CHAPTER TEN
[DAY 10] Outer Orbital Ring, Lagrange Point 3
Duo hated the idea. He wanted nothing to do with it.
"There is no way in hell. You can't fucking ask me to do that. That's like asking me to cut off my own cock. No. No. NO!" Duo backed away quickly, using the weightlessness of space to tumble backward through the air to land against the command deck's closed alloy hatch. "Don't come near me. Seriously, there has to be another way. A wig or something? How about a hat?"
He didn't want to do it. It had been an unexpected request from the other agents for him to cut off his braid. Duo knew it would make sneaking into the Sweeper compound on L3 easier and less risky for the three of them, but he wanted no part in it. His poor, mutilated braid had seen enough hardship since their departure from Mars, and now they were suggesting that he chop off what little was left.
He glared at Solo and Heero angrily with blue-green eyes, his new contacts stinging his corneas. He desperately tried to think of another way.
He knew this was probably Solo's idea. He was almost certain of it. Heero would have never asked him to do something like this. He had caught himself stroking and worshiping the long companion coil of hair in front of Heero more times than he could count. He wanted to punch the guy in the face, and maybe stomp on his gut. Solo was getting on his nerves. The way the guy was always watching him made Duo uneasy. He still didn't trust him, even despite Colonel Une's admission of him into the Preventer Organization. Now "Solo Yuy" was one of them, by decree, but Duo didn't feel any desire to work with him. He wished it were just he and Heero again, running through the shadows as partners, completing this mission alone. Solo brought an uncomfortable dynamic to their group. He knew they needed the man to get into the Sweeper faction undetected, but that didn't mean Duo had to like it.
"Look," he said calmly, surprising even himself. "I really don't feel comfortable doing this." He reached up to the neck of his black flight suit, which was unzipped down to the center of his chest, and protectively grabbed what was left of his former braid.
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Heero wasn't terribly comfortable with the idea of hacking off his partner's hair with one of the man's butterfly knives, either, but they had to get into and out of that damned resource satellite without being identified as Preventers agents. Solo had his 'in'-he was a Sweeper, and the resistance group thought that he was a supporter of theirs. Heero was as anonymous as a man could get; his files were sealed as tightly as possible, despite Solo's fine hacking abilities. Duo, on the other hand...
"It's the first thing about you that people will recognize and remember," he said evenly.
Solo shifted beside him, nodding to himself. "Yeah, kiddo. You became the poster child for the Gundam pilots when OZ dragged you onto the news."
"And your enlistment into Preventers is public knowledge. ESUN made sure to advertise that fact to allay the public's concerns about our whereabouts," Heero added.
Duo looked ready to bolt, and the Japanese pilot was certainly not thrilled about the idea of backing him into a corner of the already-cramped shuttle. They had a little over three hours before they got anywhere near the L3 colony Cluster, and with the navigational instrumentation on autopilot, it was now or never. The risk of Duo being recognized was around seventy-eight percent, and well outside of acceptable parameters, in Heero's opinion.
Brandishing the knife with a crooked smile, Solo moved a bit closer to the cornered American. "C'mon, Duo. It'll take five minutes." Heero wasn't terribly pleased with the almost-leer that his brother was giving his partner. The possessive side of his mind flared briefly before he crushed it back down. Solo could do what he wanted. Heero's duty was to complete this mission and bring them all back whole and intact.
.
"Wait! Fucking hell, just wait! Shit..." Duo slid across the wall to the corner and backed himself against it, pinning what was left of his braid between the wall and his now trembling body. "You jerk, get the fuck away from me!" He screamed in anger and pointed at Solo. "Don't you even think about it, you creeper! You're not laying a hand on me."
He looked over at his partner, thinking maybe he could appeal to his friend. "Please, 'Ro. I can sneak on the colony, I don't need to do this in plain sight." His eyes were red-tinged from the irritation the contacts were giving him. Duo had never needed glasses, or put anything in his eyes in his life. He was uncomfortable and thoroughly pissed off. His reddened eyes shot up to Solo, where he snarled and narrowed his eyes hatefully.
"Get the fuck away from me!" He was losing it. His braid was the only thing he had left. He had lost a bit of it only a few days before, but it was still there and still carried the weight of his childhood and the massacre that he had endured. It was a part of him, just like Heero's bedhead was a part of the Japanese pilot, or Quatre's girly voice was a part of the Arab boy.
Parting with it, even for the mission, was a difficult idea to stomach. Speaking of stomachs, Duo's anxiety level was through the roof. He thought he was going to be sick. He balled up his fists and felt his body tensing, prepared for a fight.
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Heero shot out one arm to stop Solo's advance, giving him a pointed look, and was mildly impressed when his brother took the hint and moved back. Wing's pilot took the knife from him and sighed. "I know it's important to you, but so is this mission," he said carefully. He was almost positive that one of them was about to be on the receiving end of Duo's very capable fists; the other agent's tensed posture was evidence enough of that.
Approaching the American cautiously wasn't as difficult as he had initially anticipated. While their few previous encounters had been intense, rough, and lust-fueled, this was definitely not one of those situations. Heero moved closer, hands visible, attempting to be as non-threatening as a former terrorist could be, and reached out to press the knife into one of Duo's clenched fists. He touched his partner's other balled up hand gently, with the same light finesse that Wing's delicate circuitry had required. "I'm not going to force you, but it's the best way to achieve our goals."
This close to the other pilot, the urge to close the distance between them and kiss the man was strong, stronger than the 'danger' instinct pinging in Heero's brain like a fire alarm. There was his common sense jumping ship in the face of his emotions, again. Heero sighed, and it damned near killed his pride to add, "Please?"
.
Duo had been staring intently at Solo until Heero touched him. His now very pink and blue eyes swiveled to Heero, who was only a few inches away from him.
God, he was handsome. Especially when he was being all nice. Duo began to forget about the other Yuy in the room and simply eyed Heero in shock. When the Japanese pilot said 'please' he nearly balked.
Some things were more important to Duo than missions. His memento of hair was one of them, but some things meant more than even that. Heero asking nicely was the thing.
"I..." he didn't know what to say. His fingers clenched the handle of the knife tightly, and his wrist moved with a slight amount of hesitation. Moments ago he had been like a feral cat, prepared to strike out in violence if anyone dared to touch him. Heero's calm demeanor had managed to soothe and calm him.
He shot Solo a glare, sucked in a breath, and reached behind his own head to slide the sharp edge of the knife against the rope of hair there.
He was scared. He didn't know why, and he would never admit it, but he was scared of the change that was inevitably about to happen. With a tug of his hand and a slice of the knife it was done. He felt a weight leave the base of his neck as the chunk of braided hair fell loose and floated behind him.
His eyes stung and he felt a sharp pain in his stomach. He closed his eyes for a moment and cringed, images of Sister Helen braiding his hair, of the other orphan's playfully tugging it, and of Heero roughly grabbing hold of it...
His hair settled strangely around his face, and tickled the back of his neck. He didn't like it, but he didn't have a choice. Years of growing and maintaining, brushing, braiding... protecting... it was gone.
Duo frowned and opened his eyes, avoided eye contact with either of them, and pushed his way past them to the front of the ship, pocketing the knife he had slain his hair with. He didn't bother taking up the remainder of it. He didn't even turn around to look at it.
He made his way to the command front and pulled himself into the co-pilot's chair. Solo had insisted on piloting the ship in. There really wasn't much for him to do now. He tugged the harnesses over his shoulders, clicked them secure, and then began inventorying the hidden lock picks he had stowed away in the false sole of his shoe.
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Heero felt his gut clench when Duo roughly sawed through his own braid. When he forced his way to the co-pilot's seat and buckled his harness, Wing's pilot was certain that his friend was not operating at acceptable mental capacity. Duo never buckled his harness. With an irritated glance at Solo, Heero snatched the rest of Duo's braid from where it hovered in the corner; without the ship's artificial gravity boosters engaged, the meticulously cared-for coil of chestnut brown hung like a dead snake near the bulkhead. He removed the elastic tie from its end and placed the long rope carefully away in a nearby storage compartment.
Oddly, he wondered if they should bury it. It seemed like an extension of his partner. He shook off that thought and warned Solo with a quick glare to remain as far away from Deathscythe's pilot as possible, then moved to the back of Duo's chair. Without gloves, Heero's fingers slid gently through his friend's much shorter hair unhindered, and he disregarded the safety of his hands to carefully pull Duo's hacked-off hair into a ponytail at the back of the man's head before tying it off with the discarded elastic band. It was just too unnerving to see Duo's drastically shortened hair floating around his head like that. The ponytail was an improvement, certainly, but it still wasn't the same.
Heero rested his now free hands on the other agent's shoulders, looking down at the instrument cluster at the ship's bridge. "We should be within communications range of the satellite in approximately two hours and seventeen minutes," he said quietly. "We need to calibrate our weapons and review the floor plans of the facility before we dock." He turned to Solo without moving from his unconsciously protective vigil over his partner. "We're contractors with the Sweepers, correct? What are we doing in the manufacturing facility and what are our names?" They needed to iron out every detail possible to avoid suspicion once they infiltrated the satellite.
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Solo was a bit put-off at the 'creeper' comment, but he decided to brush it off as Duo having one of his notorious hissy fits. The kid had done a lot of that growing up on L2, but he wasn't quite so cute anymore. Completely fuckable, yeah, but definitely not 'cute.' No, he was just bristly and dangerous now. He'd have to take that under advisement the next time he came within the apparently large confines of Duo Maxwell's personal bubble.
Watching Heero run his hands through the American pilot's hair so nonchalantly was annoying. He was certain that he'd won that little stare-down back at the scrapyard, but he supposed he'd have to find another way to assert his claim over Deathscythe's pilot. For now, he needed to talk shop with them. "I'm in charge of quite a few teams of Sweepers," Solo shrugged, leaning back against the ship's interior airlock. "I'm coming to extend the olive branch to their organization, so to speak. You two are team leaders from the Sweepers and you want in on the resistance, too."
Solo reached back to a larger storage compartment and dug around until he found the two Sweepers jackets he'd stashed there before they'd left for the L3 Cluster. He tossed them weightlessly to his brother. "You're teenaged terrorists. Think. I'm sure you two have plenty of aliases. Pick something commonplace and forgettable. I can guarantee you that we'll be under armed escort the entire time we're touring the facility, so don't try anything fancy or stupid. We get in, have a looksee, and get the fuck out. We can storm the place once we have Preventers backup on our side. I don't need any extra holes in myself at the moment."
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Duo had been pouting, but was shocked to feel Heero suddenly stroking his hair. What was with this guy? First they have an epic fistfight, and then the next thing Duo knew Heero was soothing him. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate it. He dropped the boot he was inspecting as the Japanese pilot pulled what remained of his hair back into a ponytail. He glanced up at Heero, blinking in surprise.
... he really does love me, Duo thought resignedly to himself. The thought made him feel uncomfortably warm.
He looked up at Solo as the man began to explain the perimeters of their mission. Undercover, false names. Duo had formerly been a Sweeper, so he knew how the usual gruff, rough-and-tumble conduct could be. Harsh language, slang and extremely lude jokes. He had hung with the best of them.
As for a name. He thought of the alias he had concocted a year back. "Guy Johnson." He said plainly before cracking a grin. "Man I love that name." Suddenly he began to feel a lot better. The weight of his hair had been removed, but having it fully tied made everything seem much more normal. When this was all over he was going to have to properly mourn the loss of his hair over a good, hard drink.
"Make sure you pick something kind of American, Heero, otherwise you'll stick out like a sore thumb. How about Jim-Bob?" He chuckled to himself and began fishing through a file folder that had been wedged in his seat, flipping through printouts of floor plans. "I have been on L3 plenty of times. The Sweepers hardly ever leave the docks, and if they do, they only travel to the warehouses. Those are on the East side, and accessible through the main dock area."
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Heero rolled his eyes. "John Ritter," he supplied. He knew enough about American culture from Duo to recognize 'Jim-Bob' as a derogatory name. He leaned over his partner's shoulder and entered a few quick commands into the ship's onboard computer. The blueprints for the satellite glowed on the screen. "Once we make it to the rendezvous point at L3's main colony, they'll probably want to escort us to the satellite. The escort will most likely take control of our navigational ability remotely and dock us at the satellite."
Solo was now sliding into the pilot's chair to listen. Heero felt Deathscythe's pilot tense under his hand but continued speaking. "Once they gain control of our ship we will have few options if we need to abort. Stay alert. Chang instructed me not to blow our cover. That's imperative. If we're taken into custody, we cannot resist or fight back." That was going to be an exceptionally difficult task for both Solo and Duo, Heero was sure, but they had no other options. He knew damned well that if they compromised this recon mission Une would have Chang drag all three of them back to Brussels in cuffs.
Blue eyes turned to Solo. "We're trusting you, here. Lead us astray and I won't hesitate to shoot you, sibling or not."
.
Duo was used to being taken places in handcuffs. Normally he put up a little bit of a fight, and so the orders, from CHANG no less, to stand down when confronted and not fight back were going to be hard to follow. But Duo would follow them, because Heero had relayed the message. He would just pretend the orders came from the Wing pilot instead.
At Heero's words of trust Duo looked over at Solo. The other agent was sitting in the head pilot's chair. Already he had become the ringleader. Duo didn't feel comfortable following Solo into this mission, but he had no other choice. He wanted to add on to Heero's promise that he would slit the guy from ear to ear if he really was leading them into a trap.
Duo followed Heero's instructions, studying the map intently. Luckily most of the colonies were laid out the same, with very little variation between designs.
"You know..." he looked over at Solo with a skeptical glance, "If you aren't lying, and we manage to get through this..." he didn't finish his statement. If Solo wasn't lying, and proved he could be a decent agent and comrade, then Duo would reconsider his feelings of disloyalty and negativity concerning the man. But for now he was just as bad as the rest of them. Duo was content with that.