1 Dictionary Ficcie #2
1.1 Choice (sevendead)
Author: Imo-chan
Title: Dictionary Ficcie #2 – Choice (sevendead)
Pairings: 1+2
Warnings: drama, angst, shounen-ai, angst, angst, POV, Kleenex!fic, angst.
Notes: inspired by my Houghton-Mifflin Canadian Dictionary, an episode of Gasaraki and Bianca and Ariana's 'Come to be'.
Choice (chois) n. 1. The act of choosing; selection; election. 2. The power, right, or liberty of choosing, option. 3. The person or thing chosen. ... 6. An alternative. [Middle English 'chois', from Old French, from 'choisir' to choose, from Gothic 'kausjan' (unattested). [1]
* * * * * * * *
"Duuoo-o! Phone's for you!!"
"WHAT?"
"Phone's for you, jackass! Get your scrawny, American butt down here – schnell!!"
"I just got outta the shower!"
"It's Une!"
"Ahh... fuck!"
There was the sound of slightly muffled swearing and a loud thud, before the bathroom door snapped open and you strode out, trailing water and curses. You had one hand fisted in the towel on your waist, and the other struggling with the mass of hair hanging down your back.
Hilde was waiting for you, phone in outstretched hand.
"Thanks, Bratwurst," you grinned, neatly sidestepping the well-aimed slap at your ass. To the phone, you said, in a slightly more polite tone, "'Lo! Une?"
"Duo. Can you come down to Headquarters today?"
"Ah," You hooked the phone between your ear and shoulder as you managed to twist your hair up and out of the way. "I //think// so... why? What's up?"
"We have a special assignment – if you'd take it."
"Ah, shit – Une, this wouldn't have to do with the UESN Trade Federation Summit at the Eurocentre, would it?"
"It would."
You clicked your tongue, taking the phone back into your palm. "I dunno, Une. This is touchy stuff for you guys... the Preventers really shouldn't have to get involved in politics like thi - "
"I've already heard this speech, in a more articulate tone, from both Noin, Sally Po and Wufei," Une snapped. "Come down, hear more about it, then you can decide."
You chuckled, taken aback. "Well, when you put it that way..."
"Besides," she cut in, her voice relaxed somewhat. "There's something you should see."
"Gah," you sighed. "Making me an offer I can't refuse. Fine, fine. When d'you need me?"
"As soon as you can."
"An hour?"
"An hour, then."
- - - - - - -
"What did Une want?" Hilde asked as you entered the kitchen, fifteen minutes later, dressed and looking a little frazzled.
"Wanted me to come down to HQ," you replied, snagging an apple from the bowl on the counter.
"More MS testing?"
You sighed, polishing the apple on your pants. "Naw. Wish it was though. I've got a sucky feeling that it has to do with this meeting planned at the Eurocentre tonight."
"The UESN summit..."
"Trade Federation Summit. Yeah. Miss Relena's gonna be there. Plus a whole buncha important stiffs with lotsa money and more words coming outta their mouths than makes sense."
"There's a protest planned."
"I //know//," you nodded once, taking a large bite of the fruit. "That's why I think this meeting at HQ is gonna be about something sucky."
She smiled ruefully, elbows braced against the kitchen table. "Well, you'll do whatever's right for you."
Glancing at your watch, your mouth twisted into the mockery of a grin.
"Yeah. Hope so, anyway. You gonna be home tonight?"
She smiled haughtily, folding her hands neatly in front of her. "No."
"Ahhh... going //out//?"
"Yes."
"Robert?"
"Robert!"
You laughed, tossing the half-eaten apple in the garbage bin. "Have fun, then," you winked as you ruffled her hair in passing. She slapped at your hand playfully, a sharp blush rising to her cheeks and an uncontrollable grin tugging at her lips.
"Oh, and Hilde?" you added, sliding your feet into your shoes.
"Yeah?"
You gave her a long, meaningful look. "The condom is your friend."
"DUO-O!!"
The sound of the door slamming shut chased your laughter from the house.
- - - - - - -
The day was warming slightly by the time you sauntered up to the front entrance of the Preventer's Headquarters. The sun was out; husky warmth covered the dusty parking lot, and you had your leather jacket tucked carelessly under one arm.
Sally was waiting for you on the steps. Her arms were crossed – an extra pass dangling from her hand – and a sombre line pulled at her mouth. You knew that dark in her eyes, that minute clenching of her fingers on the nylon of the Preventer's jacket; it didn't bode well.
"Morning!" You called to her as you mounted the stairs three at a time, feeling the pebbles scrape away at the soles of your old boots.
She flicked the pass at you. "Good to see you, Duo."
You snorted as you caught it, fastening it against the faded collar of your shirt. "I'll bet."
"I'm serious," Sally quirked an eyebrow at you.
"Yahuh. And I'd believe you, too, except it's never a good sign when I decide to join up with you psychos again, right?"
She laughed and held the door open for you. The building was cool inside; the lobby was gently busy: phones ringing behind closed oaken doors, voices in a far off corridor, the alaka-laka-lak of brisk heels marching on the smooth marble floor.
"In here," she said, ushering you into an open door from which a long, warm- lit corridor careened off into a sharp left turn.
"Geezus," you laughed as passed through the doorway. "This's a big deal, huh? All the way to the head-honcho's office."
"You could say that," Sally remarked grimly.
"Yo, Sal," you turned to her. "What the hell's going on?"
"I can't tell you that here, Duo."
You groaned. "Can I guess that I'm not gonna be happy with whatever it is?"
"C'mon, Duo."
"Fine, fine."
- - - - - - - -
He was standing at the desk, turned away from you and Sally, conversing softly with Une. You stopped dead; tried to believe it wasn't true.
"Heero Yuy. Heero fucking Yuy," you said, because you couldn't believe it and had to repeat it to let it sink in.
He turned around, and you swear your heart must have stopped.
You just looked at each other, and you said it again, to hear it. "Heero Yuy. No fucking way."
"Hello, Duo," Une said, sounding like she always did on the job, brisk and clipped and in a hurry.
"Y-yo," you managed, tearing your eyes away to notice Wufei standing by the window, his arms crossed. "What the hell's going on here?"
"We have a request for you three," she said. "A Preventers mission."
"No shitting, huh?" you laughed. "And here I thought you were throwing me a party."
Sally made an uncomfortable sound behind you, and you cast a questioning glance around the room, throwing your jacket on the coat rack beside the door. "So... when you say 'mission'..."
"For you three, no, it's not obligatory. You've a choice."
"Yeehuh. Why just us?"
Heero braced his hands against the desk. "It involves mobile suits," he said, and you were forced to look at him. God, it was good to hear his voice again.
"Ahh..." you sighed, finding a seat in one of the nearby couches. "I knew you had me doing the testing for a reason..." You tried to keep your eyes elsewhere, but they kept dragging back to his face. You noticed he looked taller, older. He looked upset too, his hands gripping the edge of the desk behind his back.
"This is a recent development," he said, fixing you with a stare that said what you wished it didn't.
"How would you know? How long have you been back?"
"I arrived today."
"From where?"
"That's not important."
"It sure as hell is, you - "
"Do you mind? We don't need you two killing each other," Wufei snapped from the window. "We're here for a job, not squabble-fest AC 208. Sort this out later."
Une looked mildly impressed and you felt sore, your throat tight. "Fine," you grunted, your eyes skittering away from him. "So what's up, exactly? Mobile Suits, alluva sudden? Tell me this doesn't have to do with the UESN summit..."
"It does exactly that," Sally said.
"Ah crap."
"Duo."
"Sorry."
"The UESN Trade Federation Summit begins tonight at 2400 hours in the downtown Eurocentre conference hall. Already, we have protests in the streets and in meeting halls across the cities. City hall told us to expect a crowd of forty, maybe forty-five, thousand."
You whistled. "No shit, huh?"
Une cleared her throat. "Attending the Summit will be dignitaries from across the continent, and certain Colonial leaders, as well as UESN members, including the Vice-Foreign Minister. As a result, the city could not allow the protests to get out of hand. Therefore, we have clearance from both the city's guard and the council of the mayor to have complete security jurisdiction over the event."
"Mobile suits?" You snapped. "As //civilian// control!?"
"Duo. You don't have to do this."
"Well, you better not try ta order me!"
"We won't," Sally soothed, coming up behind you. "We know... this is a difficult choice, but a necessary one for us to propose. This is what we, as Preventers, do."
"I don't hafta?"
"Not if you don't see fit," Une replied, rising from behind her desk. "We'll leave you three to discuss it, if you don't mind. This is your decision."
They rose to go and you settled your weight onto your hands, focusing your eyes back on him. He hadn't moved, hadn't spoken.
"You gonna do it?" You asked him, feeling the words grate in your mouth.
He //looked// at you; you felt your insides twist. "Yes," he said.
"Of course," you laughed bitterly. "Stupid question."
"I didn't think it was," Wufei interjected from the window, he voice harsh. "It is a decision to be made."
"Exactly," Heero bit at the words. "It should be obvious."
"What the fuck?!" you breathed, incredulous. "No, Wufei's right! How is that //obvious//?"
"It is a Preventers mission," he said, and didn't raise his eyes.
"I can't believe I'm having this argument with you!" you hissed. "Why are you even considering this?"
Heero said nothing, but his stance was rigid; his shoulders hunched slightly upwards against some invisible weight.
Something inside you snapped, and you lunged to your feet. "Fuck!" you snarled, "because of //orders//?!"
Heero opened his eyes and speared you with a strange look.
"Partly, yes."
"FUCK orders, Heero! These are the people we fought to protect! These people are the reason that every day, for two years, I climbed into that cockpit! Because I had the chance to protect them and... give them something I never had! And now..." he shook his head in disbelief. "I //know// what happens at confrontations like these – stuff goes wrong. We lose control, they lost control, //someone// loses control and then they end up paying for it – THEY get hurt... or killed. Because //we're// the ones in the gundanium-plated robots and all they've got are their hands, and feet... maybe some stones picked up from the ground..." Your mouth was set in a hard, unhappy line, and your eyes glanced everywhere but at him. "It's a trap. A shitty, stinking trap."
"I said partly, Duo."
"Did you hear a word I just said?"
"Did //you//?"
"Wha - "
"I understand you. I know what you believe in. You should remember the same of me." His eyes were accusing; hurt.
You stopped dead in his tracks, your face bleak. Casting a long, unreadable look at Heero, you drew in a long, shaking breath, and brushed a tired hand through your hair. A single, breathy chuckle emerged from your lips as you sank heavily onto the cushions of the couch again.
"Shit..." you laughed unhappily, bitter. "Shoulda known, huh? Of course you're still..."
Wufei turned to the window. This was not his place to be and he knew it.
"... still chasing after those ghosts."
//'Not ghosts, Duo...'
'Maybe not... probably. Somehow... just makes me feel better to say it that way.'
'... isn't about you...'
'... just my fault for falling for you...'
'... just as much mine for wanting...'//
"Yes."
You were looking away somewhere; eyes focused on that far away point where the thoughts seemed to direct your eye.
"Never thought I'd see you again," you murmured, your mouth barely moving.
"I never thought that," Heero cut him short.
The corners of your mouth twitched. "Yeah. I was just hoping..."
And you pushed off the sofa with a sigh, your movements looking heavy. Striding your long, rebounding saunter, you went to the door and gathered your coat in your arms.
"I can't do this assignment... it's bullshit..." you said, shrugging into the worn leather. "Tell Une I gave my pass in at the front administration desk."
The sounds of the hallway - the loud chatter, the ringing of phones, the speaker crackling - all exploded loudly into the room for three, long seconds before fading smoothly away into the muffled hum. And with that, you were gone.
"Are you going to do it?" Heero asked, almost immediately after the sounds and footsteps had faded.
There was something strange in his voice.
Wufei glanced at the reflection in the windowpane. "Yes," he said, without hesitation.
"Why?"
"I don't think that's any of your business."
"You don't have to."
"I would rather you weren't the only one there, Heero."
//That// sent the room spiralling into silence. Wufei turned from the window, his boots clicking loudly against the floor. Heero had his head bent, his arms crossed; his back bowed slightly against the wall. The slat of light from the gap between the curtains fell on him like a dusty sluice of radiance, highlighting the tears of pain that sliced along his cheeks.
- - - - - - -
You didn't turn on the t.v. that night. The radio stayed off. You came home to an empty house, cooked yourself a small meal, took a shower and crawled into bed, and all in silence. You sometimes imagined you heard things: voices, sounds from the street, headlines in your head. But everything was quiet.
It was only when you stepped into the kitchen the next morning, and tiredly prepared the coffee pot, that your finger found the power button on the small radio.
You sipped your coffee as you listened.
7 dead.
100 more injured.
900 000 credits damage.
7 dead.
You finished your coffee and took another shower. You dressed quickly and went out into the garage. You made sure to open the window and turn the radio up.
They were talking about them now.
Two unidentified Mobile Suit pilots.
7 dead.
You got tired and went inside. You had just kicked off your shoes when the doorbell rang.
You knew who it was.
- - - - - - - -
You took in his neat, black pants, clean and pressed, his crisp leather jacket and the almost-coiffed perfection to the wildness in his hair. You thought it looked so effortless for him, to be so flawless all the time.
You knew how you must have looked. Your hair was dusty from the work in the yard, the shirt you wore was torn and faded, and your jeans were greasy and slick-worn on the thighs and knees. You had dirt under your fingernails, on your face, streaked along your chin and a small smudge of oil on the tip of your nose. You felt worn, dull; knew you looked that way – smelling like dust and sun.
You didn't know what to say to him, and as if you thought there might have been something appropriate in some language you just stood there with your breath halfway up your throat and your lips parted.
You knew he hadn't slept. He looked perfect, but he looked tired.
You pulled the door open a little wider and he stepped inside. He didn't look at you, either – only walked past you and gently pulled his shoes off his feet as you shut the door and leaned up against it.
You didn't want to accuse him. But it just came out that way. "You killed people."
"Seven."
You choked back something powerfully sour in your throat. "...god."
"I wish I had listened to you."
He was crying.
"Why didn't you?"
You wished you could.
"I wish I could have. But, I have duties."
You wanted him to stop crying. It would have been so much easier if he had been soldierly about it.
He turned around, pinned you down with those heartbroken eyes and the painful tears slicing down his cheeks, and just like that you wished you had the strength to say what you felt.
//'I wouldn't make you cry like that. I could make you happy. Forget... please... just forget... you don't owe them anything...'//
"Duties... still," you said.
"Still," he choked. "I just wanted to see you."
You laughed at that, feeling bitter and sad. He was torturing himself. "... So //stupid//!" You sneered, looking away, "I can't help you. I'm not good for you."
"I just wanted to see you."
"Why?" You snapped at him, pushing yourself away from the door. "To remind us how much it hurts?"
"I never said goodbye to you, Duo," he said softly.
"No. No. You just chose."
"I didn't want to forget you," he grabbed your wrist. "I don't."
"Funny kinda decisions... you make," you sniffed, staring at your hands, marvelling at the way his fingers closed so comfortably over your skin.
"Duo," he said, and that was all he managed before he pulled you towards him and kissed you. He kissed you, right there in the doorway of your apartment, with the radio wailing away in the kitchen, and the dust on your shirt and the dirt and oil in your hair and the feeling of his tears falling on your face.
Then you just stood there, with his arms around you and your hands fisting against his clothing. He was still crying.
"Fix this. Do something," he whispered against your skin.
"Like what, jackass?" you laughed into his shirt, feeling something tight gather in the back of your throat. "You left me to solve problems that don't exist yet..."
You felt the low chuckle – a small hitch in his breath – against your face. "Get away from this," he said.
"I was away..." you said, almost afraid to speak the words. You never meant to be so accusing. You understood. You really did. It just hurt. "Until you forgot what goodbye meant."
"I never said goodbye! Duo!" His hands tightened on your body.
You fought back a choke in your throat. "Yeah. I know. I know. Shit."
"I never will."
"Shit..." You moaned, trying to forget everything except the feel of his body and the smell of his skin.
The radio droned on, and the tinny music from an ice-cream truck outside started up, swallowing the almost noiseless sound of his sobs. You waited until the truck had disappeared around the corner, and the music died away.
"Can I ask you a question?" You said, your voice suddenly gone hoarse.
There was no answer, but you felt the sweep of his hair brush against your cheek in a nod.
"What would you do to protect the future?"
"Anything." No hesitation.
You had your hands tangled in his shirt, and your face buried in his neck and he had his arms wrapped around you - strong and trembling - and for a moment you had it, had //him//, all to yourself. You didn't have to say anything. You could have protested. You could have convinced him to choose...
But instead you kissed his neck and pulled away, whispering against his skin.
"That's all I wanted to hear."
- - - - - - - -
That night, when Hilde came home, you were alone. You must have looked it, because she asked you if you were all right. You said, I don't know. You said, no, I'm not. You said, yes, I am.
You said, it doesn't matter.
It wasn't your choice.
- fin -
* * * * * * * *
[1] Postscript/addition:
Synoynyms: choice, alternative, option, preference, selection, election. Each of these terms involves the privilege of choosing. Choice implies broadly the freedom of choosing from a set of persons or things. Alternative emphasizes choice between only two possibilities or courses of action. Option stresses the power to choose, and is widely used in the sense of granting exclusive rights to make a choice. Preference indicates choice based on one's values, bias, or predilections. Selection suggests a wide variety of things or persons to choose from. Election emphasizes use of judgment and wisdom in making a choice with an important end in view.
Mweeeeeeeeeee~e...
^_^ This makes me happy.
Does that make me evil? ^-^
1.1 Choice (sevendead)
Author: Imo-chan
Title: Dictionary Ficcie #2 – Choice (sevendead)
Pairings: 1+2
Warnings: drama, angst, shounen-ai, angst, angst, POV, Kleenex!fic, angst.
Notes: inspired by my Houghton-Mifflin Canadian Dictionary, an episode of Gasaraki and Bianca and Ariana's 'Come to be'.
Choice (chois) n. 1. The act of choosing; selection; election. 2. The power, right, or liberty of choosing, option. 3. The person or thing chosen. ... 6. An alternative. [Middle English 'chois', from Old French, from 'choisir' to choose, from Gothic 'kausjan' (unattested). [1]
* * * * * * * *
"Duuoo-o! Phone's for you!!"
"WHAT?"
"Phone's for you, jackass! Get your scrawny, American butt down here – schnell!!"
"I just got outta the shower!"
"It's Une!"
"Ahh... fuck!"
There was the sound of slightly muffled swearing and a loud thud, before the bathroom door snapped open and you strode out, trailing water and curses. You had one hand fisted in the towel on your waist, and the other struggling with the mass of hair hanging down your back.
Hilde was waiting for you, phone in outstretched hand.
"Thanks, Bratwurst," you grinned, neatly sidestepping the well-aimed slap at your ass. To the phone, you said, in a slightly more polite tone, "'Lo! Une?"
"Duo. Can you come down to Headquarters today?"
"Ah," You hooked the phone between your ear and shoulder as you managed to twist your hair up and out of the way. "I //think// so... why? What's up?"
"We have a special assignment – if you'd take it."
"Ah, shit – Une, this wouldn't have to do with the UESN Trade Federation Summit at the Eurocentre, would it?"
"It would."
You clicked your tongue, taking the phone back into your palm. "I dunno, Une. This is touchy stuff for you guys... the Preventers really shouldn't have to get involved in politics like thi - "
"I've already heard this speech, in a more articulate tone, from both Noin, Sally Po and Wufei," Une snapped. "Come down, hear more about it, then you can decide."
You chuckled, taken aback. "Well, when you put it that way..."
"Besides," she cut in, her voice relaxed somewhat. "There's something you should see."
"Gah," you sighed. "Making me an offer I can't refuse. Fine, fine. When d'you need me?"
"As soon as you can."
"An hour?"
"An hour, then."
- - - - - - -
"What did Une want?" Hilde asked as you entered the kitchen, fifteen minutes later, dressed and looking a little frazzled.
"Wanted me to come down to HQ," you replied, snagging an apple from the bowl on the counter.
"More MS testing?"
You sighed, polishing the apple on your pants. "Naw. Wish it was though. I've got a sucky feeling that it has to do with this meeting planned at the Eurocentre tonight."
"The UESN summit..."
"Trade Federation Summit. Yeah. Miss Relena's gonna be there. Plus a whole buncha important stiffs with lotsa money and more words coming outta their mouths than makes sense."
"There's a protest planned."
"I //know//," you nodded once, taking a large bite of the fruit. "That's why I think this meeting at HQ is gonna be about something sucky."
She smiled ruefully, elbows braced against the kitchen table. "Well, you'll do whatever's right for you."
Glancing at your watch, your mouth twisted into the mockery of a grin.
"Yeah. Hope so, anyway. You gonna be home tonight?"
She smiled haughtily, folding her hands neatly in front of her. "No."
"Ahhh... going //out//?"
"Yes."
"Robert?"
"Robert!"
You laughed, tossing the half-eaten apple in the garbage bin. "Have fun, then," you winked as you ruffled her hair in passing. She slapped at your hand playfully, a sharp blush rising to her cheeks and an uncontrollable grin tugging at her lips.
"Oh, and Hilde?" you added, sliding your feet into your shoes.
"Yeah?"
You gave her a long, meaningful look. "The condom is your friend."
"DUO-O!!"
The sound of the door slamming shut chased your laughter from the house.
- - - - - - -
The day was warming slightly by the time you sauntered up to the front entrance of the Preventer's Headquarters. The sun was out; husky warmth covered the dusty parking lot, and you had your leather jacket tucked carelessly under one arm.
Sally was waiting for you on the steps. Her arms were crossed – an extra pass dangling from her hand – and a sombre line pulled at her mouth. You knew that dark in her eyes, that minute clenching of her fingers on the nylon of the Preventer's jacket; it didn't bode well.
"Morning!" You called to her as you mounted the stairs three at a time, feeling the pebbles scrape away at the soles of your old boots.
She flicked the pass at you. "Good to see you, Duo."
You snorted as you caught it, fastening it against the faded collar of your shirt. "I'll bet."
"I'm serious," Sally quirked an eyebrow at you.
"Yahuh. And I'd believe you, too, except it's never a good sign when I decide to join up with you psychos again, right?"
She laughed and held the door open for you. The building was cool inside; the lobby was gently busy: phones ringing behind closed oaken doors, voices in a far off corridor, the alaka-laka-lak of brisk heels marching on the smooth marble floor.
"In here," she said, ushering you into an open door from which a long, warm- lit corridor careened off into a sharp left turn.
"Geezus," you laughed as passed through the doorway. "This's a big deal, huh? All the way to the head-honcho's office."
"You could say that," Sally remarked grimly.
"Yo, Sal," you turned to her. "What the hell's going on?"
"I can't tell you that here, Duo."
You groaned. "Can I guess that I'm not gonna be happy with whatever it is?"
"C'mon, Duo."
"Fine, fine."
- - - - - - - -
He was standing at the desk, turned away from you and Sally, conversing softly with Une. You stopped dead; tried to believe it wasn't true.
"Heero Yuy. Heero fucking Yuy," you said, because you couldn't believe it and had to repeat it to let it sink in.
He turned around, and you swear your heart must have stopped.
You just looked at each other, and you said it again, to hear it. "Heero Yuy. No fucking way."
"Hello, Duo," Une said, sounding like she always did on the job, brisk and clipped and in a hurry.
"Y-yo," you managed, tearing your eyes away to notice Wufei standing by the window, his arms crossed. "What the hell's going on here?"
"We have a request for you three," she said. "A Preventers mission."
"No shitting, huh?" you laughed. "And here I thought you were throwing me a party."
Sally made an uncomfortable sound behind you, and you cast a questioning glance around the room, throwing your jacket on the coat rack beside the door. "So... when you say 'mission'..."
"For you three, no, it's not obligatory. You've a choice."
"Yeehuh. Why just us?"
Heero braced his hands against the desk. "It involves mobile suits," he said, and you were forced to look at him. God, it was good to hear his voice again.
"Ahh..." you sighed, finding a seat in one of the nearby couches. "I knew you had me doing the testing for a reason..." You tried to keep your eyes elsewhere, but they kept dragging back to his face. You noticed he looked taller, older. He looked upset too, his hands gripping the edge of the desk behind his back.
"This is a recent development," he said, fixing you with a stare that said what you wished it didn't.
"How would you know? How long have you been back?"
"I arrived today."
"From where?"
"That's not important."
"It sure as hell is, you - "
"Do you mind? We don't need you two killing each other," Wufei snapped from the window. "We're here for a job, not squabble-fest AC 208. Sort this out later."
Une looked mildly impressed and you felt sore, your throat tight. "Fine," you grunted, your eyes skittering away from him. "So what's up, exactly? Mobile Suits, alluva sudden? Tell me this doesn't have to do with the UESN summit..."
"It does exactly that," Sally said.
"Ah crap."
"Duo."
"Sorry."
"The UESN Trade Federation Summit begins tonight at 2400 hours in the downtown Eurocentre conference hall. Already, we have protests in the streets and in meeting halls across the cities. City hall told us to expect a crowd of forty, maybe forty-five, thousand."
You whistled. "No shit, huh?"
Une cleared her throat. "Attending the Summit will be dignitaries from across the continent, and certain Colonial leaders, as well as UESN members, including the Vice-Foreign Minister. As a result, the city could not allow the protests to get out of hand. Therefore, we have clearance from both the city's guard and the council of the mayor to have complete security jurisdiction over the event."
"Mobile suits?" You snapped. "As //civilian// control!?"
"Duo. You don't have to do this."
"Well, you better not try ta order me!"
"We won't," Sally soothed, coming up behind you. "We know... this is a difficult choice, but a necessary one for us to propose. This is what we, as Preventers, do."
"I don't hafta?"
"Not if you don't see fit," Une replied, rising from behind her desk. "We'll leave you three to discuss it, if you don't mind. This is your decision."
They rose to go and you settled your weight onto your hands, focusing your eyes back on him. He hadn't moved, hadn't spoken.
"You gonna do it?" You asked him, feeling the words grate in your mouth.
He //looked// at you; you felt your insides twist. "Yes," he said.
"Of course," you laughed bitterly. "Stupid question."
"I didn't think it was," Wufei interjected from the window, he voice harsh. "It is a decision to be made."
"Exactly," Heero bit at the words. "It should be obvious."
"What the fuck?!" you breathed, incredulous. "No, Wufei's right! How is that //obvious//?"
"It is a Preventers mission," he said, and didn't raise his eyes.
"I can't believe I'm having this argument with you!" you hissed. "Why are you even considering this?"
Heero said nothing, but his stance was rigid; his shoulders hunched slightly upwards against some invisible weight.
Something inside you snapped, and you lunged to your feet. "Fuck!" you snarled, "because of //orders//?!"
Heero opened his eyes and speared you with a strange look.
"Partly, yes."
"FUCK orders, Heero! These are the people we fought to protect! These people are the reason that every day, for two years, I climbed into that cockpit! Because I had the chance to protect them and... give them something I never had! And now..." he shook his head in disbelief. "I //know// what happens at confrontations like these – stuff goes wrong. We lose control, they lost control, //someone// loses control and then they end up paying for it – THEY get hurt... or killed. Because //we're// the ones in the gundanium-plated robots and all they've got are their hands, and feet... maybe some stones picked up from the ground..." Your mouth was set in a hard, unhappy line, and your eyes glanced everywhere but at him. "It's a trap. A shitty, stinking trap."
"I said partly, Duo."
"Did you hear a word I just said?"
"Did //you//?"
"Wha - "
"I understand you. I know what you believe in. You should remember the same of me." His eyes were accusing; hurt.
You stopped dead in his tracks, your face bleak. Casting a long, unreadable look at Heero, you drew in a long, shaking breath, and brushed a tired hand through your hair. A single, breathy chuckle emerged from your lips as you sank heavily onto the cushions of the couch again.
"Shit..." you laughed unhappily, bitter. "Shoulda known, huh? Of course you're still..."
Wufei turned to the window. This was not his place to be and he knew it.
"... still chasing after those ghosts."
//'Not ghosts, Duo...'
'Maybe not... probably. Somehow... just makes me feel better to say it that way.'
'... isn't about you...'
'... just my fault for falling for you...'
'... just as much mine for wanting...'//
"Yes."
You were looking away somewhere; eyes focused on that far away point where the thoughts seemed to direct your eye.
"Never thought I'd see you again," you murmured, your mouth barely moving.
"I never thought that," Heero cut him short.
The corners of your mouth twitched. "Yeah. I was just hoping..."
And you pushed off the sofa with a sigh, your movements looking heavy. Striding your long, rebounding saunter, you went to the door and gathered your coat in your arms.
"I can't do this assignment... it's bullshit..." you said, shrugging into the worn leather. "Tell Une I gave my pass in at the front administration desk."
The sounds of the hallway - the loud chatter, the ringing of phones, the speaker crackling - all exploded loudly into the room for three, long seconds before fading smoothly away into the muffled hum. And with that, you were gone.
"Are you going to do it?" Heero asked, almost immediately after the sounds and footsteps had faded.
There was something strange in his voice.
Wufei glanced at the reflection in the windowpane. "Yes," he said, without hesitation.
"Why?"
"I don't think that's any of your business."
"You don't have to."
"I would rather you weren't the only one there, Heero."
//That// sent the room spiralling into silence. Wufei turned from the window, his boots clicking loudly against the floor. Heero had his head bent, his arms crossed; his back bowed slightly against the wall. The slat of light from the gap between the curtains fell on him like a dusty sluice of radiance, highlighting the tears of pain that sliced along his cheeks.
- - - - - - -
You didn't turn on the t.v. that night. The radio stayed off. You came home to an empty house, cooked yourself a small meal, took a shower and crawled into bed, and all in silence. You sometimes imagined you heard things: voices, sounds from the street, headlines in your head. But everything was quiet.
It was only when you stepped into the kitchen the next morning, and tiredly prepared the coffee pot, that your finger found the power button on the small radio.
You sipped your coffee as you listened.
7 dead.
100 more injured.
900 000 credits damage.
7 dead.
You finished your coffee and took another shower. You dressed quickly and went out into the garage. You made sure to open the window and turn the radio up.
They were talking about them now.
Two unidentified Mobile Suit pilots.
7 dead.
You got tired and went inside. You had just kicked off your shoes when the doorbell rang.
You knew who it was.
- - - - - - - -
You took in his neat, black pants, clean and pressed, his crisp leather jacket and the almost-coiffed perfection to the wildness in his hair. You thought it looked so effortless for him, to be so flawless all the time.
You knew how you must have looked. Your hair was dusty from the work in the yard, the shirt you wore was torn and faded, and your jeans were greasy and slick-worn on the thighs and knees. You had dirt under your fingernails, on your face, streaked along your chin and a small smudge of oil on the tip of your nose. You felt worn, dull; knew you looked that way – smelling like dust and sun.
You didn't know what to say to him, and as if you thought there might have been something appropriate in some language you just stood there with your breath halfway up your throat and your lips parted.
You knew he hadn't slept. He looked perfect, but he looked tired.
You pulled the door open a little wider and he stepped inside. He didn't look at you, either – only walked past you and gently pulled his shoes off his feet as you shut the door and leaned up against it.
You didn't want to accuse him. But it just came out that way. "You killed people."
"Seven."
You choked back something powerfully sour in your throat. "...god."
"I wish I had listened to you."
He was crying.
"Why didn't you?"
You wished you could.
"I wish I could have. But, I have duties."
You wanted him to stop crying. It would have been so much easier if he had been soldierly about it.
He turned around, pinned you down with those heartbroken eyes and the painful tears slicing down his cheeks, and just like that you wished you had the strength to say what you felt.
//'I wouldn't make you cry like that. I could make you happy. Forget... please... just forget... you don't owe them anything...'//
"Duties... still," you said.
"Still," he choked. "I just wanted to see you."
You laughed at that, feeling bitter and sad. He was torturing himself. "... So //stupid//!" You sneered, looking away, "I can't help you. I'm not good for you."
"I just wanted to see you."
"Why?" You snapped at him, pushing yourself away from the door. "To remind us how much it hurts?"
"I never said goodbye to you, Duo," he said softly.
"No. No. You just chose."
"I didn't want to forget you," he grabbed your wrist. "I don't."
"Funny kinda decisions... you make," you sniffed, staring at your hands, marvelling at the way his fingers closed so comfortably over your skin.
"Duo," he said, and that was all he managed before he pulled you towards him and kissed you. He kissed you, right there in the doorway of your apartment, with the radio wailing away in the kitchen, and the dust on your shirt and the dirt and oil in your hair and the feeling of his tears falling on your face.
Then you just stood there, with his arms around you and your hands fisting against his clothing. He was still crying.
"Fix this. Do something," he whispered against your skin.
"Like what, jackass?" you laughed into his shirt, feeling something tight gather in the back of your throat. "You left me to solve problems that don't exist yet..."
You felt the low chuckle – a small hitch in his breath – against your face. "Get away from this," he said.
"I was away..." you said, almost afraid to speak the words. You never meant to be so accusing. You understood. You really did. It just hurt. "Until you forgot what goodbye meant."
"I never said goodbye! Duo!" His hands tightened on your body.
You fought back a choke in your throat. "Yeah. I know. I know. Shit."
"I never will."
"Shit..." You moaned, trying to forget everything except the feel of his body and the smell of his skin.
The radio droned on, and the tinny music from an ice-cream truck outside started up, swallowing the almost noiseless sound of his sobs. You waited until the truck had disappeared around the corner, and the music died away.
"Can I ask you a question?" You said, your voice suddenly gone hoarse.
There was no answer, but you felt the sweep of his hair brush against your cheek in a nod.
"What would you do to protect the future?"
"Anything." No hesitation.
You had your hands tangled in his shirt, and your face buried in his neck and he had his arms wrapped around you - strong and trembling - and for a moment you had it, had //him//, all to yourself. You didn't have to say anything. You could have protested. You could have convinced him to choose...
But instead you kissed his neck and pulled away, whispering against his skin.
"That's all I wanted to hear."
- - - - - - - -
That night, when Hilde came home, you were alone. You must have looked it, because she asked you if you were all right. You said, I don't know. You said, no, I'm not. You said, yes, I am.
You said, it doesn't matter.
It wasn't your choice.
- fin -
* * * * * * * *
[1] Postscript/addition:
Synoynyms: choice, alternative, option, preference, selection, election. Each of these terms involves the privilege of choosing. Choice implies broadly the freedom of choosing from a set of persons or things. Alternative emphasizes choice between only two possibilities or courses of action. Option stresses the power to choose, and is widely used in the sense of granting exclusive rights to make a choice. Preference indicates choice based on one's values, bias, or predilections. Selection suggests a wide variety of things or persons to choose from. Election emphasizes use of judgment and wisdom in making a choice with an important end in view.
Mweeeeeeeeeee~e...
^_^ This makes me happy.
Does that make me evil? ^-^