Title: Absolute Zero
Author: Cassima black_cassima@hotmail.com
Fandom: GW
Disclaimer: I put them through crap, so they refuse to belong to me, damn them.
Warnings: Angst, shounen-ai, nothing graphic (except
perhaps language).
Pairings: 1+2, 1+5
Rating: PG-13 for oh-my-goodness, that would be a swear
word! And another, and another, and...
Summary: While Heero and Duo are on a mission, something
goes wrong.
Story Notes: This is part one of the Trilogy "Survival".
The parts include:
I. Absolute Zero
II. To Build a Fire
III. January Thaw
ABSOLUTE ZERO: The name comes from the temperature scale
Kalvins (K), which is used in scientific measurement. It
represents the Celsius scale plus roughly 273 degrees, or
K=C+273.
This measurement is used for calculations involving
temperature because the absence of all heat--absolute
zero--is different than simple "cold". Absolute zero
does not occur naturally on Earth, but space is
this cold all the time. Now that you've had your
science lesson for the day, on to the fanfiction!
*~*~*~ Absolute Zero *~*~*~
Two to the left, three to the right, but clear
straight ahead. Heero snuck a glance up at his partner,
who looked a bit odd. "Ready?" he mouthed.
Duo nodded and gave a cheerful thumbs up from his
position on the catwalk. Holding up a pen-shaped
detonator, he pressed the shiny red button with a certain
amount of undisguised glee.
A rushing BOOM resounded through the base, and
the soldiers stood up straight and looked at each other
with surprise. "Fire in Area B-23," crackled a voice
on their radio. "All available hands report."
"Group C-9, acknowledged," the tallest of the three on
the right confirmed, and the group shouldered their
firearms and trudged off.
"C-8, roger that," one of the other group responded
as they joined their comrades. "We're on our way."
"Acknowledged, C-8," the voice crackled again.
"Over and out."
Like taking keys from an Oz guard, Heero thought
rather smugly before pulling himself out of the shadows
to examine the cargo. Sending a self-explanatory
nod to Duo, he began to move, panther-like, towards
his prey: the giant wooden crates spread out pell-
mell around the warehouse.
Duo landed with a light "thunk" on the crate to his
right. "Heh, heh, heh," he chuckled throatily.
"Putty in my hands." His voice was a little rough.
Heero glanced at him warily, but Duo was too busy
hopping to another crate and reading the tag to
meet Heero's eye. "You take this section," he
said, turning around.
"Anything you say, Yuy," the other responded cheerfully,
chuckling a little.
Curbing another urge to stare at the Shinigami
pilot, he turned his mind to the task at hand.
He would not stare at Duo Maxwell. He would not
fret about Maxwell like a baka mother. He would
stick to the task, and finish the damn mission,
and go back to their temporary home and try not
to think about killing Relena Peacecraft, or the
whirlwind that was Duo Maxwell. No, he was going
to find the damn weapon, and blow it up with a
vengence, and wait for Wufei to zap the sensors
and swing by to pick them up. Yes, he, Heero
Yuy, would wait.
Patiently.
Maxwell was unnaturally quiet.
Heero resisted looking back to make sure he was
still alive. "It's not over here," he said
reluctantly.
No response.
With a stotic face perfected from long practice, he
turned. "Well? Did you find it?"
Duo shook his head, silently dropping off his current
crate to the floor. His face seemed unnaturally pale
in the flourecsent white overhead lights.
"Hn," Heero responded, eyes flickering around the
room for suggestions as to the placement of the
weapon.
"If I were a 20 ton lazer capable of some
serious death and destruction, where would I hide?"
Duo mused absently, looking around.
Heero glared at him.
"Not here, that's for sure," Duo continued, oblivious
to the Death Glare Version One-point-Three. "Virgin
Islands, all the way. None of this snowy sub-zero crap.
When this war is over, I'm going to buy a nice island in
the Carribbean and stay there with three hula dancers and
couple dozen monkey-butlers to serve me piña coladas with
little flowered tissue-paper-and-toothpick umbrellas
until I die of alcohol poisoning." He sighed happily,
picturing it. "That's the life."
Heero blinked at the bizarre image of Duo being
served *anything* by monkeys in little tuxedos. Masking
his confusion behind impatience, he glared again.
"Stop chattering; you're giving me a headache."
Duo stuck his tongue out at him. "Fine then, I won't
invite you to my Paradise," he replied huffily, and
jumped up on a nearby crate to sit.
Heero growled deep in his throat. "Omae o korosu."
The other boy smirked. "If you say so."
There was a pause as Heero considered what the hell
they were going to do now.
"Ne, Heero?" Duo asked quietly.
Heero implemented Yuy Death Glare, Version Two-Point-One.
Duo swung his legs absently, unperterbed by Heero's ill
nature but still somber. "You think this was just
a decoy? Maybe it's already there." His voice was
hoarse again.
"Impossible," Heero denied. "The carriers leaving
here after the project was finished were all too
small to hold it, and a fighter would be too
conspicuous."
There was another pause. "Ne, Heero?"
Yuy Death Glare Three-Point-Five.
"Maybe they dissassembled it."
"Their scientists are all still here," Heero pointed out grumpily.
"We saw them on the way in, remember?"
There was another short pause. "Ne, Heero?"
Yuy Death Glare Four-Point-Two.
"Maybe they have it loaded up already. You know,
in preparation for shipping?"
"The carrier arrives tomorrow."
"I know, but what if *that* one is a decoy? I
mean, they recieved their bi-monthly order of
beef yesterday, right? So, it could be going out
in that, couldn't it?" Duo watched Heero's face for
any signs of agreement or disagreement. "They
wouldn't be *that* stupid, would they, Heero?"
Heero was already making his way towads the
shipping lot. He could here a muttered curse
behind him as Duo scrambled to catch up, pulling
himself back onto the catwalk, and after that
only the light smacking of the Shinigami pilot's
tennis shoes on the thin metal surface above him.
But, honestly, who would've thought that Maxwell baka
would have a good idea?
When they arrived at the Holding, Heero easily identified
the airship by the reek of bloody meat. The carrier
was being rinsed out in preparation for the carefully
sealed bomb a couple hundred meters away.
"Man-oh-man," whistled Maxwell softly as he dropped
with feline agility from the catwalk. "That is one
big mother of a bomb!"
Heero frowned at this intrusion of his thoughts.
Through the screen of Yuy Death Glare Version Four-
Point-Seven, he watched his fellow pilot. He was
panting--too out of breath for his condition--and
the slightly glassy look in his eyes made Heero
want to purse his lips with thought, but that was too
out of character, so he didn't.
Heero settled for turning his mind back to the explosives
equipment in front of them. It would be simple to--
"Ne, Heero?"
He quickly perfected Yuy Death Glare Version Five-Point-
Two.
"Does it seem odd to you that they keep their most
powerful weaponry out in the middle of their loading
docks where any half-decent terrorist could get it?"
He wiped at the light sheen of sweat on his forehead
with the back of one hand. "Man, it's cold in here."
"Hn." Heero rolled his eyes. The people were idiots.
If *Maxwell* could figure out their plan... "You
create a diversion, I'll set the trigger. Give me
five minutes. I'll meet you at the contact location."
Duo flashed his trademark evil grin before spoiling
it with a wink. "Give me three minutes to set up,
and one more after I begin." Snickering to himself,
he jumped up, melded with the shadows, and was gone.
Heero snorted almost silently before turning his
attention back to the carrier. Minimal security,
too. Idiots, all of them.
Heavily armed idiots, though. And if Maxwell's
suggestion hadn't been a last resort for Heero,
he never would have found out about it. ...Maybe
the secrecy was their plan. Or, maybe they had
a secret weapon.
He narrowed his gaze at the soldiers and growled
silently. It would be just like Maxwell not to
plan for that contingency.
He carefully began to plan his route to where he
would plant the explosives. Of course, it would
all depend on the diversion Maxwell planned, but
it was always good to have a plan. He could come
up with backup plans, too.
Hell, if Maxwell didn't start *soon*, he was going
to start his own little diversion. Heero looked at
his watch, feeling his characteristic ornery nature
rear its ugly head. If Duo didn't start *soo--
"How dare you?" A deep, rough voice spoke softly,
resonatingly, through the speaker system.
The soldiers aimed their guns in various directions,
searching for the source of the disturbance. Duo
no baka! "Kisama!" Heero hissed softly. What was
the idiot *doing*?!
"How dare you?" the deep voice spoke again with a
touch of anger. "Petty children."
"Who's there?" one of the more bold guards said into
the silence. His voice broke the brittle air, and
a certain tension entered Heero's opponents. "Show
yourself!"
"Who are you to demand anything? You have murdered.
There is blood on your hands."
"Spy! Show yourself!"
A deep, raspy chuckle. "You hold sacrilige on your
neck. You murder and pray for the sins of others.
Where is your sin, my son?"
"You're not... you can't be--"
"Put down the gun and go home, Andrew."
The man frowned nervously. "This is Jacobsin, isn't
it? Stop messing around, Jacobsin."
"Go back to St. Petersburg."
"Jacobsin, I'm going to kick your ass. Get off the
intercom."
"Go back to your family."
"I swear, Jacobsin--"
"Put down your gun and be a father to your child."
Heero began to sneak around the crates.
"JACOBSIN, SHUT THE FUCK UP NOW!" Andrew shouted,
sweat trickling down his face and gun trained on
the observatory window where officers directed traffic.
"Don't let your child grow to be murderer, too, Andrew."
The panicked man let loose a volley of bullets at the
window, shattering the glass.
"Kisama!" Heero spat again, diving for cover under the
bomb, eyes wide with panic. Duo no baka, going to get
them both killed!
The large darkened panes crashed to the ground, slow-motion
like, only to reveal an empty room.
"You can't kill me."
All the soldiers were sweating now, beginning to believe in
their fellow soldier's God. The silence was deafening.
They looked around for the source of the voice. Suddenly,
as one, they began to cover the area with gunfire, desperately
working to stop the ragged chuckles.
Duo must have a hell of a hiding place, Heero decided, finishing
the touches on his bomb and rolling silently out from underneath
the bomb. Finished, damn Duo's methods. Was he trying to get
killed? Was he trying to get *Heero* killed? If it happened,
it would be solely by accident at this point.
The guards stopped shooting, looking around the room for any
sign of the intruder, but the shipping bay was still.
Suddenly, the gunfire returned from all sides; this time,
however, the guards were the targets. Ammunition from all
over the room began to come to life--and just barely skimmed
the shaking soldiers.
"You can't kill me," the raspy voice continued, hoarser than
before but not lacking the amused undertones.
"Who are you?!" one of Andrew's companions demanded in a
squeak, flinching as a bead of sweat just missed his left eye.
"I am Shinigami."
The three guards gulped.
Overhead, a thick cord snapped and electricity crackled
dangerously. "I am the Great Destroyer." The lights
flickered into emergency mode as three more cords were
cut by something and began to sizzle with electricity.
"I am the beginning and the ending. Alpha and omega."
Heero nearly rolled his eyes with impatience. "Note to
self," he decided, "don't let Duo do anymore distraction
missions."
"Put down your weapons and get on the carrier."
With a clatter, the guns fell to the floor. The youngest
man looked as if he were about to wet his pants. Gulping
shallow breaths, they herded themselves onto the carrier.
"Live your life," the voice told them as they shut the door.
With a gentle hum, the carrier, still filled with melting animal
blood, took off. Duo jumped down from the catwalk to land lightly
next to Heero. With a slight cough, he began picking small dust
bunnies out of his hair, and grinned at Heero.
"You can plant the bomb now."
With a deadpan expression, Heero lifted the detonator and
pressed the red button right in front of Duo's face.
"SHIT!" Duo yelped, diving for cover amidst the explosion.
"When did you--nevermind." He shook his head, a mixture of
awe and disgust in his eyes. "I don't want to know."
"Ninmu--"
"Kanryou," Duo chanted with him with a grimace and a shiver,
"and all that jazz. Yeah, whatever. Let's go."
His disgruntled, ruffled appearance made Heero smother a grin.
The stupid shit was so cute at times.
Heero blinked, stupified. Where did that thought come from?
*****
He began to pick at the lock again, just for something to do.
What had possessed them to hide in the freezer? Heero wondered
again. And, of course, the damn handle was only unlocked on
the *outside* of the door. Hadn't these Oz clowns ever heard
of public safety? There were regulations against freezers
that locked people up together, the sadistic bastards.
Plus, that damn Maxwell was acting funny again.
But, enough of that baka. He'd already thought too much about
the long-haired--
Resolutely, Heero began to calculate the placement of the knife.
He had ignored the coughing fit Duo had burst into as soon as
the door swung shut. He had ignored Duo's whining about the
temperature. (Of course it was cold in here! It was a freezer,
damn it! That was its design!) He could ignore him now that he was
just sitting quietly. Wufei was due to swing by and pick them up
in--he checked his watch--two hours, three minutes, and twelve
seconds. Perfect. Two hours with a bored Duo Maxwell. Wonderful.
And so, Heero worked at the lock to the sound of Duo shaking
and shivering back in the corner. For the love of... it wasn't
*that* cold!
After a while, the noises stopped. Stupid attention-seeking
American. Hadn't he learned yet that Heero could steel
himself against such dumb tactics?
But now there was no sound coming from the corner of the
icy meat freezer, except for some slow, shallow breathing
that began to worry Heero's conscience, small as he liked to
pretend that conscience might be. "Duo?" he broke the silence.
There was no answer.
With a sigh of exasperation to cover up his concern, he turned.
"Duo?" He stopped at the sight of Duo's still body, pale
face, and blue lips. Walking over, he shook Duo once, nice
and hard, and considered smacking him across the head. "Duo!"
The other boy's lids slowly opened, and violet eyes struggled
to focus on his friend's. "Heero?" came the strained voice
from before. His dark purple lips managed a small smile.
"I'm not cold anymore."
"Hn." Heero grimaced, somehow unnerved.
"I'm warm." His eyes began to slide shut.
Warning bells chimed the hour in Heero's head. "Duo?"
Duo's eyes paused halfway down. "Hn?"
"Duo, don't fall asleep."
"But I'm tired." The voice lacked the usual plaintative whine
those words would have brought forth. And, in fact, the normally
strong voice was breathy and faint.
"Don't fall asleep." There was an uncharacteristic note of
pleading in his voice. "Please, Duo. I need you to stay
awake. Talk to me."
Duo's eyes struggled back open, but they looked a bit glassy.
He was trying to focus; he could sense Heero thought something
was wrong. "But I annoy you."
"No," Heero denied, propping him up and pulling him away
from the vent the other boy had collapsed next to. He
positioned himself behind Duo, trying to share body
heat. Duo's body was like ice. "I'm not annoyed."
"Even Quatre's annoyed."
"Quatre's never annoyed," Heero told him, unsure of how
to comfort someone. "He doesn't get annoyed."
Duo began to cough, the sound wet, tight, deep, and painful.
Holding him, lending support and balance to him seemed surreal
to the Japanese boy, who frowned uneasily with worry. And
when the attack ended, Duo's breathing was shallow and thick,
as if every breath was a struggle.
What could he say? "Are you okay?" "You're sick"?
"Duo no baka"? He finally settled on, "What's going on?"
Duo chuckled briefly. "Enjoy the ride... Heero-my-man.
I don't have a fucking clue."
Heero pulled the shivering body closer to him, frowning at the
beads of sweat freezing on his temples and neck. "Symptoms?"
"Cold--" he began coughing again, eyes clenched shut tightly
in pain. Heero wrapped one arm around his chest to keep him
from collapsing, the other hand wrapped tightly around the
cold braid. When that fit was over, he lay back gratefully onto
Heero's strong chest, listening to the other boy's heart beat
and his own wheezing breath.
"Symptoms?" Heero asked again, though he'd mostly figured
them out by now. He had to keep Duo awake.
Duo's voice was strained, his words a little slurred.
"Cold. Dizzy. Can't... breathe. Cough... hurts..."
Heero wrapped his arms around Duo, trying to keep the heat
in. They couldn't leave the freezer; people were banging
around in the kitchen. But, could they afford to stay?
Duo's skin was pale and his breathing ragged. Small details
began to pull themselves together, completeing the picture.
Duo's lack of breath throughout the mission. His odd
speech lapses, as he muffled coughing. How he tired so
easily while running. The strangeness that surrounded him.
So he was sick... but with what?
*****
He plucked the strings gently; the tuning was perfect, and
he only had to wait for Trowa to finish assembling and tuning
his flute. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the words "new
virus" printed on the screen, and laid down his violin. With a frown,
Quatre turned up the volume on the monitor.
The anchorman's voice rose into audible range. "...so far,
the victims of this strange, deadly disease are residents
or former residents of the L2 colony, though only a few
people have been affected. Symptoms may include unusual
sensitivity to temperature, sweating, nausea, coughing, fever,
and excessive phlegm. Doctors say it is not contageous, but may
prove fatal within twelve to twenty-four hours if the patient
does not recieve medical care. Doctors are strongly
recommending former residents of colony L2 displaying three
or more of these symptoms in severity to see a medical professional
immediately. In other news, fires swept the once-prominent
Chicago area over in the U.S.A. a few hours ago..."
Quatre turned off the screen, eyes sad. "How horrible. Do
you think Duo'll be affected, Trowa?"
The man in question studied his flute with the one eye
visible from underneat his bangs. "I'm sure he'll be
fine."
The blond Arabian smiled gently and picked up his violin.
"I'd like to start on measure 51, please. I'm having a
little difficulty with the synchopation." Still, though,
he wasn't sure. Something felt odd.
*****
Wufei chewed on his lip to distract himself from his unease.
Something was going on in that Oz base... Yuy had sent the
all-clear signal, but an unauthorized takeoff from the landing
bay left him suspicious. Oz was getting cagey; after this
mission, it would be wise to take a vacation to a hidden
valley or tucked-away retreat somewhere. Of course, that would
mean being locked up for three months or so with that irritating
Maxwell, but Wufei found he didn't mind the other gundam
pilots so much as before. Infact, there were some he found
rather--intriguing.
But, all the pilots had their good points. Yuy wasn't the
cold bastard he liked to pretend he was. Maxwell was a bit
hyper, but his antics were occasionally amusing. Trowa could
be killer at poker, and accredited Wufei with a certain respect
that the Chinese pilot found acceptable in a comrade. And
Quatre, of course, under the weak facade, was an interesting
conversationalist, and fairly knowledgable. It could be
a worse group of people, he supposed.
He was always a sucker for the wounded soldier, though; he
would have to be on his guard. He couldn't afford to become
attached to any one of the pilots. Wufei was the odd man, the
loner. Wasn't he?
He frowned, and made a mental note to worship Nataku after the
pickup.
*****
Time had passed slowly. Duo's voice had become weak and
lethargic, and Heero finally decided to screw the hideout.
Something was dangerously wrong with the baka. He wasn't
talking, or being a pest, or acting like a pogo stick on
speed. He was lying still and quiet.
"Maxwell," he said shortly. "Get up."
"Wha...?" the other boy murmured sleepily.
"We're leaving."
"'Fei's here?" Duo asked as he tried to sit up. His eyelids
drooped, and he paused to rest.
"Change of plans." Heero put his hands under Duo's arms
and pulled him up, lifting one arm around his shoulders.
Duo didn't challenge this; his silent acceptance was
scary almost by itself.
Heero shifted his grip down around Duo's waist. "Hold
on," he warned. He felt Duo's arm tighten around his
neck, and he easily took most of the other's weight.
"Ready?"
"Not really," Duo mumbled, and allowed Heero to lead
him out of the freezer, through the kitchen, and down the
long hallway. It bothered him a little, that he couldn't
hold his gun and support Duo at the same time, but Duo
was incapable of holding one upright in his current state,
and it only crossed his mind once to kill the boy and leave
him behind.
It seemed his days of being a cold bastard were numbered.
In any case, the gun was close at hand in case of an emergency,
and Heero was the fastest draw in an area far bigger than "the
west"; it would have to do.
They waded through the hallways as quietly as possible, and
neatly evaded the patrols--thanks to Heero. Duo continued
to shake, and soon his body was covered in sweat, even as
he whispered responses to Heero's demands for a "status report":
"Cold..."
Heero had never been more pleased to see Wufei in his life.
They took off as soon as the pilots were inside, and, after
strapping Duo in, Heero sat down in the co-pilot's seat next to
the Chinese boy. "He needs to go to a hospital."
"What's wrong with him?" Wufei asked, but Heero could see him
re-setting the course of the airship.
"He's got some sort of virus," Heero replied. "Make sure there's
a good doctor on hand."
"I know where Sally Po is," he responded. "We'll go there."
In the back left bucket seat, Duo began to cough again.
Author: Cassima black_cassima@hotmail.com
Fandom: GW
Disclaimer: I put them through crap, so they refuse to belong to me, damn them.
Warnings: Angst, shounen-ai, nothing graphic (except
perhaps language).
Pairings: 1+2, 1+5
Rating: PG-13 for oh-my-goodness, that would be a swear
word! And another, and another, and...
Summary: While Heero and Duo are on a mission, something
goes wrong.
Story Notes: This is part one of the Trilogy "Survival".
The parts include:
I. Absolute Zero
II. To Build a Fire
III. January Thaw
ABSOLUTE ZERO: The name comes from the temperature scale
Kalvins (K), which is used in scientific measurement. It
represents the Celsius scale plus roughly 273 degrees, or
K=C+273.
This measurement is used for calculations involving
temperature because the absence of all heat--absolute
zero--is different than simple "cold". Absolute zero
does not occur naturally on Earth, but space is
this cold all the time. Now that you've had your
science lesson for the day, on to the fanfiction!
*~*~*~ Absolute Zero *~*~*~
Two to the left, three to the right, but clear
straight ahead. Heero snuck a glance up at his partner,
who looked a bit odd. "Ready?" he mouthed.
Duo nodded and gave a cheerful thumbs up from his
position on the catwalk. Holding up a pen-shaped
detonator, he pressed the shiny red button with a certain
amount of undisguised glee.
A rushing BOOM resounded through the base, and
the soldiers stood up straight and looked at each other
with surprise. "Fire in Area B-23," crackled a voice
on their radio. "All available hands report."
"Group C-9, acknowledged," the tallest of the three on
the right confirmed, and the group shouldered their
firearms and trudged off.
"C-8, roger that," one of the other group responded
as they joined their comrades. "We're on our way."
"Acknowledged, C-8," the voice crackled again.
"Over and out."
Like taking keys from an Oz guard, Heero thought
rather smugly before pulling himself out of the shadows
to examine the cargo. Sending a self-explanatory
nod to Duo, he began to move, panther-like, towards
his prey: the giant wooden crates spread out pell-
mell around the warehouse.
Duo landed with a light "thunk" on the crate to his
right. "Heh, heh, heh," he chuckled throatily.
"Putty in my hands." His voice was a little rough.
Heero glanced at him warily, but Duo was too busy
hopping to another crate and reading the tag to
meet Heero's eye. "You take this section," he
said, turning around.
"Anything you say, Yuy," the other responded cheerfully,
chuckling a little.
Curbing another urge to stare at the Shinigami
pilot, he turned his mind to the task at hand.
He would not stare at Duo Maxwell. He would not
fret about Maxwell like a baka mother. He would
stick to the task, and finish the damn mission,
and go back to their temporary home and try not
to think about killing Relena Peacecraft, or the
whirlwind that was Duo Maxwell. No, he was going
to find the damn weapon, and blow it up with a
vengence, and wait for Wufei to zap the sensors
and swing by to pick them up. Yes, he, Heero
Yuy, would wait.
Patiently.
Maxwell was unnaturally quiet.
Heero resisted looking back to make sure he was
still alive. "It's not over here," he said
reluctantly.
No response.
With a stotic face perfected from long practice, he
turned. "Well? Did you find it?"
Duo shook his head, silently dropping off his current
crate to the floor. His face seemed unnaturally pale
in the flourecsent white overhead lights.
"Hn," Heero responded, eyes flickering around the
room for suggestions as to the placement of the
weapon.
"If I were a 20 ton lazer capable of some
serious death and destruction, where would I hide?"
Duo mused absently, looking around.
Heero glared at him.
"Not here, that's for sure," Duo continued, oblivious
to the Death Glare Version One-point-Three. "Virgin
Islands, all the way. None of this snowy sub-zero crap.
When this war is over, I'm going to buy a nice island in
the Carribbean and stay there with three hula dancers and
couple dozen monkey-butlers to serve me piña coladas with
little flowered tissue-paper-and-toothpick umbrellas
until I die of alcohol poisoning." He sighed happily,
picturing it. "That's the life."
Heero blinked at the bizarre image of Duo being
served *anything* by monkeys in little tuxedos. Masking
his confusion behind impatience, he glared again.
"Stop chattering; you're giving me a headache."
Duo stuck his tongue out at him. "Fine then, I won't
invite you to my Paradise," he replied huffily, and
jumped up on a nearby crate to sit.
Heero growled deep in his throat. "Omae o korosu."
The other boy smirked. "If you say so."
There was a pause as Heero considered what the hell
they were going to do now.
"Ne, Heero?" Duo asked quietly.
Heero implemented Yuy Death Glare, Version Two-Point-One.
Duo swung his legs absently, unperterbed by Heero's ill
nature but still somber. "You think this was just
a decoy? Maybe it's already there." His voice was
hoarse again.
"Impossible," Heero denied. "The carriers leaving
here after the project was finished were all too
small to hold it, and a fighter would be too
conspicuous."
There was another pause. "Ne, Heero?"
Yuy Death Glare Three-Point-Five.
"Maybe they dissassembled it."
"Their scientists are all still here," Heero pointed out grumpily.
"We saw them on the way in, remember?"
There was another short pause. "Ne, Heero?"
Yuy Death Glare Four-Point-Two.
"Maybe they have it loaded up already. You know,
in preparation for shipping?"
"The carrier arrives tomorrow."
"I know, but what if *that* one is a decoy? I
mean, they recieved their bi-monthly order of
beef yesterday, right? So, it could be going out
in that, couldn't it?" Duo watched Heero's face for
any signs of agreement or disagreement. "They
wouldn't be *that* stupid, would they, Heero?"
Heero was already making his way towads the
shipping lot. He could here a muttered curse
behind him as Duo scrambled to catch up, pulling
himself back onto the catwalk, and after that
only the light smacking of the Shinigami pilot's
tennis shoes on the thin metal surface above him.
But, honestly, who would've thought that Maxwell baka
would have a good idea?
When they arrived at the Holding, Heero easily identified
the airship by the reek of bloody meat. The carrier
was being rinsed out in preparation for the carefully
sealed bomb a couple hundred meters away.
"Man-oh-man," whistled Maxwell softly as he dropped
with feline agility from the catwalk. "That is one
big mother of a bomb!"
Heero frowned at this intrusion of his thoughts.
Through the screen of Yuy Death Glare Version Four-
Point-Seven, he watched his fellow pilot. He was
panting--too out of breath for his condition--and
the slightly glassy look in his eyes made Heero
want to purse his lips with thought, but that was too
out of character, so he didn't.
Heero settled for turning his mind back to the explosives
equipment in front of them. It would be simple to--
"Ne, Heero?"
He quickly perfected Yuy Death Glare Version Five-Point-
Two.
"Does it seem odd to you that they keep their most
powerful weaponry out in the middle of their loading
docks where any half-decent terrorist could get it?"
He wiped at the light sheen of sweat on his forehead
with the back of one hand. "Man, it's cold in here."
"Hn." Heero rolled his eyes. The people were idiots.
If *Maxwell* could figure out their plan... "You
create a diversion, I'll set the trigger. Give me
five minutes. I'll meet you at the contact location."
Duo flashed his trademark evil grin before spoiling
it with a wink. "Give me three minutes to set up,
and one more after I begin." Snickering to himself,
he jumped up, melded with the shadows, and was gone.
Heero snorted almost silently before turning his
attention back to the carrier. Minimal security,
too. Idiots, all of them.
Heavily armed idiots, though. And if Maxwell's
suggestion hadn't been a last resort for Heero,
he never would have found out about it. ...Maybe
the secrecy was their plan. Or, maybe they had
a secret weapon.
He narrowed his gaze at the soldiers and growled
silently. It would be just like Maxwell not to
plan for that contingency.
He carefully began to plan his route to where he
would plant the explosives. Of course, it would
all depend on the diversion Maxwell planned, but
it was always good to have a plan. He could come
up with backup plans, too.
Hell, if Maxwell didn't start *soon*, he was going
to start his own little diversion. Heero looked at
his watch, feeling his characteristic ornery nature
rear its ugly head. If Duo didn't start *soo--
"How dare you?" A deep, rough voice spoke softly,
resonatingly, through the speaker system.
The soldiers aimed their guns in various directions,
searching for the source of the disturbance. Duo
no baka! "Kisama!" Heero hissed softly. What was
the idiot *doing*?!
"How dare you?" the deep voice spoke again with a
touch of anger. "Petty children."
"Who's there?" one of the more bold guards said into
the silence. His voice broke the brittle air, and
a certain tension entered Heero's opponents. "Show
yourself!"
"Who are you to demand anything? You have murdered.
There is blood on your hands."
"Spy! Show yourself!"
A deep, raspy chuckle. "You hold sacrilige on your
neck. You murder and pray for the sins of others.
Where is your sin, my son?"
"You're not... you can't be--"
"Put down the gun and go home, Andrew."
The man frowned nervously. "This is Jacobsin, isn't
it? Stop messing around, Jacobsin."
"Go back to St. Petersburg."
"Jacobsin, I'm going to kick your ass. Get off the
intercom."
"Go back to your family."
"I swear, Jacobsin--"
"Put down your gun and be a father to your child."
Heero began to sneak around the crates.
"JACOBSIN, SHUT THE FUCK UP NOW!" Andrew shouted,
sweat trickling down his face and gun trained on
the observatory window where officers directed traffic.
"Don't let your child grow to be murderer, too, Andrew."
The panicked man let loose a volley of bullets at the
window, shattering the glass.
"Kisama!" Heero spat again, diving for cover under the
bomb, eyes wide with panic. Duo no baka, going to get
them both killed!
The large darkened panes crashed to the ground, slow-motion
like, only to reveal an empty room.
"You can't kill me."
All the soldiers were sweating now, beginning to believe in
their fellow soldier's God. The silence was deafening.
They looked around for the source of the voice. Suddenly,
as one, they began to cover the area with gunfire, desperately
working to stop the ragged chuckles.
Duo must have a hell of a hiding place, Heero decided, finishing
the touches on his bomb and rolling silently out from underneath
the bomb. Finished, damn Duo's methods. Was he trying to get
killed? Was he trying to get *Heero* killed? If it happened,
it would be solely by accident at this point.
The guards stopped shooting, looking around the room for any
sign of the intruder, but the shipping bay was still.
Suddenly, the gunfire returned from all sides; this time,
however, the guards were the targets. Ammunition from all
over the room began to come to life--and just barely skimmed
the shaking soldiers.
"You can't kill me," the raspy voice continued, hoarser than
before but not lacking the amused undertones.
"Who are you?!" one of Andrew's companions demanded in a
squeak, flinching as a bead of sweat just missed his left eye.
"I am Shinigami."
The three guards gulped.
Overhead, a thick cord snapped and electricity crackled
dangerously. "I am the Great Destroyer." The lights
flickered into emergency mode as three more cords were
cut by something and began to sizzle with electricity.
"I am the beginning and the ending. Alpha and omega."
Heero nearly rolled his eyes with impatience. "Note to
self," he decided, "don't let Duo do anymore distraction
missions."
"Put down your weapons and get on the carrier."
With a clatter, the guns fell to the floor. The youngest
man looked as if he were about to wet his pants. Gulping
shallow breaths, they herded themselves onto the carrier.
"Live your life," the voice told them as they shut the door.
With a gentle hum, the carrier, still filled with melting animal
blood, took off. Duo jumped down from the catwalk to land lightly
next to Heero. With a slight cough, he began picking small dust
bunnies out of his hair, and grinned at Heero.
"You can plant the bomb now."
With a deadpan expression, Heero lifted the detonator and
pressed the red button right in front of Duo's face.
"SHIT!" Duo yelped, diving for cover amidst the explosion.
"When did you--nevermind." He shook his head, a mixture of
awe and disgust in his eyes. "I don't want to know."
"Ninmu--"
"Kanryou," Duo chanted with him with a grimace and a shiver,
"and all that jazz. Yeah, whatever. Let's go."
His disgruntled, ruffled appearance made Heero smother a grin.
The stupid shit was so cute at times.
Heero blinked, stupified. Where did that thought come from?
*****
He began to pick at the lock again, just for something to do.
What had possessed them to hide in the freezer? Heero wondered
again. And, of course, the damn handle was only unlocked on
the *outside* of the door. Hadn't these Oz clowns ever heard
of public safety? There were regulations against freezers
that locked people up together, the sadistic bastards.
Plus, that damn Maxwell was acting funny again.
But, enough of that baka. He'd already thought too much about
the long-haired--
Resolutely, Heero began to calculate the placement of the knife.
He had ignored the coughing fit Duo had burst into as soon as
the door swung shut. He had ignored Duo's whining about the
temperature. (Of course it was cold in here! It was a freezer,
damn it! That was its design!) He could ignore him now that he was
just sitting quietly. Wufei was due to swing by and pick them up
in--he checked his watch--two hours, three minutes, and twelve
seconds. Perfect. Two hours with a bored Duo Maxwell. Wonderful.
And so, Heero worked at the lock to the sound of Duo shaking
and shivering back in the corner. For the love of... it wasn't
*that* cold!
After a while, the noises stopped. Stupid attention-seeking
American. Hadn't he learned yet that Heero could steel
himself against such dumb tactics?
But now there was no sound coming from the corner of the
icy meat freezer, except for some slow, shallow breathing
that began to worry Heero's conscience, small as he liked to
pretend that conscience might be. "Duo?" he broke the silence.
There was no answer.
With a sigh of exasperation to cover up his concern, he turned.
"Duo?" He stopped at the sight of Duo's still body, pale
face, and blue lips. Walking over, he shook Duo once, nice
and hard, and considered smacking him across the head. "Duo!"
The other boy's lids slowly opened, and violet eyes struggled
to focus on his friend's. "Heero?" came the strained voice
from before. His dark purple lips managed a small smile.
"I'm not cold anymore."
"Hn." Heero grimaced, somehow unnerved.
"I'm warm." His eyes began to slide shut.
Warning bells chimed the hour in Heero's head. "Duo?"
Duo's eyes paused halfway down. "Hn?"
"Duo, don't fall asleep."
"But I'm tired." The voice lacked the usual plaintative whine
those words would have brought forth. And, in fact, the normally
strong voice was breathy and faint.
"Don't fall asleep." There was an uncharacteristic note of
pleading in his voice. "Please, Duo. I need you to stay
awake. Talk to me."
Duo's eyes struggled back open, but they looked a bit glassy.
He was trying to focus; he could sense Heero thought something
was wrong. "But I annoy you."
"No," Heero denied, propping him up and pulling him away
from the vent the other boy had collapsed next to. He
positioned himself behind Duo, trying to share body
heat. Duo's body was like ice. "I'm not annoyed."
"Even Quatre's annoyed."
"Quatre's never annoyed," Heero told him, unsure of how
to comfort someone. "He doesn't get annoyed."
Duo began to cough, the sound wet, tight, deep, and painful.
Holding him, lending support and balance to him seemed surreal
to the Japanese boy, who frowned uneasily with worry. And
when the attack ended, Duo's breathing was shallow and thick,
as if every breath was a struggle.
What could he say? "Are you okay?" "You're sick"?
"Duo no baka"? He finally settled on, "What's going on?"
Duo chuckled briefly. "Enjoy the ride... Heero-my-man.
I don't have a fucking clue."
Heero pulled the shivering body closer to him, frowning at the
beads of sweat freezing on his temples and neck. "Symptoms?"
"Cold--" he began coughing again, eyes clenched shut tightly
in pain. Heero wrapped one arm around his chest to keep him
from collapsing, the other hand wrapped tightly around the
cold braid. When that fit was over, he lay back gratefully onto
Heero's strong chest, listening to the other boy's heart beat
and his own wheezing breath.
"Symptoms?" Heero asked again, though he'd mostly figured
them out by now. He had to keep Duo awake.
Duo's voice was strained, his words a little slurred.
"Cold. Dizzy. Can't... breathe. Cough... hurts..."
Heero wrapped his arms around Duo, trying to keep the heat
in. They couldn't leave the freezer; people were banging
around in the kitchen. But, could they afford to stay?
Duo's skin was pale and his breathing ragged. Small details
began to pull themselves together, completeing the picture.
Duo's lack of breath throughout the mission. His odd
speech lapses, as he muffled coughing. How he tired so
easily while running. The strangeness that surrounded him.
So he was sick... but with what?
*****
He plucked the strings gently; the tuning was perfect, and
he only had to wait for Trowa to finish assembling and tuning
his flute. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the words "new
virus" printed on the screen, and laid down his violin. With a frown,
Quatre turned up the volume on the monitor.
The anchorman's voice rose into audible range. "...so far,
the victims of this strange, deadly disease are residents
or former residents of the L2 colony, though only a few
people have been affected. Symptoms may include unusual
sensitivity to temperature, sweating, nausea, coughing, fever,
and excessive phlegm. Doctors say it is not contageous, but may
prove fatal within twelve to twenty-four hours if the patient
does not recieve medical care. Doctors are strongly
recommending former residents of colony L2 displaying three
or more of these symptoms in severity to see a medical professional
immediately. In other news, fires swept the once-prominent
Chicago area over in the U.S.A. a few hours ago..."
Quatre turned off the screen, eyes sad. "How horrible. Do
you think Duo'll be affected, Trowa?"
The man in question studied his flute with the one eye
visible from underneat his bangs. "I'm sure he'll be
fine."
The blond Arabian smiled gently and picked up his violin.
"I'd like to start on measure 51, please. I'm having a
little difficulty with the synchopation." Still, though,
he wasn't sure. Something felt odd.
*****
Wufei chewed on his lip to distract himself from his unease.
Something was going on in that Oz base... Yuy had sent the
all-clear signal, but an unauthorized takeoff from the landing
bay left him suspicious. Oz was getting cagey; after this
mission, it would be wise to take a vacation to a hidden
valley or tucked-away retreat somewhere. Of course, that would
mean being locked up for three months or so with that irritating
Maxwell, but Wufei found he didn't mind the other gundam
pilots so much as before. Infact, there were some he found
rather--intriguing.
But, all the pilots had their good points. Yuy wasn't the
cold bastard he liked to pretend he was. Maxwell was a bit
hyper, but his antics were occasionally amusing. Trowa could
be killer at poker, and accredited Wufei with a certain respect
that the Chinese pilot found acceptable in a comrade. And
Quatre, of course, under the weak facade, was an interesting
conversationalist, and fairly knowledgable. It could be
a worse group of people, he supposed.
He was always a sucker for the wounded soldier, though; he
would have to be on his guard. He couldn't afford to become
attached to any one of the pilots. Wufei was the odd man, the
loner. Wasn't he?
He frowned, and made a mental note to worship Nataku after the
pickup.
*****
Time had passed slowly. Duo's voice had become weak and
lethargic, and Heero finally decided to screw the hideout.
Something was dangerously wrong with the baka. He wasn't
talking, or being a pest, or acting like a pogo stick on
speed. He was lying still and quiet.
"Maxwell," he said shortly. "Get up."
"Wha...?" the other boy murmured sleepily.
"We're leaving."
"'Fei's here?" Duo asked as he tried to sit up. His eyelids
drooped, and he paused to rest.
"Change of plans." Heero put his hands under Duo's arms
and pulled him up, lifting one arm around his shoulders.
Duo didn't challenge this; his silent acceptance was
scary almost by itself.
Heero shifted his grip down around Duo's waist. "Hold
on," he warned. He felt Duo's arm tighten around his
neck, and he easily took most of the other's weight.
"Ready?"
"Not really," Duo mumbled, and allowed Heero to lead
him out of the freezer, through the kitchen, and down the
long hallway. It bothered him a little, that he couldn't
hold his gun and support Duo at the same time, but Duo
was incapable of holding one upright in his current state,
and it only crossed his mind once to kill the boy and leave
him behind.
It seemed his days of being a cold bastard were numbered.
In any case, the gun was close at hand in case of an emergency,
and Heero was the fastest draw in an area far bigger than "the
west"; it would have to do.
They waded through the hallways as quietly as possible, and
neatly evaded the patrols--thanks to Heero. Duo continued
to shake, and soon his body was covered in sweat, even as
he whispered responses to Heero's demands for a "status report":
"Cold..."
Heero had never been more pleased to see Wufei in his life.
They took off as soon as the pilots were inside, and, after
strapping Duo in, Heero sat down in the co-pilot's seat next to
the Chinese boy. "He needs to go to a hospital."
"What's wrong with him?" Wufei asked, but Heero could see him
re-setting the course of the airship.
"He's got some sort of virus," Heero replied. "Make sure there's
a good doctor on hand."
"I know where Sally Po is," he responded. "We'll go there."
In the back left bucket seat, Duo began to cough again.