Mission One
Chapter 27: Victims
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He studies his hand as it presses against the glass. Listens to the sound of his breath echoing back to him. Feels the cool, smooth surface against his forehead. He closes his eyes, unable to look beyond the clear boundary.
This is even harder than watching her struggle toward the elevators. And he hadn't been able to look at her when she'd had to traverse the hall to the delivery bay. Just like he hadn't been able to watch as she'd pulled herself into the emergency evacuation pod. Unassisted. His entire body tenses as he recalls her last words to him: Medical quarantine.
He hadn't been capable of assuring her he'd do it, but she'd gone ahead and locked the hatch behind her, possibly too tired to care any longer. And then he'd forced himself to issue the alert to L4, the nearest colony with the facilities to deal with whatever it is his sister had contracted. His hands had been shaking as he'd gone through the launch sequence... and then that had been it. His sister... out there... in space... floating.
It had been Duo's voice in his ear—he'd forgotten about the transmitter—reminding him to get moving.
"You've done all you can, Heero. Now you need to get out of there. Give her something to wake up to when she gets to L4."
But she hadn't woken up yet. Duo had assured him that the plague could do that.
The L2 plague.
The doctors had confirmed it over six hours ago. She'd been injected with a pure sample. A sample that had probably come from a vaccination research facility. The quantity of poison in her blood isn't supposed to exist anymore, anywhere. But it obviously does.
Heero forces his eyes open and takes a long look at the figure on the bed, tubes and electrodes colliding with flesh. The vision could only hurt more if she had been surrounded by harsh, hospital white. But Trowa had taken care of that. Somehow.
A hand on his shoulder, an arm across his back, a warm body brushing against his side... Heero breathes deeply, scenting the new arrival. It's Duo, of course. Heero is well aware that the man beside him is furious with him. Furious for caring, for being reckless, for risking so much to save him, for kissing him. And the selfless comfort Duo now offers—despite so much unresolved baggage between them—humbles Heero completely.
He tries not to lean into that half-embrace, but he easily imagines turning and falling into those arms. Burying his face in Duo's neck. It's been five and a half years since the last time—the only time—he'd cried on Duo. His body slowly tenses with the effort it takes to hold himself in check. Leaning would be... asking far too much at the moment.
"Don't."
The hand on his shoulder squeezes in conjunction with that softly spoken demand. Heero turns away from the glass. His lost gaze finds a moment of solace in Duo's compassion. And then he's falling.
Duo meets him, opening himself and pulling Heero close. He feels Heero's strong hands gripping his shoulders and replies by curling his own arms more tightly around him. He feels the wetness of Heero's tears against his neck and responds by rubbing his cheek against his messy hair. They'd had this conversation before, but they hadn't understood the language then.
In five and a half years, a lot has changed.
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Taki scans the crowd for her lover's familiar glower. Backpack slung over her shoulder and hand wrapped around Jaspien's much smaller fingers, she pushes through the throng. She spares a glance at her companion's pale, drawn features. The little boy is convinced that something bad has happened to Heero and Duo, and, in a manner of speaking, that is true. But their lives are hardly in danger. At least, that had been what she'd gleaned from Wufei's terse message. Lucifer-on-a-tricycle, what had he been thinking when he'd sent: "We're on L4. Yokaze's ill. I've chartered your flight."
Sometimes she wishes she'd had the sense to get involved with a poet.
And then a break in the surging humanity allows her a glimpse of black hair and crossed arms. She pulls Jaspien the remainder of the way as carefully as her adrenalin-overloaded body will allow.
Her gaze moves over him, noting the somewhat wrinkled uniform, the dark shadows under his eyes, and the slight slump of his shoulders. When had he last slept? For more than an hour at a time?
"You're back to work," she observes.
He nods. He reaches out, sliding his palm down her arm in greeting. "The Preventers are involved now."
She leans into the touch, thanking whatever gods may be that he's okay... a little worn out maybe, but really okay. "Tell me about Yokaze."
And he does, with the saddest expression she's ever seen on him. Dumbly, she repeats, "Plague." Taki blinks. "But that was wiped out years ago."
Wufei doesn't try to steer her toward the exit. He knows this information is too important to pass casually. "It was. She was injected. We're still looking for the person responsible."
Taki grapples with several thoughts at once. "But, can't she just tell you...?"
The pained expression on his face kills her attempt at the question. "She's not... conscious, love."
She stands there, not knowing what to do, to think.
"Taki, you're crushing me."
With a start, she releases Jaspien's hand. "I'm sorry, Jas."
"It's okay," he assures her. And then he turns those brown eyes toward Wufei. "Is Hero okay? And Duo?"
Wufei nods. "Yes, they are both okay. Heero is very sad because Yokaze is sick, but he is okay."
"Duo can cheer him up," Jaspien says with a bit more confidence.
The corner of Wufei's mouth lifts. "Yes, with a little help from you, I think he can, too."
The journey through the spaceport and to the hospital blurs. Taki is peripherally aware of sliding doors, an elevator, long corridors, and then she's standing on the other side of the glass.
"Can I...?" She gestures toward the figure on the bed.
Wufei shakes his head. "No. She's still under quarantine..." He pauses and the telling silence draws Taki's full attention.
"What?"
He nods toward the room again and this time Taki sees a second figure. Swathed in hospital scrubs and a face mask is Duo. Although she can't see his mouth beneath the green gauze-like mask, she can see from his animated eyes that he's in a deep one-sided conversation.
"We all had blood work done. Duo's the only one with a natural resistance to it. No one would be in there with her normally, but..." He sighs. "She hasn't been sleeping. And the doctors... with the level of toxins in her system... they can't sedate her. It's too dangerous. So Duo... talks her down... from the delirium." He pauses again, regarding the talkative Maxwell through the glass. "He's very good with her. He... told us about..." Wufei struggles for a moment before settling on the right words: "He has a lot of experience with plague victims."
Victim. The word forces Taki's eyes closed. She just can't... look anymore. Not right now. "I... I'd like to sit down for a minute," she whispers.
"Of course."
Wufei gently guides her to a waiting room, silently sliding open the door. If she'd been sheltering any secret hopes that this is all just one ugly, horrid joke, the interior of the waiting room would have squashed them. In a chair beside a coffee table sporting a lamp, Trowa looks not so much like he'd fallen asleep but more like he'd simply passed out. Heero sits opposite the door, considering the empty paper cup in his hands, waiting for the doctor or Duo to return and report. Upon seeing Jaspien, Heero somehow manages to find a smile for him.
"Hey," he says, doing one of the finest imitations of Duo Maxwell Taki's ever seen. He opens his arms and Jaspien launches for him, clamoring roughly into his lap. She tries not to listen to Jaspien's whispered fears and Heero's quiet reassurances. Suddenly exhausted, she plops down into the nearest seat. God, what she wouldn't give to wish this whole nasty mess away...
A hand on her calf draws her attention and her eyes blink open. Wufei, crouched in front her, offers her a sad smile.
"You have to go?" she guesses numbly.
He nods. The L4 Preventer headquarters are understaffed and there are four laptops full of data to go through, leads to follow-up on, authorities to alert and report to. They had all known that this is how the mission would end up: in the hands of professionals. But Heero had been surprisingly adamant about turning over Yokaze's computer. There's a file, he'd said, called "Zero-one." No one except you is going to see it, Chang. It hadn't been a question.
Wufei hadn't gone through it yet. Something about the tone of Heero's voice had warned him about what he would find. Needless to say, he has no desire to open it, but he knows he must. Even Heero had admitted that there might be something in there relevant to the case. Names, ranks, sins... Luckily, there are plenty of other things that demand Wufei's attention today. Perhaps tomorrow he will tackle that file...
He reaches up, smoothing a lock of hair behind Taki's ear. "Will you call if you go to Quatre's before I return?"
She nods.
His lips brush her forehead as he stands. He tosses a nod in Heero's direction, a worried glance at Trowa, and quietly departs.
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Duo's head snaps up as the sounds of pain hit him.
God dammit, he'd nodded off again.
He clears his throat and fights back his body's instinctual reaction as he gradually comprehends the content of Yokaze's mumbled words... whimpers... pleas. He leans forward and begins speaking to her. Softly. Gently. Calling her back. The doctors had been adamant that Duo not touch her and, considering the kind of shit she's wading through in her head, that's just as well.
Carefully, Duo forces his thoughts away from the garbled half-sentences that have begun to paint a very distinct picture of Yokaze's life on L1. He talks to her about Earth, places he's wanted to visit. Clouds. He misses clouds out here in the colonies sometimes. And mountains. He likes mountains. Duo mumbles on in that vein for some time and she seems to listen. She quiets. The memories recede. And Duo's stomach settles.
He tries not to think of what he will say to Heero and Trowa when he leaves her side for a bite to eat and a quick nap. They look to him to tell them the truth. He feels guilty for avoiding the topic of her state of mind. The things he's overheard are not his to tell. She had not even been aware of saying them and Duo is compelled to protect her secrets for her.
Duo is in the middle of describing his ideal tropical island paradise (no mosquitoes, of course... at least the colonies got that right) when the door opens. He glances from the two nurses to the clock. Ah, it's time for dinner, a check-up, and a bath. He stretches and greets his relief. After a short exchange, he heads for the showers.
He longs for the luxury of washing his hair, but doesn't have the time. He strips out of his scrubs and tosses them in the hazardous waste disposal unit before turning on the hot water in one of the stalls. He uses the soap they'd given him to kill any remnants of the plague that might be clinging to his skin and rinses hastily. Even the towel he dries himself off with goes into the incinerator.
Longing for his own clothes, Duo pulls on a fresh set of the green hospital garments. He takes a seat on the bench and stuffs his feet into a pair of socks. God, he's so tired. He's had maybe two hours of sleep in the last two days. He leans back against the wall, telling himself he'll rest for a minute. Just a minute. And then he'll get something to eat and take a nap until the nurses are finished with Yokaze...
"Duo."
Duo's entire body jerks at the sound. He opens his eyes and realizes that he'd fallen asleep. He turns and finds Trowa beside him on the bench.
"What time is it?" Duo croaks.
Trowa tells him.
With a frown, Duo forces his atrophied mind to do the calculations. "They'll be finished pretty soon."
"I know," the other man says. "But you needed the rest." Trowa reaches beside him and produces a tray from the cafeteria. "Here."
"Thanks, man," Duo tells him sincerely, unwrapping a ham and cheese sandwich.
"It's the least I can do." Trowa pauses and Duo eats. Half way through the sandwich and well into the slice of apple pie, Trowa continues, "I can't repay your kindness. Thank you, Duo."
With the aid of some lukewarm coffee, Duo swallows his bite and then levels his gaze on the man next to him. "It's nothing, Trowa. I'm glad I can do something. Besides, as soon as her fever breaks, they'll lift the quarantine. It won't be long now and she'll have you and Heero for company." Duo shrugs. "I'm just a substitute, really."
"Don't say that." Trowa's gaze hardens as he considers his friend. "You're the only person who can guide her through this. That's no small thing, Duo Maxwell."
Duo offers Trowa a rueful smile. "I just wish... I mean, Heero is..."
"Drawing strength from knowing you're helping to take care of her," Trowa finishes firmly. "As am I. Now eat your dinner."
Duo answers with a cocky grin. "Okay, Dad."
Trowa snorts. "Smart ass."
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Bisho hesitates on the threshold. She'd knocked but there'd been no response. So, she'd pushed the door open and called his name. But he hadn't heard her.
He stands not ten paces away, dressed only in a pair of snug boxer shorts, staring out the window. She's never seen Quatre this tense before. The muscles across his shoulders and back are drawn tight. His right hand fists at his side. It's been a rough couple of days. Bisho herself had been just a tad bit put-off by the fact that Quatre and her brother had given her the cold shoulder on C555. But, once she'd heard about Yokaze, her own irritation had just fizzled out. She can tell that Quatre is just as upset as everyone else over it, knows that he doesn't have the time to wait around at the hospital with everyone else—between the Preventers and Winner Enterprises he has barely enough time for sleep—and suspects that there is something else, something deeper that has been bothering him for the last few days.
For a moment, Bisho considers backing out of the room but... She chews her lip nervously. She sets the tea service down on the desk in silence. She hopes he'll forgive her for intruding on his privacy because she really doesn't think it's possible for her to just turn around and leave him like this.
She approaches slowly, edging into his peripheral vision. His glare never travels from that mysterious point beyond the window. He gives no indication that he senses her presence at all. So she decides to do something he won't be able to ignore.
Quatre starts violently as an arm slides around his waist and a warm body nestles against him. Bisho. He finds himself relaxing against her without another conscious thought.
She looks out the window, too, considering the artificial horizon. "Tell me about it," she invites.
With a small sigh, Quatre wraps an arm around her shoulders. "You don't want to hear any of it. Trust me."
There is a short pause. "You may be right," she agrees. And then she lifts her gaze to study his pained expression. "But that's not why I'm here." Bisho turns back to the window and gives Quatre a moment to collect himself for what he knows is coming: "So, tell me what happened."
A moment of silence descends between them, but his arm remains curled around her. "I... killed. Men just doing their jobs. I wanted to disarm them. Take them with us for questioning. But I couldn't trust them not to endanger the scientists and children. The decision was mine. I was the team leader. And I... gave the orders."
Bisho says nothing. There's more. With Quatre, there's always more. Nothing is ever that simple. That one-dimensional.
After a bit, he continues, "A week ago, I would have given almost anything to... be out there. Doing something instead of sitting in boardrooms, touring properties, debating investment options. And finally, I got my wish. But I... realize now that I... I just can't have that life anymore. Every minute I was in there I... hated it. I thought it would be so different. That it would, I don't know, complete me. Sometimes I hate my place in the world so much. That was one of the reasons I became a pilot in the war. To do something. To be someone. To be valued for what I had done. I thought I could be that person again. I thought I wanted to be that person again. Now all I've got is the life I wanted to get away from all those years ago. Maybe I should just stop fighting it. Accept my... fate."
Bisho's arms tighten around him. "Don't. Don't you dare just give in. I haven't stuck around this long just for you to give up now."
Quatre blinks down at her, started by the vehemence in her voice.
"I know you're not happy," she quietly confesses.
His eyes clench shut. "I'm sorry, Bisho. I didn't mean for you to see that. I—"
"I'd be unhappy, too."
He opens his eyes and stares down at the top of her head, watches the colony light play with her hair.
She takes a breath and confides, "I like it when I can get you to laugh, to forget. But, laughing at one of my dumb jokes isn't the same thing as being happy. I want to see you happy, Quatre. I just... I don't know what to do. So I make you laugh. It's the best I can offer, and it's not enough. I'm sorry."
"Bisho..." he breathes, wrapping her up tightly in both his arms. "Don't say that. What you... give me... It's so much... It's more than enough." He pulls back far enough to nudge her chin up with his knuckles. He meets her gaze steadily, and tells her, "When I'm around you, I'm happy. Dumb jokes or no. Just you... and I'm happy."
She smiles slowly, sincerely. "And I'm happy when I'm here."
His fingers ghost over her cheek. "Thank you, Bisho."
Her arms tighten around him for a moment. "It's going to be okay, Q."
Quatre laughs at her certainty. His hands brush her hair away from her face before embracing her once more. He feels the softness of her cheek brush against his chest, feels the heat of her breath on his bare skin. And suddenly, Quatre realizes what he's not wearing. He leaps back, groping blindly for a robe.
"Oh my God... I'm practically naked... in my underwear..." He feels himself flush hotly as he shoves his arms into a terrycloth bathrobe.
Behind him, Bisho is grinning widely. "You won't hear any complaints from me."
And he has to laugh. Belting the garment in place, he looks at her again. "I'm..." The apology dies on his lips at the look of pure delight on her face. Still smiling, she tells him to sit down before heading for the desk and pouring two cups of tea. Quatre indulges in watching her move around his room and by the time she's snuggled in next to him on the loveseat, he's regained his composure. He knows it's almost time for his daily visit to Yokaze, knows the others are waiting for them at the hospital. He knows Bisho knows this, too. She makes no effort to rush this moment and simply leans against him. They sip in companionable silence until Quatre's curiosity gets the better of him.
"Bisho?"
"Hm?"
"How did you know I needed... this?"
She gives him a long, open look. "Everyone needs... something."
And then, teacup nestled in her hands and quiet smile on her lips, she lays her head against his shoulder, wordlessly communicating how completely exquisite this "something" is.
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~End of Chapter 27~
