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"...You're a little horsey, aren't you?" the man leered, snapping the whip in his hands. "Such a good little horsey..."
Duo whimpered and tried to cover his eyes, but his hands had suddenly become see-through. Even though his face was covered, his eyes shut, and his head pointed to the wall, he could see the lecherous intent in his captor's eyes, see the barbed, black leather whip in those scarred, calloused hands, see the way those hands were reaching for the zipper at his crotch--
With a swallowed cry, he awoke, taking a moment to realize that he wasn't in the place of his nightmares. It was too bright... and everything was colored sterile white. Plus, the unmistakable smell of Hospital permeated the area.
Turning his head to the side, he stifled a gasp.
Heero Yuy was sitting next to his bed, eyes unreadable, face its usual hard mask, in a wheelchair. An IV unit was attached to the back of his seat, and he was sitting a bit stiffly.
"Heero," he breathed. "You're okay! The doctors couldn't tell us anything, and then--" he paused, as if just realizing something. "Why am I on a bed? Did I fall asleep?"
"Infection," was all Heero would answer, solemnly handing him his chart.
Duo stared at it uncomprehensively as his brain refused to function. "Oh." The chart fuzzed before his eyes, and he set it down on his lap a bit wearily. He guessed that, since none of the other pilots seemed to be around, it hadn't been too bad of an infection. All he remembered was finding Heero lying there, telling the others to hurry their asses up and call an ambulance already, watching the paramedics do their stuff. After that, things seemed to be a blur of hospital waiting. He dimly remembered holding medical forms for Heero, and hoped the others hadn't let him write down anything vastly important on the other's healthcare papers.
"But you're alright?" he decided to clarify, feeling a little foggy.
Heero gave him the full Death Gaze to A Blind Moron look. "I was stabbed."
"Oh, yeah," Duo recalled sleepily as the drugs began to kick in again. "Who did that again?"
"You did," Heero told the sleeping boy, a little more unsure than the moment before.
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LazerEye was determined to prove her point. The infallible Yuy had a flaw in logic, and she felt the need to show off--prove that she really did have brains, that her skills weren't limited to research. It wasn't as if they argued often; in fact, they rarely conversed unless something extremely complex had to be discussed. She was a fount of information, a product of excruciating boredom, and he simply applied said information. There was never any doubt as to whom was right, for there was never debate.
But her convictions were hardly ever wrong, and she felt annoyed that he dare question her information, so she continued to hack away at the Oz database for any mention of Duo Maxwell. She worked as fervantly on the computer as she did on the bowl of mashed potatoes cradled in her lap.
A report on Gundam 02 was brought up, casually mentioning towards the end that Maxwell was the pilot. Another report flickered to life determining the personality and background of the boy. A few more boring, unrelated bits popped up--the military truely deserved the yawns donated to its cause--until, on a whim, she used the keyword "braid".
It gave her the creeps, and she struggled to swallow a lump of potatoes with a suddenly dry, pinched throat.
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Heero frowned and rolled back towards his room for a nap of his own. This Duo had been different from the one that trapped him to his wall earlier, holding him and kissing him tenderly. This Duo was hauntingly familiar, the boy who had cracked jokes about his cooking and people skills, the boy who had cheerfully called his 100% Death Glare a "nice poker face". This Duo's eyes were deeper, with more layers than the solid purple on the other's. Even though drugged out of his mind, this Duo's eyes were still layered with fine coats of different shades of warmth, happiness, humor, and that ever-underlying pain of lonliness.
So, this Duo was real? What had the other been? Not a figment of his imagination--Heero Yuy didn't own an imagination capable of stabbing him. But, was there a person able to copy the movements of an obnoxious baka that acurately?
He didn't want to believe that he had been so thouroughly duped, and as his head hit his pillow, he couldn't stop himself from dreaming about an imaginary kiss with the Duo one floor down.
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Quatre sighed gently, and his partner stroked his fine hair again gently. "We should visit Heero."
The hand not stroking the blond head in Trowa's lap snaked out to clasp Quatre's tightly, but he did not otherwise respond.
Quatre squeezed the hand comfortingly. "I need answers. I need to know who stabbed him. I need to know out why it was so damn important that he have that dumb computer of his right after he woke up--I can see why Duo complains about it all the time. I need to tell him about... Duo." He closed his blue eyes in pain. "I need to see Duo."
"We'll go see Duo," Trowa promised. "As soon as the hospital calls to tell us he can have visitors. You know they don't want anyone around him while they're trying to kill the infection."
"I know." His voice was thick, he sighed. "But he's my friend," Quatre whispered, opening his eyes to look up at his lover. "I have to see him."
"You want to go back to the hospital?"
"Can we?"
Trowa thought for a moment. He didn't want to get Quatre's hopes up, but chances were favorable that they'd at least be able to talk to Heero. "Let's go tell Wufei."
The Arabian smiled brightly in surprise, grabbed Trowa's head, and pulled him in for a quick kiss. "Thank you."
He gave a shy smile. Quatre was really too cute for his own good.
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It was still within his "designated hours"--he glowered at the nurses audacity, even now!--so Heero opened his laptop and checked the messages. There were two; the first was a mission... opening the file, he quickly scanned the contents. It was for Trowa and Quatre, lucky pair. He scowled and wished their own computers hadn't been blown up. It was a pain in the ass to be fielding missions for them plus himself... besides, it made him jealous. At least somebody got to leave this miserable Duo enigma for a day to blow up some Oz compound. No, he wasn't getting any missions until he was recovered enough, unfortunately, so he could lie here in this increasingly uncomfortable bed and wonder which Duo was which, if there even were multiple Duos, and, if so, when and how they got switched. And, how could he get his Duo back?
A duo of Duos. A dual Duo. He grunted at himself in a lack of amusement. Somebody somewhere was chuckling about this.
The other message was from LazerEye. Seeing as how she rarely brought good news, his face darkened a bit as he brought the contents onto the screen and began to read.
It was an Oz Progress Report, and it made a hard knot form in the pit of his stomach.
The report detailed a scientific development of a robot made to imitate a human being. It could be controlled by a complex chip containing a program that mimicked intelligence. The program allowed a robot to respond to external stimuli both vocally and physically.
Artificial intelligence. Heero supressed a shudder and unconsciously pulled the blanket on his lap up higher.
Even more chilling was the subject of the prototype: one Duo Maxwell, constructed from a stolen profile and intense observations, who had instructions to eliminate targets.
The number one target was, of course, one Heero Yuy.
The robot could recieve new programming over the internet--"The use of my computer," Heero realized belatedly--and all that was needed now was a chance to swap the real pilot for the doppleganger.
And, after all, the robot wouldn't be perfect; it was only the prototype, and it was near to impossible to predict every kind of cirmcumstances the Gundam Pilots could get themselves into. And Duo was such a vivid person that nothing could capture his intense personality well enough to fool Heero completely, especially not those cold, empty eyes...
"Mr. Yuy, you need to get off that computer now. We're starting the machines. And, you have some visitors," the nurse interrupted his thoughts, and disappeared.
With a grunt, Heero turned off the laptop and set it aside, mind still reeling from the sudden influx of information. They had kidnapped Duo in order to kill their damned Perfect Soldier. Well, Heero was sick of being their punching bag. He was going to stand up and march out to his Gundam and beat the living shit out of Oz's secret artificial intelligence agency. He was going to pound them. He was going to find the biggest, baddest, meanest, nastiest explosives out there and--
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Quatre and Trowa entered the room to find Heero half-way out of bed, clutching his knife-wound, face white with pain.
"Heero!" Quatre cried, rushing to his side. Trowa was right beside the blond, and they both pushed him back into bed. "What do you think you're doing?"
Heero attempted to glower at them, but the effect was ruined by the agony in his twisted scowl and eyes.
"Heero--" Quatre began to ask with a look to Trowa.
"You two have a mission," Heero interrupted. "You have a compound to destory." He quickly fed them all the details of their excursion, tempted to switch the coordinates of their compound with the ones of the Artificial Intelligence base. More than tempted, actually--but that went against his training.
A doctor appeared at the doorway. "Are you three friends of Mr. Maxwell?"
Trowa and Quatre started, looking guilty that they hadn't yet told Heero of Duo's hospitalization.
"Hai," Heero answered for all three of them, startling the other two boys. He already knew? They exchanged a glance and shrugged slightly. Who could tell how Heero got all his information so quickly?
"I'm Dr. Umeno," the Japanese woman said, "Mr. Maxwell's doctor. I treated him for severe bruising, lacerations on his chest, legs, and arms, some internal bleeding, a few cracked ribs, and infection. We heard there was a suspicion of rape, and I believe that is a correct assessment. Some of his injuries are weeks old and some are quite new--perhaps a few days." She paused to glance at her chart.
Quatre glanced between Trowa and Heero. His boyfriend's eyes had narrowed, but Heero's face remained a mask, impenetrable to Quatre's untrained eye. The blond felt confused anger, though. How dare someone hurt Duo like that! And, how dare he not realize Duo was hurt! Two weeks! This had been going on for two weeks? Why didn't... how come...?
It wasn't fair.
Dr. Umeno looked from face to face. "Can you tell me how he recieved these injuries?"
There was silence as the three boys exchanged a look.
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Duo stared at the ceiling, silently counting the dots. After he was forced to restart five times in a row, he gave up and sighed.
It was no fun being sick.
No one had come to visit him since that one surreal visit from Heero, not even Quatre. He hurt all over, and he couldn't stop from remembering the nightmare of his past couple weeks, over and over and over again. It was ruining his sleep, not to mention his cheery facade.
Oh, hell, who was he kidding? Frankly, his cheery facade was a flimsy mockery of its usual strength, and no one but the walls was here to see it, so he might as well let go, right? Stop kidding himself...
Turning his aching head, he stared at the window, not really looking at the night sky. A few tears slipped out, but he managed to keep himself from flirting with self-pity for too long. Time for some rational analysis.
He let out a stream of cusses.
Well, maybe not rational, but it definitely seemed to help. One question had been bugging him for a while: why did they take him?
He shuddered.
Okay, yeah, there was the--he swallowed--but Oz didn't kidnap a Gundam pilot just to play "ride the little horsey". Besides, the other pilots hadn't seemed particularly surprised or worried when he'd shown up back at Quatre's home. Well, not worried about him, anyway. A little about Heero, maybe, but they kind of ignored him.
Funny, he'd always hoped that they'd come charging in with the calvary if he'd been captured, especially since those bastards had gotten his gundam... his precious Shinigami...
He allowed himself to brood over the loss of his gundam for a moment. Another friend a casualty of war...
Mentally, he made a note to dedicate a bottle of some damn good vodka to that magnificent creature.
But, on to something else. Back to that puzzle...
What was it? Oh, yeah, nobody noticed he was gone. And no one noticed that he had been tortured. Didn't they care that he could've given away some vital information? They should have at least cared enough to put him out of his misery... Was a nice shot in the head too much to ask? Even from Heero Yuy?
It didn't fit. Quatre was a nice guy; he didn't like hurting enemies, much less allowing his friends to be hurt. And Trowa would help his Arabian lover. Sure, maybe Heero wouldn't want to get involved in rescuing such an annoyance--and Wufei might see some sort of ironic justice in his fate, but Quatre--
But it was pointless to think on such things.
He sighed again and decided to sleep some more. His injuries were aching again, and he could feel his eyelids falling as if there was some sort of magnetic attraction between them and his chin. "Heero's right," he muttered out loud. "I'm such a baka."
"Still talking to yourself, Maxwell?"
Turning his head slowly to avoid jarring his throbbing neck, he looked back towards the door. "Wufei?"
The Chinese boy wore the slight smirk-ish frown of his that bugged the hell out of Duo. "I want to know what happened," he said flatly.
Duo blinked his eyes sleepily. "What?"
Wufei glanced over him, noting his hidden exhaustion. "Hn. Later."
"When did what happen, Wu-chan?" He wrestled a yawn down.
"Don't call me that." His eyes seemed to soften for a moment with worry. "Go to sleep. We'll talk later."
"But--"
"Duo, sleep."
"But what if they come back...?" he murmured, prying his eyes back open. "Every time I shut my eyes I can see--"
"Go to sleep, Duo." Wufei's voice was gentle in his ear. Duo could feel his hand stroke his mussed hair. "I'll keep watch."
Well, who was Duo to argue? Obediantly, he shut his eyes and sighed. The tension he hadn't realized he was holding drained out of his limbs and he fell asleep.
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Heero silently cursed the limits the doctors had placed on his computer. Dumb doctors. Didn't they realize how important it was for him to squeeze every little drop of information about this nasty project he had just discovered from Oz's bulging databases?
Idiots, all of them. He should hack into their computer system and start deleting random files, just to spite them. Yeah, that would show 'em!
... No, he couldn't do that; there's no way he could figure out what the hell was going on if the hospital was in complete chaos. Besides, something might go wrong with his friend a couple floors down, and then how would Heero ever be able to live with himself?
Fine, then. He'd just go visit Duo, that's all. And he'd bring his gun, just in case the robot was real.
Pleased with his decision-making skills, he began the decent from bed. Heero eyed the wheelchair distastefully and began to walk out of his room.
"I don't think so, Mr. Yuy," a sharp voice interrupted his trek.
He turned to glare at Nurse Kevin.
"Look, just use the chair, okay? If you rip your stiches out, we'll be forced to confine you to bed."
Grudingly, he eased into his wheelchair and began the pain-staking roll down the hall, ignoring Kevin's sigh of relief.
"Need a hand, Mr. Yuy?" one of the female nurses asked wryly.
"Iie." He gave them a disapproving frown.
She tried to hide her smile. "If you say so. Don't be pulling any of those stitches, though; Dr. Kaftan would kill you."
"Hn." He manuevered himself to the elevator and pressed the "Door close" button in her face.
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He rolled into Duo's room awkwardly and decided to stay for a while. He'd never admit it out loud, but he needed a breather. His gut was throbbing, his muscles felt shakey, and he actually felt a little tired. He'd never admit it, but--good thing Nurse Kevin had forced him to use the chair; he couldn't have made it here on his own.
Heero pulled up next to Duo's bed with a sigh. Everytime he came, Duo was asleep. The baka was probably planning it that way.
He looked at Duo's peaceful face. He looked so innocent when asleep--not nearly so annoying as when he was awake. His lips looked so soft, and his cheek--
Heero pulled his hand away just in time. No! He would not give in!
"Just a little touch," a voice in the back of his head nagged. "What could it hurt? Just a hand on his cheek... and one smoothing of his hair."
No! He would not give in! Even though Duo did definitely look soft and pleasant to the touch...
"I bet his hair is sleek," the voice teased. "Bet it's soft, and smells like honey and oranges."
Unwillingly, Heero leaned closer and took a deep breath. Oh, yes, a hint of oranges... the nurse must have washed his hair with his own shampoo...
"Wonder how he looks after sex?" came the sly poke from the voice. "His hair cascading behind him, nose nuzzling your neck, eyes full of love?"
Heero shivered and allowed his hand to gently stroke Duo's cheek, almost reverently. Like velvet...
"Heero Yuy," a real voice said cheerfully from the doorway, yanking him out of his tender mood. "Still lusting after Duo? Some people never learn."
He turned in his wheelchair to find Duo leaning against the door frame, grinning brightly and hat askew on his head. Heero scowled and raised his gun from his lap.
"What, you're gonna shoot me? After all we've shared?" The Duo by the door pulled out a gun of his own and aimed at Heero. "That's way harsh, man." Leaping over lightly, he knocked the weapon out of Heero's tired grasp and shoved his own piece against the wounded boy's forehead. "I've come to finish the job, Yuy. You should know by now, Duo Maxwell always finishes what he starts."
"You're not Duo," Heero told him coldly.
"But I am," came the sing-song voice. "I am Duo Maxwell."
Heero's wound began to pulse, and his attempts to hit the Duo robot away were entirely unproductive. It was like using a toothpick against Wing Zero: absolutely ineffective.
"Say goodnight." The fake Duo's dull purple eyes seemed to shine with an unholy light as his finger began to pull the trigger.
There was a grunt and the sound of crunching metal as the robot froze and slowly crumpled to the ground. Wufei pulled his sword out of the twisted mess and finished knocking off the head. "Justice," he informed the remains of the robot coldly.
"Wufei," Heero acknowledged.
Wufei sheathed his sword with a "shnick". "It was dishonorable, to attack the wounded. Such lack of honor makes one weak."
Heero nodded. Lucky thing Wufei had been nearby. "Get rid of it." He gestured at the pile of metal and plastic sparking by Duo's bed.
Wufei nodded and began to further disassemble it.
With a nod of satisfaction, Heero turned back to Duo. Amazing how that boy could sleep through almost anything...
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There. It was done. With a final nod of approval, Wufei watched as the final pieces went through the scrapper to be melted down into an ex-Duo square chunk.
He smiled. Good riddance; one Duo was enough noise and nonsense. Besides, he had to return to his post. He had, after all, promised, and Chang Wufei never breaks a promise.
Someone needed to guard those two while they healed. They obviously needed it.
Besides, it's what friends do.
He smiled. It was good to have friends.