Title: Green With It

Pairings: 1x2, mentioned 3x4

Warnings: a bit dark, language, possibly OOC Heero towards the end

Disclaimer: Don't own it. Could have, should have, would have, if only I hadn't been born me.

Note: This was my entry to the Moments of Rapture 07 contest, but I did it in a bit of a hurry and there were a million typos and some of the grammar was appalling, so I cleaned it up a bit and chopped it into three bits. The main point of this is some feedback, because it was my first ever attempt at a GW fic and I want to know if I did anything right.

He's not there when I wake up, either, and I wonder briefly if he came home at all, but there's a note next to Winston on the kitchen counter that allays my fears.

Work called. I'll be stuck in Forensics until late. Don't wait up. 01. x

He thought hard about putting that kiss at the end. I can tell by the way the ink has pooled slightly around the top left arm where he hesitated. Heero always thinks too hard about such trivial things. I bet he dithered for at least two seconds about where to put the note before sitting it near Winston, too.

Before anyone is led astray and thinks I have a picture of an old-age pensioner on my countertop, I'll explain. Winston is a large ceramic hippopotamus that I picked up on my travels. He's been carted through space, too many countries to count and spent the Eve Wars, wrapped in bubble-wrap, in a compartment under my seat in Deathscythe. I named him Winston after a guy named Churchill who was involved somehow in one of the World Wars in the early 20th century, because all I can remember from that long-ago history lesson is a photo of the man himself. Winston has that same grumpy, grizzled, jowly look as his namesake and he scowls at me as I make coffee every morning. Heero hates him. Says he creeps him out.

I make coffee whilst Winston scowls at me and turn on the radio with a well-practised thump. I catch the end of the news – something about a celebrity divorce – before a generic song comes on. I sing along and Winston looks even grumpier. It's like Heero's here with me.

I dress, unhurried, but still manage to wear mismatched socks. I promise you, I don't own a complete pair of socks anymore. I think people just give me singles. I opt for the ever-graceful method of hopping on one foot to put my boots on and it is only as I grab my jacket that I remember Heero will have taken the car, leaving me without transport. I tinker briefly with the idea of calling Wufei, but convince myself he's already left and decide to take the Metro.

I don't like the Metro. It's got a set course, it's easy to access the tracks and you're lined up like sardines just waiting to be blown up. Plus, Preventers don't usually take public transport to work, so any unfortunate agent will be stared at. A lot. But now, peace (?) is here and I must not expect to be assassinated until I get to work, not on the journey there.

It's a short walk to the station and I nearly buy a newspaper, but then I remember that I probably won't get a seat and it's very hard to read a paper standing up. My train is very busy, but I do manage to elbow my way to a seat and I curse myself for not buying one.

When I get to the office that Heero and I share, I find it's not 'our' office any longer. Of the two desks in the centre, pushed to face one another, his is already cleared, making my half look even more cluttered and haphazard than usual. I sit with a sigh and try to ignore his absence, but it's hard when the first thing I see is a note giving the time my new partner will arrive. I am grateful to know I'll have an hour to collect myself before having to take the plunge.

That hour goes quicker than I expected, as if the harder I resist, the faster it passes. There's a knock at the door and it opens before I can say anything.

"Captain Maxwell?"

She's too young. Early twenties, maybe and even though that's much older than me, I know she's nowhere near as good as me. But, then again, I haven't been all that good of late, so that's all relative. She's pretty, blonde and altogether normal looking. I've never seen her before, so I assume she's been transferred from somewhere. Une must really be desperate.

"That's me!" Innocuous grin firmly in place, I stand up and shake her hand. "What did I do to deserve such a pretty young thing like you, eh? What's your name, sweetheart?"

She smiles and lowers her eyes modestly, though she does not blush, which leads me to believe she already knows about my sexual preferences. I wonder how much she knows about me and who told her.

"I'm Lieutenant Georgia Harris, your new partner?"

Why have they sent me a partner who's lower in rank than me? The word partner implies equality. Heero and I are equals and it showed in our work – what am I going to do with a Lieutenant for a partner? Unless, of course, it's some misguided attempt to teach me leadership skills, as if I don't have them anyway.

"Of course you are, Georgia. May I call you Georgia? Sit down and set up your things and tell me a bit about yourself."

"Yes, you may, sir." She sets a box, which seems to have come from nowhere, on the desk. Heero's desk.

"Then," I say as I sit down and prop my feet up on the wastepaper basket, "I insist that you call me Duo."

She grins at me. "Deal."

She is very efficient; she's like Heero in that respect. She's already filled out her half of the paperwork, which makes my job much easier, and has taken the time to research the case I'm working on, which means I don't have to bore us both with an explanation of the Shanghai smuggling rings. She's much more open to discussion than Heero was, though my relationship with him was so close, I didn't need him to say anything most of the time. It's what made us such a good team.

"Sir? I mean, Duo?"

I look up at her question and catch sight of a pot-plant over her shoulder. Heero's Venus Flycatcher is still standing proud in the corner, at the moment digesting a large cranefly that must've flown through the window. I gave him it after the previous green leafy thing died during a long absence from the office. Why didn't he take it with him? I know it might not be strictly regulation, but is his new partner that much of a rules-whore? Oh God, maybe he's been transferred! Maybe they swapped him with Georgia! No...I would have been told, surely...

"Sir?"

I give a start at the sound of her voice and mask my vacancy with a charismatic smile. "It's Duo, honey. Would you like some coffee?"

"Um, yes, please." She looks off-balanced and I don't blame her. It's not often that you ask a question about drugs rings and are answered with an offer for coffee. "Milk, one sugar, please."

"Hey, snap!" I call over my shoulder as I leave. The coffee maker is sat right next to Wufei's office and I always drop in and say hi. We don't work together very often, so I have to grab any nanosecond of time with him I can. I would eat lunch with him, but usually one of us is too busy to eat, let alone trudge all the way down to the cafeteria. Anyway, we try and avoid the place whenever we can because the food is always unidentifiable. Last year, we sent a sample to one of the labs for testing. It came back: 'inconclusive'.

I boil the communal kettle and, because I'm a cheapskate, dump a few spoonfuls of instant coffee into two mugs. I can't tell the difference; I try and drink decaf when not doing an all-nighter. I wrinkle my nose at the motley selection of mugs that haunt the draining board. They all either have corporate logos or children's television characters on them. My favourite, that has been dubbed 'Duo's mug', has a load of brightly coloured shapes on it. It's my favourite, because the shapes have googly eyes that I like to rattle. Small things amuse small minds, I know.

Coffee made, I make the traditional drop-in. Wufei's door is closed, but it always is. A post-it note proudly displays the details of his 'open door policy', but since his door is never open, it doesn't apply. I ignore the note, as always, and march in.

"Good morning, Wuffers! Will you ever realise that the notice is totally redunda..."

I trail to a halt because Wufei, the best solo agent I know, is not alone in his office. The room, which once had been spacious, is now slightly cramped because of the second desk that has been moved in there. Heero is seated at it, his things already set out neatly and he looks at me bemusedly, as if he's not sure why I'm here.

"Hi Heero! I didn't expect to see you here!"

I grin easily to mask the fact that inside, the cogs in my brain have slipped a few teeth. What is Heero doing here? No, scratch that, I already know why. He's here because Wufei is his new partner. What is Une thinking? Has she been consulting some whacked-out psychologist, because I can see no other reason why she would separate the best team in the business and pair one with someone completely new and the other with an old friend who works better on his own.

"Wufei is my new partner," says Heero, as if I can't have worked that out for myself by that fact that they now share an office.

"Oh, cool," I reply, already subtly moving towards the door. "I've got a new girl, name's Georgia. I'd better go give her this coffee before it gets cold. Drop in some time?"

A nod, then I'm out of the door before my hands shake so bad they spill cooling coffee all over the carpet.

I am worried, and not because of the stabbings of jealousy in the pit of my stomach. Heero always notices when I'm covering up surprise or discomfort with good-natured rambling. He always gets this distinctive frown, like he's frowning with his eyes, not his brows. This time, as I frantically backtracked, he looked at Wufei with something like self-satisfaction. But Heero never looks self-satisfied, so what was it, really?

I freeze in the doorway to my office, hit by a thought so terrifying that the carpet might not be safe from coffee stains anymore.

"S – Er, Duo? Are you okay?"

Mine and Georgia's office.

"Sure, sweetheart. Here's your coffee. Didya miss me while I was gone?"

She replies, but I'm not really listening. I don't drink my coffee either and it sits, neglected, on the corner of my desk.

Are Heero and I losing our ability to read each other? Is that why things went wrong?

I couldn't tell what Heero was thinking just then and took it for self-satisfaction, when reason and commonsense tell me that he wouldn't do that. I masked my discomfort really badly and I know it, but I also know that Wufei picked up on it much more than Heero.

No, I must be wrong. This isn't happening. Heero and I aren't losing touch with each other; I'm just imagining it.

"So, Georgia, any luck on getting through to Surveillance on that footage?"

I get home before Heero because he's working late with Wufei on something and he lets me take the car, saying he'll take the Metro back. I have a mild moment of worry about him taking public transport so late at night, afraid that he'll be mugged or stabbed. Usually, commonsense would kick in and tell me he's a capable Gundam Pilot, but instead it is smothered by a wave of envy at Wufei. I know that I should be working late with Heero and that we should be driving home together.

I don't bother with dinner; I can't be bothered and it'll be cold by the time Heero gets home. I settle for a banana and a yoghurt that may or may not be safe to eat, having lived in the back of the fridge for far too long. Winston disapproves, but I ignore him. I watch something terrible on the television before deciding it is beyond me. I go to bed, not bothering to hang up my clothes and not caring that they'll be creased tomorrow.

I am asleep when Heero comes home and he wakes me in his favourite way, with his lips on the back of my neck.

"I missed you today," he mumbles, his arms tight around me.

"Oh, really?" I grin tiredly as his hands start to roam. I have an urge to bring up the pot-plant that he left behind, but I'm distracted by his lips on mine. I think dimly that he might be seducing me in an attempt to make me forget today, but then I realise that it's working and surrender without so much as a glance at the clock.

I grow used to sleeping and waking without Heero. I always knew Wufei ran a busy schedule, but somehow I didn't fit Heero into that equation. I convince myself that this is all Une's doing and try not to think the horrible thought that he may be avoiding me.

In contrast to Heero and Wufei's constant stream of work, I haven't had a sniff of a decent mission in weeks. I constantly find little notes on my desk asking for 'small jobs' and 'minor things'. I haven't had a drawn-out campaign since I was split from Heero and things are getting boring. Fieldwork is less frequent and more often with large groups, not partner missions. Not that I have a problem with leading teams; it's just that I miss the feel of a two-man-mission. Made even more depressing because Georgia is, unforgettably, a woman and works in distinct womanly ways.

Georgia has this irritating ability to make me feel inadequate, as if I'm trailing along in her wake. In reality, it's the other way around. Georgia is not skilled in practical operations, being fresh out of training and new to working in anything but a large team. She always seems puzzled at my expertise at all things violent and my impatience with paperwork. Like now.

"Sir, may I ask you a question?"

"Only if you call me Duo," I sigh. She still hasn't caught on and still calls me sir, particularly when she's nervous.

"A personal one?"

"Fire away," I say, whilst wondering what she will ask.

"Well, I was wondering..." She looks uncomfortable and keeps her eyes fixed on the document in front of her. "How old are you, exactly?"

Oh. She's wondering why I'm so short, have such long hair, a distinct inability to grow a beard and, at the same time, be her commanding officer. I thought this would come up soon.

"I'm nineteen, Miss Georgia." I put my feet up on the desk in anticipation of more questions. "I can't tell you exactly 'cause I don't know when I was born."

"Nineteen?" Her eyes are big. "But that's so…"

"Young?" I finish. "Yeah, it is."

She's quiet for a minute, probably having trouble processing the information. "May I ask you another question, sir?"

"These things usually come together." And they do. Conversations usually go: Age? How? Oh.

"Well, if you don't mind me asking... how is it that you're a Captain? Trainees aren't even allowed into the Academy until they're eighteen."

"I didn't go to the academy. I was made a Captain when I joined the Preventers, three years ago."

I wait for her to do the math.

"Three years ago? You were sixteen?"

"Uh huh." Come on, girl, didn't you ever watch the news when you were younger? "Just after the Eve Wars."

She's still not getting it. I've given her all the hints I can and then some. She's seen my doodles of Deathscythe that are pinned to my notice board – damn good ones, I think – and even asked me about them. I even dropped the big one about the Eve Wars. Granted, my name isn't shouted through the halls with 'is a Gundam Pilot' following straight after, but surely she took the time to find out who I am before she took the job. Surely.

Unless, of course, she wouldn't have taken the job if she knew. Yes, if she's the daughter of some Oz officer I killed in the name of peace, then that would cause a problem, one that wherever she was transferred from would know about and try to divert. Maybe I should just take the plunge and tell her. If she doesn't like it, then she can get herself transferred and I'll have a new partner shipped in that doesn't mind Gundam Pilots so much.

"Uh, Georgia?"

"Yes, sir?" I let the 'sir' go this time.

"Were you...around for the Eve Wars?"

She nods and looks at me like I'm insane. I'd think so too. Not a lot of people missed the Eve Wars, due to all the war paraphernalia floating around.

"Well, do you remember what they were about?"

Again, she looks bewildered and understandably so. It's not everyday you get a history lesson in the Preventers. I nod in what I hope is an encouraging way and she answers.

"One of the colonies tried for independence and to take over the Earth Sphere."

"Very good. And how did we stop it?"

"The Preventers took action and overthrew MariaMaia."

"Anything else...?" Come on girl, who taught you this bullshit? "Who couldn't they have done it without...?"

She looks blank for a moment, then: "Oh, the Gundam Pilots!"

"Well done." Got there in the end, didn't we? "And what do you remember about these Gundam Pilots?"

She sitting there, wracking her brains. Honestly, Georgia, I thought you were intelligent. If you can't put two and two together and come up with the words: 'you're a Gundam Pilot', I will lose the will to live.

"They were trained fighters, the best in the Earth Sphere-" Technically wrong; we're from the colonies, and I have no doubt there were probably better soldiers on Earth. We only survived due to a shitload of luck. "-They were terrorists in AC195 and rallied to save Relena Peacecraft in the Eve Wars."

"Yes, good, good, but do you remember who they were? What were their names? What did they look like?" I'm trying, desperately, to tell her what she should already know without saying the words.

"I didn't see a lot of it, so I don't know much..." That much is clear, dollface. "But I remember Heero Yuy! He has the same name as that pacifist that was assassinated! And I remember Quatre Winner because he's so famous for Winner Enterprises. I think his partner, Trowa-something might have something to do with it too..."

"Didn't you ever see the news?" I always tried my best to stay out of the media and usually succeeded, but they frequently turned the camera on Heero, the star of the show, and I was invariably standing next to him. "They were on there quite a bit last time I checked."

"Oh yeah!" she cries with a click of her fingers. "I remember - there was another guy. He had a funny name, I can't remember what it was, but he had really long hair..."

I blow my gum into a bubble and it pops in a satisfying sort of way into the silence. Georgia, it seems, has finally got the picture. I immediately decide that anyone who comes into my office should have no doubts about my identity and take a mental note to ask Quatre for all his photos from the wars. They would look good as a collage on my noticeboard.

Georgia does not leave in the face of working with an ex-terrorist. Instead, she gets injured in our next field mission, develops blood poisoning from a nasty bullet wound and is declared unfit to work for the next three months. I am slightly sorry to see her go, but much more sorry when I see who replaces her.

After another tense meeting with Une, involving much first-name-calling and 'I'm disappointed in you' speeches, I go back to my office to recuperate. This time, however, I am not spared a few hours to ready myself for the arrival of my new partner. Instead, I enter my office to find a guy clearing Georgia's stuff into a box, declaring rudely that he is her replacement.

Major Travers – he never tells me his first name – is tall, loud and brash, coupled with a desire for perfection and he has a stick up his ass that rivals Wufei's. He is my superior in rank, Human Resources having decided I need direction and thinking that it'll be harder for me to kill off someone who outranks me, and he insists that I address him with 'Major'. It is hardly surprising that we clash rather strongly and he doesn't even last a week. Partly due to my deliberate misbehaviour and partly to a very bad field mission in which I 'accidentally' break his radio, he requests transfer himself. I am not sorry to see him go.

Une decides to punish my wickedness with suspension. The previous week, I had been angry because of Travers and I am sad to say I may have taken it out on Heero. Now, I'm restless because I'm stuck in the house all day on my own with no one but Winston for company and nothing but the thought of the look on Travers' face as he stormed out of the office to comfort me.

I am very grumpy throughout my suspension – daytime TV is beyond boring – and this is reflected in my attitude to Heero. Aware of my bad-temper during Travers' stint as my partner, I try to be nicer to him, but it comes out decidedly forced. Heero starts coming home later and later after I purposefully stay awake. I realise that he is avoiding my strained demeanour and I don't blame him. I wonder why I sound so stilted and put-on, and then understand that I am putting it on.

When I come off my suspension, I am summoned to Une's office again and I drag my feet through the corridors. I am not looking forward to another meeting filled with disappointed stares and disapproving glances. It's like being back in school again, being punished for bad behaviour, only it's much more serious. Just as if I were in danger of being expelled, I can tell that Une is seriously thinking about whether it's worth keeping me around. A danger to my colleagues. Nothing happened to Travers during his short stay, but Georgia's accident, while technically not my fault, could be attributed to me, as benefit of the doubt is conspicuously thin on the ground these days. It makes me wonder how Heero's doing, cooped up in an office with Wufei. If anything, I envy him. Even working with Wuffers The Woman Hater has got to be better than struggling through boatloads of kids and old people.

I plan to skulk outside of her office door for a while, but Une catches sight of me somehow through her closed blinds, leading me to believe that she has x-ray vision. If this turns out to be true, it would explain a number of things.

"Come in."

The commanding voice today, the one she uses to remind us she is Lady of All She Surveys. I notice she skirts over using my name, first or last, and wonder whether it's a sign.

"Sit."

She looks tired and not in the missed-night's-sleep kind of tired. I'm fed up of seeing that world-weary look on young people everywhere. It's all around the office, in all those that lived through the war with a few more scars than others and it flits across Quatre's face every so often when I visit him. I particularly resent its presence when I look in the bathroom mirror every morning.

She looks at me, waiting for me to speak first. Since I never do anything I am expected to do, unless threatened with being picked for the departmental basketball squad, I stare straight back and say nothing.

She sighs deeply. "I'm tired of having these conversations with you."

I nod slowly. I wonder briefly whether she's had similar conversations with Heero.

"You're being transferred to the Academy," she says, without preamble.

"Huh?" I'm surprised, having expected anything but that. "I'm going back to basic training?"

"No," she replies. "You'll instruct."

The only thing worse than basic training is having to teach it, just the sort of move I should have expected from Une. It can be disguised as an attempt at teaching me humility and responsibility, but really I know that it is just another punishment. Une knows I will hate this, and she makes it very clear that this is a soft option, one that I am never comfortable with. I don't do stuff by halves and that includes my work. I don't want to be put in an obscure, out of the way job like instructing and Une knows it.

I am waved back to my office with the order to clear it. Never before have I had to clear my desk. I have stayed in the same office ever since I joined the Preventers and there's several years worth of Duo Crap in there. It takes some time to shift all the miscellaneous rubbish into boxes and I am ferried through the city to the Academy in an official car that makes me feel very small, seated behind the driver and clutching a box filled with papers, photos and pens that I am sure I won't need in my new job.

It is only when I get there that I realise that I didn't tell Heero that I've been transferred.

I come home surprising late and surprisingly satisfied. After a morning of bureaucracy involving paperwork and an interview with my superior, the day turned out better than I had expected. Sure, it was still shit and nothing like the good old days, but it was definitely better than listening to Major Travers bitch at me.

I'm meant to be instructing practical exercises, as theory isn't one of my strong points, but they seem to think I'm not up to it. With my track record, I'm not surprised that they made me spend the afternoon teaching bomb disposal to a room of too-eager kids, armed only with a whiteboard, a pen and my own questionable drawing skills. Thankfully, I'm charged with recruits that are as green as can be, they've only been in the Academy for a few weeks, and most of them are marginally younger than me. I try not to think about teaching the more advanced classes: I feel slightly ill whenever I do.

Despite how late I am, Heero isn't back. I wonder briefly what kind of party he's having with Wufei and I'm seized by a surge of jealousy. What I wouldn't give for a drawn out mission, faulty intelligence and life-threatening situations...

I am suddenly starving and realise I haven't eaten a proper meal in days. Having not been shopping, there is nothing in the cupboards and, in a fit of inspiration, I make pancakes. I make too much mixture, but I make as many as I can anyway. I eat until stuffed and put the extra in the fridge with the vague idea that Heero may want some when he comes home.

I go to bed and, after what seems like days of restless sleep, I get up in the middle of the night, Heero's side of the bed still empty, and duct tape over the bathroom mirror.

End Part 2

Again, I have to remind you that THIS IS A REPOST. It was previously an entry to Moments of Rapture, but it was imperfect. Please don't regale me with your own ideas for the plot – this story's already finished and no obvious changes will be made.

HOWEVER, please please please continue with the feedback. Particularly: is Winston the plot device a useless add-on that's as bad as a crappy OC? Is Georgia's obliviousness believable? Do you get the whole duct tape over the mirror thing? And, most important of all, do think I should have written in the sex scene instead of just implying it? I wasn't sure if it needed it at the time, but on reflection...