Disclaimer: Not mine
Rating: PG 13
Pairings: 1x2 (main), 3x4, possible 5+S
Warnings: Yaoi, supernatural themes,
*
Things have been a bit wonky lately. Believe it or not, Quat and Tro had a little spat. All is not well in paradise. I don't know what it was over, they won't tell me. But they're edging around each other like two magnets, pushing each other away, and drawing each other back at the same time.
My scar's permanent, Heero reckons. Teach me not to duck when a magical sword is thrown at me. You know how it used to tingle? Well over the past few weeks, the tingling has gone from my shoulder to my whole body. And the humming is even worse. It's starting to freak me out. I've been more hyper than usual, and that's saying something.
- extract from the diary of Duo Maxwell
*
Another school. Another mission. Another OZ operation. Sometimes I get the feeling we haven't actually accomplished anything. We're just running around in endless circles.
At least this place is a bit better than most. Me and Heero are roomies, as usual, but Quat's in our room too. He didn't want to share with Trowa. Wufei and Trowa are together. Quat won't tell me why he and Trowa don't talk anymore. It's been going on for a few weeks now, though.
Behind me, the radio played softly on, some slow rhythmic tune. A low, almost imperceptible humming joined in with the melody. It sounded... out of place. Wait. The humming wasn't part of the music, it was in my head.
Putting my head in my hands, I took a deep breath. On and off, for days now, this humming had been happening. It never changed. An incessant low buzz, just on the edge of my hearing. I'd tried to tell someone. I'm not the sharpest tool on the shed, but I'm not stupid. Hearing things is never a good sign.
But no one would listen. Not even Heero. Not even Sally, a doctor. Everything's been so hectic. After everything that happened in the past few weeks, what with moving to a new safe-house, then into another boarding-school, and then that disastrous mission, no one's really had any energy to listen to my complaints. And... I admit I can be a bit paranoid about diseases.
I gave up after being brushed off for the third time. There was just no point.
The door creaked as it swung open, and soft footsteps told me Heero was back. Turning, I crossed my arms and raised one eyebrow playfully. "So, is the Perfect Soldier also the Perfect Super-spy?" I asked. He shook his head.
"I admit it. Spying is your territory." He said, with one of those rare little smiles. He'd gone out in search of more info for the mission. This particular mission was a nasty little one. There were rumours of an OZ operation here. All our intelligence so far told us only that OZ was using one of the students to create... something. There were three child geniuses at this school. One was a techie, and the other pair were all-rounders. You'd pretty much assume they were making weapons, right? But the docs say not. It's something to do with genetics.
Heero had been scoping out one of our suspects, a French teacher called Forge. He was popular with the students and staff and fairly influential in the school. One of the all-rounders, George Vandeheide, and the techie, Amy Channahon, were in his class. He'd been giving both of them 'private tuition'. There were at least five others who got that as well. But considering Vandeheide was a genius at pretty much everything, and Channahon was doing alright grade-wise... it was a bit sus, to say the least.
Stretching, I stood up, grabbing a slightly bruised apple from the desk. I'd filched it from the table this morning. "I'll go take a shot at it." I offered. Heero nodded. Turning the doorknob, I stepped out into the silent corridor. It was a utilitarian sort of school, although you'd never know it from the behaviour of the students. These were the children of the insanely rich and hugely famous.
Portraits of past headmasters glared at me as I walked past. A door opened ahead of me, and little dark-haired Will [1] sauntered out. I liked Will. He was a cheerful, friendly guy, son of some European nobleman. He was my partner in Maths, which I freely admit I suck at. So he deserves some brownie points for putting up with my whining.
He must've heard me, because he turned around and flashed a grin in my direction. "Hey Duo." He said, slowing so I could catch up with him. I grinned back. "What's up?"
He shrugged. "Nothing much. I was going to see where the guys have got too. Want to tag along?" he offered. He was a nice guy, and so were his friends, but I had bigger fish to fry. "No?" he asked, reading my answer in my face. "See you later then." He smiled and turned down an adjoining corridor towards the grounds.
I halted for a minute, surprised at how far we'd walked. How the hell had we gotten all this way? I was barely more than a metre away from the LOTE [2] teacher's lounge, which was ages away from my room. Weird.
On the upside, the humming in my head had almost completely faded, and I could see Forge, walking a little way ahead with Ms Danila, and some nameless teacher. Forge cracked a joke, and the little group cracked up with laughter. As Forge readjusted the books he carried, I saw the corner of a folder poke out of the thick textbooks.
I'm in one of Forge's French classes. And I know he labels everything. The guy is fanatical about organisation, and quotes 'A place for everything, and everything in its place' so often it make me want to scream. But as he shifted the books, the folder came clearly into view. And it wasn't labelled.
I had to get that folder.
Padding softly along behind them, I tried for the nonchalant look, hoping no one would ask why I was trailing three teachers through the halls. Luckily, it was a Saturday, and just about everyone had ditched campus and gone out for some fun. But not us. Heero is allergic to fun.
We passed through the English wing, and moved into the IT [3] labs. Here, Forge dropped off from the rest, moving away, all smiles and waves. He then started off down a separate hallway, past lab 36, which is the usual one for LOTE teachers, and turned into a small office at the end of the hall. My interest piqued, I approached it carefully. Don't ask me why, because there was no one else around and he had already shut the door. Maybe Heero's paranoia is starting to rub off on me.
The door was plain, solid wood, unadorned except for a sign, which stated 'No students allowed in prep room'. And that was it.
I waited for what seemed like hours for the stupid jerk to come out. When he finally did, I had found a hidey hole in the history lab, and watched as he strode purposefully out, locking the office door behind him. The textbooks were still with him, as was the folder. I stared at it, wondering how the hell I was going to get hold of it. Then, strangely, the humming started up again. It went louder than usual, but I stopped paying attention to it, when the folder under Forge's arm jerked. Or at least I think it did. I noticed how far ahead Forge was getting, and hurried to close the distance, as silently as I could. The humming had risen to a crescendo in my head, and again, the folder twitched. And just dropped out of Forge's hand.
I stared at it like it was a venomous snake. Forge, who hadn't noticed a thing, kept walking. The cream folder lay innocently on the floor, and I could see the thin sheaf of papers inside. Slowly, I crouched, and reached towards it. With a start, I realised my hand was shaking. I picked up the folder, and straightened. It was an anticlimax, and I felt more than a bit stupid, getting so freaked out by folder. A disturbingly animated folder, but still, only a folder.
I started off towards our room, moving fast in case Forge noticed his folder's absence. My mind was flashing through all the possibilities, wondering what the hell had happened. That hadn't been an accident, not by a long shot. At first I wondered whether one of the guys had done it, with the abilities. But nope, none of them are telekinetic. Then what?
I reached up to touch the collar around my neck, a memento of my stay with the vampire clan, the Baiser de la Mort. It occasionally gets me some odd looks on the street, and teachers have ordered me to take it off more than once. It only proved the power of Specials. But there were no others here. Trowa had done a mental scan and come up blank.
Unease crept into my mind, as I recalled the way the humming in my head had raised so strongly. I could still feel it now, a whisper on the edge of my mind. I had the feeling I was missing something, something important. It was there, at the back of my consciousness. But it was refusing to come into the light.
I blinked, coming back to the present, as I realised I was standing in front of my own door. Once again, that trip had been a lot shorter than it should have. I filed it away in my mind, just another weird occurrence today.
I swung around as a tap on my shoulder alerted me to Quatre's presence. "Look." I said shortly, shoving the folder into his hands. I opened the door and stalked in, collapsing face-first onto my bed. I didn't want to think about... whatever right now.
I heard the shuffling of paper, as first Quatre, then Heero looked through the contents of the folder. There was a sharp gasp, and then a grunt of surprise from Heero. "Duo, have you read this?" Quatre asked. He sounded shocked.
"No." I informed him. Of course, since my head was buried in my pillow, it might have been a little hard to understand. But they seemed to get the picture. Someone dropped the folder onto the bed next to me.
"Read it." Said Heero tersely. As I looked up at his face, I frowned. He looked seriously rattled by something, and it takes a lot to rattle my koi.
Picking up the folder, I opened it and skimmed the first page. It was a list of French verbs, nouns and adjectives. The next page was similar, and the next. But the fourth was something else altogether. It was full of George Vandeheide's medical information. His blood was AB-. My eyebrows rose at this. One percent of the population is AB negative. But, looking at the next sheet, things began to fall into place. Amy Channahon was also AB negative. And so was the third prodigy, Matthew Anderson. Coincidence? Not bloody likely.
So, if they were doing something genetic, what did the blood types have to do with it? Obviously the clones would have the same blood type, but how would that help? Exactly how many AB- child geniuses could there be anyway? Not many, I'll bet on it.
I growled with frustration when I realised that the remaining three sheets were useless to us, for now. They contained row after row of numbers, but not a single word. No explanation.
Heero leant over my shoulder, taking the top sheet of numbers, and kissing my neck on the way past. Despite my confusion and frustration, I couldn't help smiling. He can be so cute when he wants to.
Twisting, I got of the bed and headed for my own laptop. We had to make some copies of these, just in case.
Behind me, Quatre sighed. I recognised the sad, depressed sound. He was thinking about Trowa again. Without turning around, I asked what was wrong, although I already knew.
"Nothing." He brushed me off. I snorted, and he sighed again. "Yeah, I know that was a pathetic attempt. I'm just upset over this whole mess with Trowa." His voice dropped lower and lower, and by the time he said Trowa's name, I could hardly hear him.
Turning around, I gave him an impulsive hug. "Quat, this'd all be so much easier if you'd just tell me why you guys broke up."
Quat made an unintelligible sound, as he slumped into my hold and buried his face in my shoulder. Over his head I could see Heero watching him carefully, and gave him a reassuring smile. I love him to bits, but sometimes he gets jealous over nothing. Quat was a friend, and he was hurting. Even if he wouldn't say why.
Quatre dropped his arms, and stepped back out of my grip, giving me a brave smile. "I'm fine, really. Just got a bit carried away, that's all."
Now it was my turn to sigh, as I turned back to the doubtful joy of copying out page after page of medical info and numbers.
About half an hour later, we were working in companionable silence (whoa, with me in the room?) when the door swung open, and Wufei, hesitantly followed by Trowa, stomped in.
"You have new information?" Wufei demanded. How'd he know? Oh, wait, Trowa must've been... snooping in our minds! I shot him a glare, and he gave an apologetic shrug.
Silently, I passed Wufei the sheets I was copying. The others did the same, watching as their faces creased into frowns, as Trowa read over Wufei's shoulder.
While they were preoccupied, I glanced across at Quatre. His lips were pressed into a thin line, and he was staring unhappily at the floor. Changing my gaze to Trowa, I saw him sneaking tiny glances at Quatre. What the hell was going on? I'm Quat's friend, right? So why won't he tell me what's wrong?
Wufei caught my eye. "Maxwell, come with me for a moment." He ordered, then, shoving the papers into Trowa's hands, stalked out of the room. I followed.
Wufei was already halfway down the corridor when I got out of the door. I trailed after him, wondering what the hell was going on. "Come on Maxwell." He snapped impatiently.
"What's going on Wu-man?" I asked, trotting after him. He shot me a glare for the little endearment, but otherwise ignored it. "We need to know if there are others involved in this. Who else takes special tuition with Forge?" he demanded. I thought for a moment. "Will and Chris do." I said slowly. "I think they're in the grounds."
"Friends?" he asked, almost contemptuously. Fei doesn't get why I bother making friends when we're only going to leave in the end. At my nod, he said "Go find them."
Shooting a glare at him, I took the corridor that Will had earlier that day. I knew where their group hung, been there a few times with myself.
Eventually my feet led me to a corner of the school grounds, mainly deserted. Under a tree ahead of me, I could see a group of familiar faces sprawled on the ground and propped up against trees. Will grinned and raised a hand as I approached. "Duo!"
Various others turned to face me. The other guy who took special tuition, Chris, was a good-looking blonde, nice enough but occasionally arrogant. Beside him sat Tob, a green-eyed country boy with a gorgeous smile. If I hadn't been hooked up with Heero, I might've taken a shot at one of these guys. Except that they were both straight.
Will's boyfriend Tom sat beside him. They were a weird pair, as opposite as... well, me and Heero. Will was small, dark and talkative. Tom, on the other hand, was a big blonde Scandinavian who rarely spoke unless it was to Will.
"Hey." I said leaning against a handy tree. How to broach the subject? Oh well, no time like the present.
"You guys have extra tute with Forge, right?" at Will and Chris's nods, I continued "He was talking about getting me to go to some. I suck at French."
"Maybe you wouldn't if you didn't copy my homework." Tob offered with a lazy grin. "Copy Tom's. He can actually do this stuff."
"Tute's alright." Will shrugged. "It's annoying sometimes, because there's no one to take the attention off you, but it's not too bad." Chris nodded, agreeing with Will's analysis. "We mainly just go over the stuff we do in class again." He added.
I thanked them, and strolled off, telling them I had Geography homework. Wufei was waiting for me by the door. "Well?"
I shook my head. "I think they really do just do French." I replied. Wufei frowned.
"You think? Not good enough. We'll have to watch them. Who knows how many are in Forge's pocket..." I frowned as Wufei rambled on. What, was my opinion not good enough?
"Wufei..." I began, only to be cut off. "We'll have to tell Yuy, and the others to watch that four-"
"Wufei..." I said again. And again, he steamrollered over the top of me. Everything suddenly came crashing down on me; the folder, the numbers, Quat and Trowa's issues, the mission, and the date. The day Maxwell Church was destroyed.
The humming rose in my head, again coming to a roar that I alone could hear. "WUFEI!!" I yelled. At the same instant, the dean's portrait cracked. A blue vase shattered and the glass in the trophy cabinet broke.
Wufei froze. "Maxwell?" he said incredulously. "Was... was that you?" he asked, surveying the damage, wide-eyed.
I swallowed, staring at the shards of blue pottery and glass on the ground. "I don't know...." I whispered.
*
[1] Will's based on a real person, a friend of mine. So are Tom, Tob and Chris
[2] LOTE: Languages Other Than English, for anyone who doesn't have this at their school.
[3] Information technology, mainly computer stuff, in case you didn't know.