One-shot I've been planning for some time now. I've meant to post it much
earlier but I've been waiting for my beta-reader (Ki-Ball, where are
you???) for nearly two months now and just couldn't wait anymore. So here
it is, yet uncorrected so, if you come across a mistake so huge it's
shameful, tell me and I'll arrange it. Thank you!
It's TWT (Timeline? What timeline?) since I take absolutely no consideration of the order in which the events of Gundam Wing happen. And don't assume I know a thing about Duo's past except the very basic stuff. So don't mind if I'm terribly wrong.
Warning: 1+2 at the end. Let's not forget the tiny bits of sappiness.
Summary: Duo comes back from a mission with an injury that forces him to come to terms with a few old problems.
~Burned Away~
Time inched by slowly. The sun was slanting the glass skyscrapers with bright hues of oranges and reds as it hid over the horizon. The traffic noise of the large capital reverberated against the many walls. The usual stress, tension, speed and complexity of the citizens finally ending their long day's work blended intricately with the glorious sunset nature offered the artificial city.
The life underground was at its peek. The citizens rushed in and out of the subway, happy to finally go back home. The compartments were crammed with people in suits talking over their cell phone and some might wonder how there could be so much signals working in one place.
In the last compartment, emptiest but still full enough to force people to stand, a teenager was sitting in the corner seat. His arms were crossed over his brown leather jacket and his bright blues eyes practically radiated with anger. People cast him shy glances but none could stare into those cobalt orbs for long. Most were content with keeping a safe distance, not liking to stay close to the youth, his body language clearly showing his annoyance.
The subway drove a little deeper into the earth, resulting in a loss of electricity. It was also too deep for cell phones to work properly; businessmen and women groaned as they put their phones away and started to whisper to each other in the dark. The train kept moving due to its momentum and people ignored it, knowing that the electricity would soon be back on.
The young man, using the dark and hush of voices, brought his hand to his mouth. "01. 02 was not at checkpoint. Out." He whispered, blending in with the other voices. He then resumed his position, ignoring the sudden jerk of the subway as power surged back through it and it rolled faster. The others started to shuffle about, grabbing their luggage and other accessories as the driver announced the next station.
The boy remained seated and waited until the last station before getting up, shouldering his backpack and stepping out. His steps were perfectly silent against the tiles of the subway station, even with his heavy boots.
The sun had totally disappeared behind the glass buildings although a dim pinkish light was still visible. The teenager walked briskly as a small breeze tousled his chocolate brown locks, which were initially very ruffled. He soon reached the outskirts of the city where most of the houses and apartments were. He stopped before a small but respectable house for about a minute before stepping to the door. He knocked two times, paused, knocked two times and paused again before knocking three quick times. He opened the door slowly, a barely audible hiss the only sign of the hydraulics keeping it shut and stepped inside.
A gun was automatically trained on him and the blue-eyed boy stared at the barrel stoically. The blond boy holding the weapon slowly lowered it as he recognized the other. A deep frown creased his features.
"So he really isn't with you," he said with a sigh, not that he had truly hoped for the message to be wrong. Heero Yuy could not lie about such things.
Heero removed his jacket with a shrug and looked at the two other boys sitting in the adjacent living room. The tall brown-haired and striking green-eyed boy was staring at him blankly, his hand slowly holstering his gun. The other, smaller black-haired and Asiatic teenager loosened his grip on his katana although his gaze never left Heero.
"Report," the tallest deadpanned. Trowa Barton was a man of few words and whenever he spoke, it was always important. Although everything in him spoke of indifference, the three other boys knew him well enough to know that he was worried.
"Duo did not show at the checkpoint but nothing proves is capture or death," Heero replied on the same tone. He moved in the kitchen, only separated from the living room by a couch, and settled at the table, his laptop opened and crackling.
The blond boy sighed again and passed a hand through his yellow hair. "How long before the deadline?" he asked in a strained voice. Quatre Rebarba Winner was worried whenever one of his comrades left for a mission but he knew the risks and accepted the eventual outcome of one of them being captured and tortured in interrogation. It hurt, of course, but they knew and were prepared for it.
"We move at 2400 hours if there has been no sign of him beforehand," Heero answered, his hands clicking on his keyboard at great speed. There was a groan from Quatre but nobody argued.
"The idiot always messes things up," the Chinese boy suddenly said, breaking the heavy silence. Heero shot him a sharp look but otherwise ignored his comment. Chang Wufei had always had trouble dealing with his worries and passed them off with anger.
That was the last thing that was said for the rest of the night. They waited in silence, preparing for the worst. The hands on the clock ticked too quickly for some while others find them achingly slow. Time passed and it was barely thirty minutes before they had to move out when Heero's computer beeped noisily.
The cobalt-eyed boy immediately opened the safety camera files. Quatre was looking over his shoulder eagerly while Wufei and Trowa had stopped their doings and were waiting for the reason of the alarm.
A small low-resolution image cracked to life on the screen and the two boys saw a lone figure standing very still, head bowed, on the sidewalk just before their house. It was clad in some priest uniform they knew very well although the figure in it was odd.
Quatre cast a look at Trowa who quirked a questioning eyebrow. "Well," the blond started hesitantly, "I think it's Duo, but something's weird," he turned back to the screen and frowned.
"An injury?" Wufei asked.
The figurine had started to walk slowly to the door. "I can't tell, although he holds his arm in a funny way," Quatre replied and stepped back. The figurine had reached the door, leaving the camera's range.
Everyone was very still, their weapon ready. Only Quatre had his gun openly trained at the door, head high. The two knocks came once, twice, and were followed by the three fast ones. A small wave of tension was relieved by the code, yet no one relaxed. Heero deactivated the hydraulic locks from his computer and the door slowly inched open as the figure stepped inside.
It was a boy; brown-haired from the little you saw out of his cap, with glazed violet eyes. His face was dangerously white and bare of any expression as he stared at the gun directed on him. The boys quickly saw why he had been holding his arm funnily; his right sleeve was darker than the rest of his priest outfit. Although the blood was already dry, it meant a possibly serious injury.
Quatre lowered his gun in relief and sighed. "I'm so glad you made it, we were just about to move out," the blond took a closer look at the injured shoulder. "You should let me check that. Were you shot?"
Duo nodded slowly but ignored Quatre's proposal and walked away towards the bathroom. Heero stepped before him before he got away. His hand was clutching his gun so tight that his knuckles were white. Everyone could feel it, although Quatre felt it more than anyone. Something was terribly wrong with Duo but no one could tell what.
"Report," Heero deadpanned. His cobalt eyes bored into his violet ones who stared back at him like two dead orbs.
"Later," Duo mumbled. His voice was raw and scratchy. He tried to pass beside Heero but the brown-haired caught him by the arm before he could get away.
The violet-eyed boy yanked his arm away with a wince. Heero, not expecting such resistance, let go abruptly. Duo staggered and nearly lost his balance but managed to catch himself by leaning against the wall. He cast one last empty look at the cobalt-eyed boy before disappearing in the corridor.
The others watched his retreating back in complete shock. Trowa was openly wide-eyed, Wufei had dropped his katana and Quatre had his hand over his mouth. Heero frowned deeply and followed after Duo. In his escape, he had lost his cap. The four others had expected to see his braid uncoil and fall to his hips like always, but it hadn't. The hair at his nape was roughly cut, plainly proving the death of his eternal braid.
******
Duo let the steaming hot water course down his back and leaned his forehead against the cool tiles of the shower. His bullet injury tingled and protested but he ignored it and scratched the back of his neck. The absence of the reassuring weight of his braid was disturbing.
After another few moments of inactivity, he started to wash. His movements were achingly slow and imprecise. He dropped the soap a couple of times before finally abandoning and letting himself fall on the floor. He stared into space, oblivious of the hot water reddening his skin.
Since his escape out of the research lab, he had worked on automatism. His conscious self had retreated to a dark corner of his mind, curled up and trying to protect itself. But now, in the security of the house and in the middle of the people he knew so well, he was awakening up slowly and reality was catching up with him. It brought a flow of confused memories and emotions to his troubled mind and Duo wrapped his arms around his legs and hugged them tight.
He reached back to curl his braid around his wrist and shuddered when once again he grasped air. Memories he had managed to push back rushed to him like great waves of a sea of pain and he moaned.
~Flashback~ Duo POV
An alley. No, actually, THE alley. I don't need this to remember it. I've known it for the must costing part of my life. Every brick, every tile, it's all perfectly kept up here. Sometimes I wish I could forget it. It's a damned place, cold and full of pain. I've hid so many times in here and although it's pretty obvious, nobody ever found me there. All except one.
Solo.
I think I was running away from the cops. I did that a lot, but that part's blurry. I remember starving. I was young and weak. I could barely take care of myself and was desperate. Maybe I tried to steal some food somewhere and caused a fuss. Whatever the reason, I had to hide. So I ran as fast as my short legs could with an empty stomach and ended up in the alley. It had been my safe spot many times now.
As I huddled, shuddering and waiting until it was safe to come out, someone found me. I was so scared I tried to run for it. Needless to say that in the state I was in my attacker caught up with me before I could get away. I remember the first words he spoke to me, so dull, yet all that I wanted to hear.
"Hey! Hold it there kid! Whatcha so scared for?"
I couldn't answer. I had never spoken before, or at least I don't remember ever having spoken before then. Funny, he called me kid yet he was barely five years older, which made him, what, about nine? I'm not sure how old I was at the time. But still, I looked up at the scrawny kid holding me and immediately felt reassured. I think I cried.
And it was then that Solo took me in his gang of street rats. He taught me everything he knew, how to steal and fend for myself. He kind of became my idol and I looked up to him with admiration.
He's also the one who gave me my identity. He called me Duo because he taught I'd be a great second for him. I never had a name before and I held on to it even when I could have changed it. I admit it; it is pretty weird for a name.
We soon became inseparable. I helped him lead the gang, he taught me the laws of the streets. One time I nearly got caught because of my hair. I had never cut it and it had never occurred to me that it could get me targeted too easily, so I hadn't bothered. I managed to escape but was badly hurt. While Solo was taking care of me, I asked him to cut my hair. I was despising them at the moment.
"I wouldn't do that for the world," he said. I was shocked and asked him why. "They're just too damn beautiful. It would be a shame to have them off," he answered as if that was enough to risk being caught. He simply laughed the matter off.
I found the reason ridiculous, yet I never cut them. My hair had suddenly become incredibly important.
When the plague hit L-2, I never thought my life could go so bad. The thing killed more then half of the gang and, of course, Solo had to be part of them.
When I discovered that he was sick, I risked everything to go and steal the cure. I paid hard for it, but I succeeded. But by the time I came by to Solo, it was too late. He was already gone.
I wanted to cry, but I just couldn't. I remember that the first time I did, he ordered me not to, saying that boys don't cry. I learned fast enough to hold back the tears. But it doesn't ease the pain. And seeing his white face again, spread into an eternal grimace of pain and the blood on his lips, it's plain too much. Even if it's a fucking memory, I can barely stand it.
I can't remember what I did next. I guess my duty for the last of the gang left took over and I worked on automatism. It wasn't until I met him did I resume my life I guess.
I had just stolen food from a nearby store and was running for it when I met him. I made the mistake of looking back and bumped into him. I fell over, spilling my stuff. I remember his confused expression as he saw me.
"Better watch out, little boy," he said to me. The first words Father Maxwell spoke to me.
I didn't say anything. It was hazardous to deal with priests; you never knew what they'd do. So I used the moment of surprise and ran away, leaving the food behind. To not be caught is more important.
I finally came to live at Maxwell Church. Father Maxwell and Sister Hellen were running a small orphanage and it was my first true home. They became like my family and I would have lived with them forever, if only I had had that chance. It was there that my braid saw the light of day. Father Maxwell was trying to cut my hair and I was fighting hard to prevent him. It was the last thing I had to remember Solo. Finally getting tired of our argument, Sister Hellen braided them, declaring that they were neat enough like that. I've never worn them in any other fashion since then.
Thinking about it is almost too painful, but the flow of memories won't spare me. So I have to see the disaster again. The disaster that shaped my life.
I had gone out to play with a couple of street rats, even against Father Maxwell's order not to. We went far to the outskirts of town, stealing and having fun. I didn't expect what I found when I got back.
The church was gone. Burned to the ground. There were a couple of charred little corpses I knew were the other kids of the orphanage but they were unrecognizable. One corpse was taller then the rest: Father Maxwell.
"Duo?"
I found Sister Helen crushed under several pieces of timber from the roof. She smiled at me and gave me my cross. I don't remember what she said; I was too shocked to listen. She died in my arms.
I screamed. Oh, how I screamed. All my anguish, pain and sadness were released in that cry. People stopped to look at me, pity plain in their eyes. Yet I didn't cry. Not that I wanted to, it was beyond tears.
~End of Flashback~
Duo snapped back to reality just as the water turned icy cold. He was shuddering badly, but didn't leave the shower. Concentrating on the cold helped him ignore the pain his mind was inflecting on him. He tried to calm down but his stitches and the cold finally got the better of him.
After being dressed, Duo made is way silently to his room, being careful as he walked in order not to let the wooden planks creak and reveal his position. He didn't feel up to confront the others right now. He opened the door slowly and peered inside. Heero was sitting cross-leg on his bed and was staring at him gravely. The violet-eyed boy knew it was useless to try running away from him and so entered with a sigh.
Dropping on the bed like a stone, he stretched and folded his arms behind his head with a sigh. He had counted all the cracks of the four tiles right above him before Heero said anything.
"How's the shoulder?" he asked with a hint of concern Duo was surprised to hear.
"Fine I guess. OZ patched me up pretty well," he replied blankly, fingering the stitches absent-mindedly.
"What happened?" he demanded, leaning on his knuckles.
Duo hesitated before answering. Now that the initial shock had passed, he was even more reluctant to talk about it. He didn't feel like remembering how he had lost his braid, how he had lost them.
~Flashback~
Duo groaned as he cracked open an eyelid. There were blinding lights above him and his pupils retracted into tiny pinpoints to protect themselves from the assaulter.
"He's finally coming through," a very low and rumbling voice said, making its way through Duo's foggy brain.
"Finally? I wouldn't say that. He's actually awakening much quicker than normal," another, more scratchy voice countered.
Duo tried to turn his head but found it tightly strapped to whatever he was lying on. Since the rest of his body was in the same predicament, he first tried to remember what had gotten him into that mess.
He could recall doing the mission as planned; everything was working perfectly. Just when he was about to make his way out, he was spotted by a soldier who had interrupted his shift to go piss. Both were surprised but before Duo managed to kill him, he had sounded the alarm.
Everything happened too fast for him to clearly remember after that. There was a fight, a shot and a sudden pain in his shoulder. Then he blacked out. Someone must have knocked him out, judging by his headache.
"Is he ready for interrogation?" the low growl asked again.
"Should be. Just let me check him up to be sure. Wouldn't want him dead before he speaks," the scratchy voice answered.
The owner of the second one appeared in Duo's line of sight as he stooped over to examine him. He was a small man in scientist uniform with a face much like a beetle. Duo kept his face bare of any expression as he stared at the ceiling as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. His mind worked fast as he tried to find a way to get out of the mess he had put himself in.
"He's ready. You can take him now," the scientist finally declared and moved back.
Duo felt the straps around his head being removed and he craned his neck to see the other man. He was a tall gorilla-like man, all in muscle. He would have thought him stupid if wasn't for that glint in his eyes, which told the contrary.
"Drake, give me a hand here," the gorilla growled. Another man, smaller but still well built, appeared. While the mountain held his hands tight together Drake tried to handcuff him tightly.
"Damn thing keeps getting in the way," Drake grumbled, pushing Duo's braid away from the handcuffs again where it tried to prevent the guy from restraining Duo.
"You touch it again and you're dead," Duo hissed dangerously before he could help himself. He said nothing more, slapping himself mentally for his small loss of control that could cost him a lot. You never showed any weakness to your torturer.
"Oh?" the gorilla said with an unnerving tone. "Well I would like to see you try, because I think I know what I'll do with that braid, it's pretty annoying," the man walked away and Duo heard him pick up something he feared was too sharp to his liking.
It took all of his self-control not to scream when he felt him cut his braid. He trembled badly and stared before him stubbornly in order not too show that they had just done the thing that could make him talk.
"Struck a cord, didn't I?" gorilla sneered, obviously proud of himself. And then, just to worsen everything, he took a lighter and set fire to his braid. Duo watched it shrivel up and transform into smoke and ashes as flashes of Maxwell Church burning ran through his mind, mingling with those of Sister Hellen and Solo's deaths.
Two desires were battling each other at that point. One wanted to scream and cry and run away to nurse its wounds while the other kept to its training, not wanting to fail the mission and endanger everyone.
Finally, his training won over and the little boy retreated to the far reaches of his mind, taking with him everything that was hurt and confused. Duo was left as an empty shell for every part of his being was suffering.
"Oh my, this isn't good. I fear that what you've done will only worsen things. Now he probably won't feel any pain at all. Great," the scientist groaned as he examined Duo's reaction.
"I bet I can make him talk anyway," gorilla replied and smirked.
Maybe because he really was stupid, or that he underestimated Duo in his state, but he made the error of not being careful enough while he unstrapped him. The violet-eyed boy was now only conscious of his mission, like a robot, and he fully took the opportunity and escaped.
~End Flashback~
"Next thing I now is I'm in the subway," Duo ended with a short shrug.
"Is there any chance someone followed you?" Heero demanded next.
"None. I would've lost them in the crowd even if there had been any."
Silence dropped like a stone. Duo was starting to feel uneasy and he scratched the nape of his neck unconsciously.
"Are you alright?"
Duo stared at Heero as if he had grown a second head. The care that tainted his voice was barely discernable but the violet-eyed boy knew his fellow pilot well enough by now to notice it. The brown-haired boy was sitting with his arms rested against his thighs and his hands were clutched into tight fists, the only sign of his uneasiness.
"Yeah, like I said, OZ took care of it," Duo replied confusedly. He wasn't used to seeing and hearing so much emotion coming from Heero. Not that he thought him unemotional, quite the contrary. He knew the guy felt like everyone, just that he couldn't show it.
Heero shook his head slightly. "I mean psychologically. I know your braid meant something to you," he corrected coldly. He didn't really mean it like that, but he wasn't used to situations like that and he didn't know any other way.
The violet-eyed look up at the ceiling as his scratching stopped abruptly. An awkward silence crept its way between them. Duo finally decided to break it.
"I guess it means I'll have to move on," he answered in a hushed voice. Heero quirked an eyebrow but didn't interrupt. "You want to know why I kept my braid? It's to keep all of them with me. I never completely got over their deaths and since they all had liked my hair, it was my way to stay with them. Never got over it because of it," Duo continued, hardly keeping his voice from cracking. "Now that it's gone, I feel like I've lost them all over again, and it hurts twice as much." He turned his head, not wanting Heero to see his weakness.
The violet-eyed boy heard the other bed squeak as Heero made his way to his. Duo groaned inwardly. That would only complicate things.
"I'm also afraid I'll forget them if I have nothing to remind me of them," Duo continued so softly it was barely audible. "And that's worst than everything else."
There was a heavy sigh from the other pilot. Duo nearly jumped out of his skin as a strong hand grabbed his chin with unusual gentleness and forced Duo to turn around. Heero looked at him straight in the eye and the Amercian boy saw two feelings he never dreamed to see in those cold cobalt eyes: confusion and sadness.
"Listen, I'm not sure of what I'm doing, but I know one thing. You're strong. You'll get over it and instead of living with you through you're braid, they'll be eternal in your memories," Heero ushered, brushing his thumb gently against Duo's jaw-line.
Duo was too surprised to say anything. The last person he had expected to say those words was him. Of course, he appreciated them even more coming from him. Duo had admitted since long that he liked Heero more than as just a close friend although he didn't keep his hopes too high.
So it is useless to say that when Heero leaned over him and brushed his lips against his all of his senses flared up. He was so surprised that he barely had enough of his head to reply to the shy yet soft and warm kiss he was given. Duo found himself slightly panting as Heero pulled away. The blue-eyed boy gave him a small smile, one of those he never gave to anyone. It wasn't one of his smirks, which you usually ran from, it was a real one full of love and gentleness. Duo felt himself melt inside under that smile.
"Cheer up, alright? It's not like you to get depressed over things like that," Heero said softly and stood up. His face now again set into its emotionless mask, he left the room.
Duo watched his retreating back and smiled widely. He still hurt pretty badly but he felt like he would be able to get over it much easier now that some things had been cleared. And he wasn't alone anymore, unlike all those times in the past. When Solo or Sister Helen had died, he had found himself alone and miserable. Now, after their second 'deaths', he had Heero and he knew it would change everything.
Some day, he'd tell him all about his past.
******* The End *******
Hey, hey, that's it! Hope you liked it. It's my first try at a more psycological/emotional fic and I hope I didn't mess it up. I'm actually quite romantic even though I prefer to write fics with complicated plots and filled with action. So sue me if Heero sounded a bit too mushy.
I also know the beginning looks a bit more depressing than the rest. I could've changed it but, hey, I like it like that. I also thought of doing a sequel but I decided against it since I'm not too sure of what would happen. But if too many people ask, maybe I will. ^^
A-chan
It's TWT (Timeline? What timeline?) since I take absolutely no consideration of the order in which the events of Gundam Wing happen. And don't assume I know a thing about Duo's past except the very basic stuff. So don't mind if I'm terribly wrong.
Warning: 1+2 at the end. Let's not forget the tiny bits of sappiness.
Summary: Duo comes back from a mission with an injury that forces him to come to terms with a few old problems.
~Burned Away~
Time inched by slowly. The sun was slanting the glass skyscrapers with bright hues of oranges and reds as it hid over the horizon. The traffic noise of the large capital reverberated against the many walls. The usual stress, tension, speed and complexity of the citizens finally ending their long day's work blended intricately with the glorious sunset nature offered the artificial city.
The life underground was at its peek. The citizens rushed in and out of the subway, happy to finally go back home. The compartments were crammed with people in suits talking over their cell phone and some might wonder how there could be so much signals working in one place.
In the last compartment, emptiest but still full enough to force people to stand, a teenager was sitting in the corner seat. His arms were crossed over his brown leather jacket and his bright blues eyes practically radiated with anger. People cast him shy glances but none could stare into those cobalt orbs for long. Most were content with keeping a safe distance, not liking to stay close to the youth, his body language clearly showing his annoyance.
The subway drove a little deeper into the earth, resulting in a loss of electricity. It was also too deep for cell phones to work properly; businessmen and women groaned as they put their phones away and started to whisper to each other in the dark. The train kept moving due to its momentum and people ignored it, knowing that the electricity would soon be back on.
The young man, using the dark and hush of voices, brought his hand to his mouth. "01. 02 was not at checkpoint. Out." He whispered, blending in with the other voices. He then resumed his position, ignoring the sudden jerk of the subway as power surged back through it and it rolled faster. The others started to shuffle about, grabbing their luggage and other accessories as the driver announced the next station.
The boy remained seated and waited until the last station before getting up, shouldering his backpack and stepping out. His steps were perfectly silent against the tiles of the subway station, even with his heavy boots.
The sun had totally disappeared behind the glass buildings although a dim pinkish light was still visible. The teenager walked briskly as a small breeze tousled his chocolate brown locks, which were initially very ruffled. He soon reached the outskirts of the city where most of the houses and apartments were. He stopped before a small but respectable house for about a minute before stepping to the door. He knocked two times, paused, knocked two times and paused again before knocking three quick times. He opened the door slowly, a barely audible hiss the only sign of the hydraulics keeping it shut and stepped inside.
A gun was automatically trained on him and the blue-eyed boy stared at the barrel stoically. The blond boy holding the weapon slowly lowered it as he recognized the other. A deep frown creased his features.
"So he really isn't with you," he said with a sigh, not that he had truly hoped for the message to be wrong. Heero Yuy could not lie about such things.
Heero removed his jacket with a shrug and looked at the two other boys sitting in the adjacent living room. The tall brown-haired and striking green-eyed boy was staring at him blankly, his hand slowly holstering his gun. The other, smaller black-haired and Asiatic teenager loosened his grip on his katana although his gaze never left Heero.
"Report," the tallest deadpanned. Trowa Barton was a man of few words and whenever he spoke, it was always important. Although everything in him spoke of indifference, the three other boys knew him well enough to know that he was worried.
"Duo did not show at the checkpoint but nothing proves is capture or death," Heero replied on the same tone. He moved in the kitchen, only separated from the living room by a couch, and settled at the table, his laptop opened and crackling.
The blond boy sighed again and passed a hand through his yellow hair. "How long before the deadline?" he asked in a strained voice. Quatre Rebarba Winner was worried whenever one of his comrades left for a mission but he knew the risks and accepted the eventual outcome of one of them being captured and tortured in interrogation. It hurt, of course, but they knew and were prepared for it.
"We move at 2400 hours if there has been no sign of him beforehand," Heero answered, his hands clicking on his keyboard at great speed. There was a groan from Quatre but nobody argued.
"The idiot always messes things up," the Chinese boy suddenly said, breaking the heavy silence. Heero shot him a sharp look but otherwise ignored his comment. Chang Wufei had always had trouble dealing with his worries and passed them off with anger.
That was the last thing that was said for the rest of the night. They waited in silence, preparing for the worst. The hands on the clock ticked too quickly for some while others find them achingly slow. Time passed and it was barely thirty minutes before they had to move out when Heero's computer beeped noisily.
The cobalt-eyed boy immediately opened the safety camera files. Quatre was looking over his shoulder eagerly while Wufei and Trowa had stopped their doings and were waiting for the reason of the alarm.
A small low-resolution image cracked to life on the screen and the two boys saw a lone figure standing very still, head bowed, on the sidewalk just before their house. It was clad in some priest uniform they knew very well although the figure in it was odd.
Quatre cast a look at Trowa who quirked a questioning eyebrow. "Well," the blond started hesitantly, "I think it's Duo, but something's weird," he turned back to the screen and frowned.
"An injury?" Wufei asked.
The figurine had started to walk slowly to the door. "I can't tell, although he holds his arm in a funny way," Quatre replied and stepped back. The figurine had reached the door, leaving the camera's range.
Everyone was very still, their weapon ready. Only Quatre had his gun openly trained at the door, head high. The two knocks came once, twice, and were followed by the three fast ones. A small wave of tension was relieved by the code, yet no one relaxed. Heero deactivated the hydraulic locks from his computer and the door slowly inched open as the figure stepped inside.
It was a boy; brown-haired from the little you saw out of his cap, with glazed violet eyes. His face was dangerously white and bare of any expression as he stared at the gun directed on him. The boys quickly saw why he had been holding his arm funnily; his right sleeve was darker than the rest of his priest outfit. Although the blood was already dry, it meant a possibly serious injury.
Quatre lowered his gun in relief and sighed. "I'm so glad you made it, we were just about to move out," the blond took a closer look at the injured shoulder. "You should let me check that. Were you shot?"
Duo nodded slowly but ignored Quatre's proposal and walked away towards the bathroom. Heero stepped before him before he got away. His hand was clutching his gun so tight that his knuckles were white. Everyone could feel it, although Quatre felt it more than anyone. Something was terribly wrong with Duo but no one could tell what.
"Report," Heero deadpanned. His cobalt eyes bored into his violet ones who stared back at him like two dead orbs.
"Later," Duo mumbled. His voice was raw and scratchy. He tried to pass beside Heero but the brown-haired caught him by the arm before he could get away.
The violet-eyed boy yanked his arm away with a wince. Heero, not expecting such resistance, let go abruptly. Duo staggered and nearly lost his balance but managed to catch himself by leaning against the wall. He cast one last empty look at the cobalt-eyed boy before disappearing in the corridor.
The others watched his retreating back in complete shock. Trowa was openly wide-eyed, Wufei had dropped his katana and Quatre had his hand over his mouth. Heero frowned deeply and followed after Duo. In his escape, he had lost his cap. The four others had expected to see his braid uncoil and fall to his hips like always, but it hadn't. The hair at his nape was roughly cut, plainly proving the death of his eternal braid.
******
Duo let the steaming hot water course down his back and leaned his forehead against the cool tiles of the shower. His bullet injury tingled and protested but he ignored it and scratched the back of his neck. The absence of the reassuring weight of his braid was disturbing.
After another few moments of inactivity, he started to wash. His movements were achingly slow and imprecise. He dropped the soap a couple of times before finally abandoning and letting himself fall on the floor. He stared into space, oblivious of the hot water reddening his skin.
Since his escape out of the research lab, he had worked on automatism. His conscious self had retreated to a dark corner of his mind, curled up and trying to protect itself. But now, in the security of the house and in the middle of the people he knew so well, he was awakening up slowly and reality was catching up with him. It brought a flow of confused memories and emotions to his troubled mind and Duo wrapped his arms around his legs and hugged them tight.
He reached back to curl his braid around his wrist and shuddered when once again he grasped air. Memories he had managed to push back rushed to him like great waves of a sea of pain and he moaned.
~Flashback~ Duo POV
An alley. No, actually, THE alley. I don't need this to remember it. I've known it for the must costing part of my life. Every brick, every tile, it's all perfectly kept up here. Sometimes I wish I could forget it. It's a damned place, cold and full of pain. I've hid so many times in here and although it's pretty obvious, nobody ever found me there. All except one.
Solo.
I think I was running away from the cops. I did that a lot, but that part's blurry. I remember starving. I was young and weak. I could barely take care of myself and was desperate. Maybe I tried to steal some food somewhere and caused a fuss. Whatever the reason, I had to hide. So I ran as fast as my short legs could with an empty stomach and ended up in the alley. It had been my safe spot many times now.
As I huddled, shuddering and waiting until it was safe to come out, someone found me. I was so scared I tried to run for it. Needless to say that in the state I was in my attacker caught up with me before I could get away. I remember the first words he spoke to me, so dull, yet all that I wanted to hear.
"Hey! Hold it there kid! Whatcha so scared for?"
I couldn't answer. I had never spoken before, or at least I don't remember ever having spoken before then. Funny, he called me kid yet he was barely five years older, which made him, what, about nine? I'm not sure how old I was at the time. But still, I looked up at the scrawny kid holding me and immediately felt reassured. I think I cried.
And it was then that Solo took me in his gang of street rats. He taught me everything he knew, how to steal and fend for myself. He kind of became my idol and I looked up to him with admiration.
He's also the one who gave me my identity. He called me Duo because he taught I'd be a great second for him. I never had a name before and I held on to it even when I could have changed it. I admit it; it is pretty weird for a name.
We soon became inseparable. I helped him lead the gang, he taught me the laws of the streets. One time I nearly got caught because of my hair. I had never cut it and it had never occurred to me that it could get me targeted too easily, so I hadn't bothered. I managed to escape but was badly hurt. While Solo was taking care of me, I asked him to cut my hair. I was despising them at the moment.
"I wouldn't do that for the world," he said. I was shocked and asked him why. "They're just too damn beautiful. It would be a shame to have them off," he answered as if that was enough to risk being caught. He simply laughed the matter off.
I found the reason ridiculous, yet I never cut them. My hair had suddenly become incredibly important.
When the plague hit L-2, I never thought my life could go so bad. The thing killed more then half of the gang and, of course, Solo had to be part of them.
When I discovered that he was sick, I risked everything to go and steal the cure. I paid hard for it, but I succeeded. But by the time I came by to Solo, it was too late. He was already gone.
I wanted to cry, but I just couldn't. I remember that the first time I did, he ordered me not to, saying that boys don't cry. I learned fast enough to hold back the tears. But it doesn't ease the pain. And seeing his white face again, spread into an eternal grimace of pain and the blood on his lips, it's plain too much. Even if it's a fucking memory, I can barely stand it.
I can't remember what I did next. I guess my duty for the last of the gang left took over and I worked on automatism. It wasn't until I met him did I resume my life I guess.
I had just stolen food from a nearby store and was running for it when I met him. I made the mistake of looking back and bumped into him. I fell over, spilling my stuff. I remember his confused expression as he saw me.
"Better watch out, little boy," he said to me. The first words Father Maxwell spoke to me.
I didn't say anything. It was hazardous to deal with priests; you never knew what they'd do. So I used the moment of surprise and ran away, leaving the food behind. To not be caught is more important.
I finally came to live at Maxwell Church. Father Maxwell and Sister Hellen were running a small orphanage and it was my first true home. They became like my family and I would have lived with them forever, if only I had had that chance. It was there that my braid saw the light of day. Father Maxwell was trying to cut my hair and I was fighting hard to prevent him. It was the last thing I had to remember Solo. Finally getting tired of our argument, Sister Hellen braided them, declaring that they were neat enough like that. I've never worn them in any other fashion since then.
Thinking about it is almost too painful, but the flow of memories won't spare me. So I have to see the disaster again. The disaster that shaped my life.
I had gone out to play with a couple of street rats, even against Father Maxwell's order not to. We went far to the outskirts of town, stealing and having fun. I didn't expect what I found when I got back.
The church was gone. Burned to the ground. There were a couple of charred little corpses I knew were the other kids of the orphanage but they were unrecognizable. One corpse was taller then the rest: Father Maxwell.
"Duo?"
I found Sister Helen crushed under several pieces of timber from the roof. She smiled at me and gave me my cross. I don't remember what she said; I was too shocked to listen. She died in my arms.
I screamed. Oh, how I screamed. All my anguish, pain and sadness were released in that cry. People stopped to look at me, pity plain in their eyes. Yet I didn't cry. Not that I wanted to, it was beyond tears.
~End of Flashback~
Duo snapped back to reality just as the water turned icy cold. He was shuddering badly, but didn't leave the shower. Concentrating on the cold helped him ignore the pain his mind was inflecting on him. He tried to calm down but his stitches and the cold finally got the better of him.
After being dressed, Duo made is way silently to his room, being careful as he walked in order not to let the wooden planks creak and reveal his position. He didn't feel up to confront the others right now. He opened the door slowly and peered inside. Heero was sitting cross-leg on his bed and was staring at him gravely. The violet-eyed boy knew it was useless to try running away from him and so entered with a sigh.
Dropping on the bed like a stone, he stretched and folded his arms behind his head with a sigh. He had counted all the cracks of the four tiles right above him before Heero said anything.
"How's the shoulder?" he asked with a hint of concern Duo was surprised to hear.
"Fine I guess. OZ patched me up pretty well," he replied blankly, fingering the stitches absent-mindedly.
"What happened?" he demanded, leaning on his knuckles.
Duo hesitated before answering. Now that the initial shock had passed, he was even more reluctant to talk about it. He didn't feel like remembering how he had lost his braid, how he had lost them.
~Flashback~
Duo groaned as he cracked open an eyelid. There were blinding lights above him and his pupils retracted into tiny pinpoints to protect themselves from the assaulter.
"He's finally coming through," a very low and rumbling voice said, making its way through Duo's foggy brain.
"Finally? I wouldn't say that. He's actually awakening much quicker than normal," another, more scratchy voice countered.
Duo tried to turn his head but found it tightly strapped to whatever he was lying on. Since the rest of his body was in the same predicament, he first tried to remember what had gotten him into that mess.
He could recall doing the mission as planned; everything was working perfectly. Just when he was about to make his way out, he was spotted by a soldier who had interrupted his shift to go piss. Both were surprised but before Duo managed to kill him, he had sounded the alarm.
Everything happened too fast for him to clearly remember after that. There was a fight, a shot and a sudden pain in his shoulder. Then he blacked out. Someone must have knocked him out, judging by his headache.
"Is he ready for interrogation?" the low growl asked again.
"Should be. Just let me check him up to be sure. Wouldn't want him dead before he speaks," the scratchy voice answered.
The owner of the second one appeared in Duo's line of sight as he stooped over to examine him. He was a small man in scientist uniform with a face much like a beetle. Duo kept his face bare of any expression as he stared at the ceiling as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. His mind worked fast as he tried to find a way to get out of the mess he had put himself in.
"He's ready. You can take him now," the scientist finally declared and moved back.
Duo felt the straps around his head being removed and he craned his neck to see the other man. He was a tall gorilla-like man, all in muscle. He would have thought him stupid if wasn't for that glint in his eyes, which told the contrary.
"Drake, give me a hand here," the gorilla growled. Another man, smaller but still well built, appeared. While the mountain held his hands tight together Drake tried to handcuff him tightly.
"Damn thing keeps getting in the way," Drake grumbled, pushing Duo's braid away from the handcuffs again where it tried to prevent the guy from restraining Duo.
"You touch it again and you're dead," Duo hissed dangerously before he could help himself. He said nothing more, slapping himself mentally for his small loss of control that could cost him a lot. You never showed any weakness to your torturer.
"Oh?" the gorilla said with an unnerving tone. "Well I would like to see you try, because I think I know what I'll do with that braid, it's pretty annoying," the man walked away and Duo heard him pick up something he feared was too sharp to his liking.
It took all of his self-control not to scream when he felt him cut his braid. He trembled badly and stared before him stubbornly in order not too show that they had just done the thing that could make him talk.
"Struck a cord, didn't I?" gorilla sneered, obviously proud of himself. And then, just to worsen everything, he took a lighter and set fire to his braid. Duo watched it shrivel up and transform into smoke and ashes as flashes of Maxwell Church burning ran through his mind, mingling with those of Sister Hellen and Solo's deaths.
Two desires were battling each other at that point. One wanted to scream and cry and run away to nurse its wounds while the other kept to its training, not wanting to fail the mission and endanger everyone.
Finally, his training won over and the little boy retreated to the far reaches of his mind, taking with him everything that was hurt and confused. Duo was left as an empty shell for every part of his being was suffering.
"Oh my, this isn't good. I fear that what you've done will only worsen things. Now he probably won't feel any pain at all. Great," the scientist groaned as he examined Duo's reaction.
"I bet I can make him talk anyway," gorilla replied and smirked.
Maybe because he really was stupid, or that he underestimated Duo in his state, but he made the error of not being careful enough while he unstrapped him. The violet-eyed boy was now only conscious of his mission, like a robot, and he fully took the opportunity and escaped.
~End Flashback~
"Next thing I now is I'm in the subway," Duo ended with a short shrug.
"Is there any chance someone followed you?" Heero demanded next.
"None. I would've lost them in the crowd even if there had been any."
Silence dropped like a stone. Duo was starting to feel uneasy and he scratched the nape of his neck unconsciously.
"Are you alright?"
Duo stared at Heero as if he had grown a second head. The care that tainted his voice was barely discernable but the violet-eyed boy knew his fellow pilot well enough by now to notice it. The brown-haired boy was sitting with his arms rested against his thighs and his hands were clutched into tight fists, the only sign of his uneasiness.
"Yeah, like I said, OZ took care of it," Duo replied confusedly. He wasn't used to seeing and hearing so much emotion coming from Heero. Not that he thought him unemotional, quite the contrary. He knew the guy felt like everyone, just that he couldn't show it.
Heero shook his head slightly. "I mean psychologically. I know your braid meant something to you," he corrected coldly. He didn't really mean it like that, but he wasn't used to situations like that and he didn't know any other way.
The violet-eyed look up at the ceiling as his scratching stopped abruptly. An awkward silence crept its way between them. Duo finally decided to break it.
"I guess it means I'll have to move on," he answered in a hushed voice. Heero quirked an eyebrow but didn't interrupt. "You want to know why I kept my braid? It's to keep all of them with me. I never completely got over their deaths and since they all had liked my hair, it was my way to stay with them. Never got over it because of it," Duo continued, hardly keeping his voice from cracking. "Now that it's gone, I feel like I've lost them all over again, and it hurts twice as much." He turned his head, not wanting Heero to see his weakness.
The violet-eyed boy heard the other bed squeak as Heero made his way to his. Duo groaned inwardly. That would only complicate things.
"I'm also afraid I'll forget them if I have nothing to remind me of them," Duo continued so softly it was barely audible. "And that's worst than everything else."
There was a heavy sigh from the other pilot. Duo nearly jumped out of his skin as a strong hand grabbed his chin with unusual gentleness and forced Duo to turn around. Heero looked at him straight in the eye and the Amercian boy saw two feelings he never dreamed to see in those cold cobalt eyes: confusion and sadness.
"Listen, I'm not sure of what I'm doing, but I know one thing. You're strong. You'll get over it and instead of living with you through you're braid, they'll be eternal in your memories," Heero ushered, brushing his thumb gently against Duo's jaw-line.
Duo was too surprised to say anything. The last person he had expected to say those words was him. Of course, he appreciated them even more coming from him. Duo had admitted since long that he liked Heero more than as just a close friend although he didn't keep his hopes too high.
So it is useless to say that when Heero leaned over him and brushed his lips against his all of his senses flared up. He was so surprised that he barely had enough of his head to reply to the shy yet soft and warm kiss he was given. Duo found himself slightly panting as Heero pulled away. The blue-eyed boy gave him a small smile, one of those he never gave to anyone. It wasn't one of his smirks, which you usually ran from, it was a real one full of love and gentleness. Duo felt himself melt inside under that smile.
"Cheer up, alright? It's not like you to get depressed over things like that," Heero said softly and stood up. His face now again set into its emotionless mask, he left the room.
Duo watched his retreating back and smiled widely. He still hurt pretty badly but he felt like he would be able to get over it much easier now that some things had been cleared. And he wasn't alone anymore, unlike all those times in the past. When Solo or Sister Helen had died, he had found himself alone and miserable. Now, after their second 'deaths', he had Heero and he knew it would change everything.
Some day, he'd tell him all about his past.
******* The End *******
Hey, hey, that's it! Hope you liked it. It's my first try at a more psycological/emotional fic and I hope I didn't mess it up. I'm actually quite romantic even though I prefer to write fics with complicated plots and filled with action. So sue me if Heero sounded a bit too mushy.
I also know the beginning looks a bit more depressing than the rest. I could've changed it but, hey, I like it like that. I also thought of doing a sequel but I decided against it since I'm not too sure of what would happen. But if too many people ask, maybe I will. ^^
A-chan