Disclaimer: I don't own a thing (as sad as that realization is), except for the words I've written.

Warnings: Rated for adult language (Duo's got quite a surly mouth and mind), some violence, and mild adult themes.

A/N: Thank you for your kind reviews! I apologize in advance for the shortness of this particular chapter, but it all came to such a natural stopping place. Next one will be up soon, I promise. Read? Review? (p.s.- the song inspiration for this chapter, in my opinion, is an incredible companion for the 1x2 in this story.)

Maxwell

Chapter 21: But I'm Nothing On My Own

A Message - Coldplay

Trowa had never been in the habit of questioning the motives behind Heero Yuy's actions. He'd driven him how many miles during the war, watching as he stared down the barrel of his own gun, offering up his death as some sort of repentance for his sins; it was the only way the Perfect Soldier knew how to try and correct the mistakes he'd made and that had always been something of a revelation for Trowa.

And so now, as Heero asked him to follow him into the unknown abyss of the abandoned medical facility, Trowa chose again not to question him. But this time it wasn't out of respect or admiration, but rather it was because he understood, inherently, the emotions that his comrade was now wholeheartedly acting on.

He thought, only briefly, about what he might have done in a similar situation- if Quatre had been missing, had been taken, would he have been able to act so efficiently? Maybe, but he only dwelled on that thought for a single heartbeat.

They'd split up now and though he knew that Heero could certainly handle himself, Trowa couldn't help but feel a slight ache in his gut. But, he understood quickly, that the sensation had more to do with the impending possibility of their search turning up empty- or possibly worse- than the idea of Heero now lacking an extra set of eyes at his back.

It was true that he'd not known Duo Maxwell as well as he knew some of the other ex-pilots that had been unceremoniously gathered together once again. He had memories of Peacemillion, wiling away the hours between battles with games of chess and conversation that he often found himself ignoring. He remembered the time Duo had found him at the circus, the time they'd sparred in mobile suits aboard Colony X-81999. Several unfair punches to the gut rang a bell. And even so, after the years of non-contact, he still felt some sort of thread pulling at him, an instinct perhaps becoming unburied from the war, as he took careful steps down the winding hallways of the facility in search of the only thing he hoped to find there- Duo.

He'd not gotten far, up a flight of stairs, down to the left, a right turn around the next corner, when he first heard it. The sound of screams, loud and un-human in nature, echoing down the hallway and straight through his body like a white-hot knife. His mind urged his body to panic, to run headlong towards the awful noise, but his steps were slow and marked, his fingers still wrapped tightly around his gun as it nosed through the abandoned air around him as he made his way cautiously towards the hollow sound of terror.

As Trowa moved it became more and more difficult to detect the origin of the the noise as the screams were soon replaced with silence, but the occasional cry drew him closer until finally he could hear the gasping breaths coming from behind an unmarked door.

He swallowed and tried the handle; it was locked, but that was not so surprising to him. If Duo had been here- that thought becoming immediately sour in his subconscious- he would have been able to pick the lock with ease. But unfortunately, he was almost certain, that the root of that idea was currently the one breathing heavily on the other side of the door. He'd never quite been able to forget the sound of the other man's screams from wartime- as much as their braided companion had tried to hold them in.

Forgoing the option of searching out a suitable tool to pick the lock himself, Trowa opted for the brute strength that was readily available to him. The door was constructed of hollow wood, an easy target- he first marked the weakest point, right below the lock, and then he stepped back to swing the heel of his foot upward, using as much pressure as he could muster to thrust forward. One kick loosened it enough for the second impact to send the door swinging inward, slamming against the wall with a sound of cracking wood and punctured plaster.

Trowa was already looking down the barrel of his gun, ready to take on any opponent he might meet in the new and unfamiliar space, but after a moment of hesitation, he found his arm slowly falling, the weapon suddenly incredibly heavy in his hands.

Surely he had seen Duo in worse condition, bloodied and beaten, bruised and burned, but he'd never seen the man that called himself the God of Death this close to the actual end. Trowa moved quickly to the hospital bed that held the smaller man, looking frail and barely alive amidst the the wrist and ankle restraints and yellowing linens. Duo's eyes were clamped shut, bangs clinging to a dampened forehead, his skin was alabaster white, much paler than any natural shade of the living.

After a second of shock, Trowa was able to locate the reason behind Duo's weakened state; sticking from a vein along the inside of his arm was a butterfly needle allowing his life to flow away one drop of blood at a time. Trying his best to regulate his own breathing, Trowa whipped around to find drawers along a crude countertop in search of gauze or bandages.

He couldn't begin to gauge how much blood had been drained from the man's body. He couldn't be sure how much time he had until Duo's heart stopped beating or his vital organs started shutting down. But the one thing Trowa was certain of was that he was not about to let the man that Heero loved succumb to such a fate of uncertain death.

Heero's arms were steel molded around the man's body, holding him to his chest, the other man's tearful eyes pressed against his shoulder. He tried his best to soothe, running fingers against cold skin, wrapping themselves in chestnut hair ready to fall from its loose braid, a palm reaching up to brush against the battered and scarred edge of Duo's skull. The shaved skin was delicate- and soft- and smooth...

Heero's mind clicked a half a second before the knife plunging forward could make contact between his vulnerable ribs.

His eyes flashed open as he jumped back, pushing the other man with a resolve that he'd almost lost moments before. Not Duo, were the only words that ran through his head as the knife was plunging forward again, this time in a downward arc towards his neck.

A yell managed to escape from his lips as his thoughts finally caught back up to reality and he could force his muscles to cooperate. Heero dodged, running towards the braided man, now noticing the slightly deadened look behind those familiar indigo irises, and swept his foot out, hitting bone.

The other man went down without even a howl of pain, though Heero had heard clearly the sound of the shin bone breaking under his powerful attack. His fingers shook with adrenaline and his brain fought to gain control, to understand, to formulate a plan of action. He'd just managed to disarm his surprising attacker as the sound of running footsteps alerted his attention to the hallway behind him.

"Heero!" Quatre's voice was a gasp echoing throughout the desolate space. "You've found him-"

"No!" Heero shouted backwards, not daring to let his eyes leave the man now cradling a broken leg. It was making his stomach turn as he had to constantly remind his subconscious that this person, this body, was not Duo.

Wufei was at his side then, a firm hand against his shoulder. Heero turned to see the other man's gun drawn and steady. They shared a minuscule glance, the entire explanation shared between the single, furtive look.

The sound of feminine voices crept into Heero's ears, the sounds of radios, of that familiar language, of protocol tattooed at the back of his memory. Sally and Noin were requesting immediate backup, an ambulance, connection through to Une, all hands on deck, anything they could possibly think of to shout into their communicators, despite the possible penalties they would face at the hand of Preventer.

"A lot of good that'll do you."

Dammit, the voice was even accurate. The tone, the slight slur of his words, that infinitesimal accent that Heero had grown so attached to. The braided man was looking up at the three ex-pilots through dampened bangs, his eyes piercing and now totally unfamiliar.

He sneered, opening his mouth to speak again. "You think the boss is stupid enough not to have a fail-safe?"

Heero wanted to twist the man's injured leg until he screamed, but Wufei's hand was squeezing against his tensed muscles, calming for once in the Chinese man's normally hot-headed existence. A fail-safe could mean anything, anything that would rid the place of evidence not to be found by Preventer or the likes of ex-Gundam pilots. They had to move quickly. They had to find Duo.

The radio at Quatre's hip crackled to life. "Target acquired. Evac immediately."

It was Trowa's voice, a tinge of something odd in his words- could it really have been fear that Heero heard there?

Before Quatre could respond, Heero had moved to grab hold of the radio, his teeth grinding. "Barton, you have him? The real Duo- check for- there's scar tissue- previous head-injury- affirmative?"

The words were pouring from Heero's mouth before he could steady them and formulate a more coherent question. It took only three tentative seconds for the other man to respond, that tinge coming back loud and clear through the radio's static.

"Affirmative," Trowa answered. Heero had just remembered to start breathing again when the next piece of information reached all of their waiting ears.

"There's a motherfucking bomb in the east stairwell."

Heero lost all sense of control then, his hearing becoming hollow and warped. The man charading as his lover began to laugh hysterically, attempting to crawl away down the hall even with his mangled leg, bone sticking maddeningly from within skin and tendons.

Wufei was yelling something- screaming his name?- and then hands were dragging him away, his legs taking a few seconds to catch up with reality. There was cursing, but he couldn't identify from whom. There was a ticking sound ringing through his head- prefabricated from his subconscious to drive him mad.

Trowa has Duo, he had to keep repeating in his head like a mantra. He could feel his lungs taking in air, but his head felt lightheaded as they ran back from whence they'd come, back down stark hallways and through the glowing, pristine lobby, through the doorway they had discovered less than ten minutes before. The sound of his blood sloshing through his veins was so loud that he barely registered the voices next to him until his body was being pushed down against the asphalt, the skin of his arm rubbing against the rough tire of their vehicle.

Heero wasn't sure if he had lost consciousness or else just could not bare to open his eyes. The sound of the explosion echoed up into L2's metallic rafters that imitated the night sky, flames spitting heat, the possibility of the suction of space making a very ominous appearance in the back of his mind as the ground below his body reverberated with an intense force.

His entire life he'd been advised to act on his emotions. How many times had he repeated the words- to Trowa, to Duo, to everyone in his existence? He'd allowed his outward appearance to become stone, to hide away anything unnecessary in completing his missions, to act in an efficient manner, but his heart- his heart had always been true.

He was not cold, his heart was there in his ribcage beating against the bones, pumping red-hot blood just like anyone else's. So why had he never confided in Duo? Why had he led his entire existence as a stone-cold bastard, someone with sexual urges, but someone with zero emotion behind them. He was just as bad as the clone claiming to be Duo.

So why was Duo the only one he could not open up to when he was the only person that Heero truly needed in his life? Quatre had been right, the fucking empath had known all along, so why had it taken so long for Heero to admit it to himself?

The sensation of silken hair filtering between his fingers, the warmth of Duo's breath against his neck, the guttural moans, the slick sensation of heat and sex and lust attacked his subconscious.

Heero felt his fingers tearing into the skin of his head, his palms pushing against his forehead as the realization that it might be too late to say the damn words he should have said years ago. But now, now that he might not get the chance, now he was ready. Dammit all. He needed Duo. He loved-

"Heero."

The name sounded foreign in his own mind, the voice far off. He looked up to be met with a single green eye. Trowa stared at the man, his lips a straight line, a patch of drying blood assaulting the skin of his angular jaw, and then Heero's vision flicked downwards to the body resting in the strong arms of his friend.

He'd never felt the sting of tears in his eyes before, the warmth of emotion welling in his gut, but this moment was the closest he'd been to letting his guard down completely. Swallowing down the lump in his throat, Heero blinked once and then plunged hands forward to rest against Duo's body, frail and delicate in the orange glow of the burning remains of Medical Facility L2-098.

"Duo." His lips formed the name, but the sound didn't make it from within his trembling throat.

Gently Trowa rose, carrying the small, pale body with him. Quatre was issuing orders, Wufei was speaking frantically with Sally and Noin, but all Heero could focus on was the nearly imperceptible rise and fall of Duo's chest.

He wasn't even sure how it happened, but then he was suddenly in the back seat of their rental car, Duo's upper body laying across his knees, his eyes fluttering as the movement of driving seemed to rouse him from whatever unconscious state he had been under.

Trowa looked on silently from the passenger seat as Quatre drove, the other three Preventers following closely behind in the other car. Heero was glad to have some type of privacy, to not be burdened with whatever calls and reports were surely taking place across Wufei's communicator.

Heero's arms cradled the other man's head, his eyes roving the body in search of injury, seeking out the reasoning for his weakened state. The bloodied bandage wrapping his arm told very little of what Trowa would presumably inform him of later. But for now, he could do nothing but stare in awe as Duo's eyes flickered open to meet his own.

"Hey- 'Ro." The smirk was there, weak and quivering, but Wufei had been right- there was that Shinigami smile. "Trowa- put out- the fire."

"Shh," Heero soothed, leaning farther forward to close the gap between them, unsure of exactly what the other man was muttering about. "You're safe now."

The smile grew, Duo's eyes closing. "You- don't have to- hold me- I ain't no- damsel in distress."

Heero heard an amused snort from the front seat, unsure of whether it had emanated from Quatre or Trowa, but it didn't matter as his lips managed to pull back in amusement as well.

"I love you," Heero whispered, his lips brushing against the braided man's forehead.

Duo let out a sigh, something contented and beautiful, his eyes fluttering just before he fell back into unconscious sleep. "Love you- too- Heero."