Well, now that I got that Pre-Story Fun out of my system...Time
for the story!
Disclaimer: I own nothing remotely Gundam Wing related except for this fic, my other fic, and the various Gundam models decorating my dresser top next to my Sailor Moon alarm clock, the crapload of half used candles that are currently burning and making my room smell nice, and other assorted oddball objects. ^^
Warning: Heavy drinking, profanity, impending yaoi (1x2x1), and lots and lots of angst. Of course, this is -me- writing this. Buwaha, I'm evil. Beware of my 'Sleepless Musings' too while we're doing warnings...One of those is sure to pop in between one of these chapters...
I think that's everything, so now...TO THE BAT CAVE ROBIN!
*cough* *ahem* I mean- On with the story!
Nowhere To Run
_________________________________________________________________ ______________
***
"Give me another."
The bartender looked at the Japanese boy apprehensively, he had only been at the bar for an hour, this must have been his twentieth drink and he wasn't showing any sign of being plastered. Then he was hit with an all out Death Glare, though a bit unfocused, it still packed its same unnerving potency that made OZ officers afraid.
"Your funeral buddy," the bartender shook his head and slid down another glass.
After Mariemaia and Dekim Barton's brief attempt at starting another war against the UESA, Heero had stayed as a bodyguard for Relena for only a month before suddenly disappearing from existence. He didn't know what to do anymore, he wasn't needed to kill or fight, there were no more wars to win. Heero felt like a hindrance to Relena's hard earned peace, despite the fact Wing Zero was gone along with the other Gundams, he was just a discarded soldier who knew nothing but the battlefield. That was how he found himself in the darkest parts of L1, his tracks meticulously covered of course, it was natural instincts to not want to be discovered, in a crappy hellhole trying to pass as an apartment. Heero had been introduced to the pain-alleviating alcohol.
That was three years ago though, and his routine ever since had been to sit in his same stool in the bar around the corner from his 'apartment' and shoot back drink after drink until he didn't think he could take anymore. Then he would stagger home, sleep it off, and find himself right back in the bar again.
The bartender didn't care he was serving an eighteen year old, just as long as he was paid, which he was. Throughout the entire time Heero had been coming, the bartender knew nothing about him; he was the most silent customer he ever had. It didn't help that he glared off or threatened to kill anyone who dared try to approach him. The bartender watched as the Japanese boy nearly inhaled his drink, but before he could ask for another, the door opened up with a bang and a group of loudly talking, rowdy young guys in dirty black overalls came in.
"The Sweepers back in the area again? I thought you were just here a few months ago!" he asked conversationally, thankful to get away Heero's end of the bar.
One of the shorter ones jumped up on the barstool in front of him as the others filtered around to different seats, a long braid flickered behind. "Yeah we were, but we got called back to pick up those busted freight ships, if we can't fix 'em then we gotta take 'em with us to base and sell parts," he answered indifferently.
Heero's cobalt eyes went wide; he could recognize that cheerful voice anywhere. He slouched down a bit and looked across the counter, the big grin on the Sweeper's face only cementing it.
It was Duo.
Damn. It was definitely not what he needed. All the alcohol seemed to suddenly rush to his head and he felt dizzy.
"So, a buddy of mine recommended this place to us, is it really as good as he claims it is?" Duo asked, only playing around.
"Everyone in here's a regular," the bartender chuckled. "The guy at the end there, he's been coming for the past three years, if you need any more reassuring."
Heero hastily turned his back to them, propping his elbows on the counter to keep himself steady.
-Definitely- not his night.
Duo's expression went quite serious as he glanced over at him. "Three years, huh?" There was something oddly familiar about 'the guy', but his couldn't quite place it, he kind of looked like someone he might have know on L2. Duo had gone back there to see the orphans that had been adopted before Maxwell Church Tragedy after the Mariemaia incident before rejoining the Sweepers with Howard. He thought Solo would have been proud at how many he had managed to save after he died.
"Yep," he nodded. "Quiet one though. Doesn't let anyone talk to him, threatens them in Japanese or something like that."
Duo's heart stopped. 'Heero?'
***
It couldn't be him. So why would he be plainly showing himself in a bar?
He obviously hadn't wanted anything to do with the ex-pilots or Relena by the way he just vanished without a word. Duo painfully remembered when Relena had come to Quatre while he had been visiting one day, simpering about having not seen Heero in a good few days. He may respect her as a politician, but when she got all soppy, her voice took on a horrible nails-on-chalkboard tone. At first they wrote it off, but a good few days turned into a month, and a month turned into six, and six turned to a year. Duo had tried his hardest to search, with Wufei preoccupied with the Preventers and Trowa helping Quatre with running the Winner enterprise, he was the only one not busy enough to be able to look while colony-Earth hopping with the Sweeper group and Howard.
He had given up when the two-year mark hit and went on with his life.
So it couldn't be him, not after Duo had long bowed to the inevitable, the Perfect Soldier couldn't have become so careless.
Could he?
***
As Heero listened to the bartender talking to Duo about him, he almost felt compelled to go and reveal himself. But then Duo laughed it off and ordered a round of tequila shooters for him and the rest of the Sweepers, returning the topic to the freight ships and obviously not wishing to chat about nameless bar-goers that entirely fit the description of his missing partner.
That quelled Heero's urge. There had been a sad tinge to the braided boy's laughter and he felt as if showing himself after three years would only hurt more. It was best just to stay hidden.
Only when Duo went to rejoin the overall-clad group did he turn around to get a better view. He didn't appear to have grown all too much since the last time Heero had seen him, but his hair had, he couldn't remember seeing his plait so long. He seemed a lot more matured; more subdued compared to the wild, spontaneous Shinigami from the wars.
Heero realized he had been staring when one of the Sweepers pointed over at him, he hung his head down and tossed some money on the counter, sliding off the barstool and leaving.
By the time Duo had craned his neck to look back at the 'weirdo' his friend was indicating, he was gone.
"Coulda sworn he was starin' at you Maxwell," he shrugged. Someone loudly proposed a drinking contest and Heero had been forgotten as Duo automatically volunteered to be the first challenger.
***
Disclaimer: I own nothing remotely Gundam Wing related except for this fic, my other fic, and the various Gundam models decorating my dresser top next to my Sailor Moon alarm clock, the crapload of half used candles that are currently burning and making my room smell nice, and other assorted oddball objects. ^^
Warning: Heavy drinking, profanity, impending yaoi (1x2x1), and lots and lots of angst. Of course, this is -me- writing this. Buwaha, I'm evil. Beware of my 'Sleepless Musings' too while we're doing warnings...One of those is sure to pop in between one of these chapters...
I think that's everything, so now...TO THE BAT CAVE ROBIN!
*cough* *ahem* I mean- On with the story!
Nowhere To Run
_________________________________________________________________ ______________
***
"Give me another."
The bartender looked at the Japanese boy apprehensively, he had only been at the bar for an hour, this must have been his twentieth drink and he wasn't showing any sign of being plastered. Then he was hit with an all out Death Glare, though a bit unfocused, it still packed its same unnerving potency that made OZ officers afraid.
"Your funeral buddy," the bartender shook his head and slid down another glass.
After Mariemaia and Dekim Barton's brief attempt at starting another war against the UESA, Heero had stayed as a bodyguard for Relena for only a month before suddenly disappearing from existence. He didn't know what to do anymore, he wasn't needed to kill or fight, there were no more wars to win. Heero felt like a hindrance to Relena's hard earned peace, despite the fact Wing Zero was gone along with the other Gundams, he was just a discarded soldier who knew nothing but the battlefield. That was how he found himself in the darkest parts of L1, his tracks meticulously covered of course, it was natural instincts to not want to be discovered, in a crappy hellhole trying to pass as an apartment. Heero had been introduced to the pain-alleviating alcohol.
That was three years ago though, and his routine ever since had been to sit in his same stool in the bar around the corner from his 'apartment' and shoot back drink after drink until he didn't think he could take anymore. Then he would stagger home, sleep it off, and find himself right back in the bar again.
The bartender didn't care he was serving an eighteen year old, just as long as he was paid, which he was. Throughout the entire time Heero had been coming, the bartender knew nothing about him; he was the most silent customer he ever had. It didn't help that he glared off or threatened to kill anyone who dared try to approach him. The bartender watched as the Japanese boy nearly inhaled his drink, but before he could ask for another, the door opened up with a bang and a group of loudly talking, rowdy young guys in dirty black overalls came in.
"The Sweepers back in the area again? I thought you were just here a few months ago!" he asked conversationally, thankful to get away Heero's end of the bar.
One of the shorter ones jumped up on the barstool in front of him as the others filtered around to different seats, a long braid flickered behind. "Yeah we were, but we got called back to pick up those busted freight ships, if we can't fix 'em then we gotta take 'em with us to base and sell parts," he answered indifferently.
Heero's cobalt eyes went wide; he could recognize that cheerful voice anywhere. He slouched down a bit and looked across the counter, the big grin on the Sweeper's face only cementing it.
It was Duo.
Damn. It was definitely not what he needed. All the alcohol seemed to suddenly rush to his head and he felt dizzy.
"So, a buddy of mine recommended this place to us, is it really as good as he claims it is?" Duo asked, only playing around.
"Everyone in here's a regular," the bartender chuckled. "The guy at the end there, he's been coming for the past three years, if you need any more reassuring."
Heero hastily turned his back to them, propping his elbows on the counter to keep himself steady.
-Definitely- not his night.
Duo's expression went quite serious as he glanced over at him. "Three years, huh?" There was something oddly familiar about 'the guy', but his couldn't quite place it, he kind of looked like someone he might have know on L2. Duo had gone back there to see the orphans that had been adopted before Maxwell Church Tragedy after the Mariemaia incident before rejoining the Sweepers with Howard. He thought Solo would have been proud at how many he had managed to save after he died.
"Yep," he nodded. "Quiet one though. Doesn't let anyone talk to him, threatens them in Japanese or something like that."
Duo's heart stopped. 'Heero?'
***
It couldn't be him. So why would he be plainly showing himself in a bar?
He obviously hadn't wanted anything to do with the ex-pilots or Relena by the way he just vanished without a word. Duo painfully remembered when Relena had come to Quatre while he had been visiting one day, simpering about having not seen Heero in a good few days. He may respect her as a politician, but when she got all soppy, her voice took on a horrible nails-on-chalkboard tone. At first they wrote it off, but a good few days turned into a month, and a month turned into six, and six turned to a year. Duo had tried his hardest to search, with Wufei preoccupied with the Preventers and Trowa helping Quatre with running the Winner enterprise, he was the only one not busy enough to be able to look while colony-Earth hopping with the Sweeper group and Howard.
He had given up when the two-year mark hit and went on with his life.
So it couldn't be him, not after Duo had long bowed to the inevitable, the Perfect Soldier couldn't have become so careless.
Could he?
***
As Heero listened to the bartender talking to Duo about him, he almost felt compelled to go and reveal himself. But then Duo laughed it off and ordered a round of tequila shooters for him and the rest of the Sweepers, returning the topic to the freight ships and obviously not wishing to chat about nameless bar-goers that entirely fit the description of his missing partner.
That quelled Heero's urge. There had been a sad tinge to the braided boy's laughter and he felt as if showing himself after three years would only hurt more. It was best just to stay hidden.
Only when Duo went to rejoin the overall-clad group did he turn around to get a better view. He didn't appear to have grown all too much since the last time Heero had seen him, but his hair had, he couldn't remember seeing his plait so long. He seemed a lot more matured; more subdued compared to the wild, spontaneous Shinigami from the wars.
Heero realized he had been staring when one of the Sweepers pointed over at him, he hung his head down and tossed some money on the counter, sliding off the barstool and leaving.
By the time Duo had craned his neck to look back at the 'weirdo' his friend was indicating, he was gone.
"Coulda sworn he was starin' at you Maxwell," he shrugged. Someone loudly proposed a drinking contest and Heero had been forgotten as Duo automatically volunteered to be the first challenger.
***