Part I -- Triton"
by s1ncer1ty
---
** A/N: Standard disclaimers -- GW isn't mine, nor is "Anna Begins," which belongs to Counting Crows. Yeah, yeah, I know the song refers to a girl, while the fic isn't about a girl. I still think it's fitting. This is my first all-out songfic ever (that I've completed, anyway).
This fic does contain the requisite "odd coupling" that I'm semi-infamous for. This one's a 2x3, with definite shounen-ai (if it didn't have shounen-ai, then I couldn't label it a 2x3, could I?). I think it turns a little 3x2 later on, but ... eh, I always did have difficulty sticking with one definitive seme and one definitive uke.
As always, flamers will be sacrificed to Shinigami.
Oh, and you may recognize one scene from a previous fic of mine (called "Fill My World")... The previous fic was written from Duo's POV. This fic has it from Triton/Trowa's POV. When I was writing this monstrosity, I had a ton of trouble actually figuring out how to set the scene, so I first wrote it from a perspective I could very easily imagine. Then I played cut'n'paste with the dialogue and re-wrote it to be consistent with this style. I happen to like the dual points of view, although, to be honest, I like the original rendering from Duo's POV better...
Fiiiiiiinally (sheesh, these author's notes could constitute an entire fic)... For those who read my 'Digimon' fics -- never fear! I have not given up on the genre completely. Expect a new Digimon fic in the next couple of weeks. I just needed a bit of a break from those wacky monsters and painfully annoying Digivolving sequences... o.o **
my friend assures me "it's all or nothing"
i am not worried
i am not overly concerned
my friend implores me "for one time only,
make an exception"
i am not worried
---
Ever since the end of the war, I'd been under the siege of empathy. Ever so gradually, it began, starting with the day I had to leave my companions in arms behind, when we'd decided to send our Gundams into the sun. That day, even though I managed to remain stoic, I could feel a strain of longing tugging at my heart. Something ended, that day, the close of an era of terror; yet, at the same time, it was also the beginning of an age of fear -- fear of the unknown, fear of life, fear of the everyday.
Little by little, the cold mask that hid me from the world shed its layers like the peeling of a scab. Sometimes, it was satisfying to watch another portion disappear, revealing fresh new skin beneath. Once in a while, though, I'd scratch too hard, and the scab would tear, causing old wounds beneath to bleed, and it would hurt.
Slowly, I learned anxiousness while continuing to work for the circus. One day, while waiting in the wings for my cue to take the center ring, I felt a nauseous gnawing in my stomach, sweat beading upon my brow beneath the doukeshi mask. I had the incredible urge to laugh -- I'd faced countless armies as a Gundam pilot, had killed without remorse, and yet the thought of performing live in front of a captive audience brought forth suffocating shivers. That night, Catherine nearly took out my left eye when she tossed the last knife at my taut body, and she scolded me later for being too tense. My nervousness, apparently, projected to her in sympathy. I couldn't help it -- that was before I learned to harness that anxiousness and to use it to my advantage.
The nervousness that, from then on, preceded each performance of mine was in full bloom as I peeked through the curtain, awaiting my cue. For some reason, the fear of performing live had trebled, leaving my hands to twitch uncontrollably. It was unnerving, if fascinating, watching my fingers shiver of their own accord -- the fear had never overtaken me this severely before, I thought with morbid curiosity.
Staring through the curtains, I saw Quatre in a reserved seat near the floor, his blue eyes sparkling with an innocence he'd somehow retained even after the war. But Quatre had already attended a number of performances, yet had never grown tired of the same acts that the troupe put on time and again. Surely, that couldn't be enough to bring on this fit of trembling... The young Arabian boy had mentioned he'd be bringing a companion to the performance, someone he'd wanted me to meet. However, through the half-mask settled on my face beneath my hair, I couldn't quite make out the friend sitting to his right.
I don't know what unnerved me more -- the actual identity of Quatre's mysterious companion, or the memories that he might eventually dredge up. I wasn't sure if I was yet ready to confront my not-so-distant past.
"I'm bringing someone with me to the show tonight, Trowa."
"Okay. Who are you bringing?"
"No, I can't tell you yet. It's a surprise! But I think you'll be happy."
"How can you be so sure?"
"You will be. Trust me! He's someone you used to know."
"Oh."
The conversation, as was common between myself and Quatre, had been brief, but for some reason it set my hair on end. And, oddly enough, it amplified the common anxiousness of performing into near-panic. Slowly but surely, I was leaving my past as a terrorist and a savior behind. Nanashi was no more. Trowa Barton was no more. I only had the future to look forward to.
Catherine shook my shoulders roughly, breaking through my reverie and hissing in my ear, "You're on. Go."
Blinking, I caught my breath and impatiently shrugged my sister's hands from my shoulders. It took me another two seconds to steady myself before I bolted out towards center stage and began the act that had brought smiles to hundreds of faces each night -- even if it couldn't bring a smile to my own. I refused to look in Quatre's direction throughout the act -- as I juggled flaming hoops, as I climbed upon the tightrope, as I sailed the whip past the heads of the lions. I allowed nothing to break the concentration and tenuous control I had over my nerves.
I managed to ride the wave of excitement and nausea through the show -- even relishing in this newfound nervousness. Finally, I leaned my back against the pitted wooden wall that served as a target and extended my arms, as if crucified, preparing for the knife throwing finale that closed every performance. All I had to do was stand still and keep from flinching as Catherine threw daggers at my body. I'd done it hundreds of times over -- only tonight, the daggers were thrown not just from her hands, but also from her eyes. Most performances, I trusted my sister completely. Yet tonight, the tremble in her fingers made my heart sink.
I must be projecting again. She knows I'm nervous.
A whistle of cold steel, and Catherine's knives hit the wall surrounding me -- landing near my hands, my shoulders, between my legs. With each carefully aimed throw, I held my breath until the razor-sharp daggers hit their mark.
My chest heaved with relief as Catherine took the last dagger within her fingers. My eyes met hers, and her brows raised in anticipation -- and the knife hurtled towards my face. At the last second I jerked my head to the side so the cold steel struck the edge of the doukeshi mask. I felt the porcelain shatter against the sting of sweat. When I opened my eyes I found myself staring straight into the row where Quatre was starting to rise to his feet, the smile at the performance rapidly fading to a grimace of concern. And beside him, in the adjoining seat, a pair of large, fae, violet eyes widened.
There's only one person I know who has violet eyes...
Before I could allow myself to recognize the owner of those eyes, I shook the shattered mask from my face and improvised a tumble towards Catherine. Leaping to my feet, I wrapped an arm around her and bowed with a flourish.
My sister put on the fakest of smiles as the crowd cheered the performance, and I heard her mutter through clenched teeth, "You're bleeding."
I never bothered to smile, not even to fake it -- what is the point of projecting an emotion you're not feeling? "Whose fault is that?" I whispered, running a bare arm across my cheek. The pale skin came away stained with crimson.
"We'll discuss this later," Catherine hissed.
Around us, the crowd roared with a surge of applause and approval.
wrap her up in a package of lies
send her off to a coconut island
i am not worried
i am not overly concerned
with the status of my emotions
"oh" she says "we're changing."
but we're always changing
---
Backstage, Catherine shouted at me as I staunched the trickle of blood from my cheek with a rag.
"What was that all about, Triton Bloom?"
I always knew she was truly angry with me when she called me by my birth name, rather than the name I assumed prior to my days as a terrorist Gundam pilot. "Hmm?" I asked, wincing as I pulled the scarlet rag from my cheek. While the knife itself hadn't touched my skin, a piece of the broken porcelain mask had lacerated my cheek just beneath the bone.
"You know perfectly well what I'm talking about. That look in your eyes! How can I throw my knives at you when you get that look in your eyes like a deer caught in a set of headlights?"
If you were a true performer, you'd be able to throw regardless of my expression. I restrained myself from stating those cold words to my sister. Instead, I merely shrugged and returned the rag to my cheek. Though it bled considerably, I didn't think I'd need stitches, at least.
"Look, I'm sorry," she murmured, pacing from one end of the backstage waiting room to the other. "I just hate seeing that look in your eyes. It makes it hard to work."
I rose from my chair, still holding the sodden rag to my cheek, and stared at Catherine through a fringe of long bangs. "You'd prefer it if I had no expression, then?" I asked, genuinely confused. "That can be arranged."
"I didn't say that."
Again, I shrugged as I pushed aside the tent flap. She made no move to follow me as I strode through the thinning crowds towards my trailer. As I approached, I spotted a pair of huddled figures sitting atop the steps that led into my small home. Quatre's blond hair made him easy to pick out, even in the dark, and he leapt to his feet the second he spotted me. The other remained seated, and I could have sworn I spotted the glimmer of a familiar smirk despite the shadows that clouded his face. I swallowed past the small lump in my throat and lifted my hand in a wave to the two boys.
"Trowa!" Quatre exclaimed, leaving his black-clad
companion behind to bounce over towards me.
I stared down into the depths of Quatre's sea-blue eyes as he
swept me in a tight embrace, an embrace only permitted to two
people in my life. "It's good to see you, Quatre," I
stated. He'd grown his hair longer, and it was tied in a loose
ponytail at the base of his neck, looking nowhere near as severe
as Wu Fei's had been.
"You look great," the smaller young man said, rifling a hand through my hair and wincing as he spotted the drying blood upon my cheek. "But that must have hurt."
"It's no big deal," I stated, turning my cheek away from his gentle hand and towards the silent figure on the steps to my trailer. Forcing the words through my lips, I added, "So who did you bring with you to Earth?"
The concern in Quatre's eyes dissolved into excitement, and he hopped back towards the old trailer. With a wave of his hands, he affected an announcer's voice. "Ladies and gentlemen! I present to you, straight from the L2 colony, the one... the only..." He paused dramatically, waiting for his companion to pick up the cue. "Ummm..."
But instead, the dark-clad figure merely stood and walked casually into plain view, his hands sliding into the pockets of his black pants. Although his stance was relaxed, his face bore an almost sadistic smirk, the violet eyes glittering with both a characteristic fierceness and joy. The boy's long braid swung like a pendulum as he bowed lightly.
"Shinigami has returned," he remarked, lips breaking open to reveal a wide, toothy grin.
Looping my arms across my chest, I couldn't help but smile, just a little. "Duo Maxwell. I should have known."
Suddenly, in a blur of black, Duo's nose was inches from mine. He stared into my face, his eyes impossibly large, and grabbed the front of my costume in his fists. "Who are you, and what have you done with Trowa?"
"I told you he's changed!" Quatre chirped happily over his shoulder.
"I don't understand," I stated, brow furrowing.
"You smiled," Duo whispered emphatically. "Don't make me ask you again, stranger, where is Trowa? We have ways of making you talk."
"Trowa Barton is dead," I said quietly -- honestly -- keeping my gaze fixed upon Duo's.
Duo's violet eyes held fast to mine for a few moments longer, and then the boy threw back his head and let out a loud cackle. I felt my collar loosen as he released his grip from my shirt. "Now that's the morbid little mopeygothi I used to know!"
"Mopeygothi?" I murmured, glancing to Quatre for help. The Arabian boy merely shrugged, looking as confused as I felt.
"I don't know about you two," Duo said, slipping his arm easily across my shoulder. Not wanting to be left out, Quatre joined the boy at his other side, and Duo walked between us back to my trailer. "But Shinigami is famished! Where's a good place to eat?"
Pulling the keys from a pocket within the oversized costume pants, I stated as we walked, "I know of a few places. Let me get changed first." I hoped neither of my friends noticed the faint tremor in my hand when I rattled the keys in the trailer's lock.
"Can we watch?" Quatre asked, his crystal eyes brimming with an impishness that had come upon him in recent months. It suited him well, making him seem almost like a tamer version of Robin Goodfellow.
I said nothing as I shook my head, opening the door to the trailer, letting them in to my new life, my new home. I gestured towards some empty chairs where they could sit while I changed, and I heard Duo's voice echoing through the tiny space:
"By the great gods above, Barton, who is your interior decorator? Bela Lugosi?"
In the bathroom, I splashed away the dried blood on my cheek and inspected the cut, which wasn't all that serious. While I was there, I attempted a smile in the mirror. No wonder Duo was frightened -- a tense stranger with flat, greyish-green eyes and small teeth stared back at me. I looked like a predator. Maybe I still was...
it does not bother me to say this isn't love
because if you don't want to talk about it
then it isn't love
and i guess i'm gonna have to live that
but, i'm sure there's something in a shade of gray
or something in between
and I can always change my name
if that's what you mean
---
Duo tore through his salad as if it were his last meal for the next month, somehow managing to find the time to speak between bites. Although the conversation tended to revolve around the boy, I didn't particularly mind -- I knew all that was going on in Quatre's life, having kept in touch with him regularly since the war, and I never did want to speak much about myself. He spoke of his re-establishment of the Maxwell Church, of returning to school, of the "sweet" motorcycle he'd obtained through God-knows-what means.
He seemed to be on a roll, so I was surprised when, just after the waitress slid our entrees before us, Duo suddenly turned to me and said, "So, oh silent one, tell me all about your life. And don't spare the gory details." Picking up his fork, he twirled a bit of pasta around the tines and took a large bite.
"What is there to tell about my life?" I asked, lifting an eyebrow curiously. "You saw where I work, where I live. I perform with the circus."
Duo shrugged and swallowed before muttering, "That can't be all there is to your life now, is it? Sheesh, Trowa, it's been nearly a year since I've seen you. There has to be at least one thing of note."
"Why not tell him about your name?" Quatre prompted as he delicately cut his meat.
I nodded and spoke, picking up the cue: "I'm no longer called Trowa Barton. My name is Triton Bloom. It was Catherine's suggestion that I take the name officially."
Duo blinked at me owlishly, pausing mid-chew. "Triton?" he murmured.
"Yes."
The boy swallowed his pasta and squinched his eyes in frustration. "Awww. I'm never going to remember that!"
"You can still call me Trowa," I stated, shrugging as I poked at the rice on my plate with a fork. "Quatre still does, and some of the folks at the circus do as well. I don't really mind."
"Think of it as a nickname," Quatre piped in helpfully.
"I prefer Trowa to Triton. Could just be familiarity, though. Give me some time to get used to it," said Duo, easily getting over his initial shock. "And you," he added, pointing the tip of his knife at Quatre, "why didn't you tell me about it?"
The blond Arabian boy shook his head. "It wasn't my place to say."
"Triton was the name given to me at birth," I stated solemnly. "Before my parents were killed."
At the voluntary offering of information, Duo turned suspicious violet eyes towards me, giving me another 'Who are you, and what have you done with Trowa?' look. Yet, as he opened his mouth to talk, the words that came out were suddenly serious. "Who'd have thought it, ne? Three orphans of war, having dinner at a fancy restaurant. Quite a change from where we were just a year ago, isn't it?"
"I love you guys," Quatre blurted out, his crystal eyes glittering. "I really do."
"Yeah," murmured Duo. "Me too."
I couldn't bring myself to say anything. Instead, I stared down at the food I no longer had an appetite for, and let my hair fall protectively over my eyes. I loved them too, but I couldn't say it. The silence had to be enough for them.
my friend assures me "it's all or nothing"
but i am not really worried
i am not overly concerned
you try to tell yourself
the things you try tell yourself
to make yourself forget
to make yourself forget
i am not worried
---
"You're not comfortable, are you?" Quatre asked, cornering me in the lobby on our way out. It had started to rain, and Duo had run ahead to pull the car around front.
I turned towards him, brow furrowed. "I wouldn't necessarily say 'uncomfortable,' Quatre. Just ... confused."
"About what?" He turned large, concerned crystal eyes up to mine, eyes that radiated such empathy and caring that they'd probably be the first thing I'd cry over, if I were ever able.
"Why Duo?"
Quatre tried to grin reassuringly, and he squeezed my shoulder. "I thought it was about time to start bringing the past into your life again. Not all at once, mind you, but who better to start with than Duo? Besides, he's missed you."
I nodded slowly and murmured softly, "I've ... missed him too." My words were hesitant, almost begrudging -- and it was something I could only tell to Quatre.
"Come on, go along for the ride. Enjoy it!"
Shoving my hands into my pocket, I glanced out the window to where Duo sat behind the wheel of his car, impatiently tapping the steering wheel with his hands. "I'll try."
Leaning up, Quatre planted a soft kiss on my cheek. "Please do. I love you, big brother. I only want to see you happy," he whispered, smiling sweetly.
Without another word, I opened the restaurant door, we and darted through the rain to the waiting car. At least I had the chill of the air to blame as I fumbled the latch and sought shelter from the rainfall.
"Where to, cats?" Duo asked once Quatre settled into the back seat and I'd belted myself into the passenger seat.
"The hotel," Quatre stated immediately. "I'm tired."
My shoulders tensed -- he was deliberately going to leave me with Duo, alone. The thought made my stomach turn. But I knew that one day, I'd have to do it. I'd have to face my former companions alone, without the comforting presence of Quatre to help me through it. What better time than the present? At least Duo was safe...
Sensing my discomfort and my suspicions, Quatre quietly added, "I drank wine with you guys at dinner, remember? Wine makes me sleepy."
"Our little Quatre can't seem to hold his liquor yet, can he?" Duo asked, his lips quirking in a grin. He shifted the car into gear and sped out onto the road.
"I'm not drunk. Just tired," the Arabian boy muttered almost grumpily, stretching his legs across the back seat.
And perhaps it wasn't a conscious ploy to get me alone together with my former comrade in arms, because four blocks down the road Quatre was fast asleep. Through the side mirror, I saw his head leaning back against the window, his eyes shut and his chest rising and falling in a regular rhythm. He looked so sweet when he was asleep, almost overwhelmed by childlike innocence.
"That Quatre's quite a guy, isn't he?" Duo asked, as if sensing my thoughts.
I nodded slowly. "He is. I don't know where I'd be without him."
"You'd have made it, Tro-- Triton," he amended with a wince.
"You can call me Trowa. I don't mind."
Duo shrugged and nodded. "Yeah, okay. As I was saying, you'd have made it, even if you didn't have Quatre. You're a survivor."
"I never said I wouldn't survive," I stated coolly. "I just can't imagine where I'd be. It's not a future I want to think about."
"It's not one you have to ponder, anyway," Duo said, turning easily down one of the sidestreets towards the hotel where he and Quatre were staying. "You've got a great present to live in right now."
"Yes," I agreed. "It is."
Duo pulled into the parking lot of the hotel, and shifted the car into park. "How are you feeling, T? Are you tired as well?"
I dipped my chin slightly, just enough to allow my long bangs to tumble across my eyes. "No, I'm not."
"What say we go out somewhere, then? You and me. Maybe there's a dance club or a bar?"
Shaking my head, I murmured, "I'd rather not." Perhaps the doukeshi I became while performing could handle crowds, but as myself, large groups of people made me edgy.
"Aw," Duo murmured, crestfallen. "Okay. Let me just get Quatre into bed, and then I'll take you home."
I nodded, and hid behind my hair.
Duo pushed the driver's seat forward and gently shook Quatre's shoulder until he stretched sleepily. "Hey, kitty-Quatre. Shinigami commands you to awaken."
"Mmf," was all the blond-haired boy muttered as he extracted himself from the back seat, rubbing at his eyes, childlike.
"Say goodnight to Trowa," Duo stated, smiling lightly as he turned Quatre back towards the car.
Quatre gave a groggy smile and a light wave. "Night, Trowa. Do something special, will you?"
The door shut, and the two boys walked back to the hotel, leaving me alone in the passenger seat of the car. I leaned my head against the back of the seat and listened to the gentle rain as it pattered down upon the hood of the car. It was times like this that I almost felt at peace, simply listening to nature, to the night. Now that the rainy season was upon us, I'd spent many a night simply lying on my back in bed, relishing in the dim fall of water against the roof of the trailer.
It wasn't that I didn't want to be with Duo, though the thought still made me a little twitchy. I simply didn't want to find entertainment in a loud dance club or a rowdy bar. They'd intrude upon the solitude I so needed. If I had Duo take me straight home, I'd only stay awake anyway. Only this time, my peace would be broken by my thoughts and my regrets of what could have been.
A few minutes later, the door to the rented car squeaked open, and I quickly jerked my head towards the noise. "Okay, Trowa," Duo stated, hopping back into the car and shutting the door, "you're going to have to show me the best way of getting back to the circus."
I took a single, steadying breath, and I murmured, "I don't want to go home just yet."
"Really?" he replied, his eyes widening in curiosity.
"Let me take you out somewhere."
"Where to?" Duo easily slid the gear into reverse and pulled out of the parking space.
"Someplace special."
"if it's love" she says "then we're gonna have to
think about the consequences"
but she can't stop shaking
and i can't stop touching her
and.....
---
Driving down the state highway, forests skimming to either side of the road, the car's defrost system gave a dying wheeze and stopped working altogether. Duo rolled down the windows, letting the rain pour into the vehicle, and he cursed as he fought to remove the fog that built up relentlessly across the front windshield.
"I wonder if this is what it was like when the Titanic sank," he stated with a grin, rubbing the sleeve of his black shirt across the fogged glass. "I'm expecting to drive straight into an iceberg."
"Huh?" I asked, not understanding the reference in
the slightest. "You won't drive into an iceberg."
Duo quirked an eye at me, and shrugged. "Figure of speech."
I nodded silently, and he returned to swiping at the windshield, his eyes narrowing in frustration at the bright headlights of the cars that zoomed past us on the opposite side. Leaning over, I carefully ran my own arm over the glass on the driver's side, taking care not to cut off Duo's vision too much.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Duo stiffen, and he leaned his body closer to the wheel. As once I'd been able to sense Quatre's tears miles away, long ago, I could feel a tangible annoyance emanating from Duo when I leaned forward -- annoyance, and something underlying, heated, that I could not immediately place. I fell back against the passenger seat, feeling Duo's eyes crawling over me.
Then it came to me, a means to escape the uncomfortable scrutiny -- I had to be Duo's sight. Otherwise, we'd never get to our destination in one piece. Rolling down the window, I unbuckled my safety belt and slid my frame out into the fray of rain that continued to pour down. I held onto the back of the inside seat with one hand, the other clasping the window.
"What are you doing?" Duo's voice carried from the car and nearly floated past on the wind. He was trying to sound casual, but beneath it all, I could sense an undertone of nervousness.
"There's a dirt road coming up," I stated once I was able to pinpoint our turn coming up. I slipped back into the car and brushed my wet bangs from my face. "On your right. Turn there."
"Aye aye, cap'n," Duo replied, sounding subtly relieved.
Duo pulled the car to the shoulder, and several vehicles that had previously been tailgating him fiercely tore past. After pulling the car to a crawl, he finally found the nearly abandoned side road and turned down it.
The car rocked across potholes in the uneven ground, kicking up sprays of mud that splattered across the back windshield. Duo cursed aloud to himself as he took comfort in the sound of his own voice. The trees on either side of us crowded ever closer, and after nearly running into a low-hanging branch, the former pilot screeched the car to a halt.
"How the hell am I going to turn this thing around?" he muttered through clenched teeth. Turning towards me, he added, "This road isn't taking us anywhere."
"It has," I replied quietly.
I hoped he would understand, that he would catch on without forcing me to tell him anything. Closing my eyes, I leaned my head against the back of the car seat, relishing in the silence and the company. The only noise coming down was the rain against the hood of the car, then the light whistle of Duo's breathing. Again, his eyes stared through me. Always a boisterous person, always needed some sort of noise to distract him, the silence unnerved him to no end.
As if needing to prove that point, he thrust open the car door, muttering under his breath. When I opened my eyes, I turned to see him leaning over, his hands fumbling off his shoes and socks. Tossing the items aside, he leapt barefoot into the rain, landing heavily in a puddle forming in the tire tracks, and let out a loud cry towards the sky. He didn't look back as he clambered atop the roof of the car, the metal groaning above me from his weight.
For a brief moment longer, I listened to the rain patter upon
the car, listened to Duo mutter to himself upon the roof. Then,
I edged my body out the window again to join the reformed terrorist.
"You're going to get sick," I stated quietly, watching
him shiver, soaking wet.
"Shinigami never gets sick!" he boasted in return.
"Mm."
Not wanting to fight him, I tilted my head up to listen to the rain and relished in the the cold drops that slid down my cheeks. My hair stuck to the sides of my face. Sitting there, silently, I again sensed that heated throb emanating from Duo, only this time his emotions were tinged with a longing, a need to be closer. Without a word, uncharacteristic of the boy, he inched closer to me and slid an arm around my waist.
All at once, I understood -- but I couldn't believe it. He wanted to be near me, as close as he could possibly get. Suddenly, I knew what it was like to be infatuated, to be needed. I tipped my head towards him, and before I knew it, his forehead nestled against mine. The comfort of Duo's soft skin mixed with a sudden burst of fear deep within me.
"But..." When I tried to protest, Duo cut me off.
"It's okay," he whispered.
It couldn't be okay. My mind spun with multiple possibilities, so many reasons as to why I was mistaken. Why would Duo want me? Wasn't he supposed to be in love with Hilde? Or, if one believed the rumors perpetuated by Quatre, wasn't Duo somehow involved with Heero? He had to want someone else, not a confused circus clown still trying to get used to having a name.
Before Duo could get any closer, I whispered impulsively, "Who do you want me to be?"
"What do you mean?"
"Who do you want me to be? Do you want me to be Trowa Barton? Or would you rather I be Heero?"
That was a mistake. The warmth of Duo's arm slipped from my shoulders, and he did nothing to disguise the hurt in his violet eyes. "Why would I want you to be Heero?" he asked incredulously.
I sat numbly, and let the wet strands of my hair tumble before my eyes.
Duo's voice was surprisingly gentle, and he leaned closer to me again, murmuring, "I don't want you to be Heero."
"Then...?"
"I want you to be you," he whispered. "I want you to be Triton Bloom."
Terror struck with blinding force. I could face armies of mobile dolls in battle; I could slit a man's throat without remorse; I could obliterate entire colonies if I had to -- but I couldn't face myself. "I don't know how."
With gentle fingers, Duo brushed aside the hair I hid behind. "Tell you what," he said softly. "Why don't you forget what I want. Tell me what it is you want."
"What I want?"
"Yes," he nodded.
What do I want? Rarely was I ever afforded the luxury of doing something I wanted. The word was almost foreign to me. I struggled to think of something, if only to make Duo happy.
"I -- I want --"
"What is it?" he urged.
But any words I might have said stuck in my throat. I fought to keep from shivering as I gazed into the deep violet of Duo's eyes, cast into shadows from the car's headlights. His lips parted slightly in anticipation, and for the first time since I detonated the Deathscythe years ago, I felt the urge to burst out crying. I had to do something, anything to stifle my tears...
Fiercely, I brought my lips to his, snaking my tongue between his teeth, suffocating any inherent urge to weep. Before I could draw away, he laced a hand around my neck and held me to him. Duo whimpered in pleasure as he kissed me back, his sweet tongue thrusting against mine.
When I finally pulled away, the kiss fading into a shared breath between us, the urge to shake to pieces had passed.
Breaking the silence, Duo chuckled deep in his throat. "See?
It didn't kill you."
I nodded, my cheeks hot despite the cold rain. In my mercenary
days, in my days as an Oz infiltrator, I'd known desire -- the
need for companionship and for touch. Only now, this desire mixed
with something akin to affection, especially when Duo took my
hand in his. I felt almost comfortable, his thumb stroking my
fingers.
Relentlessly, the rain came down, but I barely took notice of it. All I could think about was the moment Duo and I had shared...
It took all my courage, many long minutes later, to whisper, "I don't suppose ... we could do that again?"
Duo's lips parted into a gentle smirk, and his hands rested against my rain-slicked cheeks. "Your wish is my command, koi."
I couldn't stop it even if I wanted to -- at Duo's softly murmured
words, I felt myself beginning to tremble. Instead of leaning
forward to kiss him again, all I could do was fall into Duo's
arms. He stroked the ends of my hair, comfortingly, until I was
able to get my shaking -- and another newfound emotion -- under
control.
