Disclaimers: I do not own Gundam Wing or any of its affiliated trademarks.
Author's Note: Heero and Duo have been experimented on and now all the pilots are dealing with the after effects. TWT. Mention of torture. 1+2. 3+4. Constructive criticism is welcome. Edited 05/07/07.
Chapter Two, Sick at Heart
Quatre knew that five Gundams in one spot would be too conspicuous in space, but right now they lacked the resources necessary to re-enter the Earth's atmosphere. Trowa scouted a derelict colony on the edge of the L2 area that was unoccupied by opposing factions. Its few inhabitants were too poor to be of any significance to a military force and were distrustful of any strangers, so they found a rundown house close to the abandoned waste facilities to hide at until they figured out a plan. Together they hauled their comrades' prone bodies into the first floor bedroom and laid them on their stomachs. There was still fresh blood oozing out of their backs, and the brown, dried crust began to flake off on everything. The stench of iron was overbearing.
Quatre had discovered on their desperate flight away from the moon that their friends still clung to life, but he couldn't be sure for how long without a hospital or at least a doctor. He reached out and touched Duo's chilled shoulder and couldn't suppress his tears. "They're still alive, but barely. Heero's breathing is steady, but Duo. . . His pulse is weak, and I don't know if he'll make it through the night. They lost so much blood."
Wufei put a firm hand on his arm and turned the blond pilot to look hard at him. "Listen to me. We won't let those cowards get away with this." He waited for Quatre's nod before letting him go. "I'll find some medical supplies and bring them back here. The faster they recover, the faster we can get back at OZ." With a last, angry look at his fallen comrades, he shot out of the old house.
Trowa smiled gently at Quatre and slipped a comforting hand over his shoulder. "They'll make it through this. Heero's been through worse, and Duo's too stubborn to die. We'll take care of them."
Quatre covered his hand with his own, gripping it tightly for a moment. "Thanks, Trowa. Really." He sat down heavily into a chair between the two beds, staring forlornly at their bodies, and realized he and Trowa were covered in their blood. He thought he was going to be sick. He ran to the bathroom and scrubbed his hands vigorously, trying to get the red crust from beneath his fingernails and remove the image of his hands slipping across Duo's shoulders as he tried to pick him up. He startled when a bloody hand touched his arm. "Trowa, don't scare me like that!"
"Sorry." Quatre felt himself being studied by those green eyes. "You okay?"
He nodded. "I just need to feel clean again. I'll be fine. Trowa, would you please take care of the Gundams while I wash them up?" Quatre turned his face away as Trowa looked intently at him, as if judging whether or not he could handle this alone.
"Sure thing, Quatre, I'll be right back. Take care." And he slipped out like a quiet breeze without another word.
Now Quatre was alone with his injured friends. He covered his mouth with his hand, bracing himself for the sight, and walked back into the bedroom. As dirty as he felt, he resisted mightily the need to shower for hours on end to rid himself of this feeling. His friends had to come first. He found some old towels and a bucket, and filled it with hot, soapy water from the bath tub, then walked back into the bedroom, determined to remove every red stain on their bodies before he cleaned himself. He sat next to Duo, and realized he wouldn't be able to clean their fronts without some help, but at least he could clean the rest. He gently rubbed the warm cloth against his face, and the caked blood began to run off like red tears; Quatre had a hard time holding his own in. Duo's breath came in short, ragged pants, and the layer of brown revealed a face that was too white from anemia. "Oh, Duo."
He slowly rinsed off his long braid, then moved to his arms and shoulders. He hesitated, the washcloth poised above his upper back, then he moved to clean his legs first, instead. He paid careful attention to his wrists and ankles, which were raw from the manacles he had struggled so hard against. But inevitably, he had to face the worst area, the place where those unimaginable protrusions were blackened with blood. His hand shaking, he slowly wiped the cloth against one wing and checked nervously for a change in Duo's breathing. No response. Again, he carefully wiped away the crust, and a pool of brown began to form on the bed.
"That's strange," he thought. As much as he washed, the wings remained black. He checked the water for cleanliness, and decided he should change it. Maybe that was why his. . . those things weren't getting clean. With a new bucket of hot water and a clean rag, he tenderly unfolded the limb from Duo's back and started again. Still black. With renewed concentration, Quatre cleaned the entire appendage from root to tip, and marveled at what was revealed. It was black, covered in soft velvet with three bones spread throughout the leathery surface, like a . . . "Like a bat's wing." He carefully folded the wing against Duo's back again, and moved around the bed to work on the other one. When he was done, he stared in horrified awe at the huge, black wings nestled against the angry red skin of Duo's shoulders, while the puddle of blood around him made the rest of his skin look paper white. This had to be a nightmare. Deciding to wait for the others to return before attempting to clean his front side, he covered up his legs with a blanket and moved to study Heero.
Quatre smiled. "I know you're going to make it, Heero. You're strong. You really are." He left to change the water, wondering if he would find the same thing underneath the crust. He started with the face again, and the look of pure agony he uncovered made him sick at heart, but his strong breathing was encouraging. He wanted to avoid touching those things on his back as long as possible and gently cleaned his entire body before pausing. He put a shaking hand to the limb, unfolded it from behind him, and dripped some water onto it. He blinked in consternation, and intently washed more off, uncovering long, graceful feathers that looked brown at first, and the blood slowly melted away to reveal a dazzling white. Quatre finished cleaning first one, then the other, and stood back to stare. He hated himself for it, but he admitted they were stunning - enormous, white feathered wings that reminded him of nothing so much as an old, Earth-style painting of angels.
He looked down at himself and realized he was covered in yet more blood. He quickly covered his mouth to suppress a violent gag and ran to the bathroom. Without bothering to undress, he turned the shower on as hot as possible and stood under the stream of water, clothes and all. Quatre leaned heavily against the walls and screwed his eyes shut against the sight of water black with his friends' blood draining off of him. He stayed like that for a very long time, trying to block the images of the room where they had been tortured, their bodies hanging lifelessly from the red-splattered ceiling, the feeling of Duo's blood dripping down his neck as he carried him out of the base, the overwhelming smell. . . It was too much, and he found himself wet from the still-running shower and bent over the toilet, giving it the remains of his lunch.
When he emerged from the bathroom a long time later, he found Duo and Heero completely clean and lying in new sheets, oxygen tubes in their noses and bandaging around their wrists and ankles. Wufei was setting up two IV drips he had probably stolen, and Trowa was pulling a warm blanket over Duo's legs. Trowa was still caked in brown, and now Wufei didn't look much better either.
Trowa looked up and caught Quatre staring at him, then looked down at himself. "Everything's taken care of, Quatre. We've done the best we can for them right now." Quatre seemed to blink out of a daze. "I'll go shower now."
Quatre moved to sit in the simple, wooden chair between the two beds that held Duo and Heero. The two boys were lying on their stomachs, naked but for the white sheets covering them up to their waists. Antibacterial gel glistened between their shoulders on the raw wounds where their. . . new appendages emerged. He felt his mind going blank from overload, and let it turn to white noise.
Wufei inserted the intravenous needle into Heero's hand, then sat on the floor cross-legged next to Quatre. They sat together quietly for a while, listening to the distant sound of water splashing while Trowa showered and the fluids dripping in the IV bags. "I don't get it," Wufei said.
"What don't you get?" he replied quietly.
"Why? Why do this? What's the point? Why?" He punched his fist into the floor in frustration.
Quatre thought for a moment, then whispered, "Power."
Wufei turned to look at him questioningly.
"They have too much power. They did it because they could. Consequences don't matter when you have that much power." He looked down into Wufei's eyes, dancing with anger. "We can't let them keep it."
Wufei fell silent, turning this over in his mind. Quatre could see his expression darkening before he said in a dangerous whisper, "Agreed."
Duo had several close calls that first night, but he managed to pull through with round-the-clock care from the three of them and plenty of stolen hospital goods. For the next two days they tube fed them, trying to nurse them back to health without professional aid. They didn't want to risk contacting anyone, not even Sally Po, their ally, good friend, and military physician. Quatre figured that every night they came through increased their chances of survival, and he held out strong hope that they would recover soon. There was always one of them by their sides, while the others kept watch and went on reconnaissance, but Quatre found himself by their sides most frequently, unable to sleep with concern for their friends. He sat between their beds and absently stroked the velvety softness of Duo's . . . wings, and alternately ran his hands across Heero's smooth, cool feathers.
He had fallen asleep with Heero's wing in his lap when he felt it quiver the smallest bit, waking him from his disturbed dreams. Quatre heard a low moan from Heero's throat. He scooted the chair closer, careful not to disturb the wing he held, and examined his face closely, watching for anything useful. Heero's eyes flickered behind the lids, and he yelled for Wufei and Trowa to come quickly. Heero groaned again and slowly opened his eyes. The first thing that came into focus was Quatre's concerned face, teal eyes studying his.
"What . . ." Heero tried. He found that his voice was raw and barely more than a whisper. He tried again. "What happened?"
Quatre's blue eyes unintentionally moved past his face to look at his shoulders. Heero remembered the excruciating pain that had emanated from that area. He slowly turned his head to look at his shoulder, hissing in pain as he moved his sore neck muscles. As he tried to look back, he saw Trowa and Wufei running into the dilapidated room with looks of concern. Not good, he decided. He wanted desperately to rest his head and stop the pain, but he grit his teeth and stubbornly continued to turn his neck and saw . . . something that couldn't be there. Were those wings? It didn't seem possible; it made the agony seem more alien. Experimentally he tried moving it. He grunted and shuddered in fiery pain as the muscles in it responded. It was real, all right. To his left, he saw one of them was spread out in Quatre's lap, and beyond him--
A thought roared to the front of his mind. "Duo," he rasped out. He had been subjected to the same treatment he had. They had gone through this together. They said that the drug was supposed to kill him, so if he felt like he'd just self destructed, then how was Duo faring?
The blond boy sat back in his chair to let Heero see past him at the other pilot. Duo was still out cold, but breathing painfully. Heero's lethargy was broken slightly at his surprise to see black, leathery wings extending from Duo's shoulders. They had both been given the same serum, so why would the results be so different? How had Duo survived? Had they lied about the effects? His fatigue and pain were beginning to cloud his mind, so Heero decided to just be glad that the braided pilot was still with him. He sighed in relief.
Wufei leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed while the tall brunette brought a glass of water and a painkiller over to Heero's bedside. He offered it to the pilot, watching wordlessly. Heero never accepted any type of painkiller. Trowa could remember only once when he had taken any, and that was immediately after the battle in Siberia. Duo said that even when he had set his own broken leg he didn't take any. It dulled his senses and slowed his response time. But now, the pain was new, different. Heero wanted nothing more than to relieve it, and now he had three fellow Gundam pilots to keep watch. He closed his eyes and nodded slightly in consent.
The other three boys knitted their eyebrows in concern. They knew things were really bad if Heero needed drugs. They worried the more about how Duo was.
Trowa gently placed the pill in Heero's mouth and held the glass to his lips. It was strong enough to tranquilize a lion, which he calculated should act as a strong sedative for Heero. Water dribbled out as he drank in huge swallows, trying to wash away the dryness in his throat. When he was finished, Quatre brought a cloth to wipe his chin.
Through all of this Wufei stood silently at the door, his anger building in a warm tide at seeing Heero so helpless. He knew that Heero and Duo were anything but weak, and to see them reduced to this was infuriating. Heero, who never accepted any sympathy or pity, was now being cleaned like a baby. Duo, with his dauntless spirit, was still lying unconscious from his ordeal. Wufei straightened and restrained his fists at his sides. He vowed to get revenge. Nobody treated his friends like this. Not if they wanted to live.
With a plan forming in his mind, Wufei stormed out of the house.
After Heero had fallen asleep, Quatre insisted he could continue watching over them for a few more hours, and guarded them all through the following night. Heero never awoke, thanks to the powerful tranquilizers. At dawn, Trowa took over watching the two. Quatre looked weary and depressed, and Trowa thought a break would do him good. He wondered where Wufei had gone off to, but it wasn't hard to guess. He knew how maddening this was for him, for all of them. He just hoped Wufei didn't do anything stupid. Trowa had taken up the same habit that Quatre had, stroking both of the pilot's wings. He marveled at the warmth in Duo's wing and couldn't get enough of the downy softness of Heero's feathers, so he stroked Duo with his right hand and Heero with his left just because it felt good.
Then Duo twitched and opened his eyes, staring straight at Trowa. Pain flashed across those marvelous blue orbs, simultaneously asking for help while trying not to. Gasping, he attempted to raise his body, but stopped and shouted hoarsely in pain before he was even an inch off the bed and collapsed back into it.
"Duo, lie still. I'm going to get you some drugs. I'll be right back." With that Trowa took off down the hallway towards the bathroom.
He vividly remembered the mad scientist laughing cruelly, the cold sting of a needle plunged into his leg, the pain, and so much blood. Duo couldn't believe the searing agony in his shoulders. He decided it meant he was still alive, which was a good thing, he supposed. But what did they do to him that hurt so much? Then he saw across him, at Heero, whose passive face was turned towards him. He stared at what he saw extending from his upper back. With a terrible flash he remembered seeing Heero in the throes of agony, his body taut as a bow as blood coursed freely down his back. He thought he was going to be sick as he thought of what might be coming from his own shoulders. He didn't want to see, not yet.
"Damn it, where's that clown with those pills?" He was surprised by the rasping of his own voice, and wondered if his vocal chords would be damaged for good. Just then the green-eyed pilot came back with water and two painkillers. Duo greedily swallowed them both, not caring about the water that ran down his chin. Trowa cleaned him up with a washcloth and resumed sitting in the chair.
As Trowa reached out toward him and put something in his lap, he felt an odd sensation, not unlike a massage. His brow knitted in puzzlement, wondering why he was feeling as though he were being petted when Trowa's hands were nowhere near his body. Screwing up his courage, he braced against the pain and slowly angled his head to look at his shoulders.
Wings. He had them, too, but they were almost like a bat's. He saw Trowa's hand gently stroking him, and it felt good. He sighed as Trowa's touch seemed to remove the pain. "Thanks. That's really nice," he told him.
Despite his urge to hesitate, Trowa kept his hand moving at a steady pace. "So you can feel this?"
Duo closed his eyes in a silent "yes." He felt a small smile trying to work its way onto his face, but when he remembered Heero it quickly vanished. "How's he?" he asked, motioning slightly to the other bed.
"He woke up just a few hours ago. He'll be fine soon enough."
Duo felt a knot of tension form in his stomach as he asked, "Did he take any drugs?"
Trowa's eyes were steady as he nodded. "One painkiller."
Even though he was seriously worried about his friend, Duo grinned slightly at how obstinate the other pilot was. He knew that Heero was in just as much pain as he was, but he still only took one pill. "How long? How long have I been out?"
Trowa's hand paused in mid stroke. "This is the fourth day since we rescued you from the base."
Duo tried his best to look smug. Served that nasty doctor right for underestimating him. He was just as good of a physical specimen as the perfect soldier over there was. "Don't stop." The hand continued its gentle petting. "Trowa, I need to sleep." He looked into his eyes, almost beseeching protection. Trowa could see how helpless and afraid Duo was, even though he tried to disguise it. He nodded solemnly, pretending not to notice the haunted look in Duo's eyes.
"I'll be here, and so will Quatre. Sleep."
With that Duo closed his eyes, knowing he was safe. Nightmares plagued him, different than his usual ones of war and death, disease and lost loved ones, yet a comforting hand always brought him back to the feeling of safety.
Transmission Interrupted
Wufei crouched behind a wall, hiding from the patrol troops inside the base where Heero and Duo had been held. When the guards passed he quickly flitted to another corner, slowly making his way towards the information headquarters. He pressed his back flat against the wall as another guard narrowly missed him.
Finally he was situated just outside the room he was looking for. There were two soldiers stationed at the door, looking asleep on their feet. "Heh," the Chinese boy thought. "Tightened security my ass." Wufei took out a gas grenade from his shoulder pack, pulled the pin, and rolled it silently towards them. It released the knockout gas with a hiss, and the guards swayed and moaned before falling to the floor. After stepping over the sleeping bodies, he deactivated the lock with little trouble, and when he entered the room he saw that it was empty. It was filled with computer terminals and kiosks, and the only window, undetectable from the other direction, looked onto a white room splattered with blood.
"Fools. Not enough protection." Wufei quickly set about hacking into the computers, searching for any files on his two friends. "Bingo." In a few minutes he had downloaded all of the data onto a disc before erasing it from the hard drive and releasing a nasty little virus into the main computer. Just as he exited the room, he threw in a grenade and shut the door. He allowed himself a slight smile when he heard the satisfying explosion of the bomb going off and the whoosh of a fire ignited in the computer circuitry. "Now, I just have to get out of here. That should be simple enough, the idiots." He looked down at the disc in his hand and resisted the urge to crush it to pieces. He needed it so he could find the people who had done this to his friends. He needed it so he could hopefully find a cure. He wouldn't rest until everything was resolved in his mind.
As he left in his mobile suit, he blew up as much of the base as he could, venting his outrage. It seemed that he couldn't kill enough people. He wanted them all to suffer for what they had done. To him. To his friends.
End Transmission