Warnings: harsh language, adult themes, naked Duo.

Fourth Chapter:

Duo slowly drifted toward the deck, limply. The micro gravity gave one last soft tug, and then he felt the freedom of zero-g; this was bad. It was comfortable though, and he felt sleep touching the corner of his eyes. He was fatigued, but the adrenaline high wouldn't let him close his eyes. He knew that if this "Archer" didn't report in soon, this corridor would be swarming with the fuckers. That last thought caused fear to slither down his spine; he needed to do something, and fast.

The dead body floating a few feet from him suspended all thoughts of sleep. His heart raced, causing immeasurable pain in his still lacerated hand. He looked down at the damned thing; the cut was clean, revealing the contrast of the sickly yellow looking fat, and the dark red lines that made his muscle layers. He turned it over to inspect it, and winced at the sharp pain that tore through his appendage. On the blade, the white of bone was showing, and there were deep grooves in it where the cable still rested. He silently thanked God that it hadn't cut into a joint, because if it had pulled on a joint he was sure that it would no longer be attached to him.

He made to unwind the bloody cord, and he watched in morbid fascination as it peeled out of his bone without so much as a tinge of discomfort. When the cable was free, blood started to ooze out of his flesh and hung with him, suspended in the air. Just before the blood covered the wound he saw something that made him want to cry, there were visible cracks in the bone. He was doomed. It was worse than useless in a fight.

He did a quick scan of the hall, looking for something to patch his hand with. His eyes locked on the normal suit the pilot had been wearing, and it struck him, a combat suit always has suture tape. Normal suits used suture tape for sealing breaches. He was still floating from the rebound off of the portal to the cockpit, and was suspended out of reach from any surface he could launch off of. At this rate he would bleed out before he needed to worry about any of archer's friends. He felt the slippery cord pull from his grasp, but the thought of multiple soldiers rushing him in the small hallway paralyzed his mind, not allowing him to care for the small gory cord.

"Shit," he muttered to himself as he surveyed his situation. The only thing he could see was the disembodied head that leisurely twisted several feet away, and still wearing the slackened grotesque echo of a grin that seemed to be mocking him. He shot it the bird. The small currents caused by his quick movements jarred the head. It swirled in the invisible eddies of the now tumultuous air. He watched it as it rode the tide of his waves of kinetic force.

It bobbed toward the bulkhead, and lightly tapped the steel partition. The thin nylon cord fluttered, wagging languidly in the gravity deprivation. This soft movement inched the cord back toward Duo. He didn't waste this second chance. He snatched the cord, and pulled the head toward him. The head jumped at that stimulus from the other side of the nylon ligature sailing through the air, and trailing gore like a macabre disintegrating marionette. It sailed toward him. He twisted vigorously, spinning his body so that his belly was parallel to what has once been the floor. Once he was in position it was a simple thing to catch his new puppet. He looped the cord around the head's face, catching it under the forehead. He reeled in the grappler's base.

Several agonizing seconds of the awkward work passed, and he felt soft leather brush his leg. He tried to hook it with his leg, sending it spinning forward. It bounced lightly off of his ribs. He snatched at it, throwing him off balance, and he began tumbling oddly. His odd gyrations wrapped the cord around his waist, as he slowly rotated toward the deck. He was overjoyed at this new development, but with no handholds this was not ideal.

He no longer needed the grappler a better opportunity had arisen; he unwound it from his waist, and pushed it away. He now tumbled headlong toward what was once the floor. He twisted to meet it. His shoulder bushed metal; he coiled his arms, and pushed hard off of the deck. He sent himself hurling feet first toward the ceiling. The light fixtures could provide the perfect anchor while he decided his next move. He landed heavily on the lamp cluster. He straddled it catching himself with his knees. The thing was made of cheap aluminum, and he felt it bend on his impact.

The screeching of the aluminum made him grate his teeth, but he had thrown himself pretty hard and the momentum was not easily lost, even upon collision. The maiming of their cheap housing displaced the long florescent bulbs. He heard the thin glass scraping against metal, and more worrisome, against more glass. Duo knew he had to do something, and fast or he was going to get a crotch full of crushed glass; he was not looking forward to picking the pieces out of his foreskin, he had to move, before they burst.

A florescent bulb flickered to life in the survival station that was set between the galley and the flight deck. The harsh light bleached the contents of the small alcove, one of which immediately caught his attention. There was another grappler cannon. He yelped, although there was no intelligible language imprinted in the discordant sound the intent was suspended somewhere between relief and excitement. He rolled his hips, which were still compressing the aluminum of the light fixture.

He rocked to his left, away from the alcove, trying to get to the metal grating of what had once been the ceiling. He snapped his legs open, releasing the light. There was a hissing, that came from the galley as it opened, although not the roar of explosive decompression, there was defiantly a leak. A dark figure floated in, with a backlit helmet. He could clearly see the clean-shaven face, and sharp, yet handsome features of the young man. Duo was tumbling toward the metal grating quickly. The world slowed as he fell toward the steel.

He slammed into the grating thunderously, and slid laterally. He felt the stinging of small lacerations from the thin metal strips digging into his skin. There was a crack that echoed through out the small chamber, and he was showered in nebula of glass. Duo curled into a ball, and cupped his genitals tightly to protect them from invading shards. The new posture lent more of his skin to the unforgiving grate that he was still sliding across loudly. Two more shots followed, hitting the grating around him with ear splitting resonance. He was still curled into the fetal position when he collided with the metal wall.

His ass and cupped hands hit first, forcing them closed on his balls. Tears welled up in Duo's eyes as he forced himself to slap his feet against the wall to propel himself toward the alcove. Duo unfurled in his flight toward his prize. He was still holding his balls, and tears still streamed out of his eyes, but he forced his body to fly toward his lifeline. He felt like he was in the air forever. He reached out his hand, and brushed the course flat webbing holding the grappler in place. Duo felt something sweep his right leg into his left pulling him off balance, and spinning him in the small space. He didn't have much room; however, and instead struck the sharp metal corners of the alcove with his left hip, and lower ribs.

His head bounced off of metal. There was an ominous pop, which he felt more than heard. Pain swallowed Duo in white hot flashes, but he was sure he felt something give in his chest. Through the pain he vaguely registered coughing, but it was too heavy and wet to be a cough, a wretch maybe. Inky black hovered at the edges of white flashes that dominated his sight. Duo blinked the white out of his eyes, and saw a nebula of what could only be his blood.

The black cloud still hovered at the edge of his vision; it was more persistent than Duo was comfortable with. He felt himself drifting away from the survival station, and panicked. He snatched at the cannon, which had drawn him to the brink of death. The restraints were no more forgiving than those of its twin on the bridge. The industrial webbing and steel latch were not apparently made to be opened in an emergency.

Duo was pissed, when would you use these damned things other than in an emergency? Duo felt, as a wounded animal the presence of the Oz soldier as it moved toward his kill. The lack of gravity can be very impeding with out the help of handholds, a fact that Duo was very happy for at this moment. Duo yanked heavily on the wrist cannon. A loud ripping filled the hall as the flat webbing gave way and the grappler burst out of the alcove, landing squaring between Duo's eyes and rebounding lightly.

He snatched above his head for it, but was rewarded only with blinding pain surging through his ribs. He could taste the pain stinging in the back of his throat. The pain paralyzed him, and the gravity of his situation weighed heavily upon him, as he watched his lifeline drift ever further from him. He had defiantly broken something.

He twisted gingerly, wincing at the slightest wrong move as he turned to face the Oz operative that was still struggling toward him in the non-gravity. The Oz soldier still had his small pistol trained on Duo as he continued his strange pantomime. Duo was having a hard time keeping his calm now with the man closing in on him, and no obvious escape routes. Duo glanced around the room with panic slowly building in the back of his mind, and taking more effort to stifle with every strange shuffling step the man took toward him.

Duo lifted his right hand in surrender, leaving his left trailing in deference to his damaged left side. The Oz soldier adjusted his pistol at Duo's left side, and jerked his gun up. He gruffly said afterwards, "Up!" Duo tried to comply, lifting his left arm slightly. All the while fighting his body's instinct to curl it around him, keeping his ribs intact.

Duo coughed heavily, and felt something thick and wet bubble up in his throat. Duo felt his abs spasm, and red-hot blades scrape through his chest. He doubled over and coughed out another nebula of thick blood. Duo curled in on himself, and wrapped his arms tightly around ribs trying to ward off the pain. The man didn't miss his chance, and sprang on Duo with unprecedented, speed.

He kneed Duo hard in the ribs. He felt bone scraping bone, and blood bubble up into his throat. It exploded out of his mouth, in a tumultuous dark cloud. Rough hands tore Duo's arms around to his back again, inflaming his chest. He tried to struggle against them, but all he got for his efforts was a sharp strike to the base of his neck. Everything blurred, and his senses faded, pulling him slowly into the dark.

Through the haze Duo could feel cold steel slam shut around his wrists, digging painfully into his flesh, and cutting off circulation. He weakly pulled at his new restraints. The man hit him again, this time harder, sending him sailing toward the still open door to the galley. Duo wasn't worried there was no gravity, and he had had training in zero G, this man obviously hadn't. Duo shifted his weight, changing his trajectory. He aimed himself at the wall next to the door.

How lucky that the man was such a novice, he had let go of Duo in this environment. Something grabbed onto Duo's hands, and yanked at his arms harshly tearing at his newly reseated right. Pain clouded his vision, as he started to fly sideways toward the gaping bulkhead. He flew through the threshold, and something snatched at the pit of his stomach. Duo noticed he was the only thing floating in the galley, but not for long.

He slammed into the floor, and slid through sharp glass, and porcelain shards. He had forgotten that he had retrofitted the ship with localized gravity generators. He did it when he had gotten the ship so that on long voyages he could customize the each room to his preferred gravity. However he had always kept the galley at a full G because it was almost impossible to eat properly otherwise, and cooking in anything less was just plain suicidal.

Duo rolled over and tried to push himself onto his knees; no small feat with hands bound, but the man was on top of him before he could steady himself. The man pushed Duo roughly, and held him down. The man dug his knee into the small of Duo's back, and forced Duo's face into the metal paneling of his floor, grinding it into the sharp remains of his flatware.

Fucked, was the only word Duo could think of to describe his current predicament. The man on top of him was speaking softly into his intercom. The man's voice wasn't altogether unpleasant, and in another situation Duo could see enjoying the man being on top of him and whispering. Duo however knew what awaited him on the other end of that line, more Oz lackeys; that was not something he would ever look forward to. There was a quiet response to his progress report, and the man seemed flustered. Duo shifted lightly in a vain attempt to get more comfortable, but that only made the hold he was in hurt worse. He shifted again, and the man shimmied to the left. Duo nearly cried at the cascade of pain that followed his simple movement.

Duo soon gave up and lay as still as he could, biding his time. Duo felt the man shift as he put his gun, back in the holster, and pull something out of his side pouch. The small movement was unpleasant but the man seemed to be consciously trying not to hurt him. Duo lay, hoping that the man would get off soon. The man snatched Duo's damaged right hand and pulled on it. Duo grunted and tried to pull it out of his reach, but with the limited range his handcuffs afforded him the motion was pathetic.

The man also gingerly picked it back up, and started wrapping something around it. Duo stopped struggling, and allowed the man to finish he field wrappings. When the man had finished with Duo's damaged hand he felt around Duo's body, running his fingers over the defined flesh of Duo's back then arms, gently searching for injury. When he stopped at Duo's shoulders he softly caressed his way down to Duo's chest, being particularly thorough over the dark bruises that were forming around the areas where Duo had hit the wall.

The man ghosted over a particularly nasty looking bruise on Duo's left side. He pressed very lightly on it. Duo jumped at the pain that cascaded out of the small touch. He hacked heavily, spraying the debris-covered floor with dark red blood. He moved his fingers down to Duo's right leg. There was a deep angry looking bruise that was sprouting up around a jagged bullet hole. He flipped Duo over to inspect his leg. The man lifted Duo's leg, and ran his hand down Duo's inner thigh, gently prodding at various intervals.

Duo shuddered at the man's touch, and to his horror it was not in revulsion. The man looked up from his work and looked into Duo's eyes. A small smile pulled at the corner of the man's lips. Duo broke eye contact, and tried not to think of the man gently feeling up his leg. The man stopped suddenly, and dropped Duo's leg. He didn't have the strength to stop it from slamming hard into the ground, and cringed at the impact.

The man reached behind him, and pulled out a wicked looking tool. Duo tried to look away as the man opened his legs and felt the inside of his leg again. Apparently he found what he was looking for, as he stabbed the tool deep into Duo's flesh without so much as a word. Duo nearly jumped out of his skin, and loudly yelped out his surprise. He twisted the thing, and Duo couldn't stifle his cry of pain. The man yanked the device back out, a small oblong, and gory object was caught in it. Duo looked at the man with tears in his eyes, and his mouth gaping in shock at him. He rewarded Duo by pulling a bullet out of the nasty looking tool, and lightly tossed it onto Duo's chest where it landed with a wet thud. Duo cringed at the sound, and felt the tickling of the sticky object as it rolled off of his chest.

Duo reopened his eyes, and watched the man patch up the bullet wound and the man's extraction point. "Why, are you doing this?" The voice was hollow, and thin. He quickly glanced around the room, looking for the wretched creature that might have uttered it. It didn't take long for him to realize that they were the only ones in the room. He looked back down at the man, who was watching him; a mixture of surprise and humor contorted his sharp features.

The man stayed silent and turned his attention back to his work. He eventually worked his way back up to Duo's chest, and stopped. He cupped Duo under the armpits and lifted him into the sitting position. He took out a strange looking tan bandage out of his utility belt, and wrapped it tightly around Duo's chest. Duo just regarded the man silently.

The fatigue was disabling, but pain and confusion kept him awake, and focused on the enigmatic soldier. The silence was a ringing in Duo's ears, as he numbly watched the Oz soldier, and even found himself appraising the young man's work with approval, to his surprise. He found himself wondering where the man had learned the art of field dressing. When he had fought with the Oz faction he couldn't remember them being so well versed in field dressing.

Duo remembered being appalled at the treatment of injured soldiers in the field. The man obviously had to be new to the whole prisoner thing, as he left his field issue medical tools within Duo's reach. Duo had several lock picks hidden in his braid, old habits. He pulled one out, and made such quick work of his restraints it was laughable, His only problem was disguising the soft clicks they made. When the man pulled on the tape the loud ripping noise was perfect. He had to wait after finding each tumbler's breakpoint till the man pulled more suture tape from the roll.

The man hadn't finished patching his chest before he was free. He inched his fingers toward the gleaming metal articles. The scalpel looked particularly promising. He snatched up the small cutting tool. The compact design fit fully, and easily into his palm. He positioned it so that it would poke out between index and middle fingers when he made a fist, and dragged his palm across the floor to rest it at his side, and prepared to use the small instrument on the young man in front of him, "We weren't ordered to kill you, Mr. Monad," the man's soft tone pulled Duo from his silent reveries. The man didn't look up from his work on Duo's chest while he spoke.

Duo balked loudly at the soldier, sending a cascade of pain through out his damaged chest, "So what do you call crashing into my fucking ship, and shooting at me then?" Duo's last question dripped out of his mouth

"An attendance request," the man replied disinterestedly, still working on bandaging the other man's injuries.

"Must be a hell of a party, if that was just the invitation," Duo replied snidely. The soldier didn't look up from his work on Duo's injuries to reply, but he could see the tell tale twitching of a suppressed smile. The man's face began to swim, and waver. Duo's eyes felt heavy, and he felt a pleasant buzz working it's way down his spine. Duo tried to think if the man had given him any anesthetic, but his mind drifted numbly. He couldn't hold a thought any longer. All he wanted, was to go back to sleep. The man grabbed Duo by the shoulders, and stared directly into his eyes. "Did you know your eyes are beautiful?" He vaguely wondered if he said that, or thought it.

The man's beautiful hazel eyes were swimming. It made Duo a little nauseous to try and focus on him. He lifted his left hand off of Duo's shoulder, and waved it under his nose. Duo tried to focus on the moving object, but a pleasant buzz in the back of his head made the man's finger leave long trails, and Duo soon gave up. He moved Duo's head gently, almost tenderly to look at the back of his neck.

"Tranquilizers," the man whispered in Duo's ear.

(~*~*~)

AN:

This is where I beg for reviews, I'm genuinely thrilled that so many people are reading this. If you like it, and you like the weekly updates let me know. Ask, & ye shall receive. Otherwise, back to fortnightly!

Special Love to Clara, and Elle. PS I think I should clarify. Chapter three was never in the original manuscript, it was specifically written for Elle. I did throw Trowa in early for Clara because as I said; this story does not necessarily follow the MoR rules anymore.