Three Steps To Nowhere
Chapter One~
From where I stand, it's fifteen steps till the end of the hall, and five more once I reach the corner. Twenty steps in total. As I begin to walk, I'm once again proud to note that I'm familiar enough with this place so I don't have to feel the walls or use my Stick. I've learned to make my steps completely even, exactly one foot between heel and toe, because if I didn't, I'd be seen doing things like walking into walls and bonking myself senseless on the head.
I admit...I'm still not quite used to my handicap, even though its been five years since the War. I've been through a lot of therapy since then, and I mean a lot. The War cost me nearly everything, my home, my job, my family, my sight.
I'm blind.
The last thing I remember seeing is the sickly yellow gas seeping into the barracks where I was sleeping. The gas was codenamed Pixie Dust. Oz had been developing it for years. I should know, because I had been one of the best spies in the Federation.
Apparently someone had tipped them off, and assassins had been sent to get rid of the leak. They didn't know it was me; just that 'someone' in the barracks was a spy. They were lazy. Instead of going through the ranks with interrogations and questions, they decided to just silence everyone, and all at once.
We were Dusted at midnight. Soldiers woke up from their bunks, screaming in pain, as the Dust was inhaled into their lungs, shriveling the tissue there before moving on to poison their bloodstream.
I was one of the lucky ones. I didn't inhale any of the stuff, but I made the near fatal mistake of opening my eyes. In that one instant, I knew I had messed up. It didn't hurt. My eyes didn't feel any different, and all I knew was that I blinked twice, and couldn't see anything on the second blink.
I don't remember much of what happened next...I mean, it's kinda hard to remember much of anything when you're blind. I think the ceiling caved in or something, because the next thing I knew, I was buried under a near ton of cement. I don't know how I survived. I don't know how Trowa even found me at all. But the main thing is that he did, and now I'm living with him somewhere in an apartment on L1.
The war ended a week after I lost my sight.
I heard from Trowa that the four rebel Gundam Pilots had finally beat the Oz commanders in an all-out battle. When he told me that, I was filled with a mixed feeling of elation and bitterness.
One week! Only one week. Had I become blind for nothing, then? Did any of my spy work and information gathering help with the end of the war at all?
I was sullen for days. No, I was just another casualty that got caught in the wrong place, at the wrong time. Everything was for nothing.
I'd joined the resistance in order to avenge the deaths of the people around me. I didn't succeed. Hell, I wasn't even recompensed for my loss in the War! If it hadn't been for Trowa, I'd be homeless and wandering...heck, I wouldn't even be alive. I owe Trowa everything. We were child hood friends back when I lived on L2, and we kept in touch throughout the war.
We both worked secretly for the resistance. I was just a plain old spy, but I knew that Trowa was real high op on the status ladder. I never knew where he was until he notified me first, and that wasn't too often. He was always on some top-secret mission somewhere in the solar system.
I guess Trowa was real good at whatever he did, because the moment the war ended, he was awarded a gigantic pile of cash, as well as some really spiffy medals and certificates. I won't lie and say that I wasn't jealous, because I was. I mean, c'mon! We both worked on the same side, but he became a wealthy war hero, while I got to be his homeless, blind sidekick.
Life just wasn't fair.
Well my jealousy lasted only a little while, until I realized that Trowa was paying for all of my medical bills.
Heh, I don't even want to know how much he's wasted on me. According to the doctors when he first brought me into the hospital, I was a 'sick mess' as they so eloquently put it. Not only was I blind, but I swear to god half the bones in my body were broken, and I had lost massive amounts of blood. It took months for me to recuperate.
I'm still not fully healed, even though it's been five long years. The most physically noticeable is my left leg. They tell me tell me that it was fractured so badly that there is no chance for it to heal completely.
I will always limp when I walk, though not too noticeably. My physical therapist tells me to go on short walks every morning and evening, in order to work out my muscles and eliminate the possibility of arthritis. I swear to god sometimes I feel like I'm trapped in the body of an old man. Oh well, at least I'm still alive, right? Although...sometimes, I'm not sure that's such a good thing.
There are twenty more steps till I reach home. I know I'm late already. Trowa's going to be worried.
**********************
Reaching into my pocket, I fumble around for my 'watch' and pull it out, simultaneously pressing the huge button on the front. Immediately, a small- computerized voice announced the time. "Seven twenty-four pm."
Shit, I was nearly half an hour late. Trowa wasn't going to be happy with me at all, considering this was the third time this week that I've been delayed. Well, it's not my fault that the oh-so-yummy ice cream stand at the park has such long lines!
Mmm...Ice cream. What can I say, I have a major sweet tooth, and to me, a double decker chocolate mocha on a cone is simply irresistible.
Steeling myself for the inevitable scolding I was soon to receive, I rang the doorbell. A minute later, the door swung open and I leapt forward with my customary greeting.
"Tro-man!" I exclaimed happily, glomping tightly onto the uni-banged best friend of mine that I knew would be standing there. Glomping is a favorite past time of mine, a habit from my child hood that I don't think I'll ever shake. It's my way of greeting the people I'm close to...namely Trowa and his boy-toy Q-man.
As strange as it might sound, glomping is even more important to me now that I can't see. Since I've only got four of my five senses left, I focus on the one that will give me the most comfort. Touch. I'm addicted to touch, especially hugs. Even though I won't voice it out loud, I feel the safest when I'm wrapped comfortably in someone else's arms.
The warmth keeps the darkness at bay.
Trowa seems to understand this, because he lets me glomp him whenever I want. When I do, he always sighs resignedly and pretends that he's annoyed with me. Secretly, I think Trowa likes my glomps just as much as I like giving them. He has yet to push me away...but even if he did, I think I'd still do it anyway cuz Tro-man's such a warm, glompable thing!
And did I mention that he almost always smells like cinnamon? I say 'almost', because there are those times that he comes home smelling like vanilla, which just tells me that he spent all day with Quatre, hehe.
Speaking of smells...something was different with Trowa today. He didn't smell like the cinnamon or vanilla I'm so used to. Frowning in confusement, I nuzzled my head into Trowa's chest and inhaled deeply.
Strange. Today he smelled like a mixture of slightly spicy cologne, strawberries, and clean aftershave. All in all, not a bad combination. It actually smelled pretty nice.
Sighing in contentment, I decided to hold my glomp a few minutes longer then normal. Hey what can I say, I really liked his new smell. I ignored the nagging feeling in the back of my mind and tightened my grip around his waist, burying my face into the crook of his neck.
Trowa suddenly stiffened and made this really weird choking sound.
Okay...he's never done that before, and I wasn't even holding him that tight! Briefly I considered letting him go, but then quickly dismissed the thought. I was just too comfy where I am.
Distantly I could hear Trowa and Quatre laughing somewhere off to my right. Their loud guffaws...or rather, Quatre's loud guffaws (Trowa kind of just chuckles), were disturbing me from my time of relaxation.
The nagging in my head suddenly increased ten-fold, and all of a sudden, everything clicked into place and I froze.
"Oh no..." I mumbled, feeling my face flush hotly with embarrasment. In a split second, I had unattached myself from 'Trowa', and had put as much distance between us as possible. I coughed weakly to clear my throat.
"Uh...I'm really, really sorry for that..." I apologized meekly to the person I had mistaken for my best friend. "I..thought you were someone else."
There was silence for a long moment, and then..."Apology acceptable." A cold, slightly nasal voice replied.
I winced internally. Great, I knew right off the bat that it was another one of Trowa's old war buddies. I mean, what kind of normal person says 'apology acceptable', and on the first meeting no less? And in such a toneless voice too! Now from experiences, a normal person would say something along the lines of 'It's okay,' or maybe 'No biggie', but 'Apology acceptable'?!
I don't have anything against soldiers, as I used to be one myself, but...let's just say soldiers, real trained soldiers make me uncomfortable. I guess Trowa must've sensed my discomfort, because he stopped chuckling and quickly placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder.
"Duo, meet Heero Yuy. He was one of my partners during the War."
Ah, so my suspicions were correct. Forcing a wide smile on my face, I stretched out my hand in Heero's direction for a handshake. "Pleased to meetcha!" I greeted enthusiastically.
I think Heero grunted "Hn." in acknowledgment before placing his hand in my own for a brief but strong shake. His hand felt large and calloused, and I immediately couldn't help but wonder how many people he killed with his bare hands.
"Uh...I'm going to get changed..." I announced, feeling suddenly uncomfortable with my thoughts. I imagined Trowa nodding as he agreed and gently took hold of my arm and lead me to my room.
He stopped at the doorway. "Come out when you're done." He told me quietly. "We have something important to tell you." Those words put a coil of fear in my stomach, and I swallowed hard, nodding.
"Alright." I walked inside and shut the door.
*****************************
You know, back when I could still see, I used to enjoy the times when Trowa said he had something important to tell me. In case you don't know, Trowa's not much of a speaker. He has a word quota of about twenty per day, and it's rare that he ever exceeds that amount.
During the War, Trowa would call me up once every few months, sometimes more depending on his need. He'd mumble "There's something I have to tell you," and he would have my undivided attention.
I'd attach a high frequency scrambler to the phone line so our conversation couldn't be tapped, and Trowa would start speaking.
He would tell me anything and everything that came to mind, his thoughts, feelings, fears, and hopes. He confided in me, and every single time, I was always filled with this awed warmth knowing that he trusted me so deeply, he would bare his weaknesses to me.
For the most part, I would just remain silent, hearing him talk while keeping my thoughts to myself. I knew that what Trowa needed was a listening ear, not a commentator that would discuss his faults and prescribe remedies for them.
That was before.
Trowa doesn't need to talk to me anymore. He has Quatre, who I know is one of the best listeners in the world. Nowadays when Trowa tells me he's got 'important stuff to tell me', I know its bad news.
Usually the news would be from the hospital, who would call to inform us that they either discovered irregularities in my breathing pattern, or that the fracture in my wrist hadn't healed properly and needed to be reset. Stuff like that...which certainly isn't the type of information I look forward to hearing.
In fact, I'm practically paranoid about it. Hospitals equal pain, and pain makes me feel fear. It's only natural.
So here I am, sprawled out on my bed, trying to will away the panic that had gripped me so tightly it was hard to breathe. I could hear Quatre's muffled voice from beyond the door. They were probably waiting for me.
With a sigh, I sit up from the bed and feel my way towards the closet. Trowa was kind enough to divide my clothes into sections for me; casual shirts and pants on the right, more formal wear on the left, and a bunch of my favorite big fluffy sweaters and pajamas stuff in the middle.
I pull out one of the overly large sweaters and a pair of what feels like denim jeans.
Trowa tells me that all my clothes are black, so I don't wonder what color they are. Since he's the one that picks out my clothes, I feel okay with what I wear because he's also got the best sense of fashion in the world.
Quickly I strip down to my boxers and slip into my clean clothes. The dirty ones are thrown carelessly on to the floor, and I pull on a pair of socks from a basket underneath my bed.
Fumbling on my dresser for a comb, I deftly unbraid my hair and brush it out before braiding it back up. My braid is my single most precious possession. I started growing it out right after Oz completely trashed the city I used to live in. I was only seven years old then, but I can still remember the day all too well.
My entire family was killed in that attack, which left me homeless and orphaned. Now when I think back on the incident, I can still feel a twinge of pain, but for the most part, my emotions have dulled with time, though not enough for me to completely forget.
There are two reasons why I decided to grow out my hair. One is that my mother used to keep her own hair in a long braid ever since I could remember. I grew my own in remembrance of her.
The second reason is that my braid is the only thing that can't be taken away from me. It's mine, and mine alone. I know it sounds strange, but just think of it as a soldier's mentality. I swore to myself that I would never cut it, and I haven't. It's practically down to my knees now, and more of an annoying hindrance then I would like...but a promise is a promise. I don't lie, even to myself.
There, all finished. Tying the end of it with a rubber band, I throw the rope of hair over my shoulder and began to walk out.
I was prepared for whatever Trowa had in store for me.
***************************
The moment I walked into the living room, everyone stopped talking and I could feel all eyes on me. There was an uncomfortable silence, and I felt like squirming under their scrutiny.
"Uh...Trowa?" I asked timidly, unsure of what was going on.
"Come here and sit down, Duo." Quatre called to me politely. I followed the sound of his voice and plopped down next to him on the leather sofa. "So what's up?" I chirped cheerily, flashing them my brightest grin.
"Quatre why don't you tell him." Trowa spoke up from across from me.
"Tell me what?" I asked hesitently. I was afraid that this was going to be more bad news from the hospital. I needn't have worried however, because what came next would change me forever.
Quatre's voice nearly bubbled with excitement when he began to speak. "Duo, you've heard of Doctor J, haven't you?!" I nodded. "Yeah, I've heard of him. Isn't he the genius guy that developed break-through technology that helped win the war?"
"Yes! Well it turns out that a year ago, Doctor J began working on a new machine that could be used to...reverse the effects of Pixie Dust..."
I was beginning to understand where this conversation was heading. "Go on.." I urged, trying in vain to keep the rising excitement from out of my voice. Quatre took a deep breath and continued, "Well apparently he finished the prototype yesterday...and sent Heero to ask if you wanted to be the first to...try it."
I was over-whelmed. My heart froze in my chest. "He..Heero..?" I repeated dumbly, still not quite sure if I had heard correctly.
"What Quatre says is correct." Heero's cold voice confirmed from out of nowhere. I nearly jumped out of my skin when he spoke. He was so quiet that I thought he had left.
"So...so you guys are saying...that I have a chance of getting my sight back?" I asked incredulously in a trembling voice. What I was hearing was too good to be true. I still had my doubts.
"Exactly." Trowa replied. His voice was quiet but firm. I believed him.
"That's...that's great..." I commented in an awed voice, drawing my knees to my chest and wrapping my arms around them. I huddled in the corner of the sofa, rocking myself back and forth slowly.
I still couldn't comprehend the enormity of the situation, and my brain had yet to process the fact that one of my dreams, a dream that I had never believed in was finally going to come true.
I guess living five years in complete darkness did something to my head because the next thing I knew, my face was buried in my knees and I was crying. I couldn't stop myself no matter how hard I tried. My tears gushed in torrents and I could feel my body quivering violently from my exertions.
"Duo...? Are you alright?" Quatre asked uncertainly, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder.
My tears stopped abruptly like someone had just turned off the faucet, and the sane part of my mind that had somehow lost control of the situation, watched in horror as I began to laugh.
Actually that's an understatement. An insane cackling was more like it. I shot up from my position on the couch and started dancing madly around the living room, crashing into pieces of furniture and knocking over what could only be vases and picture frames.
It must've looked like I truly lost my mind, and I can only imagine the expressions on everyone's faces as they watched me twirl around, whooping and cackling as the room was slowly demolished around them.
Then I slipped on the carpet and smacked my head loudly against something hard, harder then my head if that was possible. It might've been the wall.
I awoke to the worst headache I've ever had in the world. Shit, what the hell happened? I was lying on something soft, and someone was slowly wiping my forehead with what felt like a wet towel.
"...Duo, are you awake?" Trowa asked. I knew he had spoken quietly, but to me, it seemed as if he had shouted in my ear. My head throbbed.
Groaning uncomfortably, I attempted to sit up, and hands came out of nowhere to assist me.
"Don't tell me I blacked out..." I grumble out loud, knowing somehow that it was exactly what had happened. Trowa sighed. "You're the first person I've ever known that got knocked unconscious by the wall." his tone was bland, but I could detect an undercurrent of humor in his voice.
I scowled. "Where's Quatre?"
The...whatever I was sitting on dipped slightly and I knew that Trowa had sat down beside me. Instinctively I exhaled and leaned against his side, resting my pounding head against what was probably his shoulder.
"He left to get us some dinner." Trowa replied shortly. "He should be coming back soon."
At the mention of dinner, my headache suddenly vanished, and energy rushed into my body. "Really?" I exclaimed happily, "What are we getting?"
Trowa snorted and I felt him gently brush the bangs from my face. "Knowing Quatre, it's probably some gourmet food that costed thirty credits a plate." I smile contentedly, thinking of oven-roasted chicken with herbs and a side of creamy crab- meat pasta, lightly seasoned with nutmeg and a garnish on the side.
Quatre was nineteen years old, just like me...yet he had somehow managed to secure a fortune that could probably buy him anything he wanted in the world. The guy was rich, insanely rich. I swear to god he lives in a mansion the size of a city!
I know this because three months ago, Quatre had invited us over for a visit, and I ended up spending a week lost and alone, wandering the miles of hallways and corridors that made up his home. It had been horrible, and I had nearly gone insane from the silence alone.
They found me eventually, when I decided to just sit in one place and scream my head off. Quatre had been so embarrased. But it was partly my fault too. I was stupid enough to wander off without Trowa by my side.
Well after my little adventure in Quatre's city-sized mansion, which was practically ninety-five percent empty, I begged Quatre to stay with us because I thought it was lonely for him to live by himself in such a huge home. Surprisingly Quatre agreed, and has been staying with us for the past month.
He's so nice to me...I really am grateful for Quatre's friendship.
It was an hour later when we were in the middle of eating our gourmet carrots and steaks when I finally remembered what had gone on earlier that day. My fork clattered to the table.
"Oh my god..."
After my embarrassing black out, I had completely forgot about the wonderful news Heero had brought with him earlier today. Speaking of Heero...I shot up from my seat so fast the chair probably knocked over.
"Heero! Where's Heero?!" I stammered, nearly hyperventilating with excitement. "Where's Heero? I need to talk to him!"
"Shh...Duo." Quatre rested his hands calmingly on my shoulders. "Heero left right after you...um...passed out. But don't worry, we know all that he knows, so you can ask us for the information."
I took a deep breath and slowed my pounding heart. "Ok...so...so when do I go in?" The fork was placed in my hand again, and I resumed eating to the best of my ability.
"You go in tomorrow." Trowa answered. "Heero will arrive around seven tomorrow morning to pick you up. Doctor J's laboratory is eight hours away by bullet-train, and another two hours by car. Unfortunately, Quatre and I cannot go with you, as the laboratory is a top secret facility...but we will go see you once the operation is over."
I swallowed hard, uncomfortable with the aspect of being left alone with Heero. That guy hadn't sounded too friendly when we were first introduced. "Uh...how long will this operation take?" I asked timidly.
Trowa sighed. "A week. This operation is actually a series of small laser treatments, and for convenience, Doctor J decided to provide accommodations for you while you are there."
I groaned aloud, but didn't really mind. I'd gladly stay there for the rest of my life if it meant getting my sight back. Quatre giggled...he does that a lot..."When you come back in a week, Duo, there will be a surprise waiting for you!"
I grinned. "Thanks, you guys. I dunno what I'd be without you." I didn't have to see to know that they both smiled.
That night I couldn't sleep.
**********************
The next day felt like it would never come. I hadn't slept a wink that night...too busy thinking of the things that I'd like to see first once the operation was over. After the next week, I wouldn't have to picture things in my head anymore.
With happy thought, I got up at six and showered, then fumbled my way into the kitchen and tried my hardest to make a decent breakfast with the microwave...since Trowa didn't trust me with the stove anymore.
The doorbell rang while I was still in the kitchen, eating my microwaved bacon and eggs.
"I'll get it!" Quatre shouted from the next room. If Quatre was awake, then that meant Trowa was too. I was right when I heard the shower turn on. Hey what can I say, this place has really thin walls...I heard the front door swing open, and then everything from there became a bad nightmare.
"He-Hey! Who are you guys?" Quatre's voice rang out suspiciously.
I frowned and strained my ears for the reply. There wasn't one. Instead, Quatre let out a startled yelp, and then there was silence. The silence stretched on for several minutes.
I was getting chills down my spine. What the hell just happened? Trowa was probably thinking the same thing, because the sound of the shower immediately ceased. "Quatre?" Trowa's muffled voice asked worriedly from inside the bathroom.
The greasy bacon still in my mouth suddenly made me wanna hurl. I swallowed hard and placed the plate and fork silently on the counter with unsteady hands.
Then the footsteps started.
Judging from the sounds they made against the carpet, I could tell that there were at least three people. Their steps were hard and heavy...definitely not Quatre.
Who were these intruders? Assassins? Thieves? I didn't know, but my breathing quickly became erratic, and my heartbeat was so loud that the sound of it filled my ears. I was scared shitless.
The door to the bathroom creaked open, and it wasn't hard to imagine Trowa walking out of there, a white towel wrapped around his waist, soap suds glistening in his hair. I bit my lip. Now was definitely not the time to fantasize about my best friend and old-time crush.
"Quatre! Is everything alright?" Trowa's voice was louder then usual, slightly tinged with panic. "Did something happen to Duo?" His voice was coming nearer, and the ominous footsteps paused.
I wanted to yell at him to run, to get away before something bad happened and he ended up like Quatre. Quatre...oh my god, I didn't even know what happened to Quatre! He could be dead, or close to it.
NO! I couldn't let something happen to Trowa. Not Trowa. Swallowing my fear, I took a deep breath and counted to three. "TROWA! There are intruders in the house! Get out! Find help!" I screamed as loudly as I could, my voice piercing through the thick silence like a gunshot in a chapel.
Two things happened at once. Trowa cursed loudly from wherever he was, and the heavy footsteps started again, much faster, and heading towards my direction. Gods, they were coming for me?! I couldn't see! I'd be completely defenseless...no, wait! Throwing open a kitchen drawer, I pulled out a handful of steak knives just as the door to the kitchen squeaked open.
Steeling myself, I drew back my arm and let one knife fly forward in the direction of the door.
Thunk. Someone screamed hoarsely and my lips involuntarily twitched upwards. It was good to know that I still had the touch. However my small victory was short-lived because a gloved hand suddenly closed around my wrist and I was dragged to the floor with a yelp.
Shit. I didn't even hear the second person sneaking up on me until it was too late. The cold metal barrel of a gun was pushed roughly against the back of my head, and I trembled so hard the remaining knives slipped out of my hand and clattered to the floor.
"You're coming with us." Someone growled into my ear. "Don't you dare try calling for help, pretty-boy. Your blonde friend has been tranquilized and the other will be taken care of too. Do as we say and you won't get hurt." I nodded shakily, and my kidnapper yanked me off the floor. "Put your hands behind your back, and walk."
We shuffled into the silent living room. "Tr-Trowa?" I called out timidly, earning a sharp jab in the back. Faintly I could hear Trowa's muffled shouting, and a lot of pounding. "He's barricaded in a closet." The voice next to me explained with a humorless chuckle. "And he's also taken out my other partner. You've got some kind of friend if he could take out Alpha.
"Whatcha gonna do to me?" I asked in a shaky voice.
"The Boss wanted you alive so now I'm gonna bring you to him."
"So...you're not gonna kill me."
"Naw, not yet. Like I said, I gotta take you to the Boss. You sure did a number on Beta there though; knife got him right in the heart. Too bad."
"...You don't sound very unhappy about the fact that your partners are dead."
He laughed and I cringed. "Of course not! Now that they're dead, I'll get to be Alpha! Can you believe it? Three weeks into the business and I'm already gonna be at the top of the ladder.
This guy was a complete idiot. He was basically telling me that he was an inexperienced, power hungry fool. With all my training, I might actually have a chance at getting away, even without my eyes.
"Move." The guy growled, pushing me towards the direction of the door. "And watch out for your friend on the ground. Move right three paces." A wave of anger washed over me. I felt sick and disgusted with myself. I used to be one of the elite spies during the war! Just because I was blind didn't mean that I had to be completely helpless.
And my captor was stupid anyway. He was only a rookie, and there was no way I'd go down without a fight.
I was held at gunpoint until we were out the front door. The moment I felt hard marble beneath my feet, I bolted down the hall, ignoring his cries of protest. The guy said he needed me alive, so the chance that he wouldn't shoot me was very likely. Boy was I wrong.
The first shot whistled right past my ear, and the second one went straight through my side.
The pain took me by surprise and I collapsed to the floor with a sharp hiss. "You shouldn't have run!" He called out cheerfully. I mentally berated myself. Weak, Maxwell. Taken down by only one hit? That's pathetic. And by a psychotic rookie besides...unforgivable. I gritted my teeth, remembering the times when I could take three shots and keep running.
The guy had won and he knew it. I was on the verge of passing out from blood-loss anyway. There was no more fight left in me.
Suddenly the elevator dinged and the sound of the doors rolled open. I took the chance that my captor would be startled by the sound, and scrambled the few feet into the elevator, ignoring the white hot stab of pain that came from my jarred wound...as well as the shrill, ear bursting scream of a woman that had accompanied the elevator on its trip up.
Gunshots rained around us, and I ducked to the side, but not before a bullet grazed my cheek, giving me another pain to deal with. The woman was still screaming.
"Shut up and shut the fucking doors!" I yelled. The control panel wasn't on my side, so I knew it was on hers unless she was stupid enough to stand in the middle and get shot. By now I was more scared then angry because any moment now, my crazy kidnapper would barge his way into the elevator and murder us all.
Judging from the bullet wound in my side, it probably really didn't matter whether he brought me in alive or dead, though I'd much rather prefer alive.
The rolling of the doors told me that the woman had finally pushed the 'doors close' button, even if she hadn't stopped screaming. It was just in time too, because the moment the doors slid shut, the sound of a heavy body slamming against it reverberated throughout the compartment.
The elevator began to move downwards, and I realized the woman must've pressed another button. She was still gasping loudly and whimpering, but thankfully her screams had subsided. Geez...maybe I was kinda lucky to have the rookie be the one to kidnap me...even though he shot me pretty bad.
An experienced guy would've just barged into the elevator and grabbed me. I wasn't armed except for my fingernails, and completely blind to boot. Heh, he probably really wanted to kill me. Thank gods for war experience and idiot kidnappers.
"A-Are you alright?" A deep, manly voice asked me softly.
I nearly jumped up in fright. "Who's there!" I demanded, huddling closer to the corner of the elevator.
Another whimper and a sniffle.
"You...you're bleeding!" The man's voice exclaimed, alarmed.
"Yeah, I got shot. Um...how many people are in here?"
"Just you and me." The man replied, his voice sounding closer then before. "Hey...do you need any help? You don't look so good." I would've laughed if my blood wasn't pouring all over the floor. "You scream like a woman." I told him dryly. "What floor are we heading to?"
The man sniffled again, seemingly not offended by my remark. "Ground floor." It sounded like he was on the verge of tears. "I...I was so scared when the shooting started." He wailed, making all sorts of pitiful blubbering noises.
I sighed. Just my luck to be stuck in the elevator with a wuss of a man. The guy poked me in the shoulder. "H..Hey! Keep your eyes open." He whispered. "Don't fall asleep! You gotta protect me from that psycho out there!" I groaned aloud.
"Mister, I'm blind. I've been shot pretty bad, and if you hadn't noticed, I'm bleedin' all over the floor. Now shut up and leave me alone!" He fell quiet with another one of those annoying whimpers.
The good thing about our elevator was that it moved nearly as fast as those bullet trains in downtown. I didn't have to worry about my abductor going to a lower level and stopping the elevator from there, because the elevator would be going faster then he could get down the fire escape. Nowadays, elevators have to be fast because apartment buildings are super high, and ours had about nine hundred floors.
Trowa and I lived on the seventh hundred floor.
I was fighting a losing battle with unconsciousness. My head hurt, my cheek stung...my bullet wound felt like it was on fire. My entire body was sore. And to top it all off, I was so worried about my friends upstairs that I felt like throwing up.
What if that psycho went back to kill them...and I couldn't do anything about it because I was trapped in here?
I sighed and leaned back against the carpeted wall behind me, trying to think of positive things. Nah, Trowa used to be in the War like me. He was good enough not to get killed by that guy.
The doors to the elevator swished open with a ding.
We had reached ground floor already. Gritting my teeth, I staggered to my feet painfully and couldn't help but slump against the wall with a low groan. It hurt so much..."Hey mister, d'ya think you can gimme a hand here?" I asked softly.
No answer.
I scowled. Had the wuss bolted already? I can't believe people sometimes. Here I am, bleeding to death and all he can do is run to save his own hide? Come to think of it, I hadn't even heard him leave. Damn, I must be more out of it then I thought.
With a long suffering sigh, I staggered out of the elevator, fighting every urge to collapse in a small heap on the floor. I couldn't give up. My friends were counting on me. One, I needed a phone to all the police. Two, I needed medical help and fast. But I couldn't complete number one without getting to the apartment's receptionists desk, which was a good five minutes walk away.
I was also paranoid about the guy who had shot me. Even though I had gotten a head start on him, it was only a matter of time before he caught me, especially if he was using the elevators.
I walked faster...err; rather, I staggered faster, my footsteps echoed loudly in the silent hallway, which only increased my discomfort. It was harder to remember which directions I had to take, and how many steps I had already taken. Twice I accidentally bumped into a wall, which jarred my wound and made it all the more tempting to give up.
I was two halls away from my destination when someone grabbed me.
My heart wrenched sickeningly in my chest. Oh Gods no, I had been caught! I had let Trowa and Quatre down! I was doomed!
I struggled against the large, strong hands of my captor. "Let me go god damn you!" I shrieked, twisting in his firm grasp and kicking him to the best of my ability.
I was hysterical, and I didn't care. If this guy wanted me, he was gonna have to take all that I could dish out. I scratched, I punched, and I kicked as hard as I could...which wasn't much. My entire world was a burning bright red...even though I couldn't see that color. I was filled with rage, with hurt, with pain, and my head was so clouded that I almost didn't register the voice that spoke to me. It was low and masculine, yet tinged with a hint of urgency.
"Don't move! I'm not going to hurt you. You're bleeding, let me help!"
Distantly I noted that this voice was different then the one of my captors. My struggles slowed, and then ceased altogether. "Who...wha-" I asked hoarsely before falling into a fit of coughing.
I was at the end of my strength. Fighting had taken its toll on me, and this new guy was probably not very surprised when my knees buckled and I began to fall.
He caught me.
I felt myself being lifted up in to strong, sure arms and cradled against a hard chest that smelled faintly of strawberries and spice. It was a familiar scent...
"Heero? Is...that...you?" I mumbled softly.
"Aa."
"Thank gods." I heard myself whisper, before losing consciousness.
Chapter One~
From where I stand, it's fifteen steps till the end of the hall, and five more once I reach the corner. Twenty steps in total. As I begin to walk, I'm once again proud to note that I'm familiar enough with this place so I don't have to feel the walls or use my Stick. I've learned to make my steps completely even, exactly one foot between heel and toe, because if I didn't, I'd be seen doing things like walking into walls and bonking myself senseless on the head.
I admit...I'm still not quite used to my handicap, even though its been five years since the War. I've been through a lot of therapy since then, and I mean a lot. The War cost me nearly everything, my home, my job, my family, my sight.
I'm blind.
The last thing I remember seeing is the sickly yellow gas seeping into the barracks where I was sleeping. The gas was codenamed Pixie Dust. Oz had been developing it for years. I should know, because I had been one of the best spies in the Federation.
Apparently someone had tipped them off, and assassins had been sent to get rid of the leak. They didn't know it was me; just that 'someone' in the barracks was a spy. They were lazy. Instead of going through the ranks with interrogations and questions, they decided to just silence everyone, and all at once.
We were Dusted at midnight. Soldiers woke up from their bunks, screaming in pain, as the Dust was inhaled into their lungs, shriveling the tissue there before moving on to poison their bloodstream.
I was one of the lucky ones. I didn't inhale any of the stuff, but I made the near fatal mistake of opening my eyes. In that one instant, I knew I had messed up. It didn't hurt. My eyes didn't feel any different, and all I knew was that I blinked twice, and couldn't see anything on the second blink.
I don't remember much of what happened next...I mean, it's kinda hard to remember much of anything when you're blind. I think the ceiling caved in or something, because the next thing I knew, I was buried under a near ton of cement. I don't know how I survived. I don't know how Trowa even found me at all. But the main thing is that he did, and now I'm living with him somewhere in an apartment on L1.
The war ended a week after I lost my sight.
I heard from Trowa that the four rebel Gundam Pilots had finally beat the Oz commanders in an all-out battle. When he told me that, I was filled with a mixed feeling of elation and bitterness.
One week! Only one week. Had I become blind for nothing, then? Did any of my spy work and information gathering help with the end of the war at all?
I was sullen for days. No, I was just another casualty that got caught in the wrong place, at the wrong time. Everything was for nothing.
I'd joined the resistance in order to avenge the deaths of the people around me. I didn't succeed. Hell, I wasn't even recompensed for my loss in the War! If it hadn't been for Trowa, I'd be homeless and wandering...heck, I wouldn't even be alive. I owe Trowa everything. We were child hood friends back when I lived on L2, and we kept in touch throughout the war.
We both worked secretly for the resistance. I was just a plain old spy, but I knew that Trowa was real high op on the status ladder. I never knew where he was until he notified me first, and that wasn't too often. He was always on some top-secret mission somewhere in the solar system.
I guess Trowa was real good at whatever he did, because the moment the war ended, he was awarded a gigantic pile of cash, as well as some really spiffy medals and certificates. I won't lie and say that I wasn't jealous, because I was. I mean, c'mon! We both worked on the same side, but he became a wealthy war hero, while I got to be his homeless, blind sidekick.
Life just wasn't fair.
Well my jealousy lasted only a little while, until I realized that Trowa was paying for all of my medical bills.
Heh, I don't even want to know how much he's wasted on me. According to the doctors when he first brought me into the hospital, I was a 'sick mess' as they so eloquently put it. Not only was I blind, but I swear to god half the bones in my body were broken, and I had lost massive amounts of blood. It took months for me to recuperate.
I'm still not fully healed, even though it's been five long years. The most physically noticeable is my left leg. They tell me tell me that it was fractured so badly that there is no chance for it to heal completely.
I will always limp when I walk, though not too noticeably. My physical therapist tells me to go on short walks every morning and evening, in order to work out my muscles and eliminate the possibility of arthritis. I swear to god sometimes I feel like I'm trapped in the body of an old man. Oh well, at least I'm still alive, right? Although...sometimes, I'm not sure that's such a good thing.
There are twenty more steps till I reach home. I know I'm late already. Trowa's going to be worried.
**********************
Reaching into my pocket, I fumble around for my 'watch' and pull it out, simultaneously pressing the huge button on the front. Immediately, a small- computerized voice announced the time. "Seven twenty-four pm."
Shit, I was nearly half an hour late. Trowa wasn't going to be happy with me at all, considering this was the third time this week that I've been delayed. Well, it's not my fault that the oh-so-yummy ice cream stand at the park has such long lines!
Mmm...Ice cream. What can I say, I have a major sweet tooth, and to me, a double decker chocolate mocha on a cone is simply irresistible.
Steeling myself for the inevitable scolding I was soon to receive, I rang the doorbell. A minute later, the door swung open and I leapt forward with my customary greeting.
"Tro-man!" I exclaimed happily, glomping tightly onto the uni-banged best friend of mine that I knew would be standing there. Glomping is a favorite past time of mine, a habit from my child hood that I don't think I'll ever shake. It's my way of greeting the people I'm close to...namely Trowa and his boy-toy Q-man.
As strange as it might sound, glomping is even more important to me now that I can't see. Since I've only got four of my five senses left, I focus on the one that will give me the most comfort. Touch. I'm addicted to touch, especially hugs. Even though I won't voice it out loud, I feel the safest when I'm wrapped comfortably in someone else's arms.
The warmth keeps the darkness at bay.
Trowa seems to understand this, because he lets me glomp him whenever I want. When I do, he always sighs resignedly and pretends that he's annoyed with me. Secretly, I think Trowa likes my glomps just as much as I like giving them. He has yet to push me away...but even if he did, I think I'd still do it anyway cuz Tro-man's such a warm, glompable thing!
And did I mention that he almost always smells like cinnamon? I say 'almost', because there are those times that he comes home smelling like vanilla, which just tells me that he spent all day with Quatre, hehe.
Speaking of smells...something was different with Trowa today. He didn't smell like the cinnamon or vanilla I'm so used to. Frowning in confusement, I nuzzled my head into Trowa's chest and inhaled deeply.
Strange. Today he smelled like a mixture of slightly spicy cologne, strawberries, and clean aftershave. All in all, not a bad combination. It actually smelled pretty nice.
Sighing in contentment, I decided to hold my glomp a few minutes longer then normal. Hey what can I say, I really liked his new smell. I ignored the nagging feeling in the back of my mind and tightened my grip around his waist, burying my face into the crook of his neck.
Trowa suddenly stiffened and made this really weird choking sound.
Okay...he's never done that before, and I wasn't even holding him that tight! Briefly I considered letting him go, but then quickly dismissed the thought. I was just too comfy where I am.
Distantly I could hear Trowa and Quatre laughing somewhere off to my right. Their loud guffaws...or rather, Quatre's loud guffaws (Trowa kind of just chuckles), were disturbing me from my time of relaxation.
The nagging in my head suddenly increased ten-fold, and all of a sudden, everything clicked into place and I froze.
"Oh no..." I mumbled, feeling my face flush hotly with embarrasment. In a split second, I had unattached myself from 'Trowa', and had put as much distance between us as possible. I coughed weakly to clear my throat.
"Uh...I'm really, really sorry for that..." I apologized meekly to the person I had mistaken for my best friend. "I..thought you were someone else."
There was silence for a long moment, and then..."Apology acceptable." A cold, slightly nasal voice replied.
I winced internally. Great, I knew right off the bat that it was another one of Trowa's old war buddies. I mean, what kind of normal person says 'apology acceptable', and on the first meeting no less? And in such a toneless voice too! Now from experiences, a normal person would say something along the lines of 'It's okay,' or maybe 'No biggie', but 'Apology acceptable'?!
I don't have anything against soldiers, as I used to be one myself, but...let's just say soldiers, real trained soldiers make me uncomfortable. I guess Trowa must've sensed my discomfort, because he stopped chuckling and quickly placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder.
"Duo, meet Heero Yuy. He was one of my partners during the War."
Ah, so my suspicions were correct. Forcing a wide smile on my face, I stretched out my hand in Heero's direction for a handshake. "Pleased to meetcha!" I greeted enthusiastically.
I think Heero grunted "Hn." in acknowledgment before placing his hand in my own for a brief but strong shake. His hand felt large and calloused, and I immediately couldn't help but wonder how many people he killed with his bare hands.
"Uh...I'm going to get changed..." I announced, feeling suddenly uncomfortable with my thoughts. I imagined Trowa nodding as he agreed and gently took hold of my arm and lead me to my room.
He stopped at the doorway. "Come out when you're done." He told me quietly. "We have something important to tell you." Those words put a coil of fear in my stomach, and I swallowed hard, nodding.
"Alright." I walked inside and shut the door.
*****************************
You know, back when I could still see, I used to enjoy the times when Trowa said he had something important to tell me. In case you don't know, Trowa's not much of a speaker. He has a word quota of about twenty per day, and it's rare that he ever exceeds that amount.
During the War, Trowa would call me up once every few months, sometimes more depending on his need. He'd mumble "There's something I have to tell you," and he would have my undivided attention.
I'd attach a high frequency scrambler to the phone line so our conversation couldn't be tapped, and Trowa would start speaking.
He would tell me anything and everything that came to mind, his thoughts, feelings, fears, and hopes. He confided in me, and every single time, I was always filled with this awed warmth knowing that he trusted me so deeply, he would bare his weaknesses to me.
For the most part, I would just remain silent, hearing him talk while keeping my thoughts to myself. I knew that what Trowa needed was a listening ear, not a commentator that would discuss his faults and prescribe remedies for them.
That was before.
Trowa doesn't need to talk to me anymore. He has Quatre, who I know is one of the best listeners in the world. Nowadays when Trowa tells me he's got 'important stuff to tell me', I know its bad news.
Usually the news would be from the hospital, who would call to inform us that they either discovered irregularities in my breathing pattern, or that the fracture in my wrist hadn't healed properly and needed to be reset. Stuff like that...which certainly isn't the type of information I look forward to hearing.
In fact, I'm practically paranoid about it. Hospitals equal pain, and pain makes me feel fear. It's only natural.
So here I am, sprawled out on my bed, trying to will away the panic that had gripped me so tightly it was hard to breathe. I could hear Quatre's muffled voice from beyond the door. They were probably waiting for me.
With a sigh, I sit up from the bed and feel my way towards the closet. Trowa was kind enough to divide my clothes into sections for me; casual shirts and pants on the right, more formal wear on the left, and a bunch of my favorite big fluffy sweaters and pajamas stuff in the middle.
I pull out one of the overly large sweaters and a pair of what feels like denim jeans.
Trowa tells me that all my clothes are black, so I don't wonder what color they are. Since he's the one that picks out my clothes, I feel okay with what I wear because he's also got the best sense of fashion in the world.
Quickly I strip down to my boxers and slip into my clean clothes. The dirty ones are thrown carelessly on to the floor, and I pull on a pair of socks from a basket underneath my bed.
Fumbling on my dresser for a comb, I deftly unbraid my hair and brush it out before braiding it back up. My braid is my single most precious possession. I started growing it out right after Oz completely trashed the city I used to live in. I was only seven years old then, but I can still remember the day all too well.
My entire family was killed in that attack, which left me homeless and orphaned. Now when I think back on the incident, I can still feel a twinge of pain, but for the most part, my emotions have dulled with time, though not enough for me to completely forget.
There are two reasons why I decided to grow out my hair. One is that my mother used to keep her own hair in a long braid ever since I could remember. I grew my own in remembrance of her.
The second reason is that my braid is the only thing that can't be taken away from me. It's mine, and mine alone. I know it sounds strange, but just think of it as a soldier's mentality. I swore to myself that I would never cut it, and I haven't. It's practically down to my knees now, and more of an annoying hindrance then I would like...but a promise is a promise. I don't lie, even to myself.
There, all finished. Tying the end of it with a rubber band, I throw the rope of hair over my shoulder and began to walk out.
I was prepared for whatever Trowa had in store for me.
***************************
The moment I walked into the living room, everyone stopped talking and I could feel all eyes on me. There was an uncomfortable silence, and I felt like squirming under their scrutiny.
"Uh...Trowa?" I asked timidly, unsure of what was going on.
"Come here and sit down, Duo." Quatre called to me politely. I followed the sound of his voice and plopped down next to him on the leather sofa. "So what's up?" I chirped cheerily, flashing them my brightest grin.
"Quatre why don't you tell him." Trowa spoke up from across from me.
"Tell me what?" I asked hesitently. I was afraid that this was going to be more bad news from the hospital. I needn't have worried however, because what came next would change me forever.
Quatre's voice nearly bubbled with excitement when he began to speak. "Duo, you've heard of Doctor J, haven't you?!" I nodded. "Yeah, I've heard of him. Isn't he the genius guy that developed break-through technology that helped win the war?"
"Yes! Well it turns out that a year ago, Doctor J began working on a new machine that could be used to...reverse the effects of Pixie Dust..."
I was beginning to understand where this conversation was heading. "Go on.." I urged, trying in vain to keep the rising excitement from out of my voice. Quatre took a deep breath and continued, "Well apparently he finished the prototype yesterday...and sent Heero to ask if you wanted to be the first to...try it."
I was over-whelmed. My heart froze in my chest. "He..Heero..?" I repeated dumbly, still not quite sure if I had heard correctly.
"What Quatre says is correct." Heero's cold voice confirmed from out of nowhere. I nearly jumped out of my skin when he spoke. He was so quiet that I thought he had left.
"So...so you guys are saying...that I have a chance of getting my sight back?" I asked incredulously in a trembling voice. What I was hearing was too good to be true. I still had my doubts.
"Exactly." Trowa replied. His voice was quiet but firm. I believed him.
"That's...that's great..." I commented in an awed voice, drawing my knees to my chest and wrapping my arms around them. I huddled in the corner of the sofa, rocking myself back and forth slowly.
I still couldn't comprehend the enormity of the situation, and my brain had yet to process the fact that one of my dreams, a dream that I had never believed in was finally going to come true.
I guess living five years in complete darkness did something to my head because the next thing I knew, my face was buried in my knees and I was crying. I couldn't stop myself no matter how hard I tried. My tears gushed in torrents and I could feel my body quivering violently from my exertions.
"Duo...? Are you alright?" Quatre asked uncertainly, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder.
My tears stopped abruptly like someone had just turned off the faucet, and the sane part of my mind that had somehow lost control of the situation, watched in horror as I began to laugh.
Actually that's an understatement. An insane cackling was more like it. I shot up from my position on the couch and started dancing madly around the living room, crashing into pieces of furniture and knocking over what could only be vases and picture frames.
It must've looked like I truly lost my mind, and I can only imagine the expressions on everyone's faces as they watched me twirl around, whooping and cackling as the room was slowly demolished around them.
Then I slipped on the carpet and smacked my head loudly against something hard, harder then my head if that was possible. It might've been the wall.
I awoke to the worst headache I've ever had in the world. Shit, what the hell happened? I was lying on something soft, and someone was slowly wiping my forehead with what felt like a wet towel.
"...Duo, are you awake?" Trowa asked. I knew he had spoken quietly, but to me, it seemed as if he had shouted in my ear. My head throbbed.
Groaning uncomfortably, I attempted to sit up, and hands came out of nowhere to assist me.
"Don't tell me I blacked out..." I grumble out loud, knowing somehow that it was exactly what had happened. Trowa sighed. "You're the first person I've ever known that got knocked unconscious by the wall." his tone was bland, but I could detect an undercurrent of humor in his voice.
I scowled. "Where's Quatre?"
The...whatever I was sitting on dipped slightly and I knew that Trowa had sat down beside me. Instinctively I exhaled and leaned against his side, resting my pounding head against what was probably his shoulder.
"He left to get us some dinner." Trowa replied shortly. "He should be coming back soon."
At the mention of dinner, my headache suddenly vanished, and energy rushed into my body. "Really?" I exclaimed happily, "What are we getting?"
Trowa snorted and I felt him gently brush the bangs from my face. "Knowing Quatre, it's probably some gourmet food that costed thirty credits a plate." I smile contentedly, thinking of oven-roasted chicken with herbs and a side of creamy crab- meat pasta, lightly seasoned with nutmeg and a garnish on the side.
Quatre was nineteen years old, just like me...yet he had somehow managed to secure a fortune that could probably buy him anything he wanted in the world. The guy was rich, insanely rich. I swear to god he lives in a mansion the size of a city!
I know this because three months ago, Quatre had invited us over for a visit, and I ended up spending a week lost and alone, wandering the miles of hallways and corridors that made up his home. It had been horrible, and I had nearly gone insane from the silence alone.
They found me eventually, when I decided to just sit in one place and scream my head off. Quatre had been so embarrased. But it was partly my fault too. I was stupid enough to wander off without Trowa by my side.
Well after my little adventure in Quatre's city-sized mansion, which was practically ninety-five percent empty, I begged Quatre to stay with us because I thought it was lonely for him to live by himself in such a huge home. Surprisingly Quatre agreed, and has been staying with us for the past month.
He's so nice to me...I really am grateful for Quatre's friendship.
It was an hour later when we were in the middle of eating our gourmet carrots and steaks when I finally remembered what had gone on earlier that day. My fork clattered to the table.
"Oh my god..."
After my embarrassing black out, I had completely forgot about the wonderful news Heero had brought with him earlier today. Speaking of Heero...I shot up from my seat so fast the chair probably knocked over.
"Heero! Where's Heero?!" I stammered, nearly hyperventilating with excitement. "Where's Heero? I need to talk to him!"
"Shh...Duo." Quatre rested his hands calmingly on my shoulders. "Heero left right after you...um...passed out. But don't worry, we know all that he knows, so you can ask us for the information."
I took a deep breath and slowed my pounding heart. "Ok...so...so when do I go in?" The fork was placed in my hand again, and I resumed eating to the best of my ability.
"You go in tomorrow." Trowa answered. "Heero will arrive around seven tomorrow morning to pick you up. Doctor J's laboratory is eight hours away by bullet-train, and another two hours by car. Unfortunately, Quatre and I cannot go with you, as the laboratory is a top secret facility...but we will go see you once the operation is over."
I swallowed hard, uncomfortable with the aspect of being left alone with Heero. That guy hadn't sounded too friendly when we were first introduced. "Uh...how long will this operation take?" I asked timidly.
Trowa sighed. "A week. This operation is actually a series of small laser treatments, and for convenience, Doctor J decided to provide accommodations for you while you are there."
I groaned aloud, but didn't really mind. I'd gladly stay there for the rest of my life if it meant getting my sight back. Quatre giggled...he does that a lot..."When you come back in a week, Duo, there will be a surprise waiting for you!"
I grinned. "Thanks, you guys. I dunno what I'd be without you." I didn't have to see to know that they both smiled.
That night I couldn't sleep.
**********************
The next day felt like it would never come. I hadn't slept a wink that night...too busy thinking of the things that I'd like to see first once the operation was over. After the next week, I wouldn't have to picture things in my head anymore.
With happy thought, I got up at six and showered, then fumbled my way into the kitchen and tried my hardest to make a decent breakfast with the microwave...since Trowa didn't trust me with the stove anymore.
The doorbell rang while I was still in the kitchen, eating my microwaved bacon and eggs.
"I'll get it!" Quatre shouted from the next room. If Quatre was awake, then that meant Trowa was too. I was right when I heard the shower turn on. Hey what can I say, this place has really thin walls...I heard the front door swing open, and then everything from there became a bad nightmare.
"He-Hey! Who are you guys?" Quatre's voice rang out suspiciously.
I frowned and strained my ears for the reply. There wasn't one. Instead, Quatre let out a startled yelp, and then there was silence. The silence stretched on for several minutes.
I was getting chills down my spine. What the hell just happened? Trowa was probably thinking the same thing, because the sound of the shower immediately ceased. "Quatre?" Trowa's muffled voice asked worriedly from inside the bathroom.
The greasy bacon still in my mouth suddenly made me wanna hurl. I swallowed hard and placed the plate and fork silently on the counter with unsteady hands.
Then the footsteps started.
Judging from the sounds they made against the carpet, I could tell that there were at least three people. Their steps were hard and heavy...definitely not Quatre.
Who were these intruders? Assassins? Thieves? I didn't know, but my breathing quickly became erratic, and my heartbeat was so loud that the sound of it filled my ears. I was scared shitless.
The door to the bathroom creaked open, and it wasn't hard to imagine Trowa walking out of there, a white towel wrapped around his waist, soap suds glistening in his hair. I bit my lip. Now was definitely not the time to fantasize about my best friend and old-time crush.
"Quatre! Is everything alright?" Trowa's voice was louder then usual, slightly tinged with panic. "Did something happen to Duo?" His voice was coming nearer, and the ominous footsteps paused.
I wanted to yell at him to run, to get away before something bad happened and he ended up like Quatre. Quatre...oh my god, I didn't even know what happened to Quatre! He could be dead, or close to it.
NO! I couldn't let something happen to Trowa. Not Trowa. Swallowing my fear, I took a deep breath and counted to three. "TROWA! There are intruders in the house! Get out! Find help!" I screamed as loudly as I could, my voice piercing through the thick silence like a gunshot in a chapel.
Two things happened at once. Trowa cursed loudly from wherever he was, and the heavy footsteps started again, much faster, and heading towards my direction. Gods, they were coming for me?! I couldn't see! I'd be completely defenseless...no, wait! Throwing open a kitchen drawer, I pulled out a handful of steak knives just as the door to the kitchen squeaked open.
Steeling myself, I drew back my arm and let one knife fly forward in the direction of the door.
Thunk. Someone screamed hoarsely and my lips involuntarily twitched upwards. It was good to know that I still had the touch. However my small victory was short-lived because a gloved hand suddenly closed around my wrist and I was dragged to the floor with a yelp.
Shit. I didn't even hear the second person sneaking up on me until it was too late. The cold metal barrel of a gun was pushed roughly against the back of my head, and I trembled so hard the remaining knives slipped out of my hand and clattered to the floor.
"You're coming with us." Someone growled into my ear. "Don't you dare try calling for help, pretty-boy. Your blonde friend has been tranquilized and the other will be taken care of too. Do as we say and you won't get hurt." I nodded shakily, and my kidnapper yanked me off the floor. "Put your hands behind your back, and walk."
We shuffled into the silent living room. "Tr-Trowa?" I called out timidly, earning a sharp jab in the back. Faintly I could hear Trowa's muffled shouting, and a lot of pounding. "He's barricaded in a closet." The voice next to me explained with a humorless chuckle. "And he's also taken out my other partner. You've got some kind of friend if he could take out Alpha.
"Whatcha gonna do to me?" I asked in a shaky voice.
"The Boss wanted you alive so now I'm gonna bring you to him."
"So...you're not gonna kill me."
"Naw, not yet. Like I said, I gotta take you to the Boss. You sure did a number on Beta there though; knife got him right in the heart. Too bad."
"...You don't sound very unhappy about the fact that your partners are dead."
He laughed and I cringed. "Of course not! Now that they're dead, I'll get to be Alpha! Can you believe it? Three weeks into the business and I'm already gonna be at the top of the ladder.
This guy was a complete idiot. He was basically telling me that he was an inexperienced, power hungry fool. With all my training, I might actually have a chance at getting away, even without my eyes.
"Move." The guy growled, pushing me towards the direction of the door. "And watch out for your friend on the ground. Move right three paces." A wave of anger washed over me. I felt sick and disgusted with myself. I used to be one of the elite spies during the war! Just because I was blind didn't mean that I had to be completely helpless.
And my captor was stupid anyway. He was only a rookie, and there was no way I'd go down without a fight.
I was held at gunpoint until we were out the front door. The moment I felt hard marble beneath my feet, I bolted down the hall, ignoring his cries of protest. The guy said he needed me alive, so the chance that he wouldn't shoot me was very likely. Boy was I wrong.
The first shot whistled right past my ear, and the second one went straight through my side.
The pain took me by surprise and I collapsed to the floor with a sharp hiss. "You shouldn't have run!" He called out cheerfully. I mentally berated myself. Weak, Maxwell. Taken down by only one hit? That's pathetic. And by a psychotic rookie besides...unforgivable. I gritted my teeth, remembering the times when I could take three shots and keep running.
The guy had won and he knew it. I was on the verge of passing out from blood-loss anyway. There was no more fight left in me.
Suddenly the elevator dinged and the sound of the doors rolled open. I took the chance that my captor would be startled by the sound, and scrambled the few feet into the elevator, ignoring the white hot stab of pain that came from my jarred wound...as well as the shrill, ear bursting scream of a woman that had accompanied the elevator on its trip up.
Gunshots rained around us, and I ducked to the side, but not before a bullet grazed my cheek, giving me another pain to deal with. The woman was still screaming.
"Shut up and shut the fucking doors!" I yelled. The control panel wasn't on my side, so I knew it was on hers unless she was stupid enough to stand in the middle and get shot. By now I was more scared then angry because any moment now, my crazy kidnapper would barge his way into the elevator and murder us all.
Judging from the bullet wound in my side, it probably really didn't matter whether he brought me in alive or dead, though I'd much rather prefer alive.
The rolling of the doors told me that the woman had finally pushed the 'doors close' button, even if she hadn't stopped screaming. It was just in time too, because the moment the doors slid shut, the sound of a heavy body slamming against it reverberated throughout the compartment.
The elevator began to move downwards, and I realized the woman must've pressed another button. She was still gasping loudly and whimpering, but thankfully her screams had subsided. Geez...maybe I was kinda lucky to have the rookie be the one to kidnap me...even though he shot me pretty bad.
An experienced guy would've just barged into the elevator and grabbed me. I wasn't armed except for my fingernails, and completely blind to boot. Heh, he probably really wanted to kill me. Thank gods for war experience and idiot kidnappers.
"A-Are you alright?" A deep, manly voice asked me softly.
I nearly jumped up in fright. "Who's there!" I demanded, huddling closer to the corner of the elevator.
Another whimper and a sniffle.
"You...you're bleeding!" The man's voice exclaimed, alarmed.
"Yeah, I got shot. Um...how many people are in here?"
"Just you and me." The man replied, his voice sounding closer then before. "Hey...do you need any help? You don't look so good." I would've laughed if my blood wasn't pouring all over the floor. "You scream like a woman." I told him dryly. "What floor are we heading to?"
The man sniffled again, seemingly not offended by my remark. "Ground floor." It sounded like he was on the verge of tears. "I...I was so scared when the shooting started." He wailed, making all sorts of pitiful blubbering noises.
I sighed. Just my luck to be stuck in the elevator with a wuss of a man. The guy poked me in the shoulder. "H..Hey! Keep your eyes open." He whispered. "Don't fall asleep! You gotta protect me from that psycho out there!" I groaned aloud.
"Mister, I'm blind. I've been shot pretty bad, and if you hadn't noticed, I'm bleedin' all over the floor. Now shut up and leave me alone!" He fell quiet with another one of those annoying whimpers.
The good thing about our elevator was that it moved nearly as fast as those bullet trains in downtown. I didn't have to worry about my abductor going to a lower level and stopping the elevator from there, because the elevator would be going faster then he could get down the fire escape. Nowadays, elevators have to be fast because apartment buildings are super high, and ours had about nine hundred floors.
Trowa and I lived on the seventh hundred floor.
I was fighting a losing battle with unconsciousness. My head hurt, my cheek stung...my bullet wound felt like it was on fire. My entire body was sore. And to top it all off, I was so worried about my friends upstairs that I felt like throwing up.
What if that psycho went back to kill them...and I couldn't do anything about it because I was trapped in here?
I sighed and leaned back against the carpeted wall behind me, trying to think of positive things. Nah, Trowa used to be in the War like me. He was good enough not to get killed by that guy.
The doors to the elevator swished open with a ding.
We had reached ground floor already. Gritting my teeth, I staggered to my feet painfully and couldn't help but slump against the wall with a low groan. It hurt so much..."Hey mister, d'ya think you can gimme a hand here?" I asked softly.
No answer.
I scowled. Had the wuss bolted already? I can't believe people sometimes. Here I am, bleeding to death and all he can do is run to save his own hide? Come to think of it, I hadn't even heard him leave. Damn, I must be more out of it then I thought.
With a long suffering sigh, I staggered out of the elevator, fighting every urge to collapse in a small heap on the floor. I couldn't give up. My friends were counting on me. One, I needed a phone to all the police. Two, I needed medical help and fast. But I couldn't complete number one without getting to the apartment's receptionists desk, which was a good five minutes walk away.
I was also paranoid about the guy who had shot me. Even though I had gotten a head start on him, it was only a matter of time before he caught me, especially if he was using the elevators.
I walked faster...err; rather, I staggered faster, my footsteps echoed loudly in the silent hallway, which only increased my discomfort. It was harder to remember which directions I had to take, and how many steps I had already taken. Twice I accidentally bumped into a wall, which jarred my wound and made it all the more tempting to give up.
I was two halls away from my destination when someone grabbed me.
My heart wrenched sickeningly in my chest. Oh Gods no, I had been caught! I had let Trowa and Quatre down! I was doomed!
I struggled against the large, strong hands of my captor. "Let me go god damn you!" I shrieked, twisting in his firm grasp and kicking him to the best of my ability.
I was hysterical, and I didn't care. If this guy wanted me, he was gonna have to take all that I could dish out. I scratched, I punched, and I kicked as hard as I could...which wasn't much. My entire world was a burning bright red...even though I couldn't see that color. I was filled with rage, with hurt, with pain, and my head was so clouded that I almost didn't register the voice that spoke to me. It was low and masculine, yet tinged with a hint of urgency.
"Don't move! I'm not going to hurt you. You're bleeding, let me help!"
Distantly I noted that this voice was different then the one of my captors. My struggles slowed, and then ceased altogether. "Who...wha-" I asked hoarsely before falling into a fit of coughing.
I was at the end of my strength. Fighting had taken its toll on me, and this new guy was probably not very surprised when my knees buckled and I began to fall.
He caught me.
I felt myself being lifted up in to strong, sure arms and cradled against a hard chest that smelled faintly of strawberries and spice. It was a familiar scent...
"Heero? Is...that...you?" I mumbled softly.
"Aa."
"Thank gods." I heard myself whisper, before losing consciousness.