Duo's soft groans came and went as the youth lay in a restless sleep, the sounds echoing to and fro across the long abandoned farmhouse. It was the only place that could pass off as a shelter of sorts for the three refugees in it's tattered walls. It's all Trowa and Heero could manage while they passed most of the time in silence, listening to the sheets of rain fall and pelt the lands; dried and cracked by long droughts.
Trowa's eyes kept absently at the distance, as if to try and decipher it through his thoughts. Their original plan was to gather with each other and meet at the rendezvous point just a few miles outside of the city. From there, they'd use the Galileo Base and their generously offered (or rather, permanently borrowed) shuttle that would send them back to space to retrieve their gundams from Howard's care. It seemed simple enough.
Then again, he was sure Duo hadn't intended any more than the others had to get himself caught in the crossfire of a nasty ambush, leaving the boy temporarily disabled with a possibly infected side-wound. Carrying him in that rain was just not an option. Not logically, or a very good idea in general, considering the already strained patience of both healthier pilots.
The mood of the cabin was desolate, a sour one with no chanced thought of a smile, the only words spoken were the ones that Duo managed to utter from time to time. They weren't much, he might ask for the little water they could manage--or give notice of how often he was frozen or much too hot.
And it was Heero who tended to the boy, keeping all side comments to himself, leaving Trowa on guard, before even the silence became too irritable for the normally stoic pilot.
"You think they managed to find one of our trails too, don't you?" Came the quiet question as Heero took a seat beside Duo's makeshift bed along the soggy and cracked floor boards. It was hard to find a dry spot in a house which only had half a roof, if you put all the spread pieces together.
There was only a soft nod in exchange at first, then after choosing his own words carefully, "It's no doubt they've got a good hold on our direction while we pulled back. It's hard to hide yourself when you're moving that fast... There's a good chance they'll be right outside come daybreak, just waiting to invite themselves in for a good chat."
Trowa's sarcasm hung heavily on the last words, rare, but he was rather aggravated with himself as it was, let alone their new problem at hand. Still emerald eyes grazed the thick rainfall as if to catch any hidden intruder. Not likely, but it was an attempt at self defense. However, his mind began to wander again, his arms shifting a little in their crossed hold, relaxing their strict form to let a deep sigh pass behind the chest, long and slow. Yet again, as Duo stirred, it went unnoticed to the youth as he let his preoccupied mind drift past the highlighted streaks sparkling against the little moonlight between the clouds.
As time went on, it was harder to keep up this crusade, to be the martyrs against the world and keep kidding each other it was for the best of mankind that the five boys and their "followers" continue their role in this war. Did he want to? Hell no. Who does?' came the scornful thought. Would he continue? Most likely,' was the usual answer, somehow the role seeming right, it was all he'd known for such a long time so why break tradition? Still the hardest question he still couldn't answer was, could he force himself to believe that tomorrow or even weeks from now? Why should I? Heero himself told me the only way for a person to lead a life they wouldn't regret--is to follow what they feel; to follow the emotions of their heart. What do I honestly feel without kidding myself?'
Emerald eyes lingered a moment, slowly lowering their gaze half-heartedly to the small whining form in the corner, vaguely focusing in on the wounded "god of death". Was he fighting with them, or for them? Or both? And why? He thought a little while longer and realized he hardly knew them. They didn't know much of him, well, for what could be explained. There were still keys that would unlock vital doors of his own past if he only had the keys himself.
There were hundreds upon hundreds of unanswered questions, not only for the one they knew as "Trowa Barton", but for each of them about themselves and each other. Now was not the time to dawdle on them as the reserved teenager seemed to be doing and Heero knew that for the might, until his mind cleared, he was nearly useless unless his attention was demanded.
"If you're keeping watch, the window's to your right and up at eye-level, Trowa. Not the floor. And if not, I'll keep watch and you can tend to Duo."
Trowa's eyes shot up and held a level, steely composed gaze with the Japanese boy, letting the tension of another span of silence drift between them, thick as if in challenge. However, he was the first to break the gaze, not pushing the subject any further. Heero was right no matter how his quiet pride wanted to protest, and he turned his eyes back to the window. Painstakingly, he forced them to observe and memorize every little detail of his surroundings just on the other side of that glass, no matter how vague or distorted by the rain they appeared.
"Is his fever breaking?" was all he managed, pushing his own thoughts back again for now.
Heero was still wary of Trowa and his behaviors, especially with his new reactions. For as long as he'd known the boy, he'd observed that most everything, if not everything, was done in a composed, logical, meticulous manner. Each problem or obstacle was dealt with as if it were a game, and he were the emotionless puppet on a string--playing along to the best strategy for each scenario. With the last few days that had come to pass, though, a turmoil would flash itself from time to time behind the blank mask Trowa wore. Often they were violent flashes like flames in a desperate attempt to snatch away at fleeing air, to break their boundaries. He was just waiting for that heat to build, those flames to grow until they burst... and Trowa would become someone very different for a time. Hopefully, only a short time.
Still, steady hands went back to the pitiful form, removing the makeshift compress and wetting it again in a puddle that collected on the floor off to his side, most of the hardwood floors warped and rotting beneath them even now.
"Not yet. It's not as high as it was, but his side's still bleeding off and on. If it doesn't stop, we won't have a choice besides finding a hospital. Or letting him die, which for the time, can't be an option," trailed the words from the Japanese lips on which they fell over, each syllable blunt and final. Emotions were best kept in reserve until after the war, when peacetime came. If he lived that long.
A rustle of clothes and a soft click instantly drew the attention of the perfect soldier from his acknowledgment of thoughts. Silent eyes shot to the somber youth who'd backed from the window face to it's side for cover, the cold metal of a handgun glistening just out of sight. It appeared that company wouldn't wait until morning. Still, as he kept his own stance low to the floor, his eyes never leaving the scrutiny of the emerald ones that gazed just to the other side of the glass, he spoke in a whisper that was all but muted by the raindrops splattering around them.
"Scouts, or are they all here? We might be able to..."
Trowa gave a soft shake of his head to his companion, never taking his eyes from the moving forms he could see just beyond the shadows. He'd let them get too close in his own thoughts, dammit, but for the moment, that wasn't the key point of this new situation. He'd deal with his own ignorance later.
Instead, a steady hand held his gun at the ready, knowing those soldiers had more than just their point-men watching the movements of the house and they'd invade and use shelter, if not look for all possibility of smoking out the little mice from their meek haven.
"Too many... he won't make it on his own, and we don't have the numbers to cover all of them."
Heero listened, laying a gentle hand calmly over the groaning lips of the American boy, leaning closely to whisper to him for silence in the middle of their new dilemma. That's all they needed now was for Duo to give into one of his delirium fits and start screaming away their only cover. When he was sure the boy understood, he moved from his spot and slunk towards the window, looking out as best as he could without being seen. Four or five men wandered carefully about the outskirts of the house, and who's to say there weren't a few dozen more just out of sight?
"If you sneak out with him now--" but his words were again cut off, just as instantly.
"I'm the better sharpshooter. Give me Duo's gun and take him. I can buy you more time with less bullets. It's all we've got and losing one is better than losing three right now. Besides, you're the only one that dares pilot that nuisance of a Zero System, Heero."
Heero's thin lips parted a moment as if to speak, not nearly as certain on Trowa's suicidal idea as he seemed to be. He knew he couldn't compose himself, he couldn't be as sharp, fast, or agile as he normally was, which worsened the odds. That was, if any of them would make it out of this little escapade alive.
"Trowa," came the warning tone.
The name went unnoticed as the Latin teen's eyes narrowed and spared his comrade a second's glance before faintly motioning with his outstretched hand as if to accept the gun he was yet to be given on request.
"Give me his gun and take him," is all he repeated.
Heero knew time was precious and of the essence, and that there was no use persuading him. It'd be useless to try and by the time any decision could be made that he'd be comfortable with, they'd all be captive or dead.
"You better know what you're doing," came the cold response.
He crouched low and snatched the gun from Duo's resting side, handing it off reluctantly as he moved to help the weary youth to his feet along the slippery ground, using as much cover in the shadows as he could scrounge for. Oddly, the broken storm that stood above them let much more light through it's uneven sides than he welcomed, and wanted the shadows as if it were a cloak he could pull over the both of them and hide, if only he could reach his fingers a little further and grasp it.
Duo's navy blue eyes fluttered a moment, his heavy, pained breathing softened as much as he could unbearably manage, his tongue stinging while he bit it to keep his silence. This had to be his last resort method to try and find himself a last minute vacation in their hectic war.
Remind me not to book this road trip again,' he jested tired to his usually active mind, a shudder racing the length of his body. He could already feel the tease of winter wind breaking through the tattered walls, all waterlogged and giving no warmth with their rank and rotting scent of decrepit wood.
The scent of snow was already on the air and it surprised Duo to see rain instead, but he knew it wouldn't last long. Earth was nowhere near as controlled as the colonies... one day it could be a tropical paradise and the next, a winter dungeon. Great, that's all they needed.
Heero stood in waiting, holding his comrade around the waist; not nearly as gingerly as he could, but now as he could hear an unnatural crack of a hidden branch or the carried voice of the enemy on he wind, his muscles tensed in the somber yet anxious moment.
Seconds ticked away in the distance, seeming slow to reach them as time dragged its leaden feet numbly over the waiting earth, as if years were passing in their stead. Steaming breaths rose in the fiery cold winter air, uncontrollable to their owners, but the sounds of those fugitive breaths were restricted to near silence.
Maybe they'll pass on, there's a small town not so far off from here, just southward,' came the faint thought peaking its timid being around the back of Heero's mind, attempting to sparkle just the smallest hope. They're not idiots, not complete idiots, they'll sweep everything in their path,' came the cruel logic, tearing the small hope to little shreds in ruthlessness. He'd learned long before those small wishes could cost more than just an embarrassing mistake.
Prussian eyes held those deadly emeralds, like a spring loaded panther just waiting to leap from death's grasp if only once more. A small not was all the verification that passed between the two healthier teens, and remorsefully, it was all that was needed.
Heero kept close to the darker confines of the house and helped his companion duck out a broken door frame, keeping both his eyes and mind now focused on a dark patch of wooded area where they could lose their trail and escape to that same small town to find their refuge. Still, tense body waited in sick anticipation to feel a searing pain scorch through his flesh, leaving tattered rags in its wake before embedding a white hot bullet deep into his own body where it might leave him useless if not dead.
Though he tried, Duo wasn't nearly as silent, or as quick in his exhausted and stiff movements as the Japanese boy at his side.
Let's face it, Yuy's a fricken' psycho more than half the time, of course he wouldn't let anything like this slow him down. Perfect little hot shot, he's either gonna kill me or leave me here because we're not all like the "immortal one"...,' Duo's thoughts rambled, fueling his own body in their escape.
Scouts of the OZ faction slunk about, wet and miserable but relentless in the breaking sheets of rain, keeping their watch on the assigned house, long since faded from its elegance and past the point of simple condemning. However, movements seemed to stir just within his sights, as if in a welcome wish for a one way ticket to a good warm bed and dry clothes.
"There's movement inside the house, unnatural shadows observed and unidentified. Stand ready."
The order was ironically soft into his headset as the wind howled like a raging banshee about their heads, thunder cracking, the heavy gray skies bawling from their endless starry eyes.
Water laden glasses were all but useless, slipping teasingly down the long, thin bridge of the soldier's nose and as his sniper rifle was raised to his shoulder, not only to use the scope, but to pinpoint the possible enemy, his second hand spared a moment to readjust the cold lenses back into a sensible position.
Like little peaks on water ripples sparkle in mimicry of the sunlight's bright face, so the lenses of the soldier caught the smallest hint of moonlight in the passing storm overhead, giving a second's breath of time to reveal him.
The motion went unnoticed as the hunter found his kill, his key prize escaping the back section of the crumbling building. Two Gundam Pilots, backs turned and no seeming alert to the OZ soldier's quiet attention.
"Checkmate, boys..." came the smirking turn of words while cross-hairs turned their objective to the supporting youth of the duet. One shot and they'd be his. However, sights lowered to the leg; catch one, and little children will tumble.
Trowa had but seconds after he spotted the enemy at first to clear and compose his mind, readying himself for battle. As always, his discipline readied him successfully as he kept close tabs on his targets' positions.
"Twelve bullets--make them count, Barton," was the soft coach, a stomach-turning realization of how horribly hopeless this was. Well, then again, he always had the oddest of luck to have survived this long. What's one more shot? Worse case scenario--death. He'd already become accustomed to it. Still, emeralds caught sight on the smooth flash of glass against light and with a faint squint, made out the assassin in the darkness.
"No you don't, Heero, hurry it up," tumbled in a hopeless plea of a phrase to nothing but the air and no one but himself. It's time to break hell's gates wide open.'
The aim was quick and dead on as the first shot exploded from the small handgun. He could hear the dull and faded thump of a body fall back against the ground, cold and silent.
As expected and hated, all attention was turned back onto the house as shots rattled and opened from those that caught just enough of the original enemy position to retort.
In a quick dive beneath the window to the far side opposite his sniping position, he simply gritted his teeth and moved further from the return fire, trying to find the next gaping hole he could fire from himself. He had the upper hand. Well, sort of. He knew generally that his obstacle carried a few dozen men, if not a few dozen more than that, and already knew he was outmatched in sheer power for this battle. Still, his opponents would hopefully be slow to realize that it was only him inside those walls, and not a hidden army of his own.
As the shots quieted, he eased himself into a better position before firing off another two or three rounds, taking out almost every target. One escaped, one bullet wasted.
Heero took no time to dawdle or hesitate, all but fully carrying Duo now with him as he eased them into an icy cold, slow river, trudging along through it and ignoring the chattering complaints and whines at his side. They had to hide as many tracks as they could.
Duo's eyes fluttered back open and wide at the instantaneous feel of the biting liquid around his shins, ripping at his already frozen flesh. At points, the bed of the wide, shallow river would drop off, or catch itself in a stronger, pushing current and throw him off balance. I hate this damn war, this son of a bitching fighting, and this fucking psycho putting me through this god-forsaken mess!' came the brutal rage streaming in a whirlwind round and round about his mind. What were they, escaped slaves trying to lose their scent from coon dogs in the days of plantations?! He felt like it. "Brilliant idea, Mr. Perfect," was the feisty, low growl.
"Just shut the hell up or I will kill you, Duo. I do still have my gun with me, or I have other ways," was the bitter retort, long past it's end of patience. He wasn't enjoying this any more than Duo Maxwell was, but what choice did they have? "He can't buy us more than minutes right now, so quit wasting them."
Crunching twigs and wet wads of leaves being kicked up signaled that they were no longer alone, and Heero helped Duo to the bank where the river had created itself a deeper ravine, allowing them a small hidden inlet to duck into. The thick overhang of the muddy, root netted wall gave a welcome break in the fiery cold drizzle that still fell on them, stinging the flesh it touched.
In their silence, Heero could hear his companion shaking and chattering away, unable to restrain the noise as he saw Duo fight for his consciousness. Again, the ratty bandage along Duo's lower stomach, he observed, was a deep hue from its light denim color that Heero'd sacrificed his jacket for.
Duo gritted his teeth but the motion only lasted a moment or so, before he could hold it no longer and his breaths echoed the sound of his chattering teeth all over again. He was already losing feeling in his legs, whether from blood loss, cold, or both, he wasn't sure. Surprise struck him as he felt an arm encircle his waist, moving his own weak hand over his wounded side and replacing it with a strong, firm hold. He had to bite back his cuss as the footsteps approached, but gave into the closeness of the moment and rested back against Heero's strength. Instead, he hugged his own arms around his numbing body, trying to warm, muscles tensing off and on in an attempt to catch and cut off any other motion to show he was hating the winter to come already with a deep passion. He didn't even question the motion for the time when Heero's other arm moved in a faint embrace across his upper torso and arms. He took whatever body heat was given off between the two, and relished to for as long as he could in that arctic night chill.
The windbreak was welcome and Duo closed his eyes, concentrating instead on the moment, on his thoughts, knowing his composure would be one part to their survival of this night. C'mon buddy, you almost got it, keep it quiet, keep it low, you're almost done. You're almost in a warm hotel with aspirin and television. That hot shower's comin' buddy, keep it together.' The soft coaching repeated itself over again and again in his mind, stilling his body after a few minutes. Still, he accepted the slow warming sensation from the "once in a lifetime" embrace, certain Heero only did so to shut him up. Well, if that's what it took to warm up a bit, he wasn't gonna complain. That was, until his thoughts circled back to the happenings of that night so far. Trowa had stayed behind... Well if that wasn't the stupidest thing that guy's ever done. He's gonna get himself killed for sure, the bastard. Why does he get to play the hero and make the rest of us feel bad for it?!'
Heero paid no attention to the changing features playing over the American teen's face, his eyes kept up and on the pursuers overhead. The gunfire had stopped. They'd probably taken Trowa captive already. That just meant another rescue mission before the team returned to space, if the situation was opportune in its arrangement.
The footsteps came, shuffled above and growled out cruel cusses back and forth as the now simmering rain let up a little more, before the footsteps drew away and further northward. They were headed back up the river--away from the town.
Good, go hunt phantoms,' were Heero's thoughts as he slowly began to relax the tension in his own painfully cold body, joints stiff and uncooperative. He paid them no mind and prepared to set off again, once sure that their hunters were gone. At least, until a lone shot too far out of place stopped him and turned his head back the direction they'd come from.
For even the smallest instant, his heart jumped high into his throat and sat there, seeming to choke the first few breaths that followed. With a small turn of his stomach, he helped pull Duo onto the bank once they'd come back to a section further southward that was near level with the water again. They'd keep to it incase their followers came back again.
Still, a thought nagged in Heero's mind in a solemn regret. Instinct was trying to tell him only four would be returning to space, and they'd have no need to stay once they had their perfect chance to escape. There wouldn't be anyone to stay for.
.-::Okay, Scarlet here. I know, I used to be a goofy "Lady Stardancer" but I've grown, and with much coaching, I am prepared to take up the quill once again. A "nagging" friend, you know you are, Lynne has inspired me to not only finish this work, but upon my own reading, I've realized it could use a "most serious" overhaul. Excuse my impropperly grammatical phrase. I hope to try and get a new chapter every week, but it's still in a "trail and error" stage, so do forgive me. So, if you've read this one before, do start again, because many changes are being made, hopefully for the better for all my audience, and we'll all get to see the lovely ending. Do keep in mind now, I'm a server on an odd schedule (GO RED LOBSTER!!! WE'RE BETTER THAN OLIVE GARDEN!!!) and will be working on these and my other works between college. And do remember to tip your servers well, that's their only income, and most of us make less than half of minimum wage( I only make $2.13/hr not counting tips). And for any who wish to say a personal "hi", especially some of my older audience, I really miss you guys!, my Yahoo SN is everancedreams, but be warned, misuse of it, and I will block you at the least. Gotta fade out, see ya round the next blaze.
.-:::Like legend, the eternal, feathered, fire "fox" will preen the old ashes from its immortal rejuvenation, standing tall and proud among the glowing embers of before; in the face of winds to come--so the scarlet phoenix shall rise. Again and again, renewed, remade, and renowned; as will the eternal flame of life deep in every heart of every soul that beats, breathes, or is, so lives the heart of an imagination, an unwritten story, like the anxiousness of innocent children, longing for its told space in time. Scarlet Faux :::-.
