The drill: Gundam Wing belongs to someone else. Only the mistakes are mine. Oi, I need a beta reader! Rated PG-13 for language. Duo-kun is still a potty mouth. Please R & R. I crave feedback like an addict craves drugs. Feeeeeeed me, please. Since it's been a while since the last chapter, here's the last little bit of that, too.


A sudden commotion outside caught his attention an instant before the door slid open and something tumbled into the cell. A body.

What the...?

Against the darkness of the cell, the light from the corridor was blinding. He couldn't quite make out the figure silhouetted there. It almost looked like...

"Heero?"

~~~~~

Negative Factors
by
Kamchatka

Chapter Three: Mission On Hold

Duo was torn between being absurdly glad to be able to see a familiar face before he died and regretting that this strange, stoic boy had been the one sent to kill him. Heero Yuy didn't need another reason to feel guilty.

I wanted to be your friend, and now I'm helping destroy you.

"You always show up unexpectedly."

I'm sorry, Heero.

Inevitably, the gun came up, cocked and leveled at his heart.

"I guess it's okay," Duo told him, unsure which of them he was trying to convince. Better to die at the hands of a friend than be executed for the entertainment of the very people he'd fought to save. "They were about to use Deathscythe and me in their evil plans." He'd meant for it to sound a little bit like a joke, but it sounded like the truth.. Hell, it was the truth.

What if it really doesn't bother him?
What if killing me is just another mission?
No. I don't believe that.

"So I'm destined to be killed by you." He pushed himself up into a precarious standing position against the wall.

Make it as easy on him as possible.
Don't look helpless.
Hell, be a little obnoxious; it's your last chance.

"It's okay. You can shoot me now." He squeezed his eyes shut and a strange calm settled around his aching body. It wasn't okay, but it was miles ahead of self destruction.

Hail Mary, full of grace...
I don't think I believe in you, God, but just in case...
Pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death...

Heero raised the gun for a single, clean head shot.
Stop being so goddam strong, Duo.
Be weak.
I can kill a coward.
I accepted this mission.
You are nothing to me, nothing.

Duo felt his resolve begin to crumble. Dying was one thing, waiting to die was something else entirely.
Oh, shit, will you just do it and get it over with...

Mission accepted.
His finger tightened on the trigger. Just one simple squeeze, a few more ounces of pressure.
He couldn't move.

Duo's eyes opened, wide and bewildered. "You are going to do it, aren't you?"

I can't.
No one can ever know about this, but I can't.
"Only if you want me to."

Oh, God, no, I don't want you to, and if I could still talk, I'd tell you that.
Duo shook his head slightly.

"You can still use your right hand, can't you?" Heero asked. He lowered the gun and tossed it to Duo, then bent to collect the unconscious guard's machine gun.

Duo leaned against the wall, staring at the gun in his hand as though it had suddenly started to sing a Puccini aria.

"Come on," Heero growled. We have to get out of here."

Okay, this is where he kills me.
"I don't think I can walk."

Heero's expression didn't change. "You might have told me that."

Duo grimaced. "It didn't seem too important when you were just going to shoot me."

Heero favored him with a sour glance, but he settled himself under Duo's arm, remembering a time when their roles had been reversed.

Duo grinned in relief. "This is where you're supposed to say..." he put on a deep, dramatic voice, "All you can do now is trust me." He didn't expect an answer, and he didn't get one. "That's okay," he went on. "I trust you."

You shouldn't.
I'm not your friend.
I'm not.

Now that it seemed there was actually a chance for escape, Duo became more interested in the logistics. "Where's your gundam?"

"I left it on Earth. It's clumsy in space, and I didn't want to get caught like you." It wasn't an accusation, just a statement of fact.

"Hey! I didn't exactly get caught on purpose, you know. So how are we getting out of here?"

"My misssion was to kill you. I was just going to blend in on the colony for a few days and get on a transport. I didn't plan on an actual escape."

"What if we can't get out?"

"Then I kill both of us." Heero punctuated the statement with the detonator in his free hand. Small explosions in the distance, followed by the satisfying sounds of confusion and chaos, told him that his distraction was working. Planting explosives was never a waste of time. He'd set charges around every hangar and cargo bay in the base. The one closest to the escape route he'd chosen held only a few one man fighters and a patrol cruiser. He'd rather have taken a mobile suit of some kind, any kind, but those would be too heavily guarded now.

They ran through narrow corridors, ducking out of sight when OZ soldiers ran by. Heero was grateful for the low gravity of the colony's outer walls. He hadn't planned on having to run at all, let alone half carrying someone else. But he'd made the decision to rescue Duo instead of executing him, and he'd have to deal with the consequences.

They wheeled around a tight corner and ran headlong into a group of men in worker's coveralls. Heero snapped the machine gun into position before the Ozzies had a chance to react. He didn't like to kill unarmed men, but they'd seen him and...

"No!" Duo shouted and slammed him into the wall. The gun blurted harmlessly into the ceiling. Heero was up in time to see Duo curled up on the floor, hugging his ribs with one arm and waving the Oz workers away with the other. He grabbed the gun and scrambled off after the escaping men.

Even injured, the Deathscythe pilot was fast. He launched himself at Heero's ankles, bringing him down in a tangle of limbs.

"Are you out of your fucking mind?" Heero shouted. "They're getting away."

"'S okay," Duo panted. "One of those guys saved my life. Don't kill 'em, Heero. Please." All the physical fight had gone out of him. Under an impressive coating of dirt and bruises, his face was pale and damp with sweat, but his eyes were bright with purpose. He reached up to Heero, silently asking for a hand up.

"Baka!" Heero exploded. He grabbed Duo's shirt front, yanked him to his feet, and slammed him into the wall. "Are you trying to sabotage this mission?" He pinned the other boy against the wall, forearm across his throat, ready to cut off his air or break his neck.

Duo didn't struggle. He met Heero's gaze without flinching. "Wasn't your mission to kill me?" he asked evenly.

Bastard.
Why aren't you scared of me?
You should be.
I almost killed you.
I should have killed you.
But I didn't.

Heero backed off. There was nothing to say. Nothing. He tucked himself under Duo's arm again and steered him into the elevator at the end of the corridor. A trio of soldiers was waiting for them when the door slid open two levels down, but another hit on the detonator blew them out of the way and propelled the escaping gundam pilots into the hangar.

The little ship Heero chose for their getaway was a four man patrol cruiser, stocked and ready for flight. After they donned the slightly oversized astrosuits they found inside, Heero made sure that Duo was secure in the co-pilot's seat and disappeared for a moment.

When he returned and piloted the craft toward the opening hangar doors, he was grinning - an expression Duo found a bit unnerving.

"Where were you?" he asked.

"Just making sure those mobile dolls have a good target," he said, as though he thought it was a perfectly good explanation. "Now let's get the hell out of here."

The colony was ringed with squads of mobile dolls. Duo shivered in spite of himself. They were still the creepiest things he'd seen in space. "They're really fast," he found himself reminding Heero.

"That's okay," Heero answered smugly. "It's not us they're looking for. I let them target the astrosuit. They'll be after OZ."

"Heero... we're wearing them, too."

"Then we'd better disappear before they can lock onto us." Blinding, silent explosions erupted from the colony wall, far from the hangar they'd just left. The mobile dolls were efficiently destroying their selected targets.

When they were safely away from the colony, Heero pulled off his uncomfortable helmet. Duo seemed deep in thought, and it didn't look as though the thoughts were pleasant ones.

"Heero, my gundam's still back there," he finally said. "I have to go back and get it."

"There's no need. The gundams are almost useless now. There's no place to take them back to. All of the scientists have been captured by OZ. Even Dr. J."

"But what...?" The look of bewilderment on Duo's face might have been comical under other circumstances.

"I have to kill them, too," Heero said simply.

"Oh, Heero." Duo heard the regret in his own voice. Fine, Heero already thought he was too soft. But the killing had gone on for so long, and now it seemed like there would never be an end to it. The colonies were suddenly their enemy and they had no friends anywhere. He had never wanted anything as much as he wanted the damned war to be over.

I just want to go home.
But there is no home.
God, I could just...
Boys don't cry.
Even when they have to.

"I have to eliminate all obstacles." Heero waited for the inevitable response, but none came. Duo Maxwell with nothing to say? He glanced over to see that the other boy was staring out at the stars, no longer listening, eyes suspiciously bright.

He looked away. Whatever was tormenting Maxwell now was private, none of his business. He had demons of his own to face.

Why couldn't I kill you?

He'd gone to C1102 with the mission of killing the captured gundam pilot. No hard feelings, nothing personal at all, just SOP. Duo had understood. That had been plain to see. He knew he'd become a liability. It was no good to let a gundam and its pilot be used for OZ propaganda.

Only... he'd tried so hard not to look pathetic, as though he hadn't wanted Heero to feel the guilt of killing a helpless victim instead of someone who knew it was the only right thing to do. Heero sighed. That moment of simple, quiet courage had been his undoing.

Goddam Maxwell got under your skin. He was like some oversized puppy, eager to be your friend, wild to play, keeping after you long after you were ready to quit. Only two speeds: full on and full off. And he just didn't know when to shut up. But he was an incredible pilot and his bravery was undeniable. And he believed in the future, even believed he had a future. And, dammit, he was worth saving.

So here we are.
Wherever here is.
Uncharted territory.

They were at least three or four hours from their destination. Heero set the coordinates and engaged the autopilot. He'd noticed a couple of bunks in the compartment behind the cockpit. Duo could get some real rest back there. The boy had slumped sideways against his harness, eyes shut, face slack. Heero reached over and gave his arm a shake, but got no response. Shit, he was really out.

"Hey, Maxwell, snap out of it."

Nothing.

"Duo?"

The object of his attention barely managed to lift his head and look over at Heero with bleary, half-focused eyes. "Go 'way," he mumbled.

Heero unbuckled the other boy's harness. "Come on," he coaxed, pulling him to his feet. "There's a bed back here."

Duo didn't look like he weighed anything at all, but in full gravity he was heavy, and he wasn't doing much of the walking this trip. Heero sat him down on the nearest bunk and helped him peel off the space suit.

The acrid odor of chemical bath and several days worth of hard living was strong in the clean air. Duo had obviously been in the same sweat and blood encrusted clothes since the cataclysmic battle at Singapore. Heero scowled. Maxwell had to hate being this filthy. The guy took more showers than anyone he'd ever known. He'd mentioned once, in one of their one-sided conversations at school, that the colony he'd been raised in was perpetually short of water. The well-to-do got it and the poor didn't. Duo had been lucky to get his clothes washed once every couple of weeks and have a sponge bath about as often.

He's been making up for it ever since.

The little revelation surprised Heero with its intimacy.
Funny, the things that make people tick...

He looked around the little cabin. "There's a shower."

An expression of pure bliss captured Duo's face. "Oh, Christ, yes." Then his eyes popped open. "Water, though, right? No chemicals."

"Hn. I thought I recognized part of that smell. No chemicals."

"Good." His eyes narrowed. "Part of that smell..."

"I was being diplomatic. You really reek."

"Hey, fuck you," Duo muttered, fumbling with his shirt buttons. Then, inexplicably, he began to giggle. "You're right. God! Yuck! I stink! " The giggle deepened to a laugh. "Ow! Ow! Ow! Oh, shit that hurts!" But he cradled his ribs and kept laughing. "Oh, man, you will pay for that one! Oh... oh.... ow..."

Heero stared at the other boy in wonder. He was absolutely insane. And... funny? He felt a strange flutter in his chest and realized that he, too, was starting to laugh. He wanted to let it loose, that wild, trapped little animal of a laugh, but not now. Not yet.

Control.
Control is what makes you different from the rest of them.
It makes you superior.
It makes you a weapon.
If you lose control you die, and the mission ends.
And then it's all been for nothing.

By the time Duo had stripped off his ruined clothes and boots, Heero had found him a pair of clean coveralls in one of the lockers. He checked the shower compartment and found it stocked with soap, shampoo, and a couple of towels. Good enough.

Duo was unbraiding his hair with unsteady hands.

"Are you sure you're up for this?"

Duo snorted. "Yeah. I've been giving myself baths for a long time now."

He stood up and his hair fell down around him, hiding the terrible bruises that marred his chest and abdomen. Some of them were obviously the result of being thrown against his gundam's restraining harness; there was nothing gentle about the art of mobile suit combat. The rest bore grim witness to the rough treatment he had received at the hands of OZ. Hands and feet. Beneath what was all too obviously a boot print, the left side of his rib cage was wickedly black. Then the brown curtain of hair covered him like a cloak.

"How can you keep it like that?" Heero asked. "Your hair."

Duo considered for a moment. "It's part of me. How can I not?"

"But it gets in the way. And it's so much trouble." It doesn't make sense.

"Nah. I'm used to it." He accepted Heero's steadying arm. The three meter trip to the shower stall was a long one. "And it reminds me of people I love."

Are they the ones you fight for?
Your family?
What's it like to have someone you love?
What's it like to love?

"Are you sure you can do this by yourself?" he asked aloud.

Duo stepped into the shower stall. "Yuy, I am not gonna take a shower with you," he said with the devil's own grin.

"Hey!" Heero snapped in spite of himself. "That was not what I..." Then he recognized the joke. "Only in your dreams, Maxwell. Only in your fucking dreams."

Little asshole. But when he sat back down in the cockpit, and saw his reflection in the side port, Heero realized that his face had relaxed into a little half smile. It wasn't what he had wanted to see.

You let your guard down.

He honestly couldn't remember the last time he'd wanted to laugh because something was funny, and not because he was giddy with battle rush. The feeling had been so unfamiliar that it had almost frightened him.

You can't afford laughter.
You can't afford fun.
You are the weapon of the colonies.

And the colonies don't want you.


~~TBC~~