Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing
AN: After a long hiatus from LJ, Fanfiction, and writing in general, I have returned with a fic that I am particularly proud of. Like most of my other fics, I have been toying this idea for a long time, and it went through MANY different variations before I finally settled on this. The backdrop of the story is from an episode in the series, and i will clap loudly for anyone who can tell me which episode it is.The dialogue I feel still needs some work, along with a couple of other paragraphs, and some might argue that Trowa is OOC, but overall I am generally happy with this one. Read, enjoy, and leave some comments and criticisms…
Capture
Blood trickled from the open gash in his arm, wrapping around his arm in jagged lines like red vines winding their way around the base of a pillar. Life's liquid slowly leaked from his arm, curling around his fingers before finally trailing off and hitting the floor with a subtle, non-rhythmic plopping sound that grated on his nerves.
He wished he could move, but the cuffs they placed on his wrists and ankles restricted his movement to nothing more than uncomfortable shuffling. The pain in his right arm had subsided quite some time ago, much to his dismay. Even the lingering smell of burnt flesh was beginning to dissipate. Both had provided a much needed distraction from the dull monotony of the room.
They had unceremoniously thrown him down in this holding cell quite some time ago, amidst much silent physical protest on his part. The fact that he had been captured was humiliating enough in itself, and by no means would he be a 'compliant' prisoner.
There weren't any clocks in the room, and the last time he had seen one, the time read 4:24 AM. He wasn't entirely sure what the time was now, but if he had to venture a guess he would've estimated that at least 4 more hours had elapsed. A heavy banging on the metal door lifted him from his thoughts, and he waited with a critical eye as the dead bolt was lifted and the door creaked open.
Two OZ suits walked in, followed by his captor. Though his face remained relatively passive, his eyes shone with contempt as the sight of the man before him triggered the memory of the ridiculous circumstances under which he had been apprehended.
Aside from being bored, and criticizing his wounds, a majority of the time spent in the cell had dealt with him mentally berating himself.
Why did he drop the gun?
Heero had analyzed the situation frontward and backward, but still could not provide a rationale explanation to placate his seething mind, and bruised ego.
Yes, he had been outnumbered, but it was a demonstration, and he knew that none of the soldiers were seriously armed. And though resisting capture would not have been the smartest decision, the possibility of escape was in his favor. Despite all that, when he dropped form the cockpit of the Vayate with his pistol drawn, fully intent on silencing the scientists for their treachery, the sight of Trowa in that OZ uniform immobilized him. That precious moment of hesitation had cost him everything.
He shook the revelry out of his mind. No point on dwelling on past events now. Cobalt blue eyes left the silent green ones and instead sought to fixate themselves on the beefy officer that had situated himself to his left. The feeble attempt to intimidate wasn't lost on Heero, but he had no desire to indulge them. Rather, he closed his eyes, momentarily silencing the cold flame the burned deep within their depths, and hung his head. He knew what was coming next.
"What is your name?"
The voice echoed off the walls, and Heero briefly wondered which one of them had spoken. In all actuality though, it really did not matter; the voice didn't belong to Trowa.
"What is your name!"
He felt the impatience more than he heard it and braced himself for what was to come. There was a long pause, and the air became thick with tension.
Thwack
His face whipped to the left, and he felt as his teeth savagely ripped the inner part of his cheek open. The blow received wasn't that hard, for he had received worse injuries by more impressive Adonis' type figures, but the wound it caused was going to be irritating. He lightly ran his tongue over the torn flesh and winced faintly at the stinging sensation.
Spitting out blood, he slowly righted himself in his seat and hung his head once more. Heero knew that the rest of the time spent in the cell with these interrogators was going to be unpleasant, but some part of him felt like he deserved it. This was the price of failure.
Silence dominated most of the so called interrogation along with the hard smacking sound of flesh hitting flesh. From Trowa's point of view the 'interrogation' had devolved into nothing more than a beating. Questions were still being asked, but no longer did they wait for answers which Trowa had known from the beginning wouldn't come.
Suddenly, the smaller of the two interrogators turned to Trowa,
"Uncuff him!"
The bigger officer grinned at the request, but Trowa regarded them both with a less than pleased expression. He scrutinized the two officers, before sliding his green eyes in Heero's direction.
His head hung lower than it had at the onset of the questioning, and shaggy, dirt matted hair obscured most of his features. Blood leaked in steady drops from freshly opened wounds on his face, and other than the slightly labored breathing that issued from partially open and swollen lips, he remained lifeless.
Trowa considered giving a warning to the overly-confident interrogator, but mentally caught himself before he opened his mouth. Instead, he shrugged his shoulders and did as he was commanded. First he unlocked the ankle cuffs, and then the handcuffs that simultaneously bound the prisoner's wrists behind him and latched him to the chair. The metal cuffs clattered to the ground and Trowa positioned himself by the wall furthest away from the chair. Leaning against it with folded arms, he patiently awaited the massacre that was to soon follow.
The larger officer cracked his knuckles audibly, and the sound reverberated off the walls. The tips of Heero's fingers twitched slightly, but other than that he remained limp.
"The first round was just a warm-up…"
Trowa wasn't sure if that was a joke, or another vain attempt at intimidation. Either way it really didn't matter he supposed. His fate had been sealed thanks to the smaller officer.
'Adonis' cocked his meaty fist back and threw a punch that would have probably taken a normal man's head off.
As his fist hurled forward time seemed to slow and Trowa was yet again an eyewitness to another reason as to why Heero Yuy was a force to be reckoned with.
With speed and energy that seemed to surface from nowhere Heero's left hand shot forward and deflected the blow, using the guards' momentum against him. Using the loss of balance to his advantage, Heero spun from his seated position, pivoted on his right foot and sunk his left into the back of the man's knee.
As the guards legs buckled, he landed heavily on the injured joint. Before he had a chance to vocalize both his pain and surprise however, Heero pounced. A calloused hand gripped his chin and viciously twisted.
Trowa blinked as he heard the mans neck snap, but he didn't spare the dead body a second glance. Instead inquisitive eyes sought the other officer, curious as to how he would attempt to defend himself.
He never got a chance to see it however. Not for lack of curiosity or an upsurge of sudden compassion, rather at that point a terrific sneezing fit took hold of him. And although his eyes involuntarily shut, his hearing remained clear.
In the three seconds it took his irritated sinuses to expel the offending dust particles, Trowa heard, much to his surprise, a hollow crack, a gun shot and the muffled thud of a lifeless body hitting the floor.
And just like that, it was over.
Rubbing his nose, Trowa opened watery eyes only to find himself staring down the still smoking barrel of a 9mm pistol. Heero's bruised face appeared behind it,
"God bless you,"
They regarded each other for a moment, before Trowa finally opened his mouth,
"Guards will be here soon to investigate the gunshot. What do you propose I tell them?"
Heero could hear the faint sound of footsteps coming down the hall, but chose to ignore the matter for the moment, "Don't try and distract me. Who are you working for?"
"I don't work for anybody. I receive orders and I follow them."
The cryptic reply wasn't lost on Heero. In truth he didn't feel that he worked for anybody either, rather he was a soldier that carried out orders. He decided to take a different approach.
"What are you doing here?"
Trowa remained impassive, "You and I both know that it is a dangerous time for us pilots. Everyone is looking for us because as of right now, we are public enemy number one," He held up a finger for emphasis. "Until we can all re-convene with one another and come up with a game plan it is best that we remain hidden. Capture is not an option."
Heero's eyes narrowed at the last comment and his grip on the gun tightened.
"Don't patronize me Trowa,"
Trowa held up his hands in mock surrender, "I'm not. This actually works out for the best. With me on the inside, I can obtain information and search for the others. All you have to do is remain silent, and stay alive."
Nodding to himself, Heero tossed the fire arm in Trowa's general direction. He caught it deftly and twirled it in his fingers a couple of times before holstering it. A bad habit he had picked up from watching Catherine.
"It is doubtful silence will work. They know who I am." Heero said randomly.
Reading between the lines, Trowa walked behind Heero and struck him hard with the butt of the gun. His body crumpled to the ground just as three more OZ officials burst in.
"What's going on in here?"
Trowa didn't even spare him a glance.
"Did Une order an interrogation of this young man?" He felt weird phrasing it in such a way, since both he and Heero were probably around the same age.
The officer looked between both the bodies on the floor and all the color left his face, "N-No, Not to my knowledge…" He stammered.
"Good. Then let's just say that these two got what they deserved."
He pointed to Heero's body, "Take him to a clean cell, and I'll make the report."
They saluted, and as they gathered Heero's body Trowa made sure to remember both of their faces.
Before he took his own leave however, he walked over to the smaller officer and rolled the face-down body onto its' back. Just as he suspected, a bullet hole right between the eyes.
Smirking to himself, he shut off the lights and walked out.
'You are absolutely right Heero, they do know who you are,' The click of his boots echoed ominously down the halls, 'But I meant what I said in Siberia. Those who have laid eyes on a Gundam Pilot shall not live to tell about it...'