Afterimages

Part 3

By Mieren

Author's note: (I don't usually put these here, but this time I think it's necessary.)

Warning! This is very dark and disturbed, even by my standards. Contains graphic violence, rape and death. This is YAOI (if you don't know, don't ask, just run now). If you're not comfortable with it, don't read! I'm not responsible for any nightmares or bouts of nausea related to reading this. Suing me will only get you a headache. (I'm a student. I own nothing.) Any and all flames will be laughed at, printed and used to wipe my butt. So there.

Wufei fidgeted, looking out the helicopter's window. He had dragged Sally and several other doctors with him to the landing pad the moment he realized that Heero was no longer in the office. His instincts had told him where the two missing pilots were, and that knowledge worried him. He had wasted no time in hotwiring one of the Preventer helicopters and sending it screaming towards the apartment his friends shared. Friend, he corrected himself. If what he suspected was true, one of his former colleagues had officially made his hit list.

He glanced out the window again, face grim. No matter how his mind told him that he could cover the distance four times faster than Heero could in his car, he was worried. That still left Heero at the apartment fifteen minutes ahead of him. Assuming, of course, that the stoic pilot had returned there.

When he didn't immediately see a landing spot, he set the helicopter down on one of the cars in the lot, completely crushing the vehicle. He was out of the helicopter and running towards the room while the doctors were still trying to right themselves after having been thrown around by the rough landing. Wufei's mind kept screaming at him that he needed to hurry, and he wasn't about to go against his instincts.

Nearing the proper door, he leapt into the air, crashing into the wood with his foot leading. The heavy wooden door splintered inwards, giving the Chinese pilot a clear view of the living room. Wufei felt his blood run cold.

Duo lay motionless in a pool of his own blood, his limbs hanging at strange angles, his throat and chest crushed and discolored. He was stripped from his normal black clothes, Heero looming above him, obviously halting his actions from the interruption of Wufei kicking in the door.

Feeling helpless, Wufei couldn't stop his gaze from flickering over the American. Every inch of his skin was either covered in blood, discolored from bone deep bruises, or far too pale. His violet eyes, normally so guileless and carefree, were rolled back in his head, staring blankly at the far wall. Pain lanced through Wufei's heart when he realized that the braided pilot wasn't breathing.

Movement drew him from his shock. Heero had lurched for his gun, which was strapped to the belt he had discarded. Wufei's gun was closer, still on his hip, but Heero was inhumanly fast. The twinned crack of dual gunfire was heard, echoing strangely loud in the room. For several seconds, the two Asiatic pilots stared at each other, cobalt eyes boring into black. Time stood still while the two impassive pilots glared death.

Finally, Wufei broke the silence, grunting as he staggered to the side, gun slipping from numbed fingers to clatter to the floor. His left hand rose jerkily to press against his right shoulder, staunching the violent flow of blood. He raised his ebony gaze to the Japanese pilot, waiting for the second shot to come.

To his surprise, the gun slipped from Heero's grasp, landing heavily on the floor. Wufei smirked, realizing that his own shot hadn't missed. Both of the pilots were crack shots, but the Chinese pilot had had an instant's more time. Blood trickled down Heero's face, testimony to the raven-haired pilot's true aim.

Life fled from the Persian eyes. Heero slumped to the side, wavering unsteadily. No matter what his training, his body finally gave out. He collapsed to the floor, dead. Unwilling to take chances, Wufei snagged his gun off the floor and put three more bullets through the Japanese pilot's skull, tears streaming down his tanned face.

The entire exchange had only taken a few seconds. In that time, Sally and her colleagues had caught up with the Chinese pilot. They found him on his knees, head down and arms folded tightly as he fought to keep from sobbing. His stubborn willpower overtook him the moment they entered the door. Still not raising his eyes, he pointed towards Duo's limp form, silently commanding them to help the American pilot instead of him.

Sally rested her hand against his good shoulder for a mere instant before rushing to do as she was told.

Wufei remained motionless for over a minute, not daring to breathe. Cold rationale overtook him, forcing him to regain his feet and move out the broken door. Until told otherwise, he would believe that the braided pilot was alive. With that assumption, he knew that the helicopter needed to be started up again. Duo needed to be taken to a hospital and Wufei would not be the one to deny him that.

Trying to steady his nerves, Wufei started up the engines, watching silently as the doctors boarded the helicopter with Duo's limp form carried between them. He lifted off immediately, pushing the engines to the fullest extent as he raced for the nearest hospital.

Duo had been in surgery for over thirty hours.

In the waiting room, three pilots waited in silence for some notice from the doctors. Quatre varied from fidgeting to pacing to harassing the nurses on the state of his friend. On occasion, he tried to cuddle up next to Trowa for comfort, but the expressionless pilot didn't respond, seeming more interested in staring at his hands where they were curled in his lap. He refused to meet anyone's gaze.

Wufei sat a little ways away from everyone else, his arms wrapped tightly around his chest as he stared into space, covered from head to foot in blood. Most of it was Duo's. After landing the helicopter, he had personally carried Duo into the emergency room, not waiting for the slower doctors that were still scrambling out of the craft. He barely allowed a resident to wrap the bullet wound in his shoulder, insisting that he didn't need medical treatment. Despite numerous efforts on the part of both Quatre and several of the nurses, he refused to leave to clean himself up, replying endlessly to the entreaties that he would not leave until he knew.

Zechs and Noin stayed in the waiting room with the pilots for a few minutes after being informed on what had happened. After that, they had been forced to vacate to keep the press at bay. Somehow, it had leaked that one Preventer had brutally beaten another to the brink of death and that he had been killed by a vengeful colleague. Despite the irritation of being the only two people to fight the vultures with their cameras, they found that it was better than thinking about what had happened. And anything was better than letting the press near the three waiting pilots. Zechs suspected that in the mood Wufei was in, he wouldn't hesitate to shoot one of the nosy reporters.

When the platinum blond saw Sally coming, he pulled a gun on the reporters and threatened to shoot them if they didn't get out of the building immediately. Not surprisingly, they ignored him, believing the threat to be an empty one. Growling, he loosed four shots, clipping a few shoulders. Though the bullets only grazed the shocked reporters, the sight of blood seemed to get through to them and they left quickly.

Sally gave him a weary look, not bothering to comment on his methods. The two Preventers followed her into the room, the three pilots within meeting her almost before she could fully enter the room. She motioned them to sit, refusing to speak until all five had done so.

She had to pause to steel her nerves, worried about how the pilots would take the news. Zechs and Noin, she wasn't as worried about. They hadn't been Duo's best friends.

"Duo's alive," she said simply. The tension in the room visibly faded with her words, but not completely. They could tell from her expression that something was still wrong. She paused for another few seconds, desperately trying to think of a way to say what she needed to. Trowa prompted her when the others seemed unable to speak.

"What aren't you telling us?" he asked. Sally glanced at him, surprised by the guilt in his voice.

"He was clinically dead when we found him," she said softly. "To be honest, I never thought we would be able to revive him. His injuries are like nothing I've ever seen… I could keep the list going for over an hour. All of his ribs were shattered, a lot of them were piercing his lungs and one was through his heart. His right shoulder was dislocated. His right arm was broken in four places and his left in eighteen. Both of his hips were dislocated. His legs were broken in more than a dozen places." She paused, clenching her teeth as she fought with herself to get out the last part of it. "And the back of his skull was shattered."

"He'll recover, though, won't he?" Quatre asked, looking up with teary eyes. When she hesitated, Zechs looked up, face stricken.

"Sally?"

"No," Sally whispered. It nearly broke her heart when she saw that Quatre was openly crying. The stricken look on Wufei's face didn't help. "Not entirely. The blow to his head shattered his skull. There was considerable cerebral hemorrhaging. Several bone fragments had to be removed from the occipital lobes. There was no way to repair the damage." She stopped again. Before continuing, she closed her eyes so she wouldn't have to see the looks on the other pilots' faces. "If he comes out of the coma he's currently in, he'll be blind."

Somehow, not seeing anything was worse than she had imagined. Opening her eyes, she glanced at the other five people in the room, instantly regretting it. Zechs and Noin both had a broken look that tore at her heart. Quatre was openly weeping. Trowa had curled in on himself, the guilt-ridden look on his face growing worse by the second. Even Wufei, who she had suspected had hated the American pilot, was staring at the floor, unbidden tears escaping his ebony eyes.

"Go home," she said softly. "I'll call you if… when he regains consciousness. I don't expect him to for several weeks, at the very least."

Wufei was the first to leave the room. When the others finally got over their shock to follow him, they found a trail of unconscious and battered reporters in his wake.

Three months passed. Although Duo's injuries slowly healed, he showed no signs of waking. His hair, which the surgeons had been forced to cut off prior to the hasty brain surgery, was beginning to grow to a length where he would once again be able to catch it in a ponytail. The other pilots and numerous coworkers stopped to see him, but no one stayed long, uncomfortable with the sight of the pale teen on life support.

One of the machines began to beep persistently, drawing the attention of the hospital staff. Sally ran into the small room immediately, glancing at the equipment before hastily leaving. She grabbed the first phone she could find, dialing a number rapidly.

"He's waking up."

Once again, the Preventers found themselves missing a helicopter as Wufei decided it was the most expedient way to reach the hospital. He wasn't surprised to see a second helicopter setting down recklessly on a nearby landing pad, the blond pilot launching himself out of the craft almost before it was fully on the ground. A tall, lanky brunette jumped out right behind him. Wufei was only a few steps behind them.

Only a few minutes had passed since Sally's call. The three pilots arrived in the small room to find Duo very groggy and only partially awake. Several groans and curses were heard as the bedridden pilot tried to push himself to a sitting position. Most of his muscles had atrophied from lack of use. The effort of using his withered muscles for such a menial movement left him momentarily winded, his lungs weakened from his injuries.

Quatre moved forward hopefully. He placed one hand on Duo's arm tentatively.

"Duo?"

At the gentle touch, Duo recoiled violently. He wrenched his arm away from the blond and lurched in the opposite direction, almost throwing himself off the other side of the narrow hospital bed. Wide violet eyes flickered aimlessly across the room, blindly seeking for the source of the voice. Quatre stepped back, desolate, tears streaming from his aquamarine eyes when he saw that Duo was shivering in fear, close to hyperventilating.

Unsure of what to do, Quatre moved away. After a few minutes, Duo calmed a little, though his eyes still flickered uselessly across the room. A slight shift in position drew his attention to his cropped hair hanging loosely around his jaw. Immediately, his hands moved to examine his braid. His left arm stopped well short of reaching the back of his neck, the decimated muscles hindering his movement, the shattered bones in his arm having destroyed the surrounding tissues. Undaunted, he wrapped his right hand around the loose ends, brow furrowing at the shortened length. He abandoned his hair only moments later in favor of inspecting his left arm, obviously trying to reason out why it no longer moved correctly.

Throughout the self-examination, Wufei remained silent and still, watching. Eventually, Duo's hands moved towards his eyes, fingers brushing against the open lids before experimentally moving a few inches in front of his sightless violet eyes. Unable to watch any longer, Wufei spoke up.

"Maxwell…"

Anything further he might have said died in his throat when Duo flattened himself against the headboard of the tiny bed, trying to move away from the source of the noise. His eyes were locked in Wufei's direction. The violet orbs slowly flickered to either side of the Chinese pilot, futilely trying to pinpoint the source of the voice. Unable to see who was in the room, he spoke tentatively.

"Heero?" he asked. Wufei scowled, furious that the first words from the violet-eyed teen had been an inquiry about his attacker.

"He's not here," Wufei answered stiffly. His anger immediately deflated when Duo visibly relaxed. He silently reprimanded himself for being upset with the terrified brunette. The American had only been trying to calm his nerves.

"Trowa?" Duo asked, still shivering against the headboard.

"I'm here," Trowa responded quickly.

The transformation was immediate. Duo's expression shifted from terror to pure rage. Before anyone could react, he launched himself out of bed towards the European pilot. An earsplitting crack echoed through the room as Duo proved that even in his miserable condition he had a mean right hook. The force of the blow knocked both Trowa and Duo off their feet.

"I asked you for help!" Duo yelled. He shrunk in on himself, curling into a trembling knot on the floor. Tears slipped from his vacant amethyst eyes, his voice dropping to a miserable whimper. "I begged you."

Wufei nearly exploded. Visibly seething, he rounded on Trowa, ready to beat the brunette pilot into oblivion if what he had just heard proved to be true. Quatre simply stared at his lover in hurt disbelief. Neither had a chance to say anything. Sally and three surgeons sprinted into the room, hastily responding to the silence of the monitoring equipment Duo had unintentionally unhooked when he had lunged across the room. Cold fury swept across the doctor's face when she saw the American on the floor.

"What are you doing?" she snapped, rushing to Duo's side. Her eyes flickered over his shivering form, trying to find any injuries. When the other three pilots stood watching her, stunned, she turned on them in her frustration. "Get out! All of you! Out!"

Wufei physically dragged Trowa from the room, intent on beating an answer out of him if necessary. Still in shock at the revelation that his lover had known what was happening, Quatre followed them silently out of the room. His final glance back to the room allowed him a glimpse of Duo struggling with the doctors, desperate to escape.

Unable to get the panic-stricken teen back into the hospital bed, Sally finally left the room, returning quickly with a hypodermic needle full of a potent sedative. As much as she hated to drug the American, his breathing was growing ragged and he was beginning to sweat profusely. Worried that he would do damage to his recovering lungs or heart, she quickly injected the tranquilizer. The exhausted pilot quickly collapsed into unconsciousness.

The next time Duo regained consciousness, he was careful to hide the fact that he was coherent, his instincts from the war flaring to life in response to his battered emotions. His respiration didn't change in the slightest. His heartbeat only flickered a hint faster before settling to its previous rhythm. Remaining perfectly still and completely silent, he tried to listen to his surroundings to determine what was going on. He was tempted to open his eyes a crack to look around, but he was afraid to, remembering the state of his vision the last time he was awake.

There were a few beeping noises he disregarded immediately. Whatever they were, they were automated and not relevant. After a few moments, he decided that he could hear someone breathing. Someone was beside the bed he was lying in. He struggled with himself to keep from flinching at the proximity of whoever else was in the room. Finally, he managed to calm his nerves enough to listen carefully to the person beside him. The breaths were smooth and slow, perfectly steady in rhythm. Duo allowed himself to smirk. Whoever was in the room was asleep.

Wiggling experimentally, Duo found that he was not tied down in any way. The only thing he found holding him in place were a few measly needles buried in his arms, which he removed immediately, and a couple of electrodes attached to his chest to monitor his heart.

Silently, he slipped off of the bed, scowling when his legs threatened to give out. He was careful to steady himself before moving over to the equipment. He knew that a change in the pattern of beeps or a complete absence of them would probably wake up whoever was in the room. Undaunted, he ran his hands over the equipment beside his bed. Within the span of a few seconds, he had the side off and was tracing the wiring with his fingers.

Fifteen minutes later, he had the machine completely rewired. Before, it would have taken him under a minute, but unable to see what he was looking at, he had been forced to trace each and every wire with his fingertips. Finished, he pulled the irritating wires from his chest, clenching his jaw when the sticky pads yanked painfully at his skin.

Ignoring the fact that he was winded, he walked away from the monitoring equipment, hands held in front of him. After he had found the wall with his fingertips, he left one hand trailing the wall as he walked slowly around the room, free hand leading. He came to a corner. Swiping his free hand along the new wall, he frowned. Cursing his luck, he started in the other direction. He met another corner. His searching hands found a door immediately next to it.

Instincts flared to life again and he paused, pressing one ear to the door. Violet eyes widened in shock at the sheer amount of noise just outside of the door. Several conversations were going on and more footsteps than he could count resounded from just outside the door.

Torn between escaping the room and hiding from the people outside, he hesitated. The small pause was all the time needed for the occupant of the room to rouse and spot him.

"Maxwell?"

Hearing the word, Duo flattened himself to the wall, trying to back through it. His training fought with him and he raised his fists shakily. The result of the combined actions left him with his legs sprawled at awkward angles, arms extended in a fashion not conducive to his balance, and his back still pressed firmly against the wall. He was aware he was hyperventilating, but he didn't care. The only thing that mattered was staying away from any threats. In his terrified state, however, saw everyone as a deadly threat.

"Why are you out of bed?"

Duo stiffened, desperately trying to gauge the location of whoever was in the room. He was surprised when he realized that whoever had been by his bed hadn't moved. Minimally calmed by the realization, he let his mind pick apart the soft words. He knew that voice. He tentatively called out to the other person in the room.

"Wufei?"

Hearing a slight shift from near the bed, he flattened himself more firmly against the wall, his instincts and training vanishing in the midst of his terror. The movement immediately halted.

"Did you need something?" Wufei asked softly.

"N-no," Duo stammered. "I just…"

"Felt like dismantling something in the hospital?" Wufei supplied.

"You saw that?" Duo asked timidly. He shifted uncomfortably, wondering just how long the Chinese teen had been awake.

"No," Wufei answered. Duo swore he could hear a smirk in his voice. "But that fact that it's still on and you're on the other side of the room was my first hint. The second would be that you forgot to put it back together."

Duo blinked, frowning slightly as he wondered how he could have forgotten something so simple. Reflexively, his eyes flickered towards where he could still hear the machine beeping, the removed panel sitting beside it. He visibly flinched when he realized he was still trying to look at objects in the room. Wufei saw his expression and tried to distract him.

"Now," he started, pausing when Duo flinched again at the sound of his voice. He forced himself to ignore the jumpiness and continued. "Why don't you get back in bed? If the onna catches you out of bed again, I'm going to get kicked out." When Duo didn't respond, he continued his attempt to get the traumatized American to move on his own. He was wary of touching the brunette after what had happened the last time. "Come on, Maxwell. If Po kicks me out of here, I'm going to have to put up with Winner. You've seen the expression he gets when he pouts."

That got a reaction. Duo flinched and turned his head away. Wufei silently began cursing his stupidity in mentioning anything related to vision. The next words out of Duo's mouth shocked him. He had come to the wrong conclusion.

"Why isn't he here? I know Trowa doesn't like me, but I thought…" he trailed off, swallowing roughly. "Why are you here?"

Wufei stiffened at the insinuation. He openly said that Trowa wasn't here because he didn't like him, and then questioned his own motives. Duo thought that he hated him.

"I'm here because I want to be," he said firmly. "Quatre refuses to come back in until you tell him that he can. He's blaming himself for what happened. He thinks that if he had been at home the day you called, that this wouldn't have happened."

Duo flinched again. This time, Wufei didn't even have to wonder about the reason for it. He knew that any mention of what Heero had done would likely upset the American, but the issue couldn't be sidestepped easily. He was hard pressed not to move towards the shivering form huddled miserably against the wall.

"And Trowa?"

There was a small pause before Wufei answered, the Chinese pilot debating whether or not the information would upset the American.

"He returned to the circus." Duo's brow furrowed slightly. Taking a deep breath, Wufei decided to tell him everything. "Quatre left him. Trowa told us that he had no idea of what was happening, but Quatre refuses to forgive him until you do."

"Heero?"

Onyx eyes flashed in anger. He knew why Duo was asking, but the fact that the American thought he had to check with them to see if they were protecting him was infuriating. Duo had always trusted them before. He finally made up his mind on something he had been debating over for three months.

"Heero," he said, grinding his teeth in fury at what his former colleague had done to his friend, "will not be bothering you or anyone else again. I shot him."

Duo slid to the floor, trembling, eyes clenched shut as he shook his head. Tears slipped down his cheeks. Wufei had to fight to refrain from ripping his hair out. He couldn't believe that Duo would be upset about that piece of information.

"Maxwell," he started, intent on telling him just what he thought of the Japanese pilot. He stopped short when he heard a soft stream of words coming from the pale teen.

"He got shot because of me. He's going to be mad. Oh, God…"

Understanding dawned in Wufei's mind. Duo wasn't upset that Heero had been shot. He was terrified he was going to suffer the repercussions for it. That was the final straw. Wufei jumped out of his chair and sprinted across the room, skidding to a halt beside the quaking boy. Without thinking about it, he tried to pull Duo into his arms. Duo went ballistic.

Weak or not, Duo was fast. Wufei realized this at roughly the moment when a fist connected with his jaw and a knee was planted in his stomach simultaneously. Suddenly feeling sorry for the medical personnel that had dealt with Duo the previous day, he decided that there was only one way to retain the upset American without hurting him. After several tries and taking another few blows, Wufei managed to wrap his arms around the frantic brunette and pin him.

The change was immediate. The moment he was fully restrained, Duo froze, every muscle in his body tensed to the point of trembling. Wufei tried to shift into a better position. In his arms, Duo whimpered and flinched.

He thinks I'm going to hurt him, Wufei realized. He stared at the miserable figure in his arms for a moment, feeling completely helpless. Unsure of what to do, he carefully stood up, pulling the trembling form into his arms and carrying him to the bed. Duo remained rigid the entire time.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Maxwell!" Wufei said pleadingly. Duo shook his head slightly, his eyes clenched shut.

"Heero…"

"I shot him," Wufei growled. "He's dead, Maxwell."

Duo's head swiveled towards him instantly, violet eyes wide and desperate. He opened and closed his mouth several times before actually speaking.

"Are you…"

"Sure?" Wufei finished. He scowled slightly. "Very. I put four holes through his skull. Even he cannot survive that."

The tension drained from Duo's body and he went lax against the narrow hospital bed. Wufei realized with a start that this was the most relaxed he had seen the American in over a year. As much as he wanted to let his weary friend rest, there was something he still had to do.

"Winner is going to assault me the moment I step out of the room," he grumbled, trying to sound as if he were pouting. Violet eyes flickered vaguely in his direction. "What do you want me to tell him?"

"He… can come in," Duo answered hesitantly.

Wufei started to nod before he caught himself. "Very well. I'll return later. ICU only allows one visitor at a time." Before Duo could respond, he was gone.

Quatre was in the room within the span of a few seconds. The blond barely remembered not to touch the traumatized American. He tried to start several conversations, all of them failing. Duo responded lethargically, only saying a few words when pressed. Unable to stand doing nothing, he offered to fix the machine Duo had rewired. He was rewarded with a soft noise he couldn't identify. Choosing to believe it was an affirmative, he moved cautiously towards the equipment the brunette had tinkered with, being careful to speak the entire time so that the disturbed pilot would know where he was.

After several hours of speaking to himself, Quatre finally gave up and left, promising to visit again soon. Though he was trying desperately not to show it, he was worried about Duo. The American pilot seemed to be in a permanent state of shock and, it galled him to admit it, he didn't know how to help.

To Be Continued…

I'm not getting any nicer, am I? Don't worry. The next section will make everything better. Maybe… That all depends on whether or not you review. So R&R! If you want Duo to survive, R&R. And, yes, I am that vindictive. hides