Negasonic Teenage Warhead: Thanks :) I'm glad you liked it. The story is definitely going to get very angsty! Ye be warned.

Celestinasong: Thank you for reading and reviewing :)

Chibichocopaws: Thanks for the review :) Duo is a mix of Sherlock and Patrick Jane ("The Mentalist") :P I'm happy to read you are enjoying the story, I hope you will keep reading and reviewing.

PrussianTails: again, no pasta! (haha, but don't worry, you do get Heero in this chapter :P) Trowa and Quatre will have minor supporting roles, some other GW characters will also make an appearance and WuFei will be back later on :) Thanks for the review!

Duaimei: I figured you were guessing it would be one of the GW characters. But I would never do that (refer to a character we know by a different name), because if I start doing that people are going to expecting/hoping for a GW character to show up every time whereas I want to use other existing characters in a minimal capacity and rely on original characters instead. Thank you for your review and I hope you will enjoy this chapter :)

Wu The Stoic: Thank you so much :) I'm really flattered. I hope you will continue to read and enjoy the story. Let me know what you think :)

CaseyCuervo: Haha, patience, young grasshopper :P Thanks for the feedback

Wind dancer1981: What?! No, Heero's brother did not have sex with him :S For incestuous stuff I refer you to "Brothers" :P

Fred Freeloader: Thanks for reading :)

Scared of Darkness: I'm going to burst that bubble right now. Sorry. No, J.J. is not Heero's long lost brother, I like drama as much as the next girl, but that is too out there :P

Luxissol: Thank you so much! I'm honored to receive such feedback. I hope you will continue to read and enjoy my work :)

Hikaru Itsuko: Thanks for reading and reviewing :) I hope you will enjoy this chapter.


Author's note:

It's been a crazy day. And the world seems to be getting crazier every day. I don't know what to say. It's scary to turn on the news and see the same kind of reports we've been seeing for so long - (suicide) bombings – and then to realize how close to home that violence is. Somehow it puts everything in a new perspective. It's not "there", it's not "them". It's "here", it's "us". It's somewhere you've been, it's people you may have brushed shoulders with. You realize you have friends who live there and for the first time you have to call people to make sure they are alright… And it hits you that for millions of people – "them", over "there" - every day has been a crazy day like this. You realize there is no "them", it has always been "us". We're all the same. But there are still people out there who watched the news today and blame "them" and want to close the borders to "them"; all of "them". And the world gets a little crazier still.

Sorry. It's been a crazy day.


Beta: Shima Yi


Dirty Job

Chapter 11

Duo woke up slouched on his couch, with his feet propped up on the coffee table. The pizza box was still balanced on his stomach, the pungent smell of the single remaining slice might have been what had awoken him. He scrunched up his nose.

Uncoordinated from sleep, he pushed the box away. It fell to the floor, but there was a glass, hollow sound to it. The American was confused and taken aback by his sharp headache, then he noticed the bottles of beer around him and the one that had fallen to the floor. He only remembered drinking a couple of them, the rest was a haze. His body protested as he sat upright; the effort caused him to groan. Another bottle tumbled to the floor, it hit its twin and the sharp sound roused J.J. from his equally deep slumber.

The younger one flinched at the sudden sound; his feet kicked and his arms flailed. "What-?" He spotted his older brother and his mouth twisted into a sloppy grin. "Good morning, sunshine."

Duo tried to think of a witty reply but when he was about to speak his dry throat was irritated and he ended up only letting out a cough and making a face at the horrible taste of beer and pizza in his mouth. "Ugh, I haven't gotten drunk on beer since I was thirteen."

"Then stock up on the good stuff next time," J.J. retorted. He peeled himself off the couch and stretched his limbs, popping his joints in the process. Without a word he left to take a leak in the bathroom.

With his socked foot Duo kicked away the bottles at his feet, clearing his path before getting up himself. He was nauseous, more so from the excessively large pizza than the alcohol and he felt ten years older and ten pounds heavier. He shuffled across the room, also heading for the bathroom. He paid J.J. no heed and made quick work of brushing his teeth. The benefits of the cold water and the minty-fresh taste were undone when he caught an unwelcome glimpse of himself in the mirror; twenty years older, and the bags under his eyes alone weighed a couple of pounds by the looks of them.

J.J. zipped up his jeans and flushed the toilet. He grinned when he made eye-contact with Duo's reflection. "Fuck, you are old."

Not even flinching at the insult, he shot back: "You're going to look twice as bad when you get to be my age. If you should be so lucky to live to be my age."

"Lucky? Not if I'd look like that I won't - let alone worse." He bared his yellow teeth in a smile and pushed his brother aside to wash his hands at the sink.

Once the other had left the bathroom, Duo closed the door behind him and stripped himself of his clothing. He started off his shower hot, but to fully wake himself up, he finished with cold water. He reflected on the awkward evening while he shivered under the freezing spray. After his not-so-little outburst, the two of them hadn't spoken a single word to each other all night. They just quietly ate their pizza and drank more and more beer until they both passed out apparently. J.J. was eager to forget – to pretend he never saw Duo like that, so distraught. But the luxury of J.J.'s life was that he could forget, he could pretend like none of this affected any of them. It wasn't that easy for Duo, he was in the thick of it. He had to stare into those cobalt blue eyes every time; figure out how to break through the ice and the concrete walls and then ransack the most private parts of his person, looking for the things they needed.

Breaking and entering.

It was violent and intimate in the worst way.

It was easy to say that Yuy didn't deserve all that money and that he didn't deserve the kind of security and safety that he had experienced all his life. But it wasn't as easy to believe it.

"Gotta stop thinking like that, Maxwell," he scolded himself. He stepped out of the shower stall, dried himself off and dressed in clean clothes.

J.J. was seated on the window-sill, smoking a cigarette by the open window. "I'm hungry. Buy me breakfast," he said, blinking at his big brother innocently.

"Only if you bum me a smoke." Duo was promptly tossed the half-empty pack of cigarettes J.J. produced from the breast-pocket of his denim jacket.

"Keep it. I swiped it off your kitchen counter anyway."

Even though he should be annoyed, Duo couldn't help but chuckle and shake his head at him. "And my kitchen counter is probably the only thing you could steal something from unnoticed."

He remembered the days of trying to teach J.J. to pickpocket. The boy displayed the most inconvenient combination of a rough touch and butter fingers. But he used to get a good laugh out of watching his little brother sprint away like a scaredy cat when the mark caught on that the youngster bumping into him in the street was trying to lift his wallet.

They went to Duo's favorite diner. He hadn't been back there since he stole the wallet of the rich lady in the navy dress, but enough time had passed that he needn't worry about there being any risk to returning to the scene of the crime. He ordered a blueberry muffin and a cup of yogurt with fresh fruit and tried to hide his disgust at the black-haired man sitting across from him wolfing down two breakfast burritos and an energy drink alongside his morning coffee.

"Do you have a date with wonder-boy tonight?" J.J. asked with his mouth full.

"Tomorrow." Duo scooped up some yoghurt and a raspberry.

"So what are you going to do today?"

"I don't know." He glanced up at him with narrowed eyes. "Why?"

"Just… wondering."

Duo sighed and put the spoon down. He wasn't very good at reading J.J., the known dangers of getting too close to someone; denial and the desire to see the best in the people you love are powerful things. Still, he could tell J.J. was trying to hide something from him. "What going on?"

"Just wondering if you'd be home all day, or not."

"Why?"

J.J. squirmed in his seat and then confessed: "I need a place to stay and crash for a little bit."

"What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything!"

"What happened to your own shit-hole apartment? The one you were so proud of? What's wrong with that all of sudden? If you didn't do anything," he challenged.

"I can't afford it anymore," he mumbled into his cup. "I paid rent doing jobs with Komarov. For Tsubarov, you know? But he hasn't been giving me any jobs since we lost the coke."

"I wonder why…"

"Anyway," J.J. continued, "I haven't been able to pay rent since then and so yesterday the land lady kicked me out."

"I don't think it would be a good idea for us to live together, J.J."

"What am I supposed to do? Do you want me to sleep on the street?! Can you spare me a cardboard box to sleep on at least?!"

Duo slammed his fist on the table and hissed: "Quiet down."

J.J. eyes were wild.

"We'll get you your own place."

"As if you can afford that." J.J. snorted.

"I can," Duo sneered. "I'm a whore now, remember? And my John happens to redefine the term 'loaded'."

J.J. nodded meekly.

"I'll find you a place that fits the budget. Until then… you can stay at my place," he reluctantly conceded.

"Thanks, bro." He smiled and took a swig from the can of energy drink.

Duo stared. He realized J.J. could have never been much a pickpocket, but he had still learned a thing or two from him; he had definitely mastered the art of manipulation. He decided not to comment on being played, yet again. He didn't want to start another fight. As crazy as it was, things hadn't been going this well between them in a long time. They were closer now, through necessity. Maybe something good could come out of this mess – maybe he could get another chance to get through to his brother, to save him from himself.

Knowing J.J. would be cooped up in his apartment, probably smoking weed and drinking more of his beer, Duo felt like roaming the streets. He didn't even know he had missed it until his feet took him back to the business district downtown and he automatically spotted easy marks in the crowd.

The weather was finally starting to chill again after an unbearably warm summer that lasted all the way into October. Men wore long overcoats over their suits; camel-colored cashmere, but it was not cold enough to warrant buttoning up the big coats. They moved in the wind, which didn't cut quite so sharply yet, not like it did in winter. The heavy, lined fabric was supple as it hung off their shoulders and swayed with their steps. The men wouldn't even feel the nimble fingers exploring the inner pockets that were left exposed. Standing closely by a man at a cross walk stoplight, Duo rolled his wallet with ease and casually walked next to him down the next two blocks, pocketing the soft, leather wallet without the target ever missing the weight of it. It was such a small victory, but he felt accomplished. He missed these little successes; they boosted his confidence, assuring him he had a talent, something to show for after 32 years of living.

He broke his own rule by drawing attention to himself when he stopped dead in his tracks in the middle of the busy sidewalk. People bumped into him for a change and glared at him before continuing their very important phone call.

His eyes trailed up the slender, tall shape of the skyscraper before him. It cast a shadow all the way down the street. The sky and surrounding buildings reflected in the windows – a mirrored, distorted image of the world. Clouds moves by quickly, into nowhere.

The Y Tower.

It was taller than any other building. A little over a 100 stories tall, it looked down on everything and everyone. The silhouette of the building was nothing special; an elongated rectangle. But the curved and angled lines of the sides hinted at its true shape. If any building was tall enough to look down on it, it would see that the floorplan had the shape of a Y and the building was softly twisted up its entire length, so that the blueprint of the penthouse floor was an inverse of the ground floor – an inverted Y, with the base of the letter-shape pointing due South, providing a view of the sun, from sunrise to sunset.

He stared at the imposing building, quietly admitting to himself that he felt intimidated and his little success felt littler still. At the same time, it helped him see Yuy the way he did before; as a ruthless business man, not quite human. Standing in the shadow of his symbol of power, wealth and arrogance, he tapped into his old – almost forgotten – resentment for the man.

He looked down at himself and appraised his appearance. Scuffed boots, black jeans with a tear across his right thigh, a worn, leather jacket and a faded shirt that he had probably picked up at a thrift-shop. Then he angled his face up to the top floor. His head felt heavy hanging back that far to look at the top. Why did Yuy deserve to be up there and people like him were down here? Sure, you couldn't build an empire on pickpocketing stock-brokers, Duo understood that, but how was it fair that a sixteen-year-old could start a company off a simple office-program?

The plan was to turn around and leave, but then he remembered what Voss had told him about Yuy. The best moments were when he caught the billionaire off guard and didn't give into his rules.

How 'off-guard' would Yuy be if he showed up at his office unannounced?

It was a risky move, but Neil was right, the operation had stagnated long enough. The time for playing it safe was up, he had to start taking risks and he had to trust Voss' intel.

After a long pause to muster the necessary confidence, he strode forward and ignored the stares from men in suits and women in pencil skirts when he walked through the revolving doors and into the ground floor lobby of Y-Enterprises HQ.

As expected, the tower was as impressive on the inside as it was on the outside. The lobby ceiling was, at its lowest point, three stories tall. At the center was a taller atrium, with four more stories looking down into the white and black marble lobby. Beyond a security-check was a bank of elevators and a winding staircase of glass steps going all the way up into the atrium. Mounted on the wall behind the reception was a giant mirror shaped like a Y.

The high heels of the women made crisp sounds on the polished floor. The whir of the revolving doors was constant as people poured in and out. It was disorienting and he didn't notice the approach of a security guard until the tall man spoke.

"Can I help you, sir? Are you lost?"

Duo eyed him quizzically. He spoke slowly, like he thought he was mentally challenged or something, because surely someone dressed like him would have to be clinically stupid to walk into a corporate building like that expecting anything but to be tossed out. "I'm here to see a friend."

"We can't just let anyone into the building for a social visit, sir. There are plenty of restaurants nearby. You can call your friend and have him meet you at one of these establishments."

"I'm pretty sure my friend is too busy for that. Since he's the boss and all."

At that point the guard lost his patience with him, with a gentle nudge to his arm, he tried to steer him out of the lobby.

"You don't want to do that," Duo warned as he resisted the man's urging touch.

"Sir, we are all busy here. We don't have time for jokes."

"You don't want me to tell your boss over dinner tomorrow-night that you kicked me out the door based on socio-economic profiling." He looked him in the eyes defiantly. "If I didn't actually know Heero Yuy I'd be pretty damn stupid coming in here expecting anything but to be kicked out right away, right? Do I strike you as that stupid?"

The guard stared back and contemplated his options.

"Just have the receptionist call upstairs… Or I'll make a scene like you would not believe."

He sighed. "Fine, sir, you win." He grabbed him by the arm, tightly, and walked him to the main reception. Along the way, he said: "We will call upstairs. If mister Yuy is not expecting you, the next call we place will be to the police."

Well, shit, Duo thought. Suddenly his palms went sweaty. What if Yuy didn't appreciate this surprise visit and would claim not to know him? Voss better be damn right about Yuy liking his own control tested.

"Stand right here, sir." The guard maneuvered him into position and then pointed to a matchbox-sized camera mounted on the reception desk. "And your name?"

"Duo."

"Your full name, sir."

He grinned. "Duo Maxwell."

The guard's mouth was tight with dismay. Addressing a pretty blonde woman behind the desk, he said: "Zoey, please call upstairs to mister Yuy's office and ask if he is expecting a mister Maxwell, he claims to be a 'friend'. And send the image to verify."

Zoey nodded. She punched some keys on a keyboard in front of her and then spoke softly into her headset.

The guard kept his iron fist squeezed around Duo's upper arm. He was working hard to suppress a grin and maintain a professionally impassive expression. He was gleefully looking forward to handing this piece of street-scum over to the police.

If there was ever a time to cross his fingers like he did when he was ten years old and was really hoping he wouldn't have to sleep in the rain that night, or that he could outrun the beat cop after smashing a car window to grab the purse on the driver's seat, it was now. If he got booked, Neil and Tsubarov would certainly find out about it and they would not be amused.

As he waited for his fate to be decided, he looked all the way up into the atrium, noticing the projections on the white expanse of the ceiling; stock videos of Y-enterprises, from around the world – the shipyard in Rotterdam, the factory in Thailand, the new Y-tower in Dubai, the resort in Aspen, the R&D department upstairs.

"Mister Yuy is sending a guard downstairs," Zoey said, "To escort his guest up to his office."

Relief washed over him and the guard released the hold he had on his arm. He looked disappointed and apologetic in equal measures. With a decidedly more polite approach Duo was led to the security check where he was picked up by a bulky body guard in a tailored suit. The escort said nothing as he pointed Duo to an elevator and joined him in the mirrored box. There were buttons to go up as high as the 100th floor, but when the guard swiped a card in front of the console, a screen flashed "101 – HY office". The entire floor was his personal office.

The American observed digital letters above the door count the floors as they ascended the tower with a rapid pace.

At 101 the doors opened and they found themselves in another reception area, at the center of the tower, with the floorplan branching off in three directions.

The receptionist, an even prettier girl than supermodel Zoey from downstairs, only nodded as the two walked by, heading into one of three corridors. They stopped in front of double, frosted glass doors and the guard rapped his knuckled twice against the pane of glass to announce their arrival before opening the door without needing to wait for permission. He gestured for Duo to step inside the office and then closed the door behind him. Looking back over his shoulder, Duo could see the blurred silhouette of the man behind the glass as he reassumed his position at the door, standing guard.

The space was enormous, probably to accommodate the billionaire's ego. The office spanned the entire width of the lower leg of the Y. Big, black, glossy tiles covered the floor and the wall with the door behind him. The ceiling was made of panels of a dark wood. The desk at the center was enormous and black, as was the couch to the left. Any other room would have been suffocated by the dark colors; any other room that didn't provide a panoramic view of the city beneath. The three outer walls were completely made up of glass, from floor to ceiling – about fifteen feet high. The light poured in, the expanse of blue, dotted with white clouds, was awe-inspiring. The world beyond looked small and insignificant and artificial, like he was looking into a zoo-aquarium, or maybe he was in the aquarium and the world was looking at him like he was a curious specimen.

Once he had taken in the sights, his eyes found Yuy, seated behind his desk, talking, in Japanese, to his computer screen – a conference call with the office in Tokyo. But the man briefly tore his piercing gaze away from his work to glance up at his unexpected guest. Before Duo could even hope to guess what he was thinking about this impromptu visit, he redirected his attention to the screen in front of him.

Seated on the couch, off to the side, was a slender man with sharp cheekbones and perfectly coiffed hair, speaking to someone on his cellphone, but taking the time to give Duo a dirty look.

Ignoring the man's disproval, Duo started walking around the office and ended up with his nose pressed against the window. His head went fuzzy and dizzy when he stared down to the maze of streets far below, suddenly he was aware of all 100 floors under his feet and he imagined how much the steel, concrete and glass structure must weigh and couldn't imagine a colossal thing like that not crumbling in on itself, defeated by its own size.

He turned away from the windows and snuck a peek over Yuy's shoulder. Depicted on the screen was a conference room, with half a dozen men seated around the table, nodding fervently at everything their boss said, like the good little underlings they were.

"He's on a conference call right now, I cannot interrupt," said the man on the couch. "I will confer with him as soon as possible and get back to you. Please hold it for mister Yuy, until I do."

Duo appraised him as he walked by while making his rounds, purposefully scuffing his shoes on the floor to annoy him. On the tablet he held in his lap he switched between a notepad and a scheduling program. In the suitcase on the seat next to him Duo spotted business cards with Yuy's name on them and blue folders with post-it's on them, indicating to which department they should be delivered and by which deadline. Similar blue folders were stacked on the corner of Yuy's desk, the post-it on top read: "sign before Wednesday 17:00". Also on the stack: a dry-cleaning receipt.

He is the assistant, Duo concluded and took immediate interest. If all those movies and TV series had taught him anything, it was that the assistant knew their bosses' darkest secrets. He could prove to be a useful asset to get through to Yuy.

He scrutinized him more carefully, looking for a way to break the ice, as he casually made another tour through the office space. The suit he wore was very nice and tailored to perfection. The shirt was silk, with a paisley pattern – something Yuy must secretly hate; since all his shirts were plain, he didn't didn't seem to like ostentatious patterns.

The assistant's shoes had a brighter shine to them than Yuy's. He must be paid handsomely to treat himself to such luxuries: salon-styled hair, tailored suits, Italian leather shoes with regular shoe-shining. He was a peacock. He liked to be seen. Even standing in Yuy's shadow, he couldn't stand the thought of going unnoticed. He drew people's eyes to him, forced guests to acknowledge him with a look, mistaking it for respect.

He wore his Bvlgari glasses halfway down the bridge of his nose and would look at Duo over the top rim, resembling a strict librarian. If the way he looked down on Duo was any indication, he thought highly of himself. Probably gave himself all the credit for keeping Yuy's life on track – maybe even the business too.

His attention was pulled when Yuy ended his conference call and closed his laptop. He eyed Duo with a hint of mirth and was about to comment on his uninvited presence when the assistant spoke up.

"Mister Yuy, I just got a call from Borges,"

Duo did a quick search of his memories and then remembered that other peacock; the curator from the art exposition Yuy had taken him to. The excitable man in the red suit.

"The final canvas from Albrecht's New York collection arrived at the gallery. He has another client that really wants it, but out of loyalty to you, he is offering it to you first."

Duo quirked an eyebrow at the way the man said 'out of loyalty to you'. It was subtle, but sounded like a jab at Borges, like he would have rolled his eyes at it if he could.

Yuy didn't pick up on it. He contemplated the offer. "Is it really the final piece? I thought the New York collection counted eight works."

"It does, sir, and you already have the other seven."

Yuy made a dismissive gesture, admitting he had forgotten about the other purchases. "How much does he want for it?"

"Two-hundred and twenty-five thousand. However, he asked me to tell you that the other interested party offered to pay as much as three-hundred. Apparently, he really wants it."

Yuy scoffed at Borges' "loyalty" and at the notion of someone thinking they could outbid him. "Three-ten. For his loyalty."

The assistant nodded.

Duo knew he should keep his mouth shut, but the filter between his brain and his mouthpiece malfunctioned and he burst: "Hold up!"

Both men looked at him with furrowed brows.

"This other guy really wants it and you don't even remember buying the other seven. Why can't you let him have it?"

"I want it," Yuy said petulantly.

"Why?"

"It's the last piece of the collection."

Duo shrugged. "So? These aren't Pokémon cards. You don't have to collect them all."

"Actually, yes I do. A complete collection is worth more than the sum of its parts."

"So you are buying it for the wholesale value?" He challenged. "While this other guy just really wants it because he loves the art. That's not fair!" Zip it, Maxwell! It was one thing to test the man's control, it was another to blatantly insult him by questioning his decisions.

The businessman narrowed his eyes at him. "It is fair. The curator offered it to me first, I have every right accept his offer."

The assistant looked on, nervously biting his lip as if he had a dog in the fight.

Duo deflated. He shouldn't argue more. He shouldn't even care. But for some reason, he pitied the man who wouldn't get his beloved art piece, temporarily forgetting that he was just another rich fuck he shouldn't give a shit about. He could empathize, Duo had a whole life-time worth of experience having things snatched out from right underneath his nose by the bigger guy.

"Harold," Yuy addressed the assistant, "Call Borges. Three-ten."

Harold's shoulder relaxed with evident relief and with jerky, eager movements he started gathering his things in his suitcase and got up from the couch. "I'll go place that call and take these files down to the communications office. Please don't neglect to sign those orders." He pointed to the stack of the folders on the corner of the desk, then he promptly excused himself and slipped out the door.

Duo felt like a sack of potatoes, standing there in the middle of the room, powerless to say or do anything; his hands and tongue bound by the need to please Yuy. He had ruffled enough feathers for today.

"Why are you here? Pasta isn't until tomorrow night."

"I was in the neighborhood," he replied glibly, offering a smile and tilting his hip playfully.

"But why would you come here? You hated it when I was working at home and insisted that you deserve my undivided attention. You can't expect to show up at my office and get my undivided attention."

"I thought we could have lunch. Even you need to eat lunch right? And I don't mind sharing your attention with a cream-cheese bagel and coffee from one of those street carts."

Yuy's lips formed a condescending smile. "I don't get my meals from street vendors."

"How about a proper restaurant then? Your lobby-guard-dog mentioned there were a couple of nice places around here somewhere."

"I won't pay you for your time. I didn't ask you to come."

"Spring for lunch, at least?" He blinked innocently.

Yuy stared at him for a long time, trying to read him, then he glanced down at his watch, noting that it was half past noon and he decided: "Fine. Lunch it is." He reached for the phone, pressed a single button and then ordered: "Tell Calvin to get the car ready." He hung up and got out of his seat, pausing to straighten his suit and check his tie. He looked as good as ever in a light grey suit with a midnight-blue button-up shirt and matching tie.

They headed back to the elevator together. The entire ride down to the underground parking garage Yuy was preoccupied with his smartphone. Duo caught the body guard that accompanied them sneaking peeks at his shabby clothing and messy braid.

The doors opened and waiting right by the elevator was the black Rolls Royce, and the driver, Calvin – whom Duo had met before – was standing by and opened the door for his boss. Calvin hurried around the vehicle to open the door for Duo as well but the American didn't wait for that; he could open his own goddamn door.

Calvin got behind the wheel and asked his boss where they would be going.

"Patrick."

Calvin nodded and swiftly peeled the black sedan out of the underground parking garage.

The commute was short, but Yuy still found the time to sign the documents his assistant had left on the corner of his desk and he had brought with him in his suitcase.

Duo stared, trying to get glimpses of the words on the pages, but it all seemed insignificant corporate mumbo-jumbo to him.

The car stopped, shamelessly blocking the one-way street for as long as it took for the driver to get out and open Yuy's door for him. Again, Duo didn't bother to wait for Calvin. He felt uncomfortable noticing the line of cars growing behind them, but Yuy didn't care. He owned this town, from the bottom-up at least.

He followed the businessman into a restaurant that didn't have a sign or name over the door. The windows were tinted black. Behind them cars started to honk their horns and Calvin rushed to get behind the wheel and drive off. Yuy was oblivious to the inconvenience he had caused to the traffic. A doorman held the door open for them and greeted Yuy by name and bowed politely to his guest.

Once inside, an incredibly tall gentleman approached them, clutching a leather-bound book under his arm. "Mister Yuy," he greeted and then his eyes landed on Duo with a level of perplexity. "You brought a guest," he stated dumbly, leaving Duo to conclude it was a rare occurrence. The man eyed him with unveiled dismay. Duo was not appropriately dressed for the establishment, but because he was Yuy's plus-one, the maître d' couldn't say so point-blank. He tried to dance around the issue and suggested: "Wouldn't you and your guest be more comfortable in one of our private dining rooms?"

"I want my regular table, Evan."

"But sir-" He fell silent under Yuy's glare. "Yes, sir." He led the way into a quiet restaurant, elegantly decorated with rich woods and clear crystal chandeliers. It smelled strongly of foods, fine wines, soft leather and cigar smoke. Evan walked to an empty two-person table by the window, looking out onto a busy traffic junction and at the end of one of the streets stood the Y-tower.

Duo half expected the man to pull out their chairs for them, but he didn't and they seated themselves at the table.

"I'll tell Patrick you are here. The usual, I assume?"

"A menu for my guest."

Evan nodded and strode off with long steps, returning moments later with a menu engraved into a sheet of aluminum and a bottle of wine, of which he poured them both a small amount. "I'll give you a moment to decide." He wasn't even gone for a second when a bust-boy appeared to pour them each a tall glass of water.

"Thanks," Duo said, noting the younger man seemed surprised at being acknowledged. He smiled awkwardly in return, then hurried away.

The American scanned the menu, ignoring the looks he was getting from the other patrons. The menu disheartened him. There wasn't a thing available that appealed to him. He couldn't even decipher most of the items; their pretentious names made no sense to him. The only things he recognized were Grilled Scallops with Chickpea and Beet Salad, Crustless Spinach and Feta Pie – that sounded like the least fun kind of pie ever – and Black Bean Mussels.

When he looked up from the aluminum-sheet menu, he spotted Yuy staring at him.

"See something you like?" Duo teased with a wink. "I'm not on the menu." Yuy held his stare for a moment longer before he had to look away, showing the smallest sign of his discomfort. To ease up a bit, Duo asked, "What are you having?"

"The Pilau," answered the businessman.

Duo made a face, but hid it behind the menu. What the fuck is a Pilau? The word was foreign to him, but instead of spending any more thought on it, when Evan returned to the table, he confidently ordered the same meal as Yuy; he secretly hoped Pilau meant something deep-fried.

With the menu taken away, he lost his only distraction: playing with the light reflecting in the brushed aluminum. Without much else to do, Duo looked around at the décor and the other guests before defiantly making eye-contact with an elderly, stately gentleman – seated a few tables over - who was obviously scrutinizing his "unbecoming attire." Soon enough, the man turned his head away and sucked agitatedly on his cigar.

With something – he hoped – to break the outstretched silence, Duo returned his attention to his stoic "date" and asked, "Do you smoke?"

"No."

"Then why do you come to one of the few places left where people are allowed to smoke inside? Don't you hate the smell?"

"The food is good."

Duo eyed him suspiciously; that was not the entire truth. "And what would have been wrong with one of the private 'dining rooms?'" He followed up slyly with, "Are you afraid to be alone with me?"

Yuy's neck stiffened and he clenched his jaw. "Not at all." His answer left no room for doubt, but Duo wasn't a fool. Yuy was upset at the thought that Duo might be thinking he was afraid of him. He didn't like being perceived as less masculine – that much was easily confirmed during their conversation on the squash-court when Duo falsely proclaimed to be straight and the wealthy man had become uneasy in response.

"So what's special about this table?"

"The view." Yuy nodded to the window.

Duo stifled a laugh; he turned his head and briefly watched the traffic of assorted vehicles rush by as a backdrop to crowded sidewalks where sharply-dressed men and women briskly strolled along. The magic of it all was completely lost to him. It as just another street. It was his workplace.

"What the fuck is special about this view?" Duo questioned. "Your office has the best view in the state – you can practically see the entire state from up there." He gestured toward the Tower, about 400 yards down the street. Maybe he just liked watching his own creation, appreciating how its massive size dwarfed everything around it.

But Yuy shook his head and explained, "From up there everything seems so small and inconsequential. The world looks like an animated miniature – a dead puppet-show." He gazed out the window in thought. "From down here you can see the activity, the rush, the life. Every little thing has weight to it; importance and relevance. The way a car speeds through an orange light, the way a man answers his cellphone, the way a woman turns heads… It's… real."

Duo blinked in shock at the thoughtful answer and noted the resemblance to his own metaphor of a zoo-aquarium.

"I like looking at people – feeling like I'm one of them – without them paying any attention to me." Yuy seemed surprised at his own honesty. It appeared Voss had been right: catching Yuy off guard was a good way to get through to him. However, taking him to his daily lunch restaurant wasn't as 'off-guard' as the man could be. Next time, Duo would have to try harder to push him out of his comfort zone – chip away more at the control.

Duo lowered his head and took a moment to harden himself against the pity he felt for the lonesome, wistful tone in the other man's voice. Duo was grateful that Evan appeared with their lunch because he didn't know what to say in response; he wasn't often at a loss of words. He stared at his plate, feeling his upper lip curl in disgust. Pilau was, apparently, a rice dish; the one in front of him was molded into a disc-shape with bits of spinach, leek and onion showing. The only kind of onion he ever liked were onion blossoms.

"Thanks," he said to Evan, and realized Yuy didn't say thanks again; in fact, Duo couldn't remember Yuy ever saying "please" either when dealing with the staff.

Reluctantly he took the first bite; the combination of the rice, the vegetables and the spices disagreed with his palette. He chewed as little as possible on every mealy bite to swallow quickly. His taste just wasn't refined enough for shit like that, he supposed, but he couldn't help but wonder if the food was really that good anyway, or if Yuy just came here because of the exclusive nature of it. Surely more restaurants provided the view of the busy streets that he liked to lose himself in. "You always order the same thing?"

"Every Wednesday."

Right. "So they know your order for every day of the week?"

"Except Sunday. I don't eat here on Sunday."

Jesus Christ, this guy loves his routine. He forced himself to eat as much of the Pilau as he could stomach and displaced the food on his plate to make it seem like he ate more of it than he actually had.

Yuy finished his plate, washing it down with tiny sips of wine and some water. He didn't comment on Duo playing with his food, or asked how he liked it. He didn't care.

The chef – Patrick – appeared at the tablet to kiss Yuy's ass for a minute. Yuy was hardly impressed. He dealt with the man curtly, yet politely, almost appearing to be eager to get rid of him. Patrick took the hint and left.

Duo downed the wine in one gulp, making a sour face at it. It was probably the best wine he had ever had the honor of being served, but he just never liked the taste of it; the white wine was prickly and dry, but at least it cleared the taste of leek and onion out of his mouth. He drank non-stop from his tall glass of water until he had emptied it.

"Why did you want to have lunch?"

Duo put the glass down a little harder than he should have, earning more displeased looks. "Boy's gotta eat." He wiped the wetness off his lips with the back of his hand.

Yuy's eyes fleeted down to the plate across the table. "Hardly, it looks like."

So he did notice. "Pilau isn't my thing, it turns out."

"You could have ordered something else."

"Nothing in this place is really my thing," he quipped.

"What is your thing?"

Duo smirked at the double innuendo, although it was completely unintentional. "French fries and greasy burgers always hit the spot."

Yuy's mouth was a tight line. "You knew I wouldn't take you to McDonald's for a Happy Meal. So why even bother showing up to have lunch?"

"I was in the neighborhood and I was curious," he said with a shrug. "About where you work and stuff. Work is important to you – I guess I just wanted to have a picture in my head of what your day looks like. That's all." He purposefully made himself sound a little timid, like he was genuinely interested and a little shy to admit as much.

Yuy accepted the explanation; whether that was without skepticism, Duo couldn't tell. "Why were you in the 'neighborhood?'"

"You're asking a lot of questions today," Duo tried to deflect.

Yuy took note of the evasion and narrowed his eyes at him. He took a moment to find the right words. "Were you with another client?"

Duo stared, interested to find that the possibility annoyed the man – he was failing to hide that fact. Did it make him jealous or did he simply resent the reminder that Duo was nothing but paid company? Whatever the reason, he clearly disliked the thought of Duo spending time with another client in "his neck of the woods."

"No. I don't really do this kind of stuff often," the conman replied. "It's more like a… part-time job, to supplement my income."

"What is your day job?"

The best way to pull off a long con was to weave as much truth into it as possible, Duo knew. He hesitated for a moment but decided to risk it. He leaned to the side so he could dig the stolen wallet out of the left back pocket of his jeans. Without a word he placed it on the table.

Yuy didn't understand; it was just a wallet to him so he had no reason to suspect it wasn't Duo's – it came out of Duo's pocket after all. Using a single finger, the American flipped the black leather wallet open; as expected, it revealed credit cards and an ID and driver's license that wasn't his. He studied Yuy's reaction carefully.

"You pickpocket." He reached for the wallet and studied the ID card, as if it mattered.

"Yup."

Yuy rifled through the wallet and produced four 100-dollar bills.

Duo smirked. "A good catch."

"You're a thief," Yuy stated; his tone was flat, hinting at nothing.

"Is that worse than being a whore?" He shot back.

The man looked up at him, for a brief moment his eyes were apologetic.

"Well, I guess as a whore, I at least put in an honest day's work for the money," Duo replied to himself wryly.

"Have you ever stolen anything from me?"

"No."

"Why not?"

Duo paused before giving a calculated answer. "I don't know."

Yuy liked that answer - he chewed on the inside of his cheek, presumably to hide a smile. Then he put two bills on the table and stuffed the remaining back inside the wallet. Rather than put it on the table for Duo to grab, he held it out and waited for Duo to take it. The American didn't know what that meant, but it did mean something. Acceptance maybe, or acknowledging that the wallet was his now and the matter of it being stolen was moot.

He took the wallet.

Yuy rose out of his seat and said, "Thank you for lunch." He nodded at the two-hundred dollars on the table.

Pocketing the wallet and getting up himself, Duo quickly objected, "This was a two-hundred dollar lunch?! What the fuck!?" Yuy didn't say anything and headed for the door. Biting his lip, Duo stared at the money with a deep frown. Goddammit. He stared longingly for a second longer before pulling himself away from the table to follow his target.

The car was already waiting outside for them, blocking the street again. How the perfect timing was possible, Duo could only guess at. This time, Calvin opened the door for Duo first. With a disingenuous 'thanks' he slipped inside and Calvin shut the door. Before opening the door on the other side for Yuy, the two had a short exchange. From inside the car, Duo couldn't hear over the sound of the traffic and honking horns echoing off the glass skyscrapers.

When Yuy joined him on the backseat, Duo wondered, "What were you guys talking about?"

"A pit stop."

He nodded dumbly, assuming Yuy was going to drop him off at his place, and became quickly annoyed when the man opened his suitcase and continued flipping through the folders his assistant had given him before leaving. After carefully reading each page, he tightened his grip on the pen in hand as he signed on the dotted line.

"Hey, Heero?" The name sounded awkward to Duo's ears as he heard himself say it. He had been purposefully avoiding the use of his first name, but the name suddenly and unconsciously slipped out of him. What the fuck?

"Hn."

"I'm sorry about bothering you at work," he tried.

"It's okay," Yuy replied, not taking his eyes off the papers in his lap and he repeated absentmindedly: "A boy's gotta eat."

A smile began to spread across Duo's lips, but he caught himself and forced his mouth into a taut, straight line. He watched him shamelessly – the man was too engrossed in his work to notice anyway. The focus in his eyes reminded the American of the Forbes cover, but there was something different about him. He could see there was more to him, a depth that didn't translate to a two-dimensional image. The thought of drowning in that depth scared Duo. He wished he could stay away from it, stay safely on the shores and watch the soft ripples of the surface as if there was nothing else. But he couldn't do his job like that. He had to dive in.

The car slowed to a stop and Duo – expecting to be in front of his crappy apartment building – was about to step out, until one good look out the window revealed surroundings he didn't recognize at all. He turned back to face Yuy and stared when the man rolled down his window and a crackly voice asked:

"Welcome at McDonald's. Can I take your order?"

He let out a surprised laugh.

Yuy asked dryly: "You're still hungry, right?"

"Uh, yeah…" Duo was completely dumbfounded.

"Can I take your order?" The voice repeated, barely understandable through the static and crackle.

"Uhm…" Duo leaned closer to the window – closer to Yuy – "A large fries and… a double quarter pounder with cheese." He looked at the Japanese man and asked softly, "Would you like something?"

"No."

"Suit yourself."

"Would you like a drink with that order?"

"Large Dr. Pepper." He sat back with a smirk.

"That'll be $6.69. Please proceed to the pick-up window."

The car slowly rolled forward and Duo couldn't stop smiling at the businessman, who had focused his attention on his work again, pretending that he hadn't just done something equally amusing and endearing.

When the car stopped Yuy paid with a twenty dollar bill and told them to keep the change, ignoring their confused look. He handed the bag of greasy food over to Duo.

"Ohhh, fuck yeah," He groaned appreciatively, opening the bag and breathing in the smell. "Do you mind?" He asked, while already reaching inside.

"Just don't spill any on the seat."

Duo popped a couple of fries into his mouth and took a big bite of the quarter pounder, moaning contently all the while. He caught the Japanese man looking and held the container of fries out to him. "Want some?"

He leaned away and said, "No." But he still couldn't stop staring. Duo didn't know if that was because he secretly wanted a bite or if he was enjoying the sounds his company was making. "I'm surprised you didn't get a Happy Meal."

Duo laughed with his mouth full. "I'm a big boy. Happy Meals don't cut it for me."

Yuy simply nodded and picked up his pen again to resume signing papers, but there was a more relaxed, soft quality to his eyes; he enjoyed giving Duo that small happiness.

The American wolfed down his lunch in the time it took for Calvin to drive the Rolls Royce to his apartment building. He knew better than to leave the grease soiled bag behind in the car, so he took it with him as he stepped out, throwing the door open before Calvin could even get out of his seat. He leaned back in and asked: "Are we still on for tomorrow?"

There was a delay as the other had lost himself in his work. "Yes."

A smile tugged at Duo's lips. Two dates in one week was a good sign. Thank you, Voss. "Next time, I'll spring for the cheap fast-food lunch and you'll foot the 200-dollar tab – deal?"

Yuy looked up. His cobalt blue eyes were mischievous. "Have a nice day, Duo."

A shiver ran up his spine at the way the man's voice dipped, pronouncing his name. "You too. See you tomorrow, Heero." Heero… He shut the door and stared at his own reflection in the black window until the car drove off. He wondered if Heero – Yuy – had been looking at him through the tinted glass and if he could see how flustered he was. Since when was being on first-name-basis so… intimate?

He went upstairs for his usual process of running through the meeting in his mind to see if he could retroactively pick up on any clues. He was more than a little irked when he opened his front door and noticed the space was rank with the thick stench of weed and J.J. lay sprawled on his couch.

Right.

J.J. propped himself up on his elbows and only had eyes for the bag in Duo's hand. "Ohh, man, Micky D's? Wicked," he drawled. "I have mad munchies, bro." Duo tossed him the bag and the other groaned at the realization that it was empty, but he inhaled the smell greedily. "Where've you been?"

"Out." Duo shook off his jacket and produced the wallet from the back pocket of his jeans.

"Good haul?" The black haired youngster wondered.

"Would have been…"

"What?"

Duo snorted and didn't bother to repeat himself, much less explain what he meant. With a sigh his gaze landed on the issue of Forbes on his kitchen table. He fought to ignore it as he searched the wallet. The credit card would have been canceled by now if – scanning the ID – 'Jerry Horn' had half a brain. He should have noticed that his wallet was missing by now. Other than the remaining two 100 dollar bills, there was nothing of value to be found. He tucked the bills into his back pocket; he would hide them under the floorboard with the rest of his stash later, whenever J.J. wasn't around. He didn't trust him with the knowledge of where he had hid his savings. It was a pretty sum, with how hard he had worked to gather as much cash as possible when there was once the feeble hope that he could pay off J.J.'s debt without getting in over his head.

He walked over to the couch and pulled J.J.'s feet off the cushions to clear a seat for himself. "I suppose you didn't do anything productive today?"

"I was waiting for you. You said you would help me find a place," J.J. defended childishly.

"I was busy."

"With what?"

"With what you also ought to be busy with." At the quizzical look he received, he elaborated: "The mission! Yuy! Saving your life! Ring any bells?"

"There's nothing for me to do anyway!"

Duo snorted and kicked around some of the beer bottles that were still on the floor. "You could have at least cleaned up a bit."

"It's your apartment."

"Well, we're going to have to share until we find you a cheap place."

"Where am I supposed to sleep in the meantime anyway?" He gazed over the back of the couch at the only bed.

"Forget about it. You are not getting my bed. The couch will be good enough for you."

"Oh, that's right, I keep forgetting." The other smirked.

"What?"

"That you're old." He pulled his knees up to his chest and his eyes gleamed cheekily.

Duo let out a laugh at the banter. "I guess that's true."

"Have any grey hairs yet?"

"If I do, I owe them to you."

J.J. started laughing uncontrollably and Duo couldn't help but smile. When he saw him laugh like that, he remembered how J.J. used to be, when he was younger. He had always been a pain in his ass, but in an innocent, entertaining way, the way young boys should be. He remembered sitting on a similar, ratty couch with him ages ago; A.J. sitting on the other side of the young kid.

He had promised to protect that boy; had sworn it to his dying friend. If that boy was still in there, he had to do everything he could to fulfil that promise. He pitied Yuy and he resented having to wreck him the way he inevitably would, but he had to take care of his own. J.J. was his family – the only family he had left – Yuy was just another mark, just another 'Jerry Horn' and there was too much at stake for Duo to be able to afford any sympathy.

They ended up not having to argue about who gets the bed after all.

J.J. left after dinner – pizza, again - and didn't come home until the morning, when Duo was already standing at the kitchen counter, quietly drinking his coffee. He watched the younger man stumble through the apartment, barely acknowledging him as he scuffled past the kitchen, and headed straight for the bed where he promptly dropped down, the springs creaking as his weight bounced on the mattress, and he passed out. Duo's bed would reek of drugs, booze, sweat and heavy scented perfume of the women J.J. had been entertaining himself with. Yet, the con-man didn't have the heart to pull him out of bed. Instead, he rid him of his shoes, making a mental note that they would have to buy him a new pair, and he covered him with an extra blanket.

Duo stared at the greasy head of black hair and listened to him snore into the pillow. He had to cherish the hope that J.J. was not a lost cause. He had to. If he lost that hope, everything would be meaningless. From the moment A.J. entrusted Duo with his baby brother, to the moment he would stab Yuy in the back in order to save the little twit. How was he supposed to live with himself if all of that effort and all of that pain would be for nothing?

Knowing he would sleep through most of the day, Duo made himself scarce. He stopped by the church, having a moment of quiet by himself on the bench in the park behind the stone building, picked some pockets on the subway, and later in the afternoon he took two buses to Corbeau Park for a meeting with the crew.

"Where's J.J.?" Neil inquired, not pleased that the youngest member was a no-show yet again.

Ashamed of the truth, he lied: "I don't know. But we don't need him here for this anyway." That last part was true. "Did you hear anything from your friend? About Voss?"

"The little 'Schlange' is keeping quiet, for now. He hasn't tried to reach out to Yuy."

Duo quirked an eyebrow. "Schlange?" The word sounded even stranger from Neil's mouth than his own, with the man's slight lisp.

"German word for snake."

"Witty," he appreciated dryly. "Any points on the agenda this time or is this another check-in, so the big guy over there-" He pointed his thumb at The Bear, leaning against the wall by the door to the empty apartment that served as their mission base, "-can keep tabs on me and make sure I'm not fleeing the state?"

"Angelica has something for you."

On cue the raven-haired, lithe woman approached him, holding something small in a closed fist. "I know the safe, I know the security system," she started. "I can get us in as fast as is humanly possible. There's nothing else for me to do but wait for you to find the KDF." Her tone was not accusing. "So, since I have some free time on my hands, I thought I'd give you a hand." She opened her fist and showed the American the item she had been holding.

Duo tilted his head at the small, black thing; the size of a bottle cap. He was about to ask her to explain to him what it was when he noticed the tiny, round lens. "A camera?"

She placed it onto his open palm. "Wide lens. Transmits video in real time. It's not HD, but it doesn't need to be. All we need to see is where Yuy hid his safe. Neil told us Voss said he has a secret room. Even a secret room needs a door."

"You want me to leave this in his house?"

"Hide it in his office. You said it was probably in his office, right?"

"Or in his bedroom." Duo chewed on the inside of his cheek.

"We can try his bedroom later."

He pinched the surveillance camera between his thumb and index finger. "It's a big risk." He started shaking his head. "Too big." He gave it back to her, noticing, from the corner of his eye, the tension in Neil's body language. "It's not worth the risk. Even if this camera does help me find the door to the secret room, we still wouldn't know where the safe is exactly. It'd be hidden somewhere in that room, that's not much more specific than the options we have now. And what if a maid happens upon it?"

Angelica looked disappointed; she had been so proud and excited before.

"It's a good idea," he assured her. "But this shortcut is too dangerous."

"What do you suggest?" Neil bit. "He'll make the withdrawal sometime at the end of December, or early January. We need to get in shortly after. In the meantime, you still have to find the damn safe and gain insight into Yuy's schedule, so we'll know when he'll be gone long enough to do this. The camera is a good idea, Maxwell. At least it means there will finally be some progress."

"You know what, Neil?" Duo closed the distance between them and flared his nostrils. "I'm sick of this bullshit! Earlier, you were practically my cheerleader and now you keep second-guessing me. It's doesn't work that way. You can't push it, you can't force it. You think you know how this works? How I work? You don't! I'm in charge of this part of the operation, so back off!"

The Bear held up his hand in a claw and hissed like a cat, mocking the con-man's outburst.

Duo ignored his attempt at instigation and kept his glare fixated on Neil. "I will find that fucking room. Heero is going to invite me into that goddamn room himself and maybe – just maybe – when I still have trouble finding the safe, the camera comes into play. But whatever the case will be, it is always going to be my call."

Neil stared back at him. He did not like having his authority questioned and Duo was aware of how dangerous it was to challenge him like that. Neil was not just a short, balding guy with a funny lisp. But he had never responded well to authority figures, so it was only a matter of time until he would clash with the mission's leader.

Finally, the Russian gritted through his teeth: "Fine. It's your call."

"Thank you," he snarled sarcastically. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a date to get ready for. And you don't have to drive me around anymore. I see now that I have to do this on my own. You're too close to it and you can't handle it." He pivoted on his heels and walked away. He was waiting by the elevator when Neil shouted after him:

"If you screw this up, Tsubarov is going to kill your little brother and I am going to kill you!"

He stepped into the elevator and didn't turn around. He pretended not to be affected by the threat and pushed the button for the ground floor. Duo couldn't relax until the stainless steel doors slid shut behind him. He released the breath he had been holding and scrubbed his face with his hands.

J.J. wasn't home when he got there and he was grateful. He didn't feel like looking at his stupid, oblivious grin at that moment. He dressed himself in his favorite pair of black jeans, with horizontal rips all over both thighs and a midnight-blue sweater that he thought his target might like. Yuy – in his effort to avoid wearing black – seemed to favor the dark blues.

In front of the bathroom mirror he inspected himself. He pulled his long braid over shoulder and knew he had to remind himself to wear it in front around Yuy, hoping to prompt him to ask him about his unusual hair style. He'd have to come up with a suiting story that had a chance of appealing to the man, based on the knowledge he had gathered so far.

Once satisfied he nodded at his reflection as a way of encouragement. He had to admit that Neil's doubt in him had shaken him. He couldn't let the Russian affect him like that. He didn't understand the process; he didn't understand that every piece of the puzzle was important and that every piece of the puzzle could potentially be the key piece that revealed the image, if you just looked at it the right way. Duo couldn't really blame Neil for his impatience; he was under a lot of pressure. Tsubarov was breathing down his neck too. In the Russian mob, when you got to be at Neil's level, there were only two options: impress the boss and promote, or prove yourself to be expendable.

With dread he realized he had put himself in a similar position. Impress or be expendable. There was no middle ground. How could he trust a Russian mafia would-be-general to be patient with him? Duo knew he had to keep the momentum going, or else Neil might decide to go with Plan B anyway – and he didn't need Duo or J.J. for Plan B; breaking into the mansion and torturing the necessary information out of Yuy.

Catch him off-guard. Push him out of his comfort-zone. Break the routine.

A taxi cab arrived and he asked the driver to take a detour on his way to the Yuy mansion in Corbeau Park. He hoped his little plan would work.

The guards opened the front gates for him, but insisted on checking the package he had with him that he had picked up along the way. Their scrutiny made him nervous and he was reminded of the little camera and how everything would implode if they would ever catch him with it, should he decide to implement it in his strategy. He relaxed when they made a joke and then one of them drove him up to the mansion in the golf cart, speeding up the driveway.

He would never get used to the sight of the old house, he thought to himself. As the golf cart drove into the inner courtyard, passing through the tunnel that cut straight through the front of the house, he felt like he was being swallowed by the building; consumed by the world that was not his – like Alice falling down the rabbit hole. It still made him uneasy, but he shook the feeling.

"Mister Maxwell," Gerry's tone was perplexed as he opened the door for the tall man. "You are early. Over an hour early," he stated blankly.

"I wanted to get here before the chef would start work on dinner. I wouldn't want the pasta to go to waste." He proudly held up the big paper bag he brought with him, the logo with the golden arches on the front. "I brought dinner."

Gerry stared and Duo expected him to brush him off with a comment like 'master Yuy doesn't like fast food', but instead the older man smiled and stepped aside to let him in. "I will announce your arrival." He excused himself to do just that.

Duo waited, circling the orchid at the center of the grand foyer. He was very early, so Yuy must still be working and he could only guess how he would respond to the interruption – yet again.

Gerry returned and motioned for Duo to enter the private office, then left the two of them alone.

Duo thought Yuy would ignore him for a few more minutes, to finish up his all-important work. So he was a little unnerved to notice that as soon as he stepped into the room, Yuy had his eyes trained on him. The American even jumped a little at the door being pulled shut behind him, but he recovered quickly and showed Yuy the bag.

"I thought I'd return the favor."

"I told you yesterday that I didn't want any."

"Yeah, are you going to lie to me again today?" He shot back with a knowing smirk. He approached the desk and held out the bag, bringing it closer and closer to the other man. "Come on, you know you want it."

"It's Thursday. I have pasta on Thursdays."

Duo smiled. He didn't say he didn't want it. "I didn't know what you'd like, so I got a lot of stuff." He planted his ass on the corner of the desk, not caring that he was partially sitting on some papers and he started to unceremoniously unpack the bag.

Yuy rushed to clear important folders out of the way before Duo would dump a greasy container on top of them and leave unbecoming stains.

"I got us fries… Cheeseburgers… Chicken nuggets… two McChickens… A chocolate shake… A vanilla shake – you don't mind sharing, right?" Not waiting for a response he continued: "Two big cokes… And – if you are that stubborn – a bacon ranch salad." He made a face as he placed the plastic bowl on the desk. "So, what do you like?"

Yuy glanced down at the selection of smelly foods with distrust. "I don't know." He looked back up at Duo. "I've never had any."

"You've never…?"

"I've never had any fast food."

"Honey," He reached for a cheeseburger and handed it to Yuy. "Here you go. You're welcome."

The man stared at him and Duo worried if the calculated use of the term of affection had been too much. For as long as two heartbeats the two were frozen, but then Yuy pretended to be unaffected and he snorted before taking a quick bite, just because he was about to smile and didn't want to. His expression was thoughtful as he chewed on the modest bite, then finally made an approving sound.

"Here, try a nugget with barbeque sauce."

Yuy did as suggested and seemed hardly impressed, but he reached for a fry next anyway.

Duo smiled genuinely. "Pretty good, right?" There was something disarming and humanizing about watching the billionaire enjoying cheap fast food, like a mere mortal; like a common-man. Like… Like a Heero, not like a Yuy.

The man shrugged, but took another bite from his burger. When he had swallowed his bite, he looked up at Duo suddenly, his eyes dead-serious. "I'm going to regret this in the morning, aren't I?"

Duo let out a hearty laugh. Given that you're stomach has never had fast food before… "Sooner." He popped a fry into his mouth and grinned freely.

The Japanese man picked up a carton container and read the information on the side while he continued to eat, undeterred. "It's going to take a lot of games of squash to burn this off."

"I'll join you," Duo asserted boldly. "I'll make you work up a proper sweat."

The other simply nodded in agreement. Duo blinked. He always played squash on Sundays, so the con-man was just – offhandedly – invited to come back again next Sunday.

Three dates in one week?

Progress.


I feel weird promoting this on a day like this, but I guess the only way for regular people to avenge acts of terror like today is to keep on living - defiantly - and to find joy in the freedom we have to get excited over the little stuff, so: last week I made a trailer for one of my upcoming stories (thought it would be a fun project and it was), if you want to check it out, go to my site www.esappendix.webs.com and go watch it.