so anyone who doesn't like it should probably leave. Or don't. Whatever floats your boat.
WARNING: I wrote this on a different computer that has a different program then the one I have to upload things on. I tried to convert the file but it didn't work completely. I'm telling you this because I've been trying to find all the mistakes the converting made but I have three stories to go through and I just don't have the patience to sift through each one with a fine toothed comb. I did what I could, but if must anything, I warned you ahead of time, kay?
DISCLAIMER: Don't own.
Dreaming of Whispers
By
NOASHADO
Duo struggled to breathe in the damp air, partly because it hurt to breath, partly because of the air itself. The impure, suffocating air. It smelled of mold. Of stale blood and questionable body fluids. It hung thick around the boy, like a fog. The high-profile holding cell was empty, with no windows or doors except for the single iron one keeping the young terrorist inside. Though the door seemed rather useless to him. With the pain crippling his body, he wouldn't have been able to escape even if there had been no door. As it was, Duo lay motionless in an unnaturally twisted position upon the floor, dull eyes transfixed on the cold gray of the door.
There was an odd buzzing in the cell (or was that just in his head) that made it difficult for Duo to think, but he managed. Strangled snippets of comprehensible thoughts. About the bone-chilling cold, the crushing dark, the smoldering pain, the ugly gray of the door. And couldn't any one afford to clean this place up? Paint it up a little? Like blue. An intense, deep blue that would match a certain pilot's eyes.
Suddenly all Duo could think about was Heero. How he wished to see him. How he hoped he was ok. And how damn sorry he was for shooting him all those months ago. But most of all, he just wanted to be with him again. Because it hurt too much right now and somehow, somewhere along the line, Duo now associated 'safe' and 'painless' with the fierce pilot who threatened death on a daily basis.
Heero. Help me.
Duo fought against a sob. He was cold. He hurt like a bitch, and, though he'd die before he'd admit it to these Ozzies, he was terrified. He just wanted to go to home, where ever he happened to be at the moment. But Heero could be any where, and he was the only one that could make Duo feel safe again.
Safe.
Duo was familiar with it. It was the feeling he got when Solo draped an arm over his shoulder to help fight off the biting cold. The first word he thought when Sister Helen first shed her blessed smile his way. The overwhelming emotion he choked up with when Father Maxwell ruffled his hair every time the child came home from whatever adventure he embarked upon.
Duo had once known safe, but it had died with Solo. With Sister Helen and Father Maxwell. It had fallen apart with the foundation of his first home. It didn't exist for Duo. Not anymore. Not for a long time, at least. Then Duo felt the whispers of it start to bloom in a time he should have never felt so at home.
It first made itself known, these tiny whispers, when Wufei cuffed the back of his head every time he made it in one piece to each safe house just "a little late again, blockhead".
It came back again not long after that, when Trowa sat a little closer to fight off the cold whipping around them, the night the two had been stranded in some nowhere desert and had to wait several hours before some one could break through the storm and rescue them. And again when he bounded down the hall of another safe house to come upon Quatre, donning a frilly yellow apron and tomato sauce staining his hair, in the kitchen attempting to make dinner.
There was a faded whisper of it in the dark of night, when he curled against himself in bed, shaking with suppressed sobs, and found himself lulled to sleep by the insistent 'tack-tack-tack' of the computer keys. Just about asleep before he heard a quiet tenor, "you're safe now, baka, go to sleep".
Duo wanted to hear that voice, now more than ever. He'd take anything, even another threat, just to hear Heero's voice one more time. Because there was no whisper of safe and Duo felt like he was dyeing. His last sight would be these dead gray walls and his last sound would be the head splitting buzz that had never stopped, not even when his mind traveled to his safe places.
I'm sorry, Heero. You're always saving my ass. It was selfish of me to expect you to this time.
The pain was ebbing away, and Duo's vision was going black. He was dyeing, he knew, but he felt no relief. The pain was gone, freeing his body to feel a new ache. Terror. He was crippled by the fear that he'd never see the other pilots again. They'd only known each other for a short time, but they were his family. His brothers. He would miss them and he hurt them if he died now. And, God, he never wanted to hurt them. Ever. He was crippled by the fear of never seeing the stars again or feel the free fall that was zero gravity. He was crippled by the fear of never seeing the color blue again. Heero's blue. And that fear hurt the most. Tears leaked from his dull eyes as he pictured his lover's face.
He was almost completely unconscious when he heard a faint 'tack-tack-tack' that stopped the constant buzzing in the cell. There was a whoosh and suddenly he was breathing fresh air. His lungs burned as he gulped in the new scents. Comforting scents. Gun powder and steel and musk.
There were steps so faint he almost didn't hear them and then fingers were brushing the tears from his cheeks. Duo opened eyes he hadnÕt known had closed and stared at the messy haired angel before him.
"H'ro." he croaked, his chest rumbling dangerously. Heero gave him a gentle smile and traced his fingers over his cheek.
"Baka, always getting yourself captured." he whispered. Duo's heart fluttered at the sound of the slightly accented voice. Immediantly, he felt a wash of assurance replace the crippling fear he had felt before. Heero's other hand flitted around Duo's body, checking for injuries. There was a slight crease to his brow when he found the unsealed gash in his side.
Duo tried to reach up and sooth it away. "Y'know me." He wheezed. "Can' stand followin' th' rules." His eyes drooped, but he fought against it, wanting to stare at Heero's eyes for a while longer.
Heero smiled at him, leaned down, and pressed his lips to Duo's in a gentle kiss that worked to reassure them both. When he leaned back, he pressed his forehead to Duo's and ran his hand through his lose chestnut hair.
"You're safe now, Baka, go to sleep."
Duo closed his eyes and dreamt of whispers, the ghost of Heero's voice caressing his cheek.
FIN
AN: Endings, they always suck when I try to write them. I'm sorry if the story seemed sporadic. I had no clue where I was going with it and I'm still lost as to where it went. It's an overused plot, but I enjoyed it. Tell me what you think. I'd greatly appreciate your input.