A/N: Oh! People still like me! And, for the record, I'm not nearly as evil as I seem. Also for the record… I hardly EVER kill Duo. Hardly. Also, this is a warning: you aren't going to be happy when you read the end of this chapter – but it'll get better, I promise. Or, at least I hope it will. So don't give up if it makes you mad! Tell me it makes you mad… or, if it makes you kinda happy, tell me that too and this fic might take on a whole new turn. Either way, someone is about to die – just not in this chapter
Out on Strikes 11/?
Heero found himself in the awkward position of missing Duo. In the past month he had spent only three days with him, and while they spoke on the phone several times a week, Heero found himself wanting to wake up with Duo again, or going running with him and then showering together.
This sort of immediate attachment was so uncharacteristic of him that it made him rethink the whole relationship – whatever that relationship was.
Wufei had started hounding him about it as soon as they returned from their last roundtrip and he had overheard Heero telling Duo that he missed him. The pitcher had immediately pounced.
"You MISS him? What exactly does that mean?"
"It means I miss him, Chang."
"As in you miss beating in his face or you miss his company?"
Heero glared and Wufei momentarily retreated.
They were at Wufei's apartment, enjoying a rare off day and take-out.
"Yuy – you can't seriously – he's with the Red Sox! He's the singular most annoying person on the planet! Yuy, don't you have standards?!"
"I know he's annoying, but there's more to it than that. He's… different."
"Your face – Yuy… I can't believe you! The enemy!"
"He's not the enemy."
"What do you mean he's not the enemy? You two are neck and neck for the MVP and Rookie of the Year awards – our teams are neck and neck for the Division title – and you're sleeping with him!"
"You make him sound like a Nazi. Besides, I've only gotten to sleep with him three times."
"So it's just sex, then?"
"No, maybe."
Wufei smirked at him.
"You've got it bad."
"He doesn't," Heero growled back.
Wufei shrugged.
"Give him time – he just came off of a what, ten year or more relationship?"
"So you go from hounding me to offering relationship advice?"
"I am vast. I contain multitudes."
Heero refrained from rolling his eyes at that comment.
"Oh – hey, something's up. Turn on Sports Center," Wufei said, glancing up from his laptop.
Heero grabbed the remote and did as instructed.
It looked like a press conference was being held, and as the cameras zeroed in on the dais at the front of a room two people came into focus.
"What's Duo doing? Must be something big if he's got Doro there with him," Wufei mused.
"Hn."
Heero panicked for a moment – what was going on? Why hadn't Duo told him he was holding a press conference? Was he possibly announcing a trade – no, it was too late in the season for that.
"Thank you all for coming here on such short notice today," Duo began. He looked somber, his hair pulled back in it's customary braid, dark suit and tie immaculate.
"You're probably wondering what's going on, so I'll try to be as to-the-point as possible. Growing up on the streets of Boston, my only dream was to play ball – and I always wanted to play for the Sox. To me, baseball was the only sport that really mattered – it's one of the first American sports, it was the first to integrate. It's America, you know?" Duo paused and drew in a deep breath. "So baseball has always been my home, in a way. My point is, I've spent most of my life wanting to be a part of this great dynasty, and now that I am I feel pretty damn content. Except for one thing: I'm living a lie."
There was a long pause as Duo took a sip of water.
"You see, I'm not just a baseball player, I'm not just some orphan. I'm also homosexual. I've debated whether or not to come out with the truth, but I finally decided that, though my private life is actually private, I still don't think that I need to lie about who I am. So I'm not."
There was a moment of complete silence – not even the camera's were flashing – before Dorothy spoke up.
"Mr. Maxwell will take questions for the next fifteen minutes," she said firmly after clearing her throat.
It took another minute before her words registered and the reporters started to shout.
By that time Heero had left Wufei's apartment and was pulling out his cell phone.
"James? It's Heero. I need to be on a flight to Boston ten minutes ago. Make it happen." Heero hailed a cab while still on the phone with his travel agent. By the time he was in the cab he was booked on a flight leaving JFK.
"We need to be at JFK immediately," Heero told the driver. He passed a hundred dollar bill through the partition.
The driver stared at it for a second.
"Yes sir!"
Heero held onto the door handle for dear life as the cab sped through Manhattan.
Quatre was as speechless as the rest of the reporters gathered in the press room. By the time he had recovered Duo was under a barrage of questions, but Quatre stuck his hand in the air, confident that Dorothy would allow him to speak.
"Mr. Winner?" She called over the din of voices.
"Thanks. Duo, are there other athletes – maybe even other baseball players – that you think are also homosexual? Do you think your announcement here today will inspire any of them to come forward?"
"There isn't any kind of club, Mr. Winner, of gay athletes. But, yes, there are others. And yes, I hope that my announcement will also motivate them to come forward."
"Duo! Duo! How do you think this will affect your chances at MVP or Rookie of the Year?"
Duo was frowning at the question.
"I'm honestly not sure, those are, after all, awards for my actions on the field."
"Duo! Are you dating anyone?"
At this Duo smirked, and Quatre relaxed a little at the familiar expression on his friend's face.
"Yeah, yeah I am."
"How do you think your teammates will react to this news?"
"I hope that they'll stand by me. After all, I'm the same guy I was yesterday."
"Duo – "
"I'm sorry, that's all the time Mr. Maxwell has for questions. Thank you for coming here today." Dorothy stood and Duo followed suit. The two waded through the reporters silently, ignoring the questions still being thrown at them.
Quatre found himself one of the last reporters to leave, and as he hung back he listened to the comments of the other reporters as they brushed past him.
"… believe it? Fuckin' queer…"
"…gonna change things? I wouldn't be caught in a locker-room with him, who knows…"
"…strange. Real damn strange. If you ask me, I woulda…"
"…little sister is going to be so devastated – she thought he was hot…"
Finally he was alone, staring at the podium, at the empty room, the small chaos left by reporters eager to file their stories.
He had the eerie feeling he was looking at the end of something.
Something that resembled the end of Duo's career.
Trowa stared at the television for a full five minutes before he turned it off. The press conference had ended, and Sports Center was now trying to fumble through a response to Duo's shocking confession.
And Trowa… Trowa was sitting at home, staring at the television screen.
What the hell had just happened?
He was pretty sure that Duo had just sacrificed his entire career. What he didn't know was why.
Duo had a five year plan, which he hadn't spoken about much since his break-up with Solo, anyway.
Had Heero put him up to this?
But that made no sense to Trowa, because Heero seemed as reluctant to come out as Trowa himself did.
So what could have possibly motivated Duo?
He grabbed his cell phone and flipped it open, dialing Dorothy's number from memory.
"Trowa?" She answered after one ring, and the silence in the background told him that she was probably in a cab.
"What the hell just happened? Did you put him up to this?"
"Are you kidding? I've been up since two this morning trying to talk him out of doing this. But he's been so damn persistent – Trowa, we need to work out a plan for you. As a teammate and friend, where do you stand on this?"
Trowa hadn't even begun to consider that.
"Trowa? Look, this is going to have enormous backlash on Duo's career. If you stand with him – the same thing is going to happen to you. If you want to pull out, we need to do it quick, before reporters start making connections – or before that damn tabloid threat crops up again. Trowa?"
He thought back to his conversation with Quatre, months ago, when he had asked what Trowa would do if Duo did come out.
"Trowa? We need to move quick on this. What do you want to do?"
Then, he had said that he wouldn't come out with Duo. Then he had thought to distance himself from the loudmouth. Then… then…
"Dorothy, tomorrow I'll do the same."
"What? What do you mean the same?"
"I'd like to hold a press conference as well."
"Trowa! This is insane! You don't have to do that – just, say that you support him. There's no reason to send your career down the toilet too!"
"So you think that's what will happen, then? We'll both find ourselves optioned out to some minor league team in… Topeka or something?"
"Trowa, I strongly advise you to reconsider this. This – this is not a good career move."
"Dorothy, I owe it to Duo. I owe it to myself."
There was silence on the other line.
"Dorothy?"
"I'll set things up and get back to you in a few hours. I swear to God, Trowa, if you two weren't the best things to happen to the Red Sox in fifty years, I would – "
"Yeah, we know. Thank you."
They were waiting for him when he came home. It had been a long day, dodging press and sitting through meetings with Red Sox publicists and management. All he wanted to do was go home, shower, and collapse on the couch. Maybe sleep. Maybe even eat.
But, it seemed, the world hated Duo Maxwell.
The two thugs looked angry as he approached, so he put on his biggest smirk.
"Evening, gentlemen."
"O'Grady ain't too happy with you."
"Yeah, that's really tearing me up inside. Thought I'd send him some flowers or something tomorrow, though." Duo widened his eyes. "Maybe I should…ask him out?"
The thugs weren't amused.
"Look, if you think this is gonna get you out of the deal – "
"I know it isn't, but it'll fulfill my end of the bargain."
They looked confused.
Duo sighed in exasperation. "Gentlemen, how many sportswriters do you know that support homosexuality?" They frowned. "And how many do you think are going to vote for a gay MVP or Rookie of the Year? Exactly zero. So, I've fulfilled my end of the bargain – and O'Grady better keep his hands off Solo and Hilde.
The thugs looked at each other, clearly annoyed but unsure as to what they could do.
"Now, run along and tell O'Grady everything's gonna work out." Duo made a shooing motion with his left hand. The thugs continued to glare, but moved down the street.
Duo spent a few minutes watching them disappear before he went into the building.
He was more than shocked to see who was waiting inside for him.
"Heero? Solo? What – what are you doing here?"
Heero was sitting on the living room couch, while Solo was leaning against the wall near the window. Clearly he had observed everything.
Judging from their facial expressions they had also clearly heard everything.
"Well, good to have you two – makes a nice, awkward house-warming party," Duo was rambling.
"Duo – " Solo started.
"What the hell just happened?" Heero demanded, rising from the couch and crossing the room to stand in front of Duo.
The anger in his eyes pushed Duo back. He looked over at Solo, saw concern in those blue eyes.
"Well, you see…"
"What I see, Duo, is that you just sabotaged your chances at MVP and Rookie of the Year. What I don't see is why."
"That would be my fault," Solo broke in, putting a hand on Heero's shoulder and pulling him away from Duo.
"Your fault?" Heero and Duo echoed.
Solo looked at Duo.
"Duo, I'm sorry. This is… damn it. I think I should probably explain some things to both of you."
"Yeah, I think that'd be a good idea," Duo said, swallowing hard against the sudden urge to scream.
Solo ran a hand through his hair. Hair that in Duo's opinion could do with a trim. Duo mentally slapped himself. Focus.
"I've been working on the O'Grady case for two years now, you already know that, Duo – "
"Who is O'Grady?" Heero jumped in.
Solo looked thoughtful for a moment. "Remember that movie from a few years back? The Departed? Think Jack Nicholson and you're almost at how powerful O'Grady is."
Heero scowled, whether at being told to compare real-life to a movie or because he understood how serious O'Grady was, Duo couldn't tell.
"A few months ago – the night before you came over, actually, O'Grady's guys tracked me down." Solo shrugged. "Roughed me up – gave me the usual 'drop the case or you're dead' thing and dropped me off at home – just to prove they knew where I lived."
"Oh shit. Then I come blundering in like an idiot the next day…" Duo trailed off as Solo nodded and Heero started to glare.
"Which is why I was… Jesus, Duo, I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that, I just wanted you gone. I hoped that, well, you'd be mad enough that they would see and just leave it – dumb idea."
"Yeah, I'll say. I thought you were supposed to be the smart one, anyway." Duo tried for a grin, but only one corner of his mouth turned up.
"So why were they here?" Heero demanded.
Duo sighed.
"They saw me that day. Then, last week, they showed up and threatened to kill Solo and Hilde if I didn't throw games, if I didn't rig it so you won MVP and Rookie." Duo swallowed hard and looked away from the anger in Heero's eyes.
"And you didn't think to tell me?"
"What could you have done, huh? Held my hand as we went to the cops and then held my hand again at the funerals for my best friends? Telling you only would have pissed you off – especially when I went through with it. You wouldn't have been able to look at me! You'd – you'd look at me like you are now. You're disgusted with me. Disgusted that I'm so weak that I gave in."
Heero looked away from Duo's accusing eyes.
"But you didn't, Duo! You were brilliant. Outing yourself – it was risky, and I'm not sure it's gonna work, but it makes you untouchable to O'Grady. He doesn't want to be connected with you – he can't brag about having some star in his pocket if he's gay – he'd never live it down."
Solo was smirking, triumphant, as he explained it.
"I wish you'd come to me, though. I know I was an ass – but, Duo – "
"No, no, no, no. You cannot both do this to me. I'm a fucking adult. I did what I thought was best, my choice, my consequences. I don't need permission from either one of you. Something that you," he stabbed a finger into Solo's chest, "made clear to me. And something that I thought you would understand," he looked over at Heero, but the Japanese man was looking away, jaw clenched in anger.
Finally, Heero looked over at him.
"I realize we haven't been together that long. I realize we aren't as close as… you two. But I'm there for you – as your… as your boyfriend, it's my job to hold your hand. No, you don't need my permission. But you can't just cut me out of parts of your life." Heero shook his head. "Not if you want me. Not if you want something between us. And this does affect me, Duo Maxwell. You've compromised the integrity of this game you claim to love so much." He advanced on Duo, roughly grabbing his shoulders and looking in his eyes. "There are two weeks left in the season. If I see or hear of you playing anything less than your best – your absolute, two-hundred percent best, I'll go to the press myself, and tell them about this whole damn thing. Do you understand?"
Mouth dry, Duo could only nod.
"Good. I have a plane to catch." He released Duo. "I need to concentrate on the game right now, so, don't… don't try to call me or anything. We'll talk in November. If there's anything to talk about."
And with that Heero was gone.
Duo stared after him, feeling his eyes burn but refusing to give into his body.
Eventually Solo pulled him into a hug.
"You did good, Duo. He doesn't understand – he doesn't see it, not yet."
"But he will?" Duo found himself gripping Solo tightly and breathed in the familiar scent of the blonde man.
"He fucking better. Or I'll break his legs myself."
Duo laughed weakly and pulled away to look up at Solo.
Solo's blue eyes were serious as they met his.
"I messed up, Duo, I know. But, I can't help but think – you did this on your own. You didn't lean on anybody. And I knew you could – I always knew you didn't need me, but you used to depend on me, and –"
"I know. You're right, Solo. I did. I'm sorry."
Solo's face was serious as he took in Duo's admission. Then he nodded once and grinned.
"Good. Just so long as we've settled the fact that I'm still always right –"
And suddenly they were kissing, the heat so overwhelming and their passion so furious neither could think of anything but MORE.
Quatre came home to find Nick in the kitchen. And Trowa in the living room.
"Oh fuck."
Nick was making dinner, just like he had promised he would last night. Just as if Trowa Barton, Red Sox god and rival for Quatre's affections, wasn't sitting on the couch and watching ESPN.
"Hey honey," Nick said, cheer forced.
"Hi…Nick, Trowa."
Trowa turned off the television and walked over to Quatre.
His eyes were dark and unreadable as he looked down at Quatre.
"I wanted to tell you that you were right. This is my fight. I thought that you would like to know, but you've obviously got other concerns right now. Goodnight."
Trowa left silently and Quatre stood dumbfounded for several seconds before he realized what had just happened.
"Trowa!" He shouted as he arrived at the entrance to his building, searching for any sign of the pitcher.
He saw a tall figure walking down the street some distance away.
Running, he caught up just as he turned a corner.
"Trowa – Trowa! Sop!"
Quatre had no trouble reading Trowa's eyes now. They were still dark, but they were glassy, and a tear was working its way out of his right eye.
"Trowa –"
The tall man avoided Quatre's hand as he reached out.
"Don't, Quatre. I'm not strong enough for this. My best friend – my only friend – just outed himself to the world and it," Trowa gestured with one hand, "it inspired me to do it too. So I come to tell you – because it matters – it mattered to you. And I thought – this is it, this is what didn't work." Trowa shook his head. "And you've got a fucking… house frau in there, cooking for you. How stupid am I, huh?" He swiped angrily at his eyes.
"Trowa –"
"I left you, remember? You have every right to be with someone else, right?" Trowa shook his head and turned away, walking again. Quatre again caught up with him, stopping him by grabbing his arms.
"Trowa," Quatre swallowed hard, "Trowa, I love you."
There was a silent moment as Trowa seemed to consider his words.
"Funny way you have of showing it," he said before pulling free and walking away.
It was a long time before Quatre found his way home. But Nick was waiting patiently by the oven. As soon as he saw Quatre he opened the door and produced dinner.
It smelled wonderful, but it tasted like betrayal.
TBC……
