"Wait, what?!"
"What?!"
Mine and Wufei's voices each other as we turn to look at each other in disbelief. Heero doesn't seem moved, instead crossing his arms and piercing me with his deep blue gaze.
"Trowa Barton, the man you've been living with, your brother-in-law, raped you. In my office."
"You're fuckin' kidding me, right?" I snarl, my mind finally catching up with what's happening. I take a step forward, not intimidated by Heero's stony posture. "Where the fuck did that idea pop up from?"
"Video footage."
"Well, that fuckin' footage, which you prob'ly jacked off'ta, would've pointed out I fuckin' consented."
"Consent is for kids old enough to do so," Heero points out, and I feel Wufei's arms wrap around my chest, holding me back as I lunge toward Heero, fists curled and outstretched.
"Let me go! Did you hear him?! He called me a fuckin' child!" I scream, swinging my elbow back hoping to dislodge the man holding me in place. I feel my blow connect, but he holds firm, lifting me up off the ground and pulling me away.
"Heero, back the fuck off, and Duo, just calm down for a moment. I'm sure there's a reasonable, logical explanation for everything. I'm sure I could see it too, if it wasn't four in the goddamn morning."
Heero takes a step backward, while I try to get Wufei to let go of me. He doesn't though, instead clutching me even tighter and backing us both up. My feet are unable to touch the ground, depriving me of the wonderful leverage that could have allowed me the opportunity to strangle my boss to death.
"Look, it's too damn early for this shit. I finally fell asleep an hour ago and I'm not in the mood. Duo's not claiming to be raped, and you're too determined to say he was. We have no goddamn clue what's really happening. So let's talk about this later. When it's light outside. And I've had six hours of sleep at least. And breakfast," Wufei grinds out, walking towards the front door. I can't see how he manages it, but the door swings inward and Heero is shoved back outside of it. The door slams closed behind him, and then the arms loosen around my chest.
I turn around and punch him in the face.
"Gah!" Wufei cries, clutching a hand to his nose. I see a small trail of red slip between the cracks of his fingers, and I give him my coldest stare.
"I. Am. Not. A. Child."
"You broke my nose!" he exclaims, bewildered. I turn to pull open the door, hoping to give Heero a matching injury, but the door handle refuses to turn.
"Like fuck I'm letting you out of that door," Wufei mumbles, turning towards the hallway. "It's too early for this shit."
The bedroom door slams behind him, Wufei's hands never leaving his face.
I scream, punching the wall and kicking it a couple of times before slumping to the floor, glaring at the front door.
Oh, Heero Yuy, I promise silently, you aren't getting away with this. Don't think for a moment I'll let this go.
It's as I'm drifting back to sleep, curled up in a ball on the floor, that a curious thought pops into my mind.
What camera? There're no cameras in the office…
"Get up," Wufei grumbles, kicking my side lightly as he passes over me. I mumble something into the rug, rolling onto my stomach and wrapping my arms over the top of my head, determined to get back to the dark void I was in before he woke me up.
"I said, get up. I did not give you an invitation to use my floor as you please. So get your ass off of it and sit at the table."
I raise a hand to flip him off, but he merely grabs it and yanks me upward. I stumble, falling forward and bumping into his solid chest. He pushes me back a little, forcing me to stand upright. I barely get a moment to orient myself - God, channeling Heero much, Wufei? - before he's tugging me forward, my feet walking on their own accord to avoid face-planting back onto the floor. He shoves me into a chair, the legs rocking back at the force use. I land heavily on all fours, jarring my bones and rattling my nerves.
When Wufei slams a hand in front of me, I'm really not expecting it to be attached to a plate of food.
"Eat, then stay here while I go track down Heero. Then, and only then, will we talk about what the fuck you two were fighting about this morning."
Meekly, I pick up my fork and stick it into one of the rubbery egg pieces. It barely moves as I lift it apart from its brethren, and as I pop it between my lips, my teeth closing down to crush it and tear it apart, I swear I hear an ominous creak.
Damn, if I'd known the man couldn't cook I wouldn't have attempted to eat it.
The moment Wufei steps out through the front door I spring up from the chair, rushing over to the single window in the kitchen. To my surprise, it slides open easily, letting me escape the certain torture that would have awaited me upon their return.
I slide the window shut again, slipping over the fence that separates Wufei's property from his neighbour's, and head towards somewhere I hope I won't be rejected.
If the old fart's even home right now.
"What are you doing here?" Howie asks, leaning against the frame of the door. His posture allows no room for me to slip through and into the mobile home, his crossed arms and stern gaze freezing me in place.
"Eh…" I start, unsure of how to begin.
I finally got laid by the guy who's been fucking with my mind for the last year, and now everyone else's lost their minds. Can I crash here until the world fixes itself?
Yeah, I'm not sure that'll go over so well.
"Uhm…" I try again, but come up short on words this time as well.
I just want to borrow a small patch of your floor. Maybe for a few days until the heat dies down and my boss isn't trying to rip my head off.
"Er…" I give it a third shot, and still draw blank on any explanation that makes sense. Letting my shoulders slump, I give a half-hearted, completely false grin.
"Shit, just come on in. Fuckin' brat," he mutters, shuffling back into the black hole he calls a home. I trail after him cautiously, my eyes scanning the darkness for any loose bolts, screws, shards of glass or metal, or live creatures as he cuts a path through the living room and to the kitchen. He pulls two beers from the fridge, tossing one towards me before pushing in the tab of his own can and taking a long swig, dropping heavily into a rickety folding chair that's definitely seen better days. I lower myself into his only other chair, the legs wobbling dangerously as I settle on it, popping the top to my own can and drinking deeply.
"What the hell did you do this time?" he asks me, the slur lingering behind his words telling me that this isn't his first beer of the day. I hum absently, taking another swallow of beer It's three breaths later that I'm setting down the empty can on the table, flicking it lightly with a nail to hear the metal echo ring through the canister.
"I might have done something dumb," I murmur. "An' I dunno how t'fix it."
"Oh really? I thought you were goin'ta tell me somethin' I don't know," he mocks, the playful tone tampered by the alcohol in his blood. Either that or he's just being more of a dick than usual today.
"How many years have we known each other?" I ask him, tipping the empty can on the table a little to the right, the movements and gestures occupying my attention so that I don't have to make eye contact with my oldest friend and confidant. Howie snorts in disbelief.
"Did you forget how we met?"
"Well, I might have slept with Cathy's baby brother," I admit, smacking the can hard. It flies to the right, crunching against the wall and dropping loudly to the ground. The ringing of metal on metal is the only sound that fills the void my words leave in the room. Howie's eyes are wide, the drunken haze vanishing from the shock I've given his system.
"Well, shit. And let me guess, someone found out and judged the book by the cover, am I right?"
"Yeah." My answer is short, clipped, and to the point.
I royally fucked up. 'Nuff said.
"You're a fucking moron," Howie groans, shoving his chair back. To my surprise, it doesn't collapse into a heap of scrap metal at the movement. Howie motions for me to stand with one hand, while the other pulls a jacket off the back of the chair.
"Come on, let's go clean up this mess before it festers."
"Wait—" I start, but he cuts his hand through the air, stopping my argument before it even starts.
"No. No more hiding, Duo. No more skirting the boundaries of lies and truth. You'll have to explain this all eventually. You can't hide forever behind your happy-go-lucky masquerade."
I silently follow the older man, dread dancing with the beer in my gut.
This isn't going to end well.
If I thought I was going to die before I snuck out of Wufei's house, it's nothing compared to the tension filling the room as I step back through the front door, Howie towering behind me and blocking my retreat.
"Where did you go, Maxwell?" Wufei asks, way too calmly for my tastes. Heero's messy shock of hair is visible over the back of one of the loveseats, his face turned away from all of us. If I didn't know better, I'd say he's sulking.
"I asked you to stay and finish your breakfast, the breakfast I made for you in my kitchen, using my own food while you slept on my floor."
I can't help but wonder if it's too late to reconsider coming back. Howie seems to read my intent, his hand resting on the middle of my back for only a second before shoving me into the line of fire.
And believe me, it ain't friendly.
"It was one simple request, a request made by me, in my home, after you and Yuy decided to come uninvited. Then you invade my space, bringing your arguments with you, and disrupt my sleep. After that, you sleep, again uninvited, in my home. I find that… quite rude. Disrespectful, even. And then the one request I ask of you is ignored as you leave through a window—"
At the mere mention of it, the glass trembles. I can see small fractures forming on the panes separating the inside of the house from the outside. Despite the physical evidence, Wufei's voice doesn't rise or drop at all.
"— and leave the meal I took the time to cook for you, with my food, untouched and left to spoil on my table."
The plate, still sitting on the table, splits into several pieces, the cold food starting to spread through the fissures.
"Do you know that upset me, Maxwell? To return and find all of this still on my table, and you gone?"
I can't say anything. I'm not sure there's anything to say; he's right, after all. Even if it's fucked up and terrifying to listen to.
"Give the brat a break," Howie rumbles deeply behind me, a large hand resting on my right shoulder. "The moron came to get me so he could argue his side of the story."
"Are you aware of what accusation is being tossed around?" Wufei asks him neutrally, and I feel more than see his returning nod.
"That I am. An' I think some elephants in the room need to be cleaned up and sent back to the zoo before we end up gettin' trampled in the stampede."
That's Howard for you, shovin' my ass into the fire just to pull it back out like nothing's happened.
"I have video footage of Trowa engaging in sexual intercourse with my employee, in my office, at an hour when the office was closed for business for the evening and not scheduled to reopen until nine the following morning."
"And I'm tellin' ya, it ain't rape," I snarl, my temper rising again in the face of Heero's cold, precise evidence.
"You are not of the age to consent legally."
"Like fuck I'm not!" I yell, rising to my feet. Howie yanks on the back of my shirt, pulling me once again to the sofa.
I feel like this entire argument is on some sick loop, playing over and over again in the same way.
Wufei sits silently off to the side, a cup of steaming tea clasped in his hands as he observes our fight.
"You have to see how it appears, kid," Howie reminds me. "You don't appear to be old enough to not have your voice still cracking, you know."
"It's fucking ridiculous, that's what it is. I'm old enough to choose who I sleep with. It's not like I'm a blushin' virgin, for fuck's sake!"
"Until you are sixteen, you cannot be considered old enough to make decisions of this nature with an adult," Heero repeats, and I think the only thing holding back the urge to chuck something at that goddamn blank face of his is Howie's fingers gripping my wrist tightly.
"There're a few facts that need to be aired before we continue this. I'm getting pissed, not to mention I have work tonight and I'd like to sleep at some point today," he cuts in, his eyes darting between me, Heero, and Wufei seriously.
"First off, the brat's old enough to consent. This ain't rape, though it's messed up. I mean, damn Duo, he's your brother-in-law! At least try to branch away from the tree."
I flush, my gaze dropping to the floor. It's not like I chose for Cathy to shack up with my brother.
"Secondly, how old do you think the idjit is to begin with?"
"Thirteen?" Wufei tosses out, Heero's response of 'Fifteen' echoing along with it.
"Well, let's toss this out into the open. How old did you think he was last year when you found him hiding in the back of a shit-infested drug den?"
The silence that follows that question is answer enough. Suspicion blooms in Heero's eyes, and Wufei's disbelieving answer solidifies it.
"Thirteen."
"Well, how many thirteen-year-olds still look thirteen over a year later?" Howie urges, leading the struggling fish to the bait.
"None. Which means—"
"How old are you, Duo?" Wufei asks gently, the previous pressure lacing his words vanishing into pure concern.
"…I'm almost thirty," I admit, tugging at my braid anxiously.
I kind of wish they'd start shouting again, because the silence is killing me.
"How is that even possible? How can you be older than me?!" Wufei asks, his voice rising along with his incredulity. I shrug, twining my braid around my hand and looking at the floor. Howie decides that I've been tossed under the bus enough, and answers for me.
"No one knows. Cathy's been trying to find any shred or scrap of reference to something like this happening before with a botched demon summoning ritual, or necromancy gone wrong… but nothing's turned up and it's been over a decade. We never knew how old he was to begin with, so he's at least twenty-six, and at the oldest twenty-nine."
"That means… You're older than your sister-in-law."
Trust Heero to hone in on that fact.
"Yeah. I am."
"And she married your brother, who was older at the time than you are now."
"Yes, that's right."
"That's fucked up," Wufei points out, and I shrug.
"Is it any more fucked up than sleeping with a man who looks older than I do, yet is probably nine years younger?"
Wufei doesn't have an answer to this, but Heero changes the subject anyway.
"If you are indeed the age you say you are, it explains how so much of your knowledge was retained."
"Yeah, an' it'd be hard to erase, that's for sure. But speaking of memory," I latch onto the subject, desperate to let my subject die, "what the hell's wrong with yours?"
"Excuse me?" Heero asks, raising a single eyebrow.
"I don't get how you're freaking out about Tro an' me gettin' it on now, when you've walked in on us at least four other times over the last year."
"I have never seen you engage in any sexually charged activities prior to now."
"Bullshit. You pretty much walked in on us at Relena's place with Tro's hand down my pants - and not figuratively," I add, narrowing my eyes. I see a flush crossing the bridge of Wufei's nose, and I absently wonder if it'll start bleeding again. "Cathy's teased us about it in your presence at least once, Relena too. Why are you so angry and upset about it now? Not to mention you don't have any damn cameras set up in the office. I know, because I'm the one who saves and backs up the video feeds from the external cameras. And I looked." I admit the last part with less vehemence. "I was bored and decided to see if you were stalking me in the office, too."
"I saw you on video feeds. There are video feeds," Heero repeats, though a trickle of doubt is creeping into his words. "I saw the feed."
"Did you? Or do you think you saw the feed, because that's what you're meant to think?" I press, a small bug of suspicion hatching in my brain. It can't be… "Do you really remember nothing 'bout me an' Tro?"
"I have no recollection of having witnessed this behaviour before," Heero says, and I grip my hair tighter at the lost tone the words come out in.
Has the man never been unsure before?
"What could cause you to forget memories? Specific memories, even?" I ask, my eyes glancing towards the resident bookworm. He takes the cue, rapping his fingers against his knee, the tea having long gone cold in his other hand.
"I can only come up with a few reasons. Trauma—"
"Doubt it," I comment, but Wufei ignores me.
"—possession during the time the event was taking place—"
"Too noticeable."
"—leaving him without a memory, outside tampering from spiritual origins—"
"Would have happened before now with how much shit you two get into."
"—or outside tampering from a psychic."
I have no comeback for that. Neither does Heero, who hasn't said much since I burst his bubble. Howie speaks up then, making me jump. I forgot about him.
"I think we need to call your sister, Duo. She might have a better answer for us. Be prepared to hate the answer," he says ominously.
Aw, well, shit. That's never a good sign.
"Hey, pretty lady," Howie chimes over the phone, the speaker on the black box ringing with the shouts of children and a harassed female voice.
"Howard, is that you? What— Gabriel Solomon Bloom, put your brother back on the floor this instant! — happened?"
"Can't I make a social call for once?" he asks, and the snort over the phone answers eloquently.
"If you ever called me just to chat, I'd think the apocalypse finally happened."
"Well, you're right, as usual," Howie relents. "How many psychics or practitioners are there who specialize in the removal and altering of memories?"
The shouting of kids is all that comes over the line before Cathy speaks softly, her voice nearly drowned out by her children.
"You know the answer already. There's only one person I know who can take memories from a living being."
"I was afraid that was the answer. Can I apologize in advance?"
"Was it intentional? Please tell me it was an accident, Howard. Tell me he didn't do it on purpose."
The raw pain in her voice makes me wince, and Howard, despite not being able to see her anguish, turns his face from the phone as he answers her.
"No, it wasn't an accident."
"I see…" she says gently. "Then, please, try to do what you can to prevent it from happening again. Whatever it takes."
"I'm sorry."
The call ends, the line blaring a dial tone. Howard presses the button to turn the speakerphone off before standing up from the circular table. Heero shoves the phone to the side, back to where it sits on the conference table.
"We need to find Trowa Barton and find out why he's been messing around with Heero's brain."
I never thought that I'd walk through these doors and feel pain. Everything's where I left it. Even the food I didn't bother to put away is rotting on the counter. I don't take off my shoes - I want to get the hell out of dodge if need be - and head back towards Trowa's bedroom - the last place I saw the asshole.
Everything's untouched, the sheets still rumpled from us falling out of the bed. If I breathe deeply, I can still smell the sex in the air.
I swallow, steeling my resolve and crouching at the foot of the dresser, sliding the drawer open. I push past the socks, finding the papers and junk I'd unearthed two weeks after moving in permanently.
"Where is it…?" I mumble, finally seeing the off-white sheet of paper with the information I'm looking for. I hold it up without looking at it, feeling it slide between my fingers as it's grabbed and pulled from my hand.
I shut the drawer before I can see the pictures of our nephews and niece.
"I'm going to go pack my shit," I mutter, shouldering past the three men trying to fill the space.
I can feel ice forming in my soul, numbing the sensation of betrayal. Packing doesn't take long, just shoving some dirty clothes into my duffle bag and putting three books on top of that, followed by dragging the bag down the hall and towards the front door.
The front door that was shut when we came in, but now hangs open.
I don't have time to react before an arm slams across my throat, yanking me back against a warm, solid chest with enough force to silence me before I can even yelp in pain. My vision grows fuzzy, and the last words I hear before I give in to the urge to pass out are a whispered apology in a soft, familiar voice.
"I'm sorry."
I can't tell how long I've been unconscious, but trying to figure it out takes a seat on the back burner as pain flares up my neck, a rasping cough forming in my bruised throat.
There's no one who reaches out for me, no one who hands me a cup of water, or even an ice chip.
When I open my eyes, I meet darkness. It takes a few times of reopening and closing them for me to make out a sliver of light near head-level, vertical from my point of view. As my eyes adjust, I figure out I'm lying on my side. The sliver of light is the bottom of a door, though what door I can't tell.
I can't twist to look around me, I can't see where I am.
Panic fills me, the scent of blood tickling my senses. Whether there's blood present or I'm hallucinating (highly likely, actually, all things considered), I can't make out. But it's there, and it's freaking me out.
"Nnnnghhh!" I groan, my attempt to form words failing miserably. All I do is make my throat hurt worse, and I fling my head back reflexively, trying to escape the pain. I hit something hard, solid, and unmovable.
Great, now the headache hurts even more. Fucking oxygen deprivation.
Fucking solid thing behind my head.
Fucking Trowa.
I twist my hands, the slight chaffing burn against my wrists telling me that I'll be here for a while; at least until I can think straight and moving doesn't make me want to pass out again. I gently rest my head back against the floor, closing my eyes.
I wiggle my toes, black ripples dancing out across the liquid landscape. My hands rest against my side, my pale skin exposed and glowing lightly in the darkness. I take a step forward, watching the turmoil that forms under my feet.
Such a small movement for such a large reaction.
"Don't break the surface," I hear behind me, but I'm not startled. I was wondering where she was at this point.
"Serena," I murmur, not turning to look at her. Hands rest on my shoulders, squeezing gently.
"Don't break the surface," she repeats, her hands rubbing the bare skin of my arms lightly.
"Why did he do it?" I ask her, leaning into her embrace. Her arms wrap around me, not giving me warmth.
"That," Serena says softly, "is where you should look under the surface. But not here. Don't break the surface."
I don't say anything else, just staring into the darkness.
"Open the door."
Heero's cold, harsh words penetrate the darkness of my prison. I want to tell him something sarcastic - like, "If I could, do you think I'd still be in here?" - but it doesn't take long for me to figure out he's not talking to me.
The door clicks open, and the burst of light that comes in to steal away the dark blinds me.
"Nng!" I groan, curling into a ball and turning my face away from the source of my pain.
"Duo?" I hear, and when a hand touches the side of my face, I can only admit truthfully to doing one thing.
I freak out.
I kick out - oh look, my legs aren't tied - and feel my foot connect with something solid-yet-yielding. There's a grunt of pain, but then hands press down on my foot.
I hear someone cry out, pure agony in their voice.
"Duo, calm down! It's me, damn it!"
"Nn!" I cry, and the howl of agony repeats.
"He's panicking," a familiar voice - why do I know this voice? they shouldn't be here, they wouldn't hurt me - and a cold, gentle pressure moves against my senses.
"Duo, calm down. You're safe. He's not going to hurt you. We want to check you for injuries."
"Nnn, Solo?" I murmur, and I feel myself being lifted into strong arms.
"No, kid. It's Howie."
"Where's m'bro?" I slur. "Wher'zzee?"
"Do you know where you are?" Howie asks, and I open my eyes again - when did I close them? - and see a face far too old to be my friend.
"Who— Oww, fuck," I groan, tucking my head back against his chest.
"Disoriented. Must have hit his head pretty hard."
"There's a little blood on the edge of the shelf, check his head."
"Yeah, it's dried in his hair."
"Just get him out of here."
I feel Howie's footsteps, the shuffling of me in his arms as he moves through the doorway, and a cool blast of air brushing my skin, a little damp-feeling.
Now that the panic's fading, I'm remembering more of what happened.
We came to find out where Trowa was. I went to pack my bag, and then—
"Howie," I croak, "he came back-"
"We know, kid. He's back at the house."
I'm carried inside - at least, I think I am. It's no longer raining on me, and there's no wind against my skin. It's also warmer. When a hand touches me I flinch, but Wufei's soothing voice reaches my ear.
"It's okay, Duo. It's just me."
"Where is he?" I ask, and it doesn't take a genius to know who I'm asking about.
"Heero's dealing with him."
"I want to see him," I whisper as I'm set down on what's probably the sofa. The pressure against my wrists lessens, and I open my eyes to see Wufei stepping back from me, a sheared length of rope clutched in one hand.
"I don't think that's a good idea," he says warily, and as he turns to throw the rope away I see a trail of blood along his neck.
"What happened?!" I say, trying to sit up. Dizziness hits me, causing me to sink back down.
"Take a moment, you hit your head pretty hard," Howie tells me, pushing me back into the cushions. I can see the stress on his face, the way his eyes are creasing and the furrow of his brow.
I haven't seen him this worried since after—
"I lost it," I remember, thinking aloud. "I thought he was back."
"Barton was there for a moment, but only to let us find you. We wouldn't have found you otherwise."
"No. Not Tro— Barton. I mean, my brother."
Howie doesn't say anything, messing around with his watch for a couple of beats before sighing.
"I know. Are you that surprised?"
"It's been almost twelve years since he died."
"I know."
"Stop that!" I snap, the force of my words making me cough. After I catch my breath again, I press a hand gently against my throat as I glare down the man across from me. "Don't fuckin' start that shit. It ain't your fault. What happened to Solo was my—"
"That wasn't your fault either. If you won't let me accept the blame for what I did, you can't either. Understand? Solo never would have known how to do what the fuck he did to you if I didn't teach him."
"He never would have tried if he didn't have me as a tool," I retort. "Wouldn't have mattered if you taught him shit or not, I enabled him."
"You weren't a tool, Duo," Howie says. "Solo loved you."
"Isn't it ironic?" I muse, leaning back into the cushions. I'm staring ahead, but not seeing a thing. "He loved me. I know that. But that turned into past-tense a long time before he died."
"Before he died," Howie starts, hesitant, "he asked me one thing. It was the only thing he ever asked me for that didn't involve him directly."
I flick my gaze up, giving the man my undivided attention. Howie's staring at his hands, a well-worn leather wallet loosely grasped in his fingers.
"It was the night he tried to sacrifice you. He came to my house, let himself in like the brat he was, and raided my fridge. I wasn't even home at the time, but when I came back he was flying high and completely drunk. He said he was going to do something stupid, something that would kill him, but he asked a favour of me. 'Howard,' he asked, and that caught my attention. In the entire time I knew him he never called me by my name. But anyway. 'Howard, could you take care of Duo? Don't let him make my mistakes. Get him out of this shithole.'"
I feel the burn behind my eyes, the pain in my chest, and the tremor in my hands, but Howard continues regardless.
"I didn't know he was planning on trying to take you with him. I have no idea what drove him to lose it so completely. He wanted me to take care of you, but then he offered you up as the sacrifice? I don't know why I let him walk back out the door that night. But I did. And each time I see you, I'm reminded of how I failed you both. I was his teacher, his mentor, and I didn't do a damn thing to stop him. Fuck, I gave him my blessing! I told him 'Whatever it is, I hope you succeed.' He just gave me that crooked smile and walked out the door. And I let him."
I don't say anything. I'm not sure what would leave my mouth if I open it at this point. I might curse him out, putting all the blame on him. I might ask him why he didn't tell me this twelve fucking years ago. I might ask him why he's telling me this now. I might just scream. I might end up crying.
I might tell him it's not his fault. I might tell him that he couldn't have known.
I might tell him how I knew what was going to happen the moment I saw Solo standing in the rain, no jacket and blond hair plastered to his face, on the stairs of the church. I might tell him how I didn't try to run, knowing I was going to my end. I might tell him how I pleaded with my brother to spare me, even as I let him chain me to the circle. I might tell him how I watched the rift form in the middle of the room, how I still hear Solo's screams each night in my dreams, or how the stench of blood still haunts me to this day.
I might have told him all of this. But I don't say a damn thing.
All I do is close my eyes and try to hold back the tears.
Wufei asks Howie if he would like a drink before he comes to crouch next to me.
"We're about to start the interrogation. Would you like to join us?"
I nod, pushing myself upright. I feel a little woozy, but not enough to knock me flat on my ass. Wufei keeps a hand on my elbow anyway, helping me down the hallway and back to the room where Trowa and I—
What are you, some heartbroken teenage girl? I scold myself, stepping over the threshold. The sight I see isn't one I was expecting.
Blood stains the front of Trowa's shirt, the source quite obvious by looking at his face. Dry blood's crusting under his chin, a trail of it stemming from the left corner of his mouth. One of his eyes is a bit swollen, and even more blood can be seen drying in his hair and along his hairline. All the dried flakes of blood along the side of his face makes his five o'clock shadow noticeable, the small amount of stubble he has at night quite visible when highlighted against the dark reddish-brown colour.
The room reeks of blood. I feel my vision tilt, the smell of smoke teasing my senses.
Wufei's hand steadies me, bringing me back to the present. I force the pain, the betrayal, and the small bit of lust his mere presence forms to the back of my mind, burying it under a pile of cold, cold emptiness.
"Good evening, Barton. Or is it morning at this point?" I ask him softly, my voice void of the turmoil raging in the pit of my soul.
He flinches. Good.
"Barton. You are going to answer me when I ask you a question. You are not going to lie. You are not going to deceive. You will answer me clearly, without hesitance, and without doubt. You will conceal nothing. You will refuse me nothing. You are nothing. Do you understand?"
Heero's words are crisp, concise, and leave little room for interpretation. They are also backed with sheer power, power that I hadn't even been aware the man possesses. They coat each word, each syllable punctuated by the persuasive weave laced within them. I can almost see it wrapping around Trowa's body, his mind being pierced with the suggestions Heero's choking him with.
"Yes."
"Good. You erased multiple memories of mine associated with you and Duo Maxwell. Is this true?"
"Yes." I can see the sweat across Trowa's brow, a sign of his futile struggle to slip the hold Heero has on him.
"Precisely, you erased the memories where I witnessed you engaging in acts considered to be sexual in nature between you and Duo Maxwell. Is this true?"
"Yes." The pain in Trowa's voice isn't masked. Good, let him hurt.
"Elaborate."
The word is tainted with so much power I can see it hanging in the air, the power pushing against Trowa's fragile mind.
"I was afraid that my time with Duo would be limited if you remembered… that I wouldn't be able to spend time with him. I didn't… I didn't…"
"Elaborate!" Heero shouts, slamming his hand down on the dresser. The smack of flesh on wood has Trowa flinching, more words pouring out of the man than I thought possible.
"I didn't want to lose him to an asshole like you! I didn't want you to have that power over me, to control me with the only thing I wanted. Damn it, I just wanted something that belonged to me, not given to me on the whim of someone else! I didn't want him held over me as a prize, as a reward for being a good boy. I just wanted the freedom to act as I pleased, to not be afraid of you stepping in and deciding that I couldn't see him anymore!"
Like what we're doing now, I realize, but the sick horror is shoved away into the pit, the emptiness keeping me cool and collected.
"Then why, if you were so afraid of me taking him from you," Heero says calmly, steady blue eyes never leaving dull green ones, "did you give me a false memory of you two fornicating in my office?"
Trowa pales, a sheen of sweat covering what skin I can see. He's trembling at this point, a few new rivets of blood streaming down his face.
"I didn't do that," he whispers. "Why would I do that?"
"Indeed, what would you get from providing me with a memory of reviewing video feed from a camera that doesn't exist? Even more, in such a manner where I didn't even realize I was being deceived because the fact that I don't have cameras in my office didn't occur to me and had to be brought to my attention from an outside source?"
"I don't have anything to gain from that!" Trowa shouts, louder than I've ever heard him yell, even in the throes of sex. "That's the exact opposite of what I was trying to do! Why would I blow my own cover?!"
"Because you weren't the one to do it," Wufei murmurs. "Which means that there's someone else out there with the ability to do what you do."
"I can't give people memories," Trowa gasps, a trickle of blood spilling over his bottom lip. "I can only take them away, hide them from the conscious mind… I can't make them. I promise you. I can't do that. I didn't do that. Please, stop…"
"Why did you assault Duo Maxwell in your front room, then tie him up and put him in a storage unit three blocks away from here?" Heero asks, apparently not done with his new toy. Because that's all Trowa is at this point, a damn doll at Heero's whim.
"I didn't want to lose him," Trowa whispers, his eyes searching to find me. "I didn't want him to leave me. Ever."
"So you attempted to kidnap him?"
"Yes. Then he would still be with me."
"You didn't consider that he would take your actions negatively?"
"I was prepared for that possibility."
"How were you planning on keeping him from leaving?"
Trowa coughs, an alarming amount of blood spraying through the air and dribbling down his chin. Wufei steps forward, planting a hand on Heero's chest and pushing him back from Trowa.
"Break the hold, you'll kill him at this rate."
"Is that such a horrible thing?" Heero asks quietly, his eyes shining with power. Wufei pushes him again, Heero's back hitting the wall.
"Break the hold, or I'll break it for you. Either way, you need to let it go."
Heero stares blankly at Wufei for a few moments before the tension in the air vanishes and Trowa leans forward, coughing and panting heavily. Heero slumps back, his eyes fluttering closed and his breath coming in sharp gasps.
"Duo," Trowa rasps, his green eyes desperately seeking mine. I take a step forward, placing myself in his line of sight. He looks up, the raw pain in his eyes not affecting my resolve.
I lift my hand, my fingers steady and facing towards the ceiling, my palm facing the man tied to the chair in front of me. I let a part of my soul slide out of place, a torrent of power rising to the surface, escaping from the small crack I've made within myself. My skin glows with a dim purple sheen, and I curl my thumb, ring finger, and pinky over my palm, the power rushing to rest in the tips of my index and middle fingers. I cut my hand down through the air, a trail of light following my gesture.
Trowa screams, tossing his head back and closing his eyes instinctively. A blossom of red forms a line across his chest, starting near his right shoulder and ending near his hip on the left. I flick my hand sharply to the left, and Trowa screams again. More lines of red form on his sweater, expanding across the fabric at an alarming rate.
I feel someone grab me from behind, pulling me sharply out of the room and slamming me back against a hard surface.
The power explodes from my skin. Whoever has me though doesn't let it affect them.
A sharp slap across my face forces me to focus, the power vanishing from my body instantly. It leaves me light-headed, and Howard's furious face swims into focus in front of my own.
"Duo Maxwell, what the fuck are you doing?!"
"I'm letting him feel how disappointed I am," I reply blankly. "An eye for an eye, a life for—"
"He might have done some fucked up things, but he didn't kill anyone you care about," Howard shouts, his hands shaking me in time with his words. "He didn't kill Heero Yuy, and by some goddamn miracle he didn't kill you. But I might, you understand? I'm ready to fucking kill you. Using your own soul to tear his?! Do you want to be a murderer?!"
"I already am," I point out. "I crossed that line a long time ago."
"While under the thumb of your brother, and while under my care. But you aren't there anymore. You aren't that scared little shit who followed the commands of another without a second thought. You are Duo Maxwell, the annoying shit who can't seem to keep his nose out of others' affairs. You're Duo Maxwell, the little shit who, even though you hate her, takes care of his brother's wife and kids. You're Duo Maxwell, the boy who just can't stay out of trouble. You're Duo Maxwell, the man who's trying to gain redemption by stopping others from going down the same path as you. Do you want to ruin all of that? Do you want to ruin the life you've made, the bonds you've formed, and the respect you've gained because someone made a stupid choice? Do you want to take more of Cathy's family from her?"
That last question strikes me hard, and I look up into the old man's unforgiving gaze. I look down at my hands, shadowed and stained like they're the hands of a stranger.
"I… I…"
"I can't save you from yourself, Duo Maxwell. I can only hope you make the right choice."
Howie turns from me, glancing once through the open doorway at the broken man in the chair. He then turns and walks down the short hallway, through the living room and lets himself out the front door.
I don't move, paralyzed by my own fear.
What the hell did I do? What the fuck have I done?
"Duo?" Wufei asks me, standing in the threshold of the door. I whimper, my knees buckling.
"I could have killed him," I croak.
"I know," he says. "Will you help me patch him up?"
I raise my gaze to look at him and find a lack of scorn, a lack of judgment in the man who has always been quick to give it. It helps me find my feet, step away from the wall, and cross the line I had almost erased with my actions.
The line I couldn't have remade once gone.
"I'm sorry," Trowa whispers again, staring blankly at the ceiling. I wrap the gauze around his arm, the too-cleanly-cut lines there making me nauseous.
I put those there. I tore him apart.
"How's the boss-man?" I ask Wufei, ignoring the words directed at me. Wufei shrugs.
"Recovering. He tends to get lost in the stream of power and needs to regain a sense of… reality? I don't quite understand what happens, but he's sleeping it off. He'll be good and back to normal by dawn."
"Oh."
And here comes the awkward, tense silence again.
I secure the wrapping, taping the ends of the bandaging into place, and picking up a pair of scissors I carefully cut through the thick, blood-soaked fabric of his favourite turtleneck sweater. It squelches as my fingers squeeze it, a little trail of blood streaking across my knuckles and down the back of my hand as I lift it away.
I feel bile in the back of my throat.
Trowa's torso is a mess. Open wounds, freshly bleeding as the 'bandage' strips any potential scabs away, crisscross the pale flesh. There are several bruises mingling among the torn skin, and two deep gouges in his skin, the edges melted and charred.
One goes from his right shoulder to his left hip, and the other across the center of his stomach.
I don't allow my hands to shake as I gently clean the mess, pressing gauze to the wounds and taping the edges to hold them in place. Using the same scissors that removed his sweater, I cut at the edges of his melted skin, ignoring the cries of pain coming from the man I'm mutilating. I refuse to let myself turn away, to empty the meager contents of my stomach as I thread a needle, letting my lighter sterilize the length of metal before sliding it under the skin, poking out into the open wound then going across, coming to rest on the opposite side and leaving a trail of black surgical thread loosely strung in the chasm. I take hold of the end closest to me, holding it still as I pull the needle towards me again, the pressure of both sides pulling the two pieces of flesh together and hiding the muscle underneath from my sight. I expertly tie it off, snipping the end of the string and moving up a short way to repeat the motion.
After securing the last stitch, I place gauze over the bleeding strips and tape them down before having Wufei help me get Trowa sitting upright to wrap it all with bandages. I pass it across the back of Trowa, handing it to Wufei to pass along the front of his chest and back to me. The two of us quickly get Trowa cleaned up and drugged to the eyeballs with painkillers, antibiotics, and sleeping pills.
Wouldn't want him wandering off, after all.
In the kitchen Wufei treats my meager wounds. There's a cut to the back of my head he cleans and wraps, and my neck is checked to make sure nothing's broken before being wrapped lightly to hide it from sight. It's turned a nasty shade of black, blue, purple, and yellow, and would only look worse in the coming days.
Trowa didn't hold back, after all.
Neither did I.
"We need to investigate who has been tampering with Yuy's memories, and discover if any of our memories have been tampered with as well. This is a serious problem, if that is the case. How much is compromised?" Wufei asks, washing his hands in the kitchen sink. The sound of wood slamming against plaster has me pulling open the drawer next to the stove, a knife sliding into my hand and ready to toss at whoever dares to come in.
Luckily for Heero, I recognize him before I let the blade fly.
"Fuck, don't do that, man!" I breathe, letting the knife rest against my thigh lightly as I lean against the counter.
Heero looks like shit. His hair's sticking up oddly along the left side, traces of blood and sweat stick to his skin, and his clothes are well-rumpled. He looks exhausted, definitely not like he should be out of bed and walking around.
"It's been determined that Trowa Barton, while responsible for removing several memories, isn't responsible for that which we first accused him of. That does, however, leave an unknown factor in the equation."
"We know. And I don't like the thought of leaving that person to freely wander around unchecked."
"Neither do I. I don't have the connections or the resources to investigate further on the matter. So I will be calling upon the help of Quatre Winner and Miss Peacecraft. It will be their decision whether to assist in this or not, but I do not wish to let the matter rest."
"I can call in favours," I toss in, grinning bitterly when two sets of eyes meet mine. "I'm a Necromancer, remember? I know a lot of people, and have plenty of names that'll loosen lips."
"Keep that thought in mind, I might take you up on it," Heero says, before pulling out one of the kitchen chairs and sitting down heavily. "I need to establish a temporary office until it can be determined that an object isn't helping establish a connection between our minds and the falsified memories. As the false memory is linked to the office, that is a possibility."
"I would offer my home, but—"
"It might be tampered. You commute between there and here often, and I have spent several nights at your residence between cases."
"Well, my place is out," I point out, gesturing around us. "It ain't my place."
"My residence is not a possibility, either," Heero sighs.
I bite my lip, looking at the wall behind Heero blankly. Heero raises an eyebrow, a gesture for me to voice the suggestion that has just popped into my mind.
"Well… I could call in a favour… but it might not be enough."
"Do what is needed, this cannot be dragged out."
I open the drawer I'd grabbed the knife from, replacing it and pulling out the cell phone that's been in there since the day I moved in. Opening it, I press down on the number three and put it to my ear once I hear the ringing begin on the line. Four sets of tones later, a tired voice answers the phone.
"Duo?"
"Hey, sis, I was wondering if me and my friends can spend the night…"
"The kids are still sleeping," she tells us, holding the door open while Wufei and Heero bring in their suitcases. Trowa's sitting in the car, tied up and not going anywhere soon. I lean against the frame, tired and at the end of my rope.
Cathy touches the bandage against my throat, a hum of concern echoing in her own.
"Your baby brother decided to chokehold me and then kidnap me. Wasn't that sweet of him?" I bite out harshly, taking a step back out of her reach. The pain in her eyes doesn't soften mine.
"I'm sorry… I didn't—"
"I know," I sigh, tossing my head back to look at the sleeping man in the back seat of the van. "It's been a long night."
"Tell me about it," she agrees, the same exhaustion in my body given voice in her words. "I get a call from Howard telling me he's been tampering with people's minds, then I'm up all night, worried that I might never see him again. If he was reporting to the Order—"
"He'd be dead. I know."
"The price of using his power as he did is too high…"
"And you never listed him as a mind-messer, did you? Wouldn't want to taint your pure reputation, after all. A psychotic Necromancer as a husband, his failed experiment and assistant as your brother-in-law, three-and-a-half untrained and unlisted children, and a mind-fucking little brother. What a predicament, isn't it? What would the Order say if they discovered that?"
"They would execute us all, that's what they would do," she snaps angrily. "I did it for all of us. I kept us out of the limelight, from the eyes of those who would rather kill us than let us wander without a leash. Be grateful I didn't tell them about you when I reported Solo's death to the Council."
"You could have warned me," I tell her coldly. "I would have liked to know I was trying to get in the pants of a man who could manipulate what I thought was real."
"Warn you?" she laughs bitterly. "What was there to warn you about? My baby brother wouldn't go out of his way to intentionally cause someone harm—"
"But apparently he would go out of his way to soothe his guilty conscience," I retort, and she flushes a deep red.
"How dare you—!"
"Hush now, you'll wake the children," a deep voice breaks in, causing my blood to run cold.
Oh fuck.
"Oh! Sorry, hun, did I wake you?" Cathy asks, the anger fleeing her words as she turns to her husband. I stalk past her into the house, sidestepping the man towering over the two of us and escape to the back bedroom that Cathy's allowing the four of us to use for the time being.
"Dick," I snarl, tossing my bag onto the empty bed. The bags of both Heero and Wufei are also on it, giving away that it won't be used for sleeping - not that there's enough room for four men to fit on a single-wide mattress - but more for storage and a temporary table. Already Heero has set out files and papers along the sheets (freshly printed from a brand-new laptop and printer he bought on the way up here) and a large briefcase rests against the back wall, untouched and ignored.
"Duo," Heero looks up from where he's bent over, a fresh stack of printed papers held in his hand, "please look over the documents in the file," he gestures to the 'ignored' briefcase "and please check to see if you can sense anything from them."
"As far as we can tell, my memories have not been altered or affected," Wufei adds, "But neither have yours. I didn't feel anything from them, but you might be able to pick up on what I cannot."
'Necromancy' my mind substitutes, and I pick up the battered leather case and pop it open, pausing for only a second as the images stare back up at me.
I should have guessed he'd try to salvage the only references I've ever given him. Circles, photos, pages of hand-scrawled notes and comments, and a couple small tapes of what must have been our recorded interviews-slash-debriefings.
"Of all the things you had to bring with you," I mutter, snapping the case shut, "you had to bring this shit."
"I am aware you would not replicate the information in there. I felt the risk of bringing it along outweighed the risk of losing it," Heero responds, unaffected by my dark attitude.
"Just don't leave this shit lying around," I warn, pushing the files underneath the bed. "I don't want the kids to come across it, or worse, their father."
"Then change out the lock on the door handle," Cathy pipes in, leaning against the frame of the door. "I don't want them seeing this shit. I prefer to keep work and home separate."
"Thanks for letting us come, Sissy," I tell her, walking up and giving her a hug. I can feel her surprise, the tension in her as I physically embrace her - nothing I've ever done willingly - before she realizes that I'm hugging her. She squeezes me back, her face dipping down to bury herself in my hair, her nose and lips brushing against my scalp.
"You've always been welcome to come home, Duo, and you always will be," she whispers, before stepping back and wiping at damp eyes.
I close the door quietly behind her, leaning my head against the wooden barrier between her life and mine.
I will never be welcome here, not while her husband lives here as well.
To be continued in Part 2…
A/N: Wow. Just. Wow. I only updated about two weeks ago, and here I am already presenting another chapter for you to enjoy. And things are certainly hitting the fan here!
So a fun little tidbit I wanted to share about the creation of this chapter. I spent Valentine's Day at a coffee shop, enjoying a box of chocolates I had received and working on this chapter. While writing one of the scenes, I physically started crying (which was kind of strange for me). A barista came over to give me a hug, then handed me a pastry. It didn't click until the following day exactly what it might have looked like to him.
But there you go. And here you are. And now, I hope you enjoyed your chapter. Because I'm going to go find a flat surface and sleep. I can't quite recall the last time I had good sleep since starting this chapter. As long as I don't have another dream about Quatre being Hannibal Lecter, I'll be good.
~ALT