Disclaimer: What? Really? People are still confused over this?

Warnings!: This thing is about as M as M can get. I'm testing all the boundaries of my writing abilities, and that means M-rated yaoi scenes. If you don't understand what that means, then leave. Now. There's also underage sex, eventual non-con undertones, more yaoi, language, blood, gore, death, and other nasties. I'll never be able to write war is grotesque and horrifying as it really is, but I'm sure as hell gonna try.

Note: Around episode 3...34-ish?


Memento Mori

Chapter Seven

The Weary


"Everyone has his day and some days last longer than others."

~ Winston Churchill


"Hilde, I need you to not be here right now."

"Shut up, Duo. I decided to help you. I'm not leaving."

The words echoed in his head as he stared down the butt of a gun.

"Hilde, I mean it. These enemies are different. They–"

"I'm not leaving you! You just got... got...! I'm not leaving!"

He almost leaned against the thing, he was so hot. He'd been tortured and tagged and dumped, but he hadn't been given one fucking antibiotic. Hilde hadn't found him for... well, he didn't know how long he'd been in that white room, but it had been three days before she'd found him in sector B. Less than one since he'd dealt with Trent.

"You thought you could hide from us, Gundam bitch?"

Duo glared up at the young man smirking through thick lips and felt his own lips curl. The man off to Duo's side murmured something low. "Why don't you suck it yourself, asshole!"

Hilde's words made Duo's gaze whip to her. The man in front of her was older, obviously the superior of the two. He was snarling. Duo leaned toward Hilde instinctively just as she was backhanded with the man's weapon. "Hilde! Damn you bastards!"

The young man hit him, too, and his head smacked into the pavement. The pain that had brewed behind Duo's eyes slammed into focus once again. He groaned.

"Get up, fucker."

"Go to hell," he hissed, and watched as the superior officer grinned and grabbed Hilde's breast. When she didn't respond to the touch, Duo knew she was unconscious. "Get your fuckin' hands off her!"

The kid raised his gun to hit Duo again, but this time Duo rolled onto his back, used his bound hands for balance, and kicked the kid in the face. He landed on his back, leaving Duo enough time to twist onto his feet. The superior officer was gaping. Duo smirked. "Having fun?" he asked. His voice was like silk.

"Bastard!" the superior said, and lifted his gun with oddly thin arms. Duo was already in front of the man, ducking low and kicking his shin. The man fired into the air and landed with a thud. Duo stomped on the man's hand until he released the gun, then twisted backwards while the man clutched a broken finger. He shot the man in the gut before turning back to the kid.

The boy's eyes were wide, his gaze trapped on his superior's face as the man slowly bled out. His skin was chalk white. Duo almost felt bad, for an instant; the boy was a couple years older than him, but had obviously never seen the real world before. Then Duo snarled and shot him in the head. An instant death was the only comfort he could afford to give.

Then he was sifting through his hair to find a small razor, which he used to clumsily hack at his ropes. He turned to Hilde and noticed she'd fallen into a small pile of hobo shit. He wrinkled his nose. "Oh, she's gonna be pissed." Then he hacked her arms clean and bent to pick her up.

It was bad. Ever since that bastard Trent had found him, it was like every single soldier in the known universe was crawling out of the damn woodwork. They needed to get off the colony, but the place was swarming with these guys. Duo had been lucky that they'd turned the corner on these two losers. But what about next time?

The back alleys had been the only clear paths, but it seemed like Oz was finally getting the layout of the colony. That meant the back alleys were a no-go. The sewers, too, and the colony systems would also probably be blocked. That left the front door. Duo hated using the front door.

"C'mon, Hilde, baby, ya gotta get up." He lightly slapped her cheek a few times, then gave up and dragged her as best he could. His head was raging up a thunderstorm, complete with lightning bolts, and his vision was fuzzy still from... from whatever those bastards had done to him. Put in him. Whatever. Hell. It had only been a day since Hilde had found him. A day since she'd pulled him out of a gutter and cleaned the streets off of him. From the smell of her, he'd have to return the favor.

He checked before he turned a corner, then hid between two buildings, behind a trash can. He couldn't go to the main streets with an unconscious woman over his shoulder. He leaned her down and patted her cheek again. "Hilde," he said, his voice just above a whisper, sounding like a hiss, "Hilde!"

She groaned, and Duo grinned. Her eyelids fluttered. She turned her head, breathed in deep – and made a disgusted noise. "What's that smell?"

Duo laughed and patted her back – gingerly. "That, sweetie, would be your hair, your neck, and the top of your shoulder blades."

"Ugh!" She reached up to try to pat it off, then thought better of it. "What – that guy. That pervert!" Her voice was rising, but she seemed to realize it and dropped her volume again. "Where are they? What happened?"

"I took care of them." She looked at him, up and down, and seemed to grow awed as she found no more injuries than he'd had before that mess.

Then she stood. "I need to use a restroom."

For the smell. Couldn't exactly slip around unnoticed smelling like literal shit. "All right. Go in here; there should be a bathroom in one of these two buildings. Your face won't be as easily recognized as mine, but I'll be nearby if you need me. Just shout. And Hilde?" He grabbed her arm as she began to stand. "I'm serious. Don't try to be a hero."

She smiled for him, though her nose was wrinkled. "Oh, Duo. I already told you, didn't I? I'm not leaving you alone during this."

Duo's brow furrowed, but she was already walking out of the alley. He had to wait a moment himself, had to straighten his baseball cap and tuck his braid back underneath his shirt. But then he was moving again, watching the street as he entered from the alley. Hilde went into the mechanic's shop first, and when she didn't come quickly back out, he figured they had a bathroom. She took a while, long enough that he was getting antsy and was ready to storm the place, but then she walked out, her chin high and her nose unwrinkled. She was downright grinning at him. "I feel a lot better now."

She at least looked it; her hair, which had begun to look a little oily – though not nearly as oily as his looked by now – was wet. He was tempted to do his own, but he knew better than to leave himself in such a vulnerable position. "Good. Let's go."

She rolled her eyes, but did as he bade. They walked normally down the road, made a turn when Duo said they had to, and otherwise tried to inconspicuously watch everything and everyone all at once. The street didn't hold its usual crowd; the plethora of soldiers marching up and down the colony had frightened off most. Only those who had somewhere they needed to be – work, a shuttle flight – were out, and most were keeping to their cars. Duo and Hilde slid between pockets of people, their eyes on anyone with a uniform or walking with their backs a little too straight. Duo nudged Hilde to warn her of two more plainclothed soldiers and bent over her as if to flirt. "We still have another eight blocks, and then I have to steal a shuttle."

She giggled and tilted her head. He wanted to grin. She got it. "I trust you."

Jesus. Sometimes this girl still surprised him with her naïvete. He tried to keep his gaze flirtatious and not... something else. "You hardly know me, Hilde."

She downright grinned then. A soldier brushed against Duo's arm. He had to bite his lip to not tense. "I'm not stupid, Duo." Now there was another reason why he was biting his lip. "When I slowed down to think, I could tell you had saved me again."

He blinked.

"You didn't have to." She nudged him, just for fun, and then they were walking again. He hadn't even realized they'd stopped. It took him a short second to get his brain rearranged, to pay more attention to the men standing in front of an alleyway, pointing, than the woman hurrying down the street with a young child in her arms. The buildings were all skyscrapers, and in a fit of paranoia, Duo led Hilde away from the good sniping location they were about to head into.

Something pinged into the concrete walk.

Duo pulled Hilde back and hissed. No one else seemed to have noticed. Duo turned to her and leaned in as if to kiss her. "Sniper," he said. It was unnecessary. Her eyes were wide. She'd noticed it, too.

"Hey!"

"Fuck!" Duo hissed. Beside them was a bank. It wasn't the best place, but there was nowhere else. He pulled her inside. Hilde's feet dragged for a moment, but then she got them moving again and stumbled along behind him.

"Hold it!"

Duo walked in, his gaze sweeping around to catch a description of the place. Two security guards, one in front of a hallway that would undoubtedly lead to the vault, another milling around beside the front counter. The counter stretched to where the vault hallway began, while other offices sat to the right of the door, hiding in an alcove. Duo went to the bathrooms positioned in front of the offices. He waved to one of the women behind the counter, even as his fist clamped so hard around Hilde's wrist that she winced.

"Right," he said, and walked with her, gesturing vaguely with his free hand, doing a small dance as he got near the bathroom doors. He gestured to the little stick figure in a dress. "In. Get out."

"I'm not leaving you," she said, glaring at him.

"Meet again at the shuttle bay," he said, and let go. "Don't die!"

She opened her mouth, then closed it. It was in her eyes; she was thinking about what he was saying. They needed to split up, needed to get through. And she knew – he could see the darkness in her eyes as the realization dawned on her that she was slowing him down. The darkness turned to pain. "I'll be fine," she said, whispering. She slid into the bathroom.

The bank doors burst open just as she disappeared inside, and Duo slid into his own bathroom as a bullet sank into the plaster. The bathroom wasn't special; one regular stall, one handicapped, two urinals, two sinks. The only window was a small slit at the top of the far wall in the handicapped room. Duo locked the stall door and grabbed one of his bowie knives. It had surprised him, waking up with his weapons, until he'd remembered that they'd wanted him crippled, not killed. He'd found their presence reassuring as his brain had tried to pound its way out of his skull. He found himself grinning manically as he pulled it out now. The rusted lock on the window was easily broken. The thing was just big enough that Hilde would probably be able to slide right through. Duo heard one person enter the men's bathroom, heard from a distance another enter Hilde's, and hoped she could get away, or at least feign some sort of innocence. Duo couldn't, and when he didn't hear any more footsteps after the door opened, he flattened himself to the floor.

The shots were loud and slow. Pistol shots. Each banged into the stall door, into the stall wall, sinking deep. Some shot through and pinged off the tile wall. Then there was silence, the silence that said the man was waiting for a sound. Duo looked up to the window. Part of him couldn't help but notice that here were no gunshots coming from the women's bathroom. Maybe there was another occupant? He could only hope.

In the silence, Duo heard his enemy take a small step forward, the man's shoe sliding slightly across the tiled floor. Duo pushed himself up and stood, keeping each movement steady, each touch of shoe on tile silent. He wanted to wipe his hands on the floor, wanted desperately to clean his braid. Instead he took his knife and jumped up. The man shouted. Duo heard the man's feet skid as he used his knife to lever the window up. The thing slid surprisingly easily, and he pulled himself up. He didn't have time to worry about how he was getting out; he went head-first to make sure he would be able to wiggle out without getting caught, then just slithered and shook his way through. More bullets pockmarked the bathroom wall, then a sharp flash of lightning rocked up and down his left leg. He grimaced.

Beyond the bank sat the alley they'd passed just minutes before. Duo saw the concrete on the ground and the clumps of weeds before he was pulling himself the rest of the way through, until gravity grabbed him by the waist and dragged him down and he had to concentrate on not getting his legs caught in the window. He switched his hands from holding him up from the wall of the bank to covering his face and neck.

He landed on his chest and his arms, barely able to roll to catch his fall before he hit the neighboring building. Through the window he heard some shouting and knew the man would be following him. His head screamed, pounded, beat like sledgehammers against the wall of his skin, throbbing and throbbing until he thought he would go mad. His vision spotted. His balance dipped. He had to lean against the nearby building and stagger his way up to his feet.

It was like a tsunami just crashed against his skull. He hardly managed to groan before he was back on the ground. His vision went from black to red. Everything banged and crashed in his skull all at once. Blind and battered, he stumbled, trying to find his feet, listening to bells clanging against his eardrums, knowing he was running out of time. He reached up and clutched his cross. He wasn't praying. He wasn't even hoping. He simply reached up and remembered why he couldn't die yet.

He held out his knife and turned. By now, the soldiers would have circled around. Hopefully, Hilde had gotten out before him. Hopefully, that was why she wasn't in the alley with him. He hoped she'd gotten away. He hoped she could handle herself half as well as she pretended she could.

"You! Halt!" Duo turned to the sound even as it made something in his head split open. He felt the world twist under his feet and clutched at the building. It scratched up his fingers, but he didn't get a good grip. His legs buckled.

He heard cloth, then a grunt, then something crumpled to the ground. He managed to get his body weight to tilt back toward the building wall and blinked blinked blinked. He saw someone, some shifty shape in front of him, someone else crumpled to the ground. He snarled and raised his knife.

"Duo!"

Something... snapped. His arm froze above his head. "Quatre?"

He still couldn't quite see, but he saw the person with their hands raised as if in surrender, the body short and slim. A teenager's body. Quatre's body?

"Thank Allah," the blond said, and Duo found his muscles wouldn't support him anymore. He slipped to the ground. His hand fell to his side, making the knife clank slightly on the concrete. "Duo?" The form ran forward. Duo could now see that sun-kissed hair and that fair skin, that weird vest and those pulled-down brows, low over sky-blue eyes, as the young man knelt and grabbed Duo's shoulders. He winced. "Duo, are you okay?"

The blond's voice was like an earthquake. Duo clutched his head and winced again. "Quatre. I... I can't believe it worked." His voice was no higher than a whisper.

Quatre's grip on his shoulders became a bit... stronger. "I'm just glad I got here in time. When your tracking device just turned on, I..." He squeezed again. "I had to come. I'm sorry I'm so late."

"Nah. Thanks for coming." He let Quatre help him up, let the blond practically carry him through the alley to the back of the buildings, then slumped as Quatre sat him in-between dumpsters. Again. He almost laughed. Nothing like taking two steps forward and one step back. "Wait. Quatre, they're everywhere. You shouldn't be here." He couldn't believe how long that knowledge had taken to sift through his addled brain.

He could almost see clearly now, close enough to recognize the shadows hidden in Quatre's eyes, the tension in the small smile the blond gave him. "I had to come," he said again, and was gone. Duo made to follow and felt his head explode. He barely managed to swallow the grunt.

Only Quatre knew how much time passed then; Duo had a watch, but every time he tried to concentrate on the little digits, his eyes would blur and his head would pound. He finally gave up altogether and tried to listen for anything. Footsteps, shouts. Something. Nothing happened. No one raised an alarm, no one shouted about enemies. Duo heard nothing. Nothing at all. It made his chest tighten, that heavy silence.

Time seemed to slow. It made everything that hurt more prominent. His adrenaline wasn't rushing anymore, so his back and shoulders and ribs and head were hurting even more. Duo reached back and touched the back of his head. Beneath his hair, he felt along until he found the prickly edges of the stitches. He wanted to reach in and pull out whatever they'd put in, but he had no idea how, or even if he could. He'd need to get an X-ray – but when the hell would he find the time and resources for that?

"Duo?"

He dropped his hand and looked up so fast the pounding took on an even greater depth. He caught a splotchy image of Quatre before his vision fuzzed again. "Qat," he said, not thinking about what he was saying, and heard the silence before he heard the nickname slip out.

"It's safe to move for now," Quatre said, and the boy's arms went around Duo again. With the adrenaline gone, Duo found himself wincing. "Duo?"

"It's nothin'," he said, and tried to shoot Quatre a smile. Too bad he couldn't tell if he was smiling to the right one. He blinked a few more times, until there was only one Quatre and a tiny outline of another, and then he dug his feet into the concrete and pushed himself up. Quatre's hands kept him from losing his balance and diving back to the ground. "I'll be fine," he said, his mouth moving automatically as he scanned the entrance of the alley. Quatre kept on walking without pause. If Duo hadn't been so damn exhausted, he would have pulled Quatre back. As it was, he was the one dragged. Quatre felt his resistance, however, and paused. "Danger," Duo managed, but as he looked around, his brow furrowed. All the soldiers were gone.

"I caused a distraction," Quatre said. Duo cocked an eyebrow at him. "The shuttle pods in Sector C have all launched early. I also know someone here, someone who doesn't hate us Gundam pilots. He'll bring your Deathscythe to the shuttle we choose."

Duo grinned. "You're awesome, Quatre."

Quatre grinned right back. "Not Qat anymore?"

Duo tensed, but Quatre's giggling gaze relaxed him before he gave his body permission. "Qat, then."

The blond's grin shone twofold then, and they picked their way across the alleyways, Quatre picking up the pace as Duo's body started working in tandem. "Hilde," Duo said, knowing they were getting close to the shuttle port.

"What?" Quatre paused for a moment. They were running out of time, probably. It had taken too long to get Duo moving; they were still ten minutes out from the port and the checking of each shuttle was probably almost finished.

"Hilde," Duo said again. "She's someone I got involved..." He tried for the thousandth time to stand up, but apparently his skull had had enough abuse. His vision swam. He remembered the doctor who'd worked on him saying something about how the thing in his head would be hooked up to his occipital lobe. The lobe in charge of sight. Fuck. "I can't abandon her. Go without me, Qat."

"No." The boy's voice was almost cold. It made Duo jump. It had been a long time since he'd gotten to really sit with Quatre. Something... must have happened. The thought made Duo ache. He didn't want the kind Quatre to change. Damn war. "I'm not leaving you behind."

He said it like someone who'd done it before. "Qat..."

Quatre stopped just in front of the shuttle port and looked Duo over. His brow furrowed; the poor guy was probably trying to find Duo's injury and was having a hard time. "What does she look like?" he asked.

So Duo gave the blond a description and told him to be careful. When Quatre didn't respond to the words, he grabbed the boy's stupid vest. "I mean it, Qat," he said. "I don't want to lose you."

Something flashed in those eyes again, something hard and heavy and sobbing, before it was gone. "I'll come back for you," the blond said, and gently pried off Duo's fingers. That small back receded around the corner and disappeared again.

Duo entertained himself this time by slowly blinking his eyes open and closed, open and closed until his vision was almost normal. There was a gray tinge along the edges but otherwise, he could see just fine again. He checked his weapons – his two bowie knives, strapped in the holsters on his arms, his FN, only one of his Glock 28's – apparently the other was lost somewhere during his stay with the hospitable assassin doctors – and neither of his Winchester riot daggers, since he'd used both before even getting captured. He pulled out his bowie knife and slid to the edge of the building. Hurried footsteps were coming from the side opposite the shuttle port, and Duo quickly shuffled to the building opposite. The thrum of adrenaline sent the last vestiges of gray from his vision.

It was almost disappointing when three teenage girls raced out, each of them giggling rather stupidly and telling each other to hurry up. He watched their retreating backs with a sigh.

"Duo."

He jumped, then looked around. He couldn't see Quatre. Something lodged in his chest. "Status?" he asked, his voice almost shaking.

"We're both all right," Hilde said, and he jumped all over again. "He... is a friend, right?"

Jesus. Almost, almost he banged his head against the wall. He realized at the last second that that would be a very bad idea. "Yeah."

"Duo," Quatre said then, "we have a small problem."

Small? "Let me guess. Everyone at the port is looking for someone with my description."

This time when Quatre spoke, it was with a small smile. "Yes."

Duo had already known that would happen. "I can sneak pretty much anywhere," he said, hoping it didn't sound like he was boasting. "If you can get Hilde to safety, I'll be able to get out of here, too."

"I said I'm not leaving you, Duo!" Hilde hissed. Her voice, now that he concentrated on it, sounded like it was slightly muffled. Duo wondered why. Then he realized that for them to be leaning against a wall whispering, they probably only had a few certain position they could be in. The thought made him grin. Oh, he was teasing someone for something later on.

"I'm going to lead them away, cause some sort of ruckus," Quatre said. It effectively cut Hilde off. "I want you on the same shuttle as us, Duo. Do you understand?"

The kid's tone was so authoritative that Duo almost said 'yes' before even thinking about it. But when he did think about it, he thought of the danger he'd placed these two in, their connection to him, and the pain in Quatre's eyes. "Yeah," he said, his voice low. "I understand. The two of you be safe, okay?"

"We will," Quatre said. Hilde seemed ready to say something, but Quatre murmured something low and she was silent. Duo listened hard, but could only hear the tiniest of patter from their exit. At least Hilde was quiet on her feet.

Duo waited a moment, then tested his muscles. Once he was positive he was limber enough, he jumped onto the trash can, wincing as the thing bounced loudly under his weight. Then he launched for the top of the building and pulled himself up with the tips of his fingers. At least some business buildings were only one story.

Once he was on the top, he looked over the edge and scanned the thin crowd for Quatre and Hilde. He could see them, each holding the other's hand as if they were on a date, each surreptitiously scanning the area. Duo saw Quatre squeeze Hilde's hand, watched the woman slide slightly closer to Quatre and lean slightly away from him at the same time, preparing for an attack. Duo spotted the soldier that had made Quatre nervous, but the man was only holding one sheet of paper, and his eyes swept right over Qat and Hilde. Duo nodded and watched the two enter the large bubble building that led to the docking bay. Beside the bay were two parking garages, each rising up four stories to house as many cars as possible. Before those, however, was a long street, with nothing in the way of protection. Quatre and Hilde would be held up at Inspections, but it wouldn't take too long. It wasn't rush hour for shuttle launches, which meant less people in line.

Duo had memorized the basic layout of this colony before he'd gotten captured, however. He hurried from the top of the building, no longer needing to spy down on the people below, and once on the ground again, he slithered through two alleys and across a small parking lot in the span of time it had taken him to cross one street with Hilde. It was almost a feeling of triumph that swept through him then; he'd feared he'd lost something when those bastards had drilled open his skull, but he was at least still able to do this. He had to turn his head slower than he would have preferred, but he compensated by pausing longer whenever he met a corner or an obstacle or a shadowy crevice. He had to go the long way around, from where he'd been, practically in front of the port, all the way around the left around the small market district and into the tiny alcove of poorer houses. Once there, he hunched in his shoulders and pulled his hat bill slightly to the side before stepping on the street. It curved from the port to his street, turning to head up for about a mile before splitting into an intersection. He walked across the street, glaring sullenly around, his fingers resting against his FN.

The act did as it was supposed to: anyone who noticed him made efforts to un-notice him. And as soon as he was on the other street, he walked to the small backyards and skirted around a fence, then practically booked it across the rest until he was back in the market district. The flap of his braid and the shifting weight brought the warning ping of pain again, and once again his vision got splotchy. He gritted his teeth and pushed through it. The only obstacles left were the stores and the parking garage, and then he would have to sneak his way into the actual port. The backs of the stores was easy enough, just some more dodging through alleys and parking lots, and then he got to the shuttle port parking garage. This one would be a bit trickier. The place spanned the entire area, and Duo couldn't go around it and have a prayer of getting to Quatre and Hilde in time if he tried. They were undoubtedly past inspections by now, and their time at ticket pricing would be done, too. Quatre would have chosen one that waited for a short while, but he wouldn't feel safe waiting longer than fifteen or twenty minutes. Duo wouldn't feel safe with that, either. He needed to get into the bay and see which exit Quatre was at. The blond would know to sit near the windows, but if he was late, the chance of him catching Quatre before he got on his shuttle would practically vanish.

The garage was easy enough to enter. He had to pause just outside of the thing and check the cameras, then the guard station, before he could avoid the cameras and dodge around the guard sitting and staring at said cameras. Duo's picture was taped to one of the station walls. Duo had a stupid urge to stick his head behind it and wave. Instead he ducked and dodged under the glass and kept to the shadows until he reached the first line of cars. From there it was easy again; he flitted from car to car, plastered himself to one when a car sidled through, then got his way over to one of the slats in the concrete wall. Straight across from him was the tip of the security fence. Duo leaped.

Barbs on the top of the fence dug into his hands, ripping his palms open, but he was already scrambling up and over. His pants got ripped,one barb sliding like a thorn into his calf, then dragging through and out of his ankle when he flipped over. He launched himself over, and with a roll as he landed, slid against the side of the port. His vision was black again.

He caught his breath and tried to calm the pounding of his blood against his skull. He clutched at his injured leg and blindly reached for the torn mess of his pant leg. He ripped off the cloth and tried to tie it around his leg before he noticed its length. He grimaced, his eyes still blinking blinking blinking, trying to get sight to return. Damn those bastards!

"Is someone over there?"

Fuck! Duo leaned against the wall of the dome, his hands now switching slowly to his bowie knives. His vision was coming back, but too slowly. All he saw were vague shadows dancing. None of them looked human. His grip tightened around his weapons.

"Son of a bitch, Joey! You scared me half to death!"

Someone laughed. Duo felt his tension freeze, then snap as if cut. "Sorry 'bout that! It was too good to pass up." The voice was close, but Duo thought it might be coming from behind something. Duo stayed still and evened his breath.

"Dammit, you know the rules about that sort've thing! I couldn't called security, and then what kind've mess would we be in?"

Duo almost laughed. His vision was spotty, but slowly he was seeing colors again. He heard a shuttle being towed to the launch pads and felt the humor slip. Now wasn't the time to muse over irony.

Once he could see enough to know which shadows were shadows and which were objects or people, Duo started out again. For a while longer, he stuck to the port, his eyes scanning the windows high above, but he was too close. With a grimace, he slipped away from the port and ducked around an abandoned luggage rack. The two men were still talking nearby, and it was probably one of them who left the luggage rack. There wasn't much else around; someone was manning a truck that looked almost full, and the driver was drumming his fingers idly on the wheel. Beyond that were the ships, with a very large space in-between. Two of those ships were being hooked up for passenger access. Quatre had to be on one of those and not the one just now being carted up. Duo had taken far too long. Goddamn sight crap. Goddamn doctors.

Duo looked over to the windows again, but he could only see the top half. White ceilings and the beginnings of a sign, deep blue with white lettering. Ex. Probably an exit number. It linked to neither of the ships, though, and he turned to look at those two places, willing Quatre to get taller, willing a miracle–

Hold.

Duo had a flashback, a horrible moment of fearing the assassins were there, but the fist pointing out the window was small, pale. Quatre. Quatre was trying to give him one last bit of help. Hidden against the side of the luggage, visible to anyone who looked down far enough, his chest ached, his hope crested. He looked across from where that fist sat against the window, much higher than was probably comfortable for the short guy, and saw the closer docked ship to be the one he needed to get on. Damn. He would have to thank Qat for that one.

The journey still wasn't close to done, and the two men were finishing up their conversation. He looked over to the man at the truck again. Still bored, but now casting glances just over Duo's head to the two men, glaring at them. Duo ducked around the edge of the luggage cart and took another look around. The loading dock was being fitted into place, so the men involved with that wouldn't be looking around for a while. The two already docked sat without anyone manning it, just one man staring at the place where the dock latched to the ship, probably double-checking it. One last glance at the two lazy friends and Duo was off, sprinting with his body tucked low to the truck, sliding around and under it until he was hugging the bottom of the truck. His shirt was dragging on the ground, his back just barely off, no more than a couple of millimeters from causing drag burns as soon as the truck moved. Duo heard wheels, felt his burned hands scream in pain as the truck rumbled to life once more. He was holding the inner edges of the truck, keeping his fingers just barely away from anything that would cut them off, but the heat and vapor was encasing his injured hands. He looked down, just then remembering his leg, and saw a small puddle of blood forming underneath him. He grimaced. There was no time to clean it up, and with every muscle keeping him from leaning too far back, he couldn't even reach down and bloody his shirt for the cause. He could only hope the two men were so lazy they didn't even look down.

The wheels got to the truck, then paused. "Hey, is the truck leaking?" one man said.

"Huh?"

"Look." There was a pause, then, "it's just a drop. If it gets worse, we'll have maintenance check it out."

Duo almost collapsed from relief. The men were seeing his blood and, on the dark blacktop, mistaking it for gas. Something had to go wrong now – he was getting too lucky.

And as the truck took off at a hard angle, he realized how that bad luck would manifest. The truck was taking him toward the ships, but to the wrong ones, further away. He watched the ground, glaring as the bright sun from the colony's systems kept burning on the blacktop, until finally shadows emerged beneath him. He didn't have the time to wait for the man to stop, then take his first load to the ship. He should have known the luggage would already have been packed for the ships about to launch, but he'd never flown public transport before. Well, it didn't matter now. He waited for a shadow to become thick before he let go of the truck. He curled in on himself once he fell, his back scraping along the hard ground, the tires passing beside him. It took him a short moment to move, but then he was rolling into the shadows, his back ablaze and his vision – goddamn, his vision blackened once more. He felt for something to grab onto, but found nothing. The damn ships were probably raised on their posts, and he wasn't near one of them.

He touched the back of his head, but all that did was make the pain explode, turning the blackness red, like blood was on his retinas. He let go and breathed hard. He had to make it to that damn ship. Leaving Quatre and Hilde alone with his mess wasn't an option.

He shuffled toward where he thought the ship to be, then stopped. He wouldn't help anyone if he was caught. Instead he tilted his head back and listened. Silence hovered around him, but further off, he could hear a small, low hum, like the first note of a song. A ship. He turned to that and started again, stooping and running in that low position, hoping he was sticking to the shadows of the ships, each in their own small docks, brought into a line by the hauling trucks. Duo hoped none of the pilots were checking their proximity alarms or coming out for a short trip to somewhere.

His vision was coming back in gray, and thank God but he could see the long line of the loading dock and hustled his butt to that ship. The thing had a standard emergency hatch, an entry hatch, and the hatch Duo was looking for – the mechanic's hatch. The thing was small, but larger than the one on G's ship, and Duo hadn't managed to grow that much. According to G, his growth would always be stunted. It was the price of surviving on the streets.

Duo reached the hatch and pulled out a pair of tumblers. It was as he brought them in front of him that he took a look at his hands for the first time. He grimaced. They were a mess. Strips of flesh were dangling. His palm was a mass of blood. Both shook from the shock, and he couldn't get them still. At least nothing looked too permanent, and the pain was searing, which meant there wasn't any serious nerve damage. He took a few precious seconds to test each finger, and only when he found each moving, each feeling the weight of the tumbler, did he turn back to the hatch. The damn shaking made him take four times the length of time he would usually need, and one time he'd had to duck from the man checking the latch of the loading dock as he left, finally satisfied. Then he was in.

The space was cramped and small, the opening sliding into two sections, one working as an emergency escape for any mechanic in the wrong place at the wrong time – fairly useless unless the mechanic had followed the rules and worn the standard spacesuit – and the fuel tank, sinking from a small hose-like opening to a tank that recycled the fuel at least twenty times before needing a new amount of oxygen and ethanol to keep the ship moving. It meant fuel could be reused so long as oxygen and ethanol existed. At least it was lasting longer than gasoline.

Duo contorted himself into the opening just as a low rumbling sound neared. The hauling truck. Duo pulled his feet in and grabbed at the latch. It hung too far open, and Duo had to twist his poor, screaming back in order to snatch the thing. He pulled it closed, just barely managing to get it to close without a bang. The hauling truck ground to a halt, then a beeping sound as a loud whirr started up. The winches were being hooked onto the ship. Duo tried to get himself into an acceptable position for movement as the fuel tank grew hot. He inched away from it, then tried to move. It wasn't happening. As it was, he was twisted, his one hand still around the latch, his feet stretched by the latch, his spine forming a pretzel as his lower body pointed away from the latch and his upper body strained back toward it. For him to get the space needed to get everything pointed forward again, he would have to touch the tank, which would be damned hot by now. But he heard the loud bang as the winches caught the ship in its grasp. A new hum started then as the security locks around the posts disconnected and the posts were brought back inside the ship. Duo wished the damn security locks hadn't been installed. They made it impossible for people to get up through the hole made for the posts – which was the point, but still.

He sucked in a breath and twisted as far as he could from the tank before he began inching back into position. His chest touched the tank, and he just ripped himself through. The burn scorched across his chest and slid along his torso as he twisted through. His shoulder caught the worst of it, digging into the tank for a moment before he could get it loose and lie flat on the floor of the hatch. Just beyond was where he'd hoped to reached before having to close the damn latch, and he inched toward it until he could curl up in what was often termed the mechanic's hole, a place with a dip and space large enough to accommodate a full-grown man in order for him to get an repairs necessary finished. He sat there for a short moment, listening as the truck hauled the ship to a launch pad. He took a deep breath. It burned like a volcano, but the burns, once studied, weren't worse than second degree, and he thanked Shinigami for that. If he had to sit there through launch, however, he'd be fried. He got his ass out of the hole and touched the inner latch with the back of one mangled hand. Cool enough. And he didn't hear anything. Everyone would be belted down now, even the passengers. Duo opened the latch and took a quick look around.

The long, thin hallway was dark, the lights saved for the passengers. The place held the engine rooms and the maintenance control room, along with what looked to be a storage shed. Duo headed for that.

Again he used his tumblers to get inside, the clock ticking as the hauling truck stopped, as the winching cables were removed, as the truck left. Duo felt the engines rumble all around him and cursed his trembling limbs once again. The tumblers broke.

"Fuck." He reached into his hair and grabbed his last one. He used one of the broken tumblers to hold himself steady against the lock and glared at the tiny thing. The engines were roaring now, the floor of the ship shaking. He heard the whine as the thrusters kicked on. "Fuck!" Finally the tumbler clicked into place, and he jumped into the room and pulled the door closed. He didn't have time to brace himself before the ship bucked once and shot off the pad, breaching the colony's exit tunnel. He simply banged his head once more, this time against the corner of a locked cabinet, and barely had time to sever the emergency access panel before he passed out.


"Life is truly known only to those who suffer, lose, endure adversity and stumble from defeat to defeat."

~ Anais Nin


He had no idea how long he'd been out, but when he opened his eyes, his vision was back to normal and his body ached from being scrunched into place on the closet floor. He moved to stand and fell back down as soon as he put weight on his hands. He groaned, but managed to keep his head from banging against anything. Damn. His back hurt. This entire fucking endeavor blew. He'd have been able to get to the damn ship with time to spare if he hadn't needed to sit and get his damn eyesight back. He touched his chest, remembering the burn of the fuel tank, and felt the stiff burned feeling in his left shoulder. He took off his shirts and took a look in the dark.

It wasn't as bad as his imagination painted it to be, but it was still up there on the list of suck. Every movement pulled on burned skin. A blister almost as big as his fist sat on his shoulder, while four more trailed a path across his chest. At least there was only a small one on his stomach. The rest of his skin was just burned red. Damn. All of it hurt like hell. Couldn't he go through one catastrophe without getting fucked over?

The silent purr of the ship told him they were still in space. He couldn't imagine he'd slept through a landing, so hopefully he hadn't missed his stop. The panel, from what he could make out in the darkness, was completely busted. The door, however, was still unlocked. That had been fuckin' stupid. He reached up and locked it now, then leaned back.

The room was lit, just barely, by a small emergency light hidden behind the cabinets. Duo looked over to it and saw a portable cabinet latched literally in front of it. He rolled his eyes. Way to effectively use one's space. Another quick search showed him a few more cabinets, each carefully locked in preparation for zero-g. There was nothing else, though Duo couldn't imagine why there would be. He stood and searched as well as he could for a weapon, but the dim light couldn't penetrate the bottom wall of the cabinet, and the interiors were all dark. He snarled, but gave up. At least he still had what few weapons he'd started the day with.

The rest of the ride was spent playing with his gun and listening as footsteps traveled back and forth as the mechanics took hourly walks to check on the equipment. Thank goodness nothing happened on the trip; as soon as the mechanic opened the tool cabinet door, Duo would be fucked. When the landing came, he found himself equally relieved to find a lack of gravity. They weren't landing on Earth. But of course Quatre would think of that; Duo couldn't afford to land on Earth without being properly buckled. As it was, the cabling and docking of the passenger ship irritated his torn back and chest and re-opened the long cut on his leg. He ripped off the entire leg of his pants to get the thing wrapped up before it could drip.

Once the damn thing landed, it was out of the closet and to the fuel tank latch before the mechanics came to check the thing over and refuel. The tank was still hot, but now that he didn't have to twist himself around, he was able to stay away from the thing and slide out. Then it was a wait for the luggage truck to rumble up, then a ride underneath the thing until it reached the shuttle port. He dropped off and skirted around, taking a moment to learn the alleys and shops surrounding the port and its garages before he leaned against the front of the shuttle port, putting one foot up in order to hide the injury and crossing his arms in order to secretly grip his knives.

It didn't take long; Quatre and Hilde must have been waiting for him inside the building. Duo watched them walk out with one eye and scanned the small crowd around them with the other. Only a few people were milling around outside the building, at least for now. Duo grinned and waved as if meeting up with old friends, but he didn't move to greet them. Quatre frowned.

Duo dropped his leg once their bodies blocked him from most scrutinizing views. Hilde gasped. Quatre looked at the mess of his leg. "How bad is that?"

Duo prepared to wave it off, but Quatre glared at him. "Yeah, okay, it's pretty bad. We might need to stitch it. And I have burns. And I injured my back. And my hands..." He just shrugged and held them out. Hilde gasped again, this time covering her mouth. Quatre's face did something, and once again Duo saw that hollow, tortured look as the blond lightly touched the back of Duo's hand and lifted it for closer inspection. "It hurts like hell, so it's not that bad."

Hilde gave Duo a look as if asking if he understood what he'd just said, but Quatre nodded. "There's a safehouse I was taken to on this colony. It was still secure when I left. I can't make any guarantees, but it's better than nothing."

Duo nodded. And at a predetermined safehouse, there would be predetermined wares. Like a first-aid kit.

Quatre had to be the one to go get Duo's Gundam, leaving Duo with Hilde as his protector. The blond had given Duo an uneasy look, obviously uncomfortable with leaving Duo alone and injured with only her. Duo just cocked his head and grinned. When Quatre still didn't look convinced, Duo held up one hand in the form of an open circle. It was the sign for 'all clear.' Then he waggled his fingers in a mock wave. "Have fun," Duo said, and watched the blond nod and leave, hurrying as much as possible without drawing attention.

It left Hilde to try to inconspicuously fuss over Duo's wounds. It was useless, and Duo finally got her to leave it alone by telling her first aid awaited them. She tried, she really tried to just lean in front of him and act casual, like they were old friends catching up, but she kept fluttering her fingers and tensing and looking around. Duo frowned.

"Hilde." The girl looked at him, her eyes unnaturally wide. "Can you do something for me?"

She nodded. "Anything." Her eyes flitted down to his hands, crossed once more in front of him. She couldn't see the gore, but he knew she was remembering it. He commended her for not looking down at his leg again.

"I need you to get my 'Scythe to the safehouse."

She blinked, once, then scowled. "I'm not leaving you!"

He wanted to scream. "I'm not asking you to, Hilde. But if I lose Deathscythe..." He stopped his fingers from clenching simply because they were already in enough pain holding his knives. "Quatre's going to be busy enough dealing with me now. I need someone to be able to focus on 'Scythe. Okay?"

She opened her mouth to argue, then closed it and fumed. Duo watched that mind of hers work, running through the angles again. Then she looked down at his leg – she couldn't seem to help it – and grimaced. "I'm slowing you down again."

He didn't want to confirm, but he couldn't deny. "You've helped me, Hilde. You saved me earlier. I need you to help me again. The Gundam is more important than me. Do you understand that?"

Her fuming got a bit more... furious. "You're important, too."

Her words reminded him of J's men, saying it would be better if Duo stayed alive. "But the resistance can go on without me." Whatever suck resistance may remain at this point. "If the enemy gets Deathscythe – if they get any Gundam – we can all kiss our butts good-bye."

"I know that." Still, she was scowling. Tense. Duo didn't look around, but he knew they were attracting stares. "I know that," she said again, and sighed. Her muscles relaxed one at a time, almost as if strings had been cut. She looked down at the pavement beneath their feet. After a few deep breaths, she looked him once more in the eye. "I'll go. You stay safe, Duo, okay?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Quatre will tell you where to put it and how to lock it down. I'm counting on you, Hilde." He tried to communicate his faith and need in his expression. He had no idea if it worked, but he got the desired response. Hilde nodded, her face set, and left.

Once she was gone, he looked idly through the crowd. Two security guards, neither of them particularly alert. He checked his watch. Looked up again. Sighed. Camouflage complete, he looked at the passersby. None of them were dangerous; the four teenage guys laughing and pushing each other by the far bench were avoided by the other pedestrians, but their banter was all sport. They lifted their chins and glared at anyone who got too close, but they elbowed each other and guffawed whenever they actually scared someone away. Children.

The other people were either leaving or entering the shuttle port. A young, college-age couple, three old women scowling as if the world had done them some grievous wrong, a father in a suit, raking his hair back and tugging on the hand of petulantly whining boy he held. One middle-aged woman came dangerously close to him, a scent like spicy flowers leaking out of her every pore. Duo had to fight to stay in place, remembering the weird woman and her... kiss. He wrinkled his nose. But the older woman walked right past him. She didn't even look his way.

The four teenagers saw him. Their laughter changed, gained focus. Duo tensed. The boys each stood, all of them taking that 'gangsta' posture, grouping together into a pack-like formation. Duo tested his injuries, then scowled. It didn't matter if he could fight acceptably with his injuries. He couldn't afford to. His picture was on the news, in the papers, on the net. If he started fighting, people would start paying closer attention to him. Someone was bound to recognize him then. He'd have to start running all over again. These four assholes had no idea what they were doing.

"Excuse me!"

The thundering of his heart in his ears quieted immediately. Quatre was coming out of the shuttle port, waving down the four teens. They all turned to him with cocked brows. Their incredulous gazes told Duo they were switching their target from Duo to Quatre. "What do you think?" one asked. The others shrugged and laughed.

"Hi!" Quatre said, still falsely bubbly. He waved and stopped about a foot from the teens. "I'm new here. Can you direct me to the nearest hotel?"

They each gave each other looks. The one teen standing point in the pack laughed and turned back to Quatre. "There's no way. But we can show you the hot-spots." He jerked his head in Duo's direction. "We were gonna ask her, too."

Duo looked around himself, then snarled. They were talking about him.

Quatre looked over and smiled. "Oh! That's Duo. He's a friend of mine."

That made all of them stagger back. "He?" the leader asked.

Duo had to fight like hell to change his glare to a smile. He focused on Quatre's face. The little brat was swallowing laughter. "Hey, Noah," he said.

Quatre smiled a bit wider. "Hi, Carl. Thanks anyway, guys," he said, and waved good-bye to the teens before coming up beside Duo. "I have a car rented. It should be in the garage, but I have no idea where the hotel is..." Quatre put a hand on Duo's back and ushered him away, hiding Duo from sight as he leaned off of the wall and walked away. His back and chest hurt, but it was his leg that almost made him scream. The long, deep cut was throbbing again, and Duo was certain it was starting to ooze again. It also had the swollen sort of pain spreading through it. He needed antibacterial.

"Thanks again, Qat."

Quatre gave him a bright, mischievous grin. "It was worth it to hear their explanation."

Duo scowled. "You'll tell no one."

Quatre laughed out loud.


"Pain shared, my brother, is pain not doubled, but halved."

-Neil Gaimain


The safehouse wasn't as bad as Duo was expecting, though he should have known that those Maguanac guys wouldn't let Quatre stay in anything other than a top-notch building. It had a yard, for fuck's sake. A nice, pretty yard, with green, green grass and a tiny little garden that wrapped around the porch, which in turn wrapped around the right side of the house. The thing was a white two-story with red shutters, a high wooden fence, and woods in the back, woods that stretched into a fake forest that, according to blueprints, went for a good few miles. It was in there that Hilde would be hiding Duo's Deathscythe.

Quatre, sidling up in a car that most certainly was not rented, went straight into the garage, though he left the door of the garage open. He turned off the engine and went around the car to get Duo's door. Duo couldn't even get the damn seatbelt; his hands were too torn up. Once Quatre had Duo out, he had to take most of Duo's weight. They hobbled together to the door connecting the garage to the house. The short step leading up nearly defeated Duo, but he hopped up and Quatre led him through the hall, past the hall closet, to the left. The room opened up to a living room, carpeted with some ugly tan generic brand and furnished with a simple sofa and coffee table. Quatre sat Duo on the sofa and pushed the coffee table out of the way. "I'll get the kit," Quatre said, and rushed off.

The first thing on the list to get fixed was Duo's hands, and Quatre set to the task with a grim line around his mouth and brow. It took a while; Quatre had to clean the wound, then cut off the dead skin, then clean again before finally wrapping it all up. Duo didn't know why he didn't speak. For once, he didn't feel the painful urge to speak into the silence. Instead he took solace in the suburban house, the quiet, the solitude – the joy of being once again with someone he could trust. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Quatre was almost finished wrapping his hands; he was tying up the palm, having already finished the fingers. "Qat," Duo said, flinching as he broke the silence, "I... I missed you."

Quatre finished wrapping Duo's left hand. He reached into the first aid kit and pulled out the tape. That blond head stayed down, that sky blue gaze remained on Duo's hands. When Quatre spoke, his voice was quiet. "I missed you too, Duo."

Duo winced. "You're going to tell me what happened, right?"

Quatre froze.

"What happened?" Duo asked, taking away the middle man he'd created before. He lifted his head again and looked down at Quatre. "Unless... you don't want to tell me."

His words were exact, yet they weren't what Duo was asking. If Quatre didn't want to tell him, that meant the blond didn't feel the same sort of safety Duo did. It meant the trust wasn't equal. It meant the friendship Duo had thought they'd formed wasn't really there. Quatre was slow as he taped up Duo's bandages, that blond head still down. The boy almost seemed to blend with the suburban room, his light brown vest almost matching the carpet, his light pink shirt complimenting the neutral off-white of the walls. Why did it hit Duo so strongly then, the knowledge that they were worlds apart? Duo had been with G and the Sweepers, a bunch of greasy, cussing guys who'd known what it meant to struggle every minute of their lives. Quatre had hulking bodyguards that spoke eloquently and carried themselves just as Quatre did – like aristocrats.

Duo was out of his league. It hurt to admit it. He felt like he was back on the streets, back in rags with matted hair tumbling down his back, dirt griming his cheeks as he watched a mother buy a gallon of milk and a carton of eggs. The wide, wide range between those who went to the same place to sleep every night and those who were lucky if they could find a safe place to huddle and sleep in shifts on the ground. A vast, impenetrable chasm separated them. Duo felt it in how he reacted to this space – alien, beautiful, open, a sort've security in the idea of having a haven, fake though it may be. And Quatre. Quatre had simply opened the door and walked in. He'd hardly looked at the place, at the simple carpeting and the low-quality sofa upholstery and the off-white walls. For Quatre, it was probably sub-par. For Duo, it was opulent. Gorgeous.

Quatre was finished taping Duo's hands, and now Duo pulled them away. It had been early on in the war that they'd met. He'd been stupid. Quatre had said he'd had to come. Had to. Duo should have caught the connotations of that. He–

"I'm sorry." Quatre touched Duo's wrists. Duo jumped and looked at the blond. There were... tears in his eyes. Something tightened its grip in Duo's chest. "I'm sorry. It's not like that, I swear. I... I trust you. It's just..." The blond looked down, then shook his head and looked back up. Those tears were thicker now. "It's just that I really messed up, Duo." The words came fast, and as they finally spilled from Quatre's lips, the tears fell. "I killed him."

Quatre fell into Duo's lap, his shoulders shaking, his fingers clutching Duo's pants. The boy's sobs echoed hollowly in the room. Duo froze for a moment, unsure. He still felt the betrayal and pain of his own assumptions. But his hands seemed to know what they do, and they rested on Quatre's shoulders. "Qat." But though he had no idea what Quatre was talking about, he found the need to know was taking second place to Quatre.

The sounds of Quatre's tears played around the nearly empty room, sobs bursting out like bubbles, sniffles noisy and wet. When Quatre started feeling weak, Duo slid down from the sofa, the poor fabric scratching his back, the position killing his leg. Quatre was too far gone to care. His sobs got quieter, but the tears never stopped. Duo feared they would never run out.

Duo couldn't tell how long it had been, but the night cycle was well under way by the time Quatre leaned weakly against Duo. Duo felt like he was cradling a child. The position was correct – Duo was leaning against the sofa, his bad leg outstretched, his good one bent. In his arms was Quatre, the boy curled in a ball and his head resting against Duo's burned chest. Duo didn't bother telling the blond just how much that hurt.

"I killed him," Quatre said again, his breath still hitching, his words like a sigh. Duo would have stilled, if he hadn't known Quatre would feel it. "I destroyed a colony and I killed him, Duo. He's dead. What have I done?"

Duo squeezed the boy a bit, though his grip brought small sparks of pain to his fingers and palms. He tried to imagine Quatre doing such a thing and found his mind blanking. "That can't... have been what you intended."

But Quatre was already shaking his head. "No. No. I made it. I made the thing despite the fact that the doctors abandoned it. I made it and I piloted it and..." Quatre was working himself up again. He took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"You mean that Zero Gundam," Duo said, understanding, suddenly, where quarter was going. "I'd thought I'd destroyed a colony, too, Quatre. That thing... it messes with your head."

Another sob bubbled out. "Oh, God, I'm sorry. I should never have... no. No, I really did do it, Duo. I killed everyone. They... they killed my father and I killed them. And then Trowa showed up, Trowa and Heero and I killed him."

Duo stilled. Everything in him stopped – his muscles, his lungs. His heart. "Heero," he breathed. He remembered Heero flying through the air, his Gundam burning the air, breaking into pieces behind him. Duo's arms went limp.

But Quatre shook his head once more. "Trowa."

The blond's voice was wrapped in agony. And Duo realized that the feelings that had stolen over him in the instant he'd thought Heero was dead were even worse for Quatre. While Duo had felt horror, fear, pain, and fury at Quatre over what he'd thought the blond had done... what was Quatre feeling? "Oh, no." He hugged Quatre tight.

They stayed like that until the night cycle had completely taken over the sky, turning everything around them dark. They'd never turned on the light. Eventually Quatre moved, standing and walking to the light switch on the wall. Only one small light sat, shining dimly in the corner of the room. Once it was on, Quatre turned to Duo and grimaced. "I'm sorry," the blond said, making Duo's brow furrow. Quatre just smiled. Duo realized Quatre had never tried to wipe away his tears. "I need to finish taking care of you."

It took a while, another hour or so. Hilde finally returned, but she only said hello, grabbed some food, and headed back out. She told them Deathscythe was safe, but needed a bit of a reason to keep people away. She was going to leave signs about a problem with the atmospheric pressure plates around the site. Duo and Quatre barely got to thank her before she was gone again, running back to finish the job she'd accepted.

Once Quatre was finally finished, Duo looked like a mummy and the first aid kit needed some serious restocking. Quatre gave Duo one last once-over. "Is there anything else?"

Duo hesitated. "Nothing... exterior. Nothing we can take care of here." At Quatre's questioning look, Duo sat back. When Quatre had started taking care of Duo's leg, he'd put Duo back up on the sofa. Duo still sat there, and now Quatre joined him. They sat with their backs half on the arms, facing one another. Duo's bad leg stretched out on the floor, the other curled underneath him. Quatre sat Indian-style and leaned forward. "I... I don't know how to explain this."

"Start at the beginning," Quatre advised.

Duo looked the blond over. It was like the crying truly had been a catharsis. Quatre looked like he had before: strong, brilliant, in-control. The innocence, however, was gone. Duo ached for the loss. "The beginning. Well, Heero and I are sexually active. With each other." Quatre's eyes widened. "It was just for fun – umm, recreational, I think it's called. Anyway, it was just... fun." He found it difficult to say 'fucking' in front of Quatre. "But apparently Heero's doc thinks the relationship is dangerous or something, and he's sent men out to kill me. Only they didn't kill me, they just put something in my brain that messes with my sight. They said seeing Heero would hurt me."

Quatre's jaw had fallen inch by inch as Duo spoke, until it looked like his jaw had almost disconnected.

"So, yeah. That's about it."

"About it?" Quatre squeaked. The poor boy was working his jaw, but nothing else seemed ready to come out. "What..."

But Duo smiled. "It's fine." He flexed his fingers. It hurt like hell. "As soon as I recover, I'm staging my counterattack."


A/N: Well. Another long chapter. There you go. /collapses/

The next chapter is going to have Heero, simply because I'm going crazy without having the two together. So yes, once again, I'm messing with the storyline. The original storyline has Duo in the colonies still, with Heero in the Sanc Kingdom battling for... ugh. The bitch who gives in and actually becomes a princess. /shudders/ It'll be about episode 35½ or so. Quatre goes to the desert to get his Sandrock and reunites with his Maguanac army. Wufei's going a smidge crazy because his colony sacrificed itself. Trowa has amnesia and is having a weird relationship with his potential-sister. o_O

Hope you all enjoyed! ^_^

-Kayura