[for the big ol' warnings and such, see previous parts]
minor warnings: Post EW (spoilers for series, EW and minor Ground Zero), drama, yaoi (or some weird variation of shounen-ai), some minor het-ness, complicated plot bunnies, limes/lemons (possibly), weird takes on relationships and characterization, major angst, death.
Main pairings: 1x2x1, 4and3involvedsomehow, 5 being his annoyingly loner self.
Secondary pairings: 6+9+6, 1+R+1 (mentioned)
Notes: this has nothing to do with Anne Rice. ^_^ Just thought I should clarify. If you really wanna draw on something for the title... think Shakespeare. *g*
Tis now the very witching time of night
When churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out Contagion to the worldHamlet [III.ii.]
i. Dawn
wide awake
and keeping distance from my soul
i am scared like you
-- Tool, Cold and Ugly
pt.3
* * * * * * * *
[AC 201, November 13th, New Angeles, Earth]
Heero woke to the smell of coffee and the sound of Duo laughing loudly in the kitchen. The bed was warm, the room reassuringly familiar, and he stared up into the mild sunlight streaming through the curtains – the real sun, for the first time in months. The clock, a large white analog mounted on the opposite wall from Duo's bed, displayed the fact that it was early afternoon, so Heero rose quickly, only pausing to neatly remake the disheveled sheets.
Everything seemed new to him, now. The layout of the rooms, the hallways, the stairs, all of that was familiar enough to walk through blind, but the atmosphere was so incredible: everything was so white and clean and cool under his fingertips that it felt like a strange dream; as if uncovering a wound from gauze layers.
There was something wholly unearthly about the house. It was strange because he remembered very little about what it had been before returning. He only remembered the way the rooms had felt when Duo was in them, or the way the sheets and pillows had held his fragrance when the two of them found themselves together in bed. He knew that he remembered nothing of the nubbin carpet under his feet, or the cool, slippery feel of the banister under his palm.
Duo must have painted. The walls had never been white.
The kitchen was fresher than he remembered it. It, too, was white and clean, steeped in sunlight and the smell of coffee and Duo's very presence. The windows were closed but the curtains were open, and the light was crisply bright as it fell across the table and china-blue tiles on the floor.
He saw Duo at the stove, half turned away as he talked to the active vidscreen placed in the center of the small kitchen table. Relena's face became visible on the screen when Duo tilted his shoulder in some careless shrug, and in response to some quiet comment he made, Heero heard Relena's voice through the speakers, controlled, neat and still as sweet as two months ago. Yes, he had heard her on interviews, he had seen her on vid-broadcasts, had heard frequent updates on her whereabouts, but it was seeing them both... the both of them together, that made him pause and relish the joy of the moment.
He sometimes thought he left only to feel the thrill of returning.
But he knew that wasn't true.
" – And //then// this //guy// walks in outta the blue! Big, macho type, yanno? Walked outuva frickin' Tarzan flick."
Relena laughed.
Duo tossed his head and jiggled the frying pan. "So this guy, he walks in and plods up to my desk and is like, 'Yo. You lookin' for someone ta hire?' And of course, because I have virtually NO one working for me and NO time and or money to waste //looking// for people, I hire him on the spot. Turns out the guy's a gem. I couldn't have asked for a better supervisor. The rest of the crew really respects him, yanno? Manada's just that type..."
"That's definitely a blessing Duo, I – " She paused as she caught his eyes over Duo's shoulder. "... Heero..."
Duo spun around, his face sparking excitedly for a second before…
"Yo, Heero," his mouth was tilted in a smile that didn't reach his eyes, and he sounded strained; looked almost //angry// underneath clenched, grinning teeth.
//Why...?//
"Ya wanna maybe put some clothes on?"
//Ah.//
"Yes. I'll do that," Heero stated coolly.
Turning back to his own bedroom where his duffel bag still lay unpacked on his bed, he pulled out a pair of pants. Somewhere between buttoning them up and sliding into an old sweater, he realized the sounds in the kitchen had disappeared.
The house was quiet. Walking back to the kitchen again, he felt unnerved by the silence, slightly angry.
The vidscreen was off.
"Goddammit, I don't fucking understand you," Duo growled, angrily shuffling papers at the table.
Heero chose not to respond to that.
"Sometimes..." Duo sighed, exasperated. "Sometimes I just don't get you... you're weirder than me!"
Pouring himself a mug of coffee, he pulled another chair up to the table, still choosing to remain quiet and let Duo talk himself out.
"I mean... jeezus! Even //I// don't walk around completely butt-naked – yanno, and god! In front of Relena, too! Like, what goes on in your head that you don't even stop to think, 'oh, maybe //clothes// would be a good idea'? What, you wake up and say to yourself, 'Yup, today's the day! I'm going NUDE!' Maybe add a maniacal laugh just for good measure? Yanno, I don't ever recall you being quite so hippy-esque during the wa – "
"You done?"
"Oh yes."
Heero nodded and cast a glace at Duo over the top of his mug.
"You're blushing," he noted.
"I am not."
"No, you are."
"Heero, stop it."
He took another sip of coffee. He had never seen Duo blush before. Even during... physicality. He had seen him scared. Angry. Sad. Breathless. But never embarrassed.
"Why are you blushing?" He inquired.
"Heero Yuy, if you don't drop this //right// now, I'll hit you," Duo didn't meet his eyes, and the tinge of colour on his neck and cheekbones deepened.
"Why are – "
"I'll fuckin' SHOOT you, Yuy," Duo snapped, his eyes blazing. "Drop it."
Heero still wondered at Duo's reactions sometimes. Why a simple question required such a serious threat to conclude a conversation, he didn't quite understand yet. So he sipped on his coffee and watched Duo's movements with a careful, sweeping eye. It had been months. Duo hadn't changed – much – but the happiness with the familiarity of his face was there, and despite the necessity of leaving, he relished the return for that reason.
Duo seemed to be concentrating extremely hard on a paper that required his full eye contact, and his eyes were furiously scanning it, but one hand was clutched around the collar of his shirt, where Heero could see the light gold chain that had rested there since as long as he could recall.
//I thought you knew better of yourself, Duo,// he thought, eyes tracking Duo's face and the movements of his hands at his shirt. //Perhaps that's not fair, though. I shouldn't have left this time... I only gave you what you needed to prove how right you were... didn't I?//
"Duo."
"Yup," Duo looked up, face slightly apprehensive; the fingers in the collar of his shirt relaxed minutely.
He wanted to kiss him, then, and unfold those clenched fingers against his own palms. He wanted desperately to simply take back everything he had done wrong, and to be able to pull Duo onto his lap and feel that exhilarating weight on his thighs and the gentle squeeze of Duo's legs against his hips. He wanted to be able to make things right by simply saying what he felt and what he wanted.
"Why are you angry?" That wasn't right. He'd wanted to apologize. Now wasn't the time, they could talk later, they could fight later... why was he saying these things now?
"I'm sorry?" Duo dropped his hands, his wrists tipped against the edge of the table.
Heero couldn't force any words. He didn't want to do this now. He wanted to do it right, and he knew there wouldn't be another chance to try again.
"You think I'm angry?" Duo smiled, his mouth looked slightly shaky. "Heero, I'm not angry. You just came back... I mean... how could I be angry? That's stupid."
"I made you uncomfortable."
Duo flushed and his eyelids lowered. "Gah," he swallowed convulsively. "Well... it shouldn't have."
"But it did."
Duo shot him a half-crazed glare, his eyes looked angry and helpless. "Why are you doing this...?" He whispered hoarsely.
//What do I say to that?//
"I don't know. But we have to talk about you."
"Why are you doing this now?"
Heero didn't know. It just seemed as if the words were simply falling from his mouth of their own accord. It was as if the restraint his brain wanted to place on the conversation never tugged the reins hard enough. Not when it came to Duo. Never.
"We have to talk about you."
"Why now?" Duo's mouth twitched unsurely at the edges, a frightened grimace laced with venom.
"Because..."
"Why are you doing this?" The skittering anger in Duo's voice warped the rich smoothness from the words, even in a whisper. "You waltz back in here, in and out – like you think you've got some kind of crazy doggie-door!? And now you say you want to talk about //me//. You //know// it's... hard... you know I can't talk about //me//. Why are you doing this?"
"Because I need to."
"Why now? Did you completely forget everything we had //before// you decided to leave? Did you just //forget// that everything was okay? Why do you want to do this? What do you want?"
"Everything wasn't... okay."
"What do you //want//?" Duo looked at him as though there was a lie written all over his face. "Tell me."
"I want you."
Duo's eyes narrowed and a low hiss emanated somewhere in the back of his throat.
"Duo..."
"...don'tdothis..." the fretful edge of his voice could almost be tasted. His pupils were so large his eyes looked black.
"Duo," he said. That was enough. He was all he felt sometimes.
The lines of Duo's mouth were quivering. "So have me!" he snapped suddenly in that grating whisper. "But you take it all, you son of a bitch."
Heero didn't know what to say to the look in Duo's eyes, or the way something scared and angry twisted Duo's mouth. But he saw the way Duo's hands went to the collar of his shirt and to the secrets hidden under it - fisting and clenched and clawing at the fabric – and he reached out and took hold of those gritted fingers in his own hands.
Duo looked at him as though he was the most frightening thing he'd ever seen.
And he carefully unfurled each fist, threaded his own fingers through Duo's, and brought Duo's hands to his mouth to press a kiss to each palm.
His lips still against Duo's skin, he said, "All, then."
And that night, when he woke, Heero was alone. The sheets were cool, and the sound of soft breathing could be heard from the room across the hall – but there was a light, gold chain resting around his neck where there had been nothing before, and the treat of a kiss he had not forced.
* * * * * * *
[AC 201, November 16th, Colony L3 – II66574C]
The window was open. Through it, Quatre could hear the sounds of sultry laughter and children's voices, sticky-sweet and lilting. From a far-off construction site, there was the slow, steady creak of machinery and clink of heavy hammering. Someone had their radio playing, just a slurred, lukewarm moan of inflection somewhere in the background. The light was bright, remarkably so, but the air was stagnant, and the minute breeze that filtered through the window did nothing to freshen the old, moldy smell of the kitchen.
Quatre sighed, shifting. "At least let me wash the dishes," he said tiredly, sinking back into the creaking chair.
"No," the voice from the other room replied, quiet as ever. "You are here to relax."
"Trowa," Quatre rolled his head along the back of the chair to look at the empty doorway. "I can't relax if the apartment smells like rotten cheese."
"Uh - no offense!" he finished quickly, scooting up in the chair as Trowa entered the room.
Trowa just sent an unreadable look his way.
"Let me help with the cleaning," he said, drumming absent fingers along the table edge. "I want to."
"Cathy will do it."
"Cathy shouldn't have to. Let me."
"I don't want this to be an issue," Trowa said firmly.
Quatre ignored him. "You have to take better care of yourself, Trowa."
"Speak for yourself," came the immediate response.
"I... beg your pardon?" Quatre looked at him quizzically, feeling almost hurt.
"You've lost weight. I saw you just a month ago and you've lost weight." Trowa didn't look him in the eyes.
Quatre looked away, cradling his chin in his palm. Outside, a child shrieked delightedly, and a door slammed somewhere down the street.
"Not that much..." he murmured.
"Quatre."
He laughed, a nervous explosion of sound. It didn't seem to travel anywhere, as if it stuck to the inside of his mouth and filled his head with the dirty, sticky noise. Rubbing his hands along his thighs, he shook his head.
"Why do I even try to put anything past you?" He said tiredly, rising from the chair and crossing to the sink.
"I...I've been very busy," he continued, turning on the tap. It sputtered, and then released a gush of slightly red-tinged water. "Very busy. Really, things haven't changed all that much since I saw you last... and you probably know everything – hand me a towel. No, I don't care, Trowa, I'm doing the dishes."
He gestured forcefully for the towel and Trowa complied after a short pause.
"I want to hear it from you," Trowa said, as he settled into a chair.
Quatre turned back to the sink with a sigh, grateful to be doing //something//. "The Terrist attacks are becoming almost //regular//, now," he said. "In the past month, there were fourteen bombings related to docking bays in the new sector. We even gave them a security patrol – right from the New Angeles Law Force – but..." he sighed. "We've been losing profits steadily. Besides all this, PUACOM seems to be gaining everything we're losing – support, money... everything. Trowa..."
He dropped his head to his chest, his eyes falling closed.
"We discussed... at the last finance meeting... pulling the plug on MCP."
"Terminating the Mars Colony Project?"
Quatre nodded, barely noticing the tear that slipped down his cheek. "I don't want to," he shook his head. "God, I don't //want// to! I have... Zechs and Noin... //friends// involved in Project Rust – they'd be devastated if we had to pull funding. There'd be nowhere for them to go – all those jobs lost..." his voice cracked. "Do you //know// how many people we've employed?"
Trowa said nothing.
"Do you?" Quatre scrubbed furiously at a pan, the tear wiped away on the back of his sleeve. "Twenty thousand jobs related to Project Rust and the Mars colony in three years! We couldn't have asked for a better post-war project. It employed skilled mobile suit pilots, technicians, space pilots, used scrap materials, old MS, created new scientific facilities, living quarters...
"...Stupid Dorothy..."
Trowa raised an eyebrow as Quatre turned to face him. "Dorothy?"
"Catalonia Corporate's been funding PUACOM. They announced their full endorsement last week." He sighed again, his mouth turned down in a small scowl. "She... she always does things like that..."
"When did this suddenly lose all gravity and become a schoolyard squabble?" Trowa asked pointedly.
Quatre sputtered; his eyes flashed. "I-It's //not//!"
"It seems like it is, very much," Trowa replied coolly. "This isn't politics you two are playing at – whatever you would have anyone else believe. It's a personal vendetta."
"Well," Quatre laughed weakly. "I suppose you work with what you know. I never was very good at politics, after all..."
"That's not funny."
"//I// thought it was."
"You're a better person than that. Plus, you're hurting yourself."
Quatre's eyes went cold. "What would you have me do," he intoned, deliberately draining the statement of question.
"I'm not the person you should be asking that," Trowa met his cool gaze with equal intensity.
"Well!" Quatre threw his arms up in exasperation, pushing himself away from the sink. "Forgive me! You //did// seem to pretend to know an awful lot about the situation – I apologize if I assumed too much!"
Trowa just //looked// at him.
"Oh god," Quatre sagged, his arms falling tiredly to his sides. "I'm exhausted. Trowa... I'm sorry... I shouldn't have... " he let out a long breath.
"I'm exhausted," he repeated. "Can we not talk about this anymore? Not right now..."
Trowa nodded, rising from his chair. "I'll run you a bath."
Quatre - forgetting the value and meaning of water on the colony, no longer hearing the sounds of the children in the street or the heavy, muffled hammering - smiled.
"I'd like that... very much."
* * * * * * * *
[AC 201, November 19th, North American Preventers HQ, New Angeles]
When Chang Wufei re-entered his shared office at Preventers Headquarters for the last time that night - just a little after one in the morning - he found the lights off, except for the eerie glow of a computer where Sally Po sat, reading a report off the screen. He paused in the doorway, scowling as he watched her scroll tiredly through the document. Her eyes were fixed on the screen, but her eyelids drooped and sprang open as she yawned at frequent intervals.
Wufei rapped his knuckles on the inside of the doorjamb and she blinked, tearing her eyes away from the screen to look at him.
"I'm going now."
She smiled tiredly. "Okay. 'Night, Wufe - ." his name was cut off by a awn
He snorted and grabbed his coat from the hook by the door. "I will call when I arrive home, and if you're still here when I do, I will force you to eat scraps of gundanium for breakfast."
She laughed. "And people say you're unpleasant."
"They'd better not," he replied, quite calmly. "Go home, Sally. The report will be right where you left it tomorrow."
"Alright, alright," she sighed and waved him off, "I'll leave in ten minutes."
"I will call to make sure."
"I know you will. Just go, Wufei."
He snorted once again and ducked out the door.
She waited until his footsteps had faded, and the muted sound of an engine rumbled from the parking lot outside, before she pulled her cell-phone from her belt and dialed. Putting the phone to her ear, she went back to document, scrolling through until the other side picked up.
"Ee-yup. Whaddaya want?"
"Just checking in," she murmured.
"Howsit going then?"
"No need to be irritable, Red," Sally told the speaker, smiling as she scrolled to the end of the document and closed the file. "Things are fine, and as on schedule as we could hope for."
"That's not enough of a reassurance for me. What you call 'on schedule' is not necessarily what I need to keep my ass out of the fire."
"You're such a faithless idiot. Has any one ever told you that?"
"No one needs to, I know it damn well myself."
She sighed angrily and entered the password for file entry. "It's not just //your// ass that's on the line here, you know. Everyone involved has a great deal riding on what happens from here on in."
"So has Yuy come through yet?"
"He should be in communication with Une tomorrow after 7 pm," Sally replied briskly as she powered down her computer.
"Hm. If this doesn't work he is SO – "
"Relax. He'll do fine. You've never seen his work before."
"Which is why I'm so antsy about this! We can't have any slip ups, even in the preliminary investigations."
"Like I said, relax."
"Dammit, I can't! I've never felt so fuckin' out in the open before, Sal."
Sally paused, a dark expression crossing her face. "Something wrong?" She asked, very seriously.
"Not that I can tell. But the covert position you've got me in makes me feel fuckin' downright uncomfortable."
"Like I said," Sally said, emphatically, slowly, "You think he knows?"
"He can't. I know he can't. But he was a goddamned terrorist, Sal! You know tha – "
"I know," she cut him off. "He's smart. But frankly, Red, you've got a lot on him. I wouldn't worry about it. And really, he's the least of our worries."
"No shit. Speaking of which, how are the damage reports you got transferred from the Mars Terra-formed Colonies?"
"No different from the ones Noin has sent me before. The most recent attack was on the newest development in the Sinai Planum's north lab colony – Sector 5 – that was to be developed."
"No casualties, just damage."
"Yeah. Another docking bay."
"Can't they ever do something original?"
She resisted the urge to reach through the phone and swat him. "You're being flip again, asshole."
"When am I not, hon?" he laughed.
Sally sighed. "How Une puts up with you... I just don't know. You're lucky Yuy's never met you, or he'd fucking kill you."
"So I've heard."
"That's what we're counting on," Sally muttered, half to herself.
"Hook, line and sinker."
"You got it, Red," she flicked her wrist over to check her watch. "Hey, Cee's going to be calling me any second to make sure I'm not here. Gotta go."
"All right."
She hung up, and just as the cell phone was slipped back into her belt, the office telephone gave a shrill shriek. Sighing, she grabbed the receiver and, holding it at arm's length, yelled - "I'm not here, Chang! Go to bed!" - and promptly hung up.
* * * * * * * *
-- RUST will be run through Project Sunrise accordingly and in moderation. Do not, I repeat, do NOT target the operational and habitable sectors until further notice. The Benefactor is well aware of Sunrise, but will not be counseled if further action need be taken…
…Project Fools will be executed as planned, the target will attend and be in the discussed position at the designated time. The Benefactor has not been counseled but is aware of the consequences should Target Fools be allowed to live. But, I repeat again, the Benefactor has //not// been counseled. Do not discuss use of Materials for such a purpose in any proximity of The BF's Office…
… Terminate this message and all files when completed. –
[end part 3]
[end DAWN]
* * * * * * * *