By Ochiba
Gundam does not belong to me. ; 1x2 Valentines day fic. Submitted into the Moments of Rapture 2006 contest.
Heero stared blankly at the computer screen, watching idly without reading the long line of numbers and letters flashing across it. The glowing blue light cast heavy shadows in the lines of his harshly blank expression and highlighted the peaks of the same finely boned face. Steel eyes hovered over the surface but didn't register it, not because he'd become too familiar with the object, (as tends to happen at times to those who become too comfortable with their possessions) but because he simply didn't see it; his eyes focused inwardly on thoughts that he'd never externalise. To anyone watching, Heero Yuy, perfect soldier, was hard at work, just as coolly engaged as always.
To the empty room, however, where the eyes of shadows seep deep into paranoid souls, the Japanese man was fraying at the edges of his finely tuned wires.
Through all of the years that he'd spent tweaking and adjusting to normal life after the war's end, Heero had never quite been able to grow accustomed to the idea of allowing his emotions leeway to speak, and far preferred ignoring any whispers of content or fury that may have arisen. So when these murmurings had become unrelenting screams, overloading Heero's ability to reason and deleting his reprieve from the onslaught of repressed emotions, the man had not simply been shaken, but nearly crazed from his instability, lack of self-control, and the unremitting sense of undoing that he simply couldn't reverse. Rephrasing his ailment into concepts to which Heero was more comfortable, his virus scan had failed and all his hard-earned processors had been thoroughly fried. Any claim that this malfunction had torn the Perfect Soldier from his cool sensibility so easily-- sending him spiralling downwards into a pitiful state of system crash (without the instruments to restart in safe mode)-- would have been easily discredited to those left unbeknownst to Heero's mind set.
At times like this, Heero longed to be able to follow through on all his threats and destroy the cause of his dysfunction, but this newly woken virus screamed for him to smother such urges before the violence even came to fruition. Duo Maxwell simply wasn't a person to be snuffed out, to be regarded as an object rather than the thriving personality that he was. It was this unexpected tenderness that had brought Heero to such a schism.
He could still see himself standing in the kitchen of his small apartment, the late winter air biting at his back as he stared down at the crumpled piece of paper reading nonchalantly: Nice to drop by.
That was it, nothing more written. He could swear that he'd stopped breathing, his firewall falling into place to protect himself from everything, including the people he'd once trusted—the person he'd considered his closest friend.
"Yo, Ro, you get the info?" The Japanese man was pulled from his thoughts with a strong lurch from his stomach. He felt like he was going to be sick, tension mounting as waves of anxiety rebounded off of Heero's mental shields, much like a seizure of repressed emotion. He focused on the computer screen, confused as to how the lengthy amounts of code had appeared without his notice, but he grunted an affirmative in hopes that his puzzlement hadn't been shown.
Heero's collapse of reality had transpired on the thirteenth, only a week past, leaving him with a mission partner he (and his depleting control) least liked to face; Heero almost had to wonder about God's sense of humour at this choice. Now he'd had to spend an entire evening waiting for this mission (simple as it was) to be completed just to return home. The old base's cement walls chilled him, still leeching the cold from the Earth's bitter winter. Heero could feel the frigidity causing his single-mindedness to waver and prompting his overwhelmed mind to crack.
"Good," Came the reply on the other end, abrupt American accent far too familiar for comfort. "I'll be comin' around soon, so be ready to meet up."
Heero gave a mental flinch. 'We'll meet up at the restaurant.' It had been a blind step of trust to go in the first place—
The Japanese man gave another grunting approval. "Cover me until I get there." Then Duo's headset clicked off, leaving Heero with the invisible eyes once more.
As Heero stood to collect his gear, he struggled to regain his, recently temperamental, self-control. His volatile anger and frustration fought to rape his sensibility, but Heero simply refused to give up hold on himself. Sure, Duo acted as though nothing was wrong. He'd always been the type to go out on a first date and break things off without another word. 'Love 'em and leave 'em.' Why had Heero expected that his case would be any different? Because Duo was his best friend? That didn't necessarily mean that Heero's fondness was reciprocated. It had been an irreversible mistake to allow someone in so close.
Now that he'd allowed himself to become a victim of his own devices, Heero couldn't shut off the flurry of emotions that had built up over the last nineteen years: jealousy, rage, betrayal, and the bittersweet pang of something else that Heero now refused to give a name to for fear of his emotion's wretched rebuttal. It didn't matter. That had been the damned feeling that had caused this entire mess, hadn't it? That twinge in his chest that Heero had felt upon accepting Duo's invitation was most certainly the starting point of Heero's pathetic drama.
Hearing the light patter of Duo's soft boots against the cement ground, Heero grabbed the gun Preventers had provided him and ran to cover for his partner's retreat. By the time he reached the end of the corridor, however, Duo was already passing him and grabbing Heero's wrist in a panic, "MOVE, Heero, this thing's gonna—"
Too late, the ground seized up and the darkness was flooded with an orange-red light, causing the eyes to sink away into the collapsing walls. Heero's distracted reactions moved him just steps behind and before he could properly note his brain's faulty program, he'd collapsed and was taken by the inky satin unconsciousness.
Heero woke that morning feeling content, his eyelids still heavy with exhaustion. He rolled over, arm reaching for a supporting weight that it fell straight through. Steel eyes slowly opened and the Japanese man furrowed his brows in sleepy confusion. "Duo?" He called as he sat up in bed, his body sluggish from the extraneous evening before, but no response came. He rubbed his forehead, swinging his feet over the edge of his bed so that they brushed the white carpet. "Duo?" He tried again, pulling himself from bed and slipping into a pair of pants.
There wasn't any need to panic. He was probably just in the kitchen making something to eat. Knowing Duo's unending appetite, this had to be the case, so with a smile Heero made his way into the rest of the apartment.
He found all the lights off, no sign of the belongings Duo had brought with him the night before. Heero's heart began to sink, screaming as though a spear had caught him, throwing him into the cold, deceitful waters of Duo's betrayal.
"Duo!" He called again in earnest, rushing through the apartment-- away from the impersonal walls' groping hands, which fought wildly for a piece of his rising distress-- in hopes of proving his suspicions wrong, but as he slowed, entering the empty kitchen, Heero knew with a sick pang that his brain, as usual, was correct. Oh, those hands had caught their target and were eagerly feeding on his outpouring incredulity.
He took lingering steps onward, not wanting to believe the small white patch of paper on the counter could say what he knew it would, delaying the inevitable through childish precautions. Stomach ultimately dissolving, he picked up the note with an unsteady hand.
"Nice to drop by."
Heero grit his teeth, fighting back the tears that he'd never before consciously allowed. He crumpled the paper in his hand, dashing out the door of his apartment and leaving his shoes inside without thought. Hanging over the edge of the railing, Heero scanned the ground with furious eyes for his once best friend. He couldn't hold back the sob that escaped his throat when the familiar figure didn't appear and tears forced their way through without his urging. "Omae o korosu," he murmured through tear-distorted eyes and bitterly clenched teeth, "omae o korosu, omae o korosu…" He slid down the railing, just as crumpled as the torn paper on the counter top, never noticing the February air biting at his skin.
He had leaned over and whispered as tenderly as possible, lips brushing against the delicate shell of ear, tickled by loose strands of a chestnut braid in the blue-lit darkness, "Ai shiteru…"
Turning his face to the sky, Heero's voice screamed mournfully to whoever would hear him, demanding the attention of both gods and men, "Omae o korosu!"
This was supposed to be an easy mission. Get in, take information, destroy documents and get out before the place crumbled. There had been too many radicals rising up recently for Heero and Duo to be spared active duty, so when the call had come, Duo wasn't surprised. He couldn't be undercover all the time, after all.
Duo smiled down at the jump drive around his neck. "That's all the info we need," he murmured and set the last bombs with a cocky flick of the wrist. Of course, it would also be backed up on Heero's hard drive, so there was no worry about how the information would get out. He set the timer and pressed the switch on his watch to activate the other explosives around the building. "Too easy," he grinned and started for his escape route.
He'd been delayed in his escape by a few collapsed vent systems, but due to the lack of space, Duo hadn't known how far delayed he'd been until his watch had beeped the minute warning. When Heero appeared from around the corner, Duo had no idea what to do. Why hadn't Heero already left?! He had an account of time on his computer and could have easily gotten out before the American arrived. So, grabbing onto his wrist, Duo pulled him along, but the Japanese man's belated reaction held him back. What had gotten into Heero?
"MOVE, Heero," Indigo eyes turned back with a wince to the wall that was set to explode in mere seconds, "this thing's gonna—" The ground pulsed and sent a wave that knocked them both to the floor, fire rising up around them like demon tongues, lashing at their clothes and staining flushed skin with soot.
Shrapnel pushed violently past them, striking Duo on the upper arm with a sickening crack, but the pain subsided, erasing itself from his mind as the American's gaze locked onto a concrete block arching towards Heero's nonreactive form. "No, Heero!"
With his good arm, Duo unholstered his gun and shot as rapidly as the mechanics would allow in hopes of knocking the projectile off course. The Japanese man slowly looked up to see the concrete panel only to collapse onto the ground beneath him with the force of impact. Duo pushed off the ground frantically. Good hand flying, the man took account of Heero's heartbeat and breathing before wrestling the Japanese man onto his back.
Right now, it didn't matter what exactly had happened, but Duo had to get them out of there before the entire base collapsed.
The dream shifted, memory racing forwards only a few days to a club. The early morning had been pushed away for late night and heavy lights filling the smoky chambers. Pink and yellow reflected off of the fog-filled room, causing Heero to carefully step through the couples there, watching their irritating gyrations (which to fashion were considered dance despite the atrocity of the appearance) with a vague eye. The Japanese man sighed, checking his watch. He'd only been required to stay for a few hours to be sure that an assignment would be thoroughly wrapped up. Heero was playing the lapdog for an undercover Preventer's agent set to find smuggled information from a rising rebellious faction. Sure, the project was boring and distasteful, but Heero had wanted to get out of the house. He'd needed a mission to occupy his mind.
Heero hadn't been told whom the agent had been or where he was supposed to find them, but he suspected that if the agent needed him, they'd be able to identify Heero thanks to the detailed report he'd sent out. He was always one to stay on top of things, especially when all he had left of his life was his job. He exhaled, stretching his lungs so the smoke didn't affect them. 'May as well take care of something instead of moping.'
He shook his head and made his way out of the main room to catch some fresh air. The pulsing music and heady atmosphere made it hard for Heero to stay focused. He rubbed his brow with two fingers as he made his way out through the back hallway. There was a whimper to his left and Heero's steel eyes darted towards the noise on instinct alone.
'Just a couple,' Heero told himself, trying to deny what his eyes so clearly showed him. The woman pushed against the wall hushed herself almost instantly and the man hovering over her, holding her up, glanced over his shoulder. Indigo eyes caught Heero's attention without effort. The braided man gave his usual devil-may-care smile and gestured for Heero to just move on.
The Japanese man forced himself to look away, shoulders tense as he mechanically exited. He fumbled in his pocket for his cell phone and connected to the Preventer's line. "Yuy," he murmured into the speaker, "Nothing happening here. I'm out." Without waiting for a response, he slammed the cell shut and slumped against the wall, staring down the empty alleyway. 'Omae o korosu…'
Heero had gripped his companion's hand sleepily, kissing the wrist before laying it down over his chest. "Ai shiteru, Duo."
"Omae o… korosu…"
"—Ro! Heero!" Duo leaned over the unconscious man, now in the shelter of the Preventer's escape van. He rocked back on his knees and cursed, covering his lower face with a hand in hopes of controlling his panic. "Damnit, man, don't do this to me now."
The corner of Heero's eyebrow flinched and Duo immediately slung himself onto his good arm to take a closer look. "Damnit, Heero, if you're awake and just faking I swear I'm gonna kill you."
Heero's lips parted slightly, eyebrows rising just a bit. "Omae—"
"Omae o korosu, I know." Duo's expressions softened, now knowing that Heero was awake at least. "Don't go back to sleep. You got hit back there in the explosion." Again the American rocked back on his knees so that Heero could sit up and prop his back against the wall in a rather glum, childish way. The Japanese man held a hand to his head, elbow resting on an upraised knee. Duo watched him closely, now more aware of the stressed pinch to Heero's face than he had earlier on in the evening. "What's goin' on, Ro?"
Heero turned his eyes to Duo in an attempted glare. Duo furrowed his brows, "Don't start, Heero. What the hell was wrong back there? I've never seen you so distracted before." He caught a proverbial sheen of walls slamming down behind Heero's eyes before he turned away.
"No." Duo murmured, contradicting his partner's actions. "Don't you even start that, Yuy." He was already up and moving in on Heero, his good arm pinning him into the corner, but before Duo had a chance to question further, Heero sunk into fighting reflex and grabbed onto Duo's bandaged arm, pushing himself free of the threatening position and thusly sending the American to the ground.
Heero stood, dizzy, chest heaving and mind reeling as he hovered above his partner. "What the fuck was that for?!" Duo snapped, severe indigo eyes catching Heero off guard. The Japanese man shook his head and slowly eased onto the van bench.
The American pulled himself from the ground with a struggle, fighting to keep his bandaged, broken arm still. He lowered his voice, attempting to keep it from being threatening. When Heero was like this, there was no dealing with him like a regular person. Heero was a trained animal, keen to take his instincts over reason, no matter how much Duo knew the man would hate to admit it. Heero had given a good fight over the past few years to put the animal on its leash and now, after being a victim to Heero's armed gaze, the American had solidified his suspicions. Something had gone terribly wrong to regress Heero so far. "C'mon, Ro," he urged, careful to keep his voice from being brash. "What's gotten into you?"
Duo could see Heero thinking and sat back down on the floor of the van to show that he would wait until he got an explanation. Slowly, Heero opened his mouth, still hesitant to speak at all, it seemed, but finally a quiet accusation escaped. "You left."
Confused, the American's brow furrowed. When did he—Oh. The thought hit him before he asked for clarification, to which Duo was very thankful; it was never entertaining to be caught up in one of Heero's moods. "Ro, I left a note. It's not like I ditched you. I had to go to work."
Heero turned to him, slate eyes calculating the response with certain shock in their depths. "You didn't say…" The man rubbed at his temples again, surely trying to ease the pain from the concussion. "You made it sound like…" Duo's eyes narrowed, waiting for an end to the response. "Then what about the club?" Heero demanded suddenly, his gaze coldly demanding. "I was just another one, wasn't I? Just like that girl?" The Japanese man scoffed and turned away. "It was all a joke and I fell for it."
"No! God, no!" Duo ran a hand through his bangs and tugged in his braid. "Do you think I had any interest in her? Ro, I was assigned to trick her into giving me the information we needed." He shook his head, "Ro, that had nothing to do with it. Preventers just decided it'd be easy for me to pull off since I look the type." Sighing, he finished glumly, "Looks like I fooled the wrong 'guy'."
Slowly, Heero pieced things together, the numbed reactions of his brain's transmitters keeping his thoughts in a painfully sluggish pace. Duo had been working a lot, most likely on the rebellion investigation and Heero certainly hadn't been informed of who the agent was looking into the situation. He'd wondered why Duo hadn't been into the office as often as usual, but he'd been too busy filling out papers for both of them while Duo was on field duty. "So why… why didn't you say it back? Why didn't you just tell me that you loved me?" The words were out before he could hear, much less rephrase his childish demand.
Duo smiled and stood up, moving to sit next to Heero and wrapped an arm around his waist. "Ro, I did."
Heero paused, not remembering anything. He only knew that he'd opened up himself enough to admit his own emotions not only to himself, but to Duo as well.
"We went out on the thirteenth because I had to work the next day… so I left a candy heart by the note. Guess you didn't find it." Heero didn't make any move to comprehend. "It's February. I left on Valentine's day."
He reached out with a smile, placing the small pink heart on top of white paper. Red ink scrawled on the top with off-centre words: I love you. Duo shoved his hands in his pockets and headed out the door, hoping that his lover would find the message.
Heero softened under Duo's one-armed embrace and soon enough the Japanese man's fingers laced in with his own. There was a slight stretch to the skin of Heero's cheek and Duo knew he was smiling, so he leaned in, lips brushing gently against his lover's ears like Heero's own had on that first night, "Ai shiteru…"
Ai shiteru.
Owari