A.N. September 14th, 2001 -- Please Read: Episode Eighteen is still due today, however looking back on the events of the week, and looking at the contents of that episode, I decided it needed a rewrite out of sensitivity for victims of terrorism. It had dealt strongly with politics, war, and the powers that be, and it will still contain elements of these, but not to the degree originally planned. Strictly dialogue will be edited; the storyline will NOT be affected, and the deleted sections may very well show up later on in the months to come, but I felt that now was not the time to publish what I intended to publish a few days ago. I can't guarantee right now that Episode Eighteen will be ready today, but if there is a slight delay (my first real delay since promising my readers absolute punctuality), I'm sure everyone would agree that it is a relatively trivial matter. I sincerely hope that nobody will think I'm chickening out of a literary statement, or that I'm watering down my art for the sake of sentimentalism. I simply could not send the next episode out in the condition it was in. Good day, and God bless. (end A.N.)
Greetings! And a big congrats to everyone who got the quiz question right! =^_^= Now sit back and enjoy the fruits of your labour...or something. =^_^=
Disclaimer: This year, for my birthday, I asked for omnipotent control over the five Gundam pilots contained herein, which I didn't think was too extravagant or outlandish. What did I get? A set of green plastic see-thru picnicware from Zellers. I hope my now-ex-boyfriend puts a little more thought into his next girlfriend's birthday gift. If you want to sue me for control of the picnicware, well, whatever floats yer boat, I guess... =P
Suggested Font: Times New Roman~~~~~~~~~~
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Episode Seventeen: Gunpowder and Red Velvet "What broke in a man when he could bring himself to kill another?" ~Alan Paton September 6th, 1901 The week-long voyage without Duo turned the master spy back into the placid, calculating, self-assured gentleman he had been before arriving at Bridlewood. All his confusion, and all his stray thoughts that threatened mutiny against his years of training, were gone. Though the days passed rather slowly with no braided goofball to keep him company, there was something calming and comforting about knowing there was a job to be done. As the ocean liner steamed past Ellis Island, dozens of tired but happy holiday-makers poured out onto the main deck to get their first look at the Statue of Liberty. The American businessmen returning home flooded the shipboard restaurants and exchanged calling cards as they prepared to part ways with their new contacts, and the crew began scrubbing down all the decks in preparation for a fresh load of travellers. It was time for everyone to disembark, regardless of whether or not they had purchased a ticket. Unlike the paying customers, Duo had suffered a miserable week holed up in the life boat. Firmly believing that he would be thrown overboard if caught, he only ventured out in the dead of night to steal scraps of food from discarded plates in the dining room, and never had time to look for Heero before some random crewmember or guest would come sauntering around the corner. After the grueling journey was completed, he was hungry, filthy, and feeling a little sick from the constant motion and the salty sea air; he was so completely frenzied about getting off that boat and into his beloved homeland that when the crew began their systematic safety inspection of the life boats, he decided he'd had enough, and threw himself overboard. The chef dove ungracefully from the tarp-covered raft and struck the cool harbour water with a tell-tale splash that turned a few heads aboard ship. It was the side facing away from the dock, and all the passengers were out of earshot, but several of the crew noticed, eliminating Duo's chance of a peaceful escape. "Man overboard! Somebody grab a rope!" "He jumped from that life boat! Stowaway!" "Signal the police boat and inform the captain!" "He's getting away!" Duo swam with his last few drops of strength, totally unfamiliar with his surroundings but desperate to reach the shore before the police boat caught up with him. Just the bit of luck he needed, a fishing trawler was on its way out of the harbour and inadvertently cut off the police boat's path. The men in charge of both ships jumped up and started shouting at each other to get out of the way, long enough for Duo to make it to dry land, starving and exhausted. Aboard the ocean liner, several of the crew were having hissy fits about something, but Heero ignored them. Whatever they were so upset over couldn't possibly be as important as what was on his own mind, he reasoned. He disembarked from the opposite side of the ship and strolled into town at a leisurely pace. Following previous instructions, he went straight to the predetermined Western Union office and picked up a message already waiting for Harvey Young, his alias. The packaged consisted of a little brass key, a few dimes and nickels to get him some transportation, and a short note with further instructions. The note required him to go to Grand Central Station, where the little brass key would open a storage locker. The entire distance between the docks and the train station, Heero felt as if he were being followed, but each time he turned around, he saw nothing and no one that seemed out of the ordinary. He dismissed the odd feeling and continued on, right up to the poorly-guarded storage lockers of Grand Central Station. From the pertinent locker, he removed a curious black case with a handle, rather like an attaché case, but a bit on the heavy side. Again, Heero felt eyes on the back of his head. He whirled around swiftly, but it was just the usual crowd of busy travellers scurrying to and fro. Picking out one person who might be watching him out of this multitude was something he simply didn't have time for, however, and ignoring the eerie feeling yet again, he closed the storage locker and went to the nearest open wicket, to purchase train fare to Buffalo. The person following Heero restrained himself ruthlessly from running out of the crowd and capturing the boy in a giant bear hug. Duo stood behind a pillar, starving, freezing, on the run from the law and needing Heero more than ever, but keeping with his plan demanded that he not show himself just yet. He watched Heero carefully to see what train he boarded, then high-tailed it far from the station, to the nearest available point where the train tracks went from weaving around the urban jungle to cutting through dense weeds and vacant lots. Crouched down in the tall grass, he stared at the train, willing it to move forward until it finally answered, puffing out great clouds of steam and blowing its mighty, ear-shaking whistle. It approached and then clattered past him, car by car, and somewhere towards the end of the train, Duo summoned up his courage and leapt at the fast-moving space between two of the huge steel boxes. Before the authorities had a chance to spot him, he scrambled up on top of the train, clinging to the metal with no more than a prayer to keep him from falling off. You can't get rid of me that easily, Heero... **********While most New Yorkers had only barely finished breakfast, Hilde was cleaning up after a well-received lunch back in England. She was glowing from the usual compliments bestowed by Relena and her guests, even though they were addressed to Duo. She sent Elsie out to fetch just a handful of key ingredients, and once the lunch dishes were cleared away, Hilde started a batch of raisin tea biscuits for later. Taking care that nobody saw her, she went to the pantry with a bowl and measuring cup, opened one of the ceramic storage bins bearing a label in Duo's marginally tidy printing, and scooped out two cups of the powder within. She took the bowl over to the kitchen table and threw a pinchful of powder in her face to make it seem as if she'd been toiling away brutally for all of ten minutes. Quatre walked in not two seconds later. "Is Duo feeling any better this afternoon?" Hilde wiped her brow melodramaticaly, acting very much the tortured housewife bearing up a tremendous burden. "No...no, I'm afraid he isn't...I'm just fine, though..." "I'm sorry," Quatre said with a sheepish smile, "how are you coping today?" "Oh, just peachy!" Hilde chirped pleasantly, happy to be getting some attention at last. "Lord known it's a struggle, yes, but we all must pull together to make the ship sail smoothly, don't you agree? Sacrifices must be made by those noble enough and kind-hearted enough to endure them!" Quatre only smirked because he really didn't have anything else to say. Hilde had been doing a great job covering for an ailing Duo the past week, and an even greater job of patting herself on the back for it; she certainly didn't need any more sympathy than she was already getting. Elsie chose that very opportune moment to arrive with the groceries Hilde had asked for. She entered through the back door carrying only one sack instead of the usual two or three, and was quite grateful that it was only the third time that week she'd been sent to fetch something. "Oh, Elsie, thank you! You're just in time!" Hilde took the sack from her and emptied it on the kitchen table. She had bought bread, eggs, butter, and... "What's this?" the girl asked, picking up a squarish metal tin. Elsie immediately snatched the tin out of her hands and gave it to Quatre. "That's summat I picked up with the money left over, 'specially for you, luv." The cockney maid flashed an endearing smile at the boy. Quatre's eyes lit up. He loved surprises. "What is it? What is it?" Without waiting for an answer, he all but tore off the lid, and his entire face seemed to sparkle with pure joy as he revealed the contents. "Sesame cookies!?" Both women smiled as he took an eager bite out of one of the nutty-flavoured wafers and groaned with delight and happy memories. "Mmmmmm, they're perfect! Just like I used to have at home! Where did you find them?" Elsie didn't reveal her source, just smirked and displayed a knowing smile. "Just a little place in town, darlin'" The hungry gardener quickly scarfed down two more cookies before displaying a guilty grin. "Trowa won't like to see me eating these. He already teases me about my midnight snacking habit, so I'd better hide them. Thanks, Elsie!" He skittered away to conceal his treasure, happily licking honey off his fingers, and not a moment too soon. Trowa came in from the garden only seconds later. Still standing by the kitchen table, Elsie took off her hat and coat, and fluffed her hair back into place. "Are you sure that's all you want me to buy? A bit o' bread and a few eggs? Dunno 'ow you plan on feeding the 'ouse on that for the week." "I've been doing just fine so far, haven't I?" Hilde asked pointedly, breaking two of the eggs into her bowl of premeasured powder. "Fair goes, you've been doin' a smashing job," Elsie replied, "but we ate beef stew yesterday, and we ain't bought no meat in days! Where's the food coming from if nobody's been to market for anything but bread 'n eggs?" Over by the kitchen sink, Hilde could see the tall stable boy eyeing her suspiciously over a glass of water, and she could feel her fair cheeks turning slightly red. Elsie had hit the nail on the head, all right, and the whole situation was in serious danger of blowing up in Hilde's face. She twirled Elsie around and quickly hustled her towards the west stairs. "No time for that now, I've got work to do. Biscuits to bake, chicken to marinade, vegetables to chop, thanks for stopping by, see you later!" She practically pushed the woman out of the kitchen, then peeked over her shoulder to gauge Trowa's reaction. He didn't look pleased. "She has a point, Hilde. Where's all the food coming from?" Hilde's eyes bugged out, and with a strangled gasp, she stomped towards him, angrily brandishing a wooden mixing spoon. "Don't you have anything better do to other than hang around my kitchen, cluttering up my work space and asking dumb questions!? Get out! Shoo!" She slapped, kicked, and poked him right out the back door, and being a principled gentleman, Trowa couldn't bring himself to hit her back. He ended up outside with the glass of water still in his hand, and the kitchen door slammed in his face, thinking that this whole story about Duo being sick in bed didn't quite ring true. **********That afternoon, after the train ride to Buffalo, Heero dutifully picked out a postcard to send to Relena, as promised. It would have his precise location time and date stamped, and she would surely show it to Treize, but at this point, Heero honestly didn't care. Out of the pocket money he had been supplied with by Lord Jeffrhyss, he bought a souvenir postcard of the Pan-American Exposition, 1901. He had some difficulty in deciding what to write on it as he loitered around Delaware Park waiting to receive the name of his intended target. 'Having a great time, wish you were here' didn't exactly fit his sentiments about this holiday. The entire world seemed to be gathering in the city of Buffalo to celebrate the glorious new century ahead. Three hundred and fifty acres in all had been transformed into a fantastic wonderland of art, science, culture, and architecture, bringing together dreams and ideas from the four corners of the earth. Strangely enough, it was here that a murder was about to be committed, an event totally out of place amongst the opulent splendour. Heero had rented another storage locker in the local train depot for his own belongings, unsure of whether or not he'd be in a fit condition to retrieve them after the job was done. As instructed, he entered the Exposition fairgrounds carrying only the black attaché case. He spent quite some time wandering around, plotting out escape routes and looking for suitable places to hide, in case they became necessary, and after awhile, he actually started looking at the colours and shapes that his training told him to ignore. He walked past a fountain and couldn't resist dipping his free hand in the cool water, walked through the Horticulture Building and looked at all the multitudes of flowers and plants growing there, walked down the midway and took longing glances at the Japanese pavillion with it's classic temple facade and genuine geisha girls. Regrettably, Heero was just beginning to enjoy himself when it was time to go. 3:45. Time to take up his position for the hit. **********Duo had an awful time tracking Heero past the train station in Buffalo. The butler had five cents for the trolley, and the chef didn't. What should have been a twenty-minute ride in reasonable comfort turned into a tortuous walk on an empty stomach that took hours. He didn't even know where Heero was. All he could do was pray mightily to be pointed in the right direction, and pray for the strength to keep walking. I must look like I just crawled out of the gutter, he thought. And I can't believe I've waited my whole life to come home and when I finally do, it turns out to be my worst week in living memory. Halelujah, I'm home. Down another street he didn't recognize, past store fronts he didn't know and through crowds of people he'd never met. Everything hurt. His arms and legs were starting to go unpleasantly numb. The street he was walking very shakily on was starting to blur. Please, God...I can't make it...please help me... "Hey kid! Did they throw you out of the poorhouse or something?" Perhaps the oddest answer to a prayer Duo had ever received, a voice called out from behind him, on the razor's edge between sarcasm and sincerity. "Looking like that, they'd throw you out of anywhere!" Duo looked up just as a pony and trap drew up beside him. There was a middle-aged man driving it who could only be described in Duo's mind as pointy. Pointy hair, pointy beard, pointy moustache, pointy everything. He wore dark spectacles, a sea captain's hat, and a rather loudly-coloured shirt that suggested he once stood too close to an explosion in a paint factory. Duo tried to make a noise, any noise, to indicate that he heard and understood, and that he needed help, but he couldn't force anything from his throat besides a laboured, exhausted wheeze. Intuitively, the strange man stopped his pony, reached down, and offered the frail boy a hand up to the little wooden cart. "You don't look too good, kid. Why doncha sit up here and take a load off?" Shaking from hunger, Duo slowly took the man's hand and climbed into the cart, needing a fair bit of help from his saviour in the process. Once settled, he leaned wearily against the stiff wooden backrest and fought to stay upright. "...thanks," he said thinly. "No problem," the pointy man said, spurring the pony forward. "You haven't eaten in awhile, I'm guessing?" "Couple days..." Duo lied. It had actually been much longer. "Days!? Holy Hannah...here, take a few chunks outa this..." The pointy man took a sandwich out of his sack and handed it to Duo, who smiled to beat the sunshine and tore into it ravenously. The man grinned. "Where you headed, kid?" "Dunno," the boy mumbled without bothering to swallow. Maybe if I could remember where Heero was going... "I'm on my way to the Pan-Am Exposition, like most everybody else visiting this town," the man said, "'cause I've gotta be where the action is, know what I mean? No sense sittin' around while there's a party left uncrashed, no way, man..." Duo's eyes glazed over, and he stopped chewing while he pondered what the man said. Exposition...that's what that guy Wufei said...something about a crime at the Exposition... "Yeah, that's where I'm going! But...I don't have any money to get in..." "Well, that's pretty obvious," the man chuckled. "I can get you in. I know a guy." Suddenly, the clouds parted. "You can!? Seriously!?" Duo latched onto the man's arm so hard he could barely steer. "I can't tell you how much that would mean to me if you did! I'll pay you back someday, I don't know how or when, but I swear I'll pay you back!" The pointy man chuckled again. "Listen, don't sweat it. You seem like a decent kid, and I believe in giving decent folk a break, that's all. Be cool about it." He adjusted his captain's hat and gave the reins another sharp crack. Duo could have cried for joy, but instead focused on finishing the much-needed sandwich. He didn't know why the man thought he was a decent kid, especially the way he must have appeared at that moment, but it didn't seem to matter. "I can't thank you enough, mister. I won't forget this, ever." The man simply smiled, driving the pony and trap closer to the front gates of the biggest show in town. **********Making himself cold as ice once again, Heero carried the black attaché case to the building indicated in his instructions, the glorious Temple of Music. It was a massive domed structure, painted with brilliant reds, blues, and golds, and there was a large, buzzing crowd gathered outside the main entrance. Many were looking up at the intricate decorations jutting out from the sides of the building, but most were straining to get a glimpse of whatever was inside. Heero ignored them and went around the back of the building. Inside was a very elegant auditorium, fitted out with especially nice finery as if today were some special occasion. A long line of people were walking in a slow procession through a man-made grove of potted palms, while the giant pipe organ was chiming out lovely classical pieces, echoing through every corner. Heero saw none of this, since he kept strictly to the back halls and staff stairwells. There seemed to be an unusual number of police and military personnel present, but Heero hadn't spent the last ten years in stealth school for nothing, and slipped past them all easily. Two flights of stairs up, he arrived at his final destination, an opera-style box that had been reserved for him in advance. He went inside and locked the door behind him. The private box matched the rest of the building in its expensive tastes; two red plush velvet chairs and a gilded tray for drinks sat in front of a drawn velvet curtain, the same shade of red. There were complimentary nibbles and two pairs of opera glasses, with which the average guest could better enjoy the peformance. He left the electric lights turned off, not wanting anyone to see the ribbon of brightness between the curtain panels from the outside; even with his superior vision, there was just barely enough light to see. He checked his pocketwatch. 3:53. Sitting in one chair and putting the black case on the other, he drew a long, slow breath. Let's see exactly how important I am to the world of espionage. He opened the case. The inside was molded to fit several pieces of black metal--a disassembled rifle of the highest and most modern sohpistication. Heero raised an eyebrow and began examining the pieces one by one; the weapon had been manufactured less than six months ago, according to the mill marks on the barrel. They must think quite a lot of me, to give me this, he thought. There was a pocket in the lid of the case, and inside he found the expected envelope; inside that would be the specs on his target. He opened it, having surmised that to send him all that way, the target must be fairly important, perhaps a wealthy businessman with a political agenda, or an aristocrat whose heir would be loyal to Jeffrhyss. Heero didn't notice the envelope was unusually thick until the contents nearly knocked him off his chair. Tucked in with his instructions was the sum of one hundred dollars in brand new five-dollar bills. His stomach did a flip. This was his fee. Who on earth could merit such an exorbitant... Without finishing the thought, he ripped the other papers out of the envelope and opened them. His mouth went dry and he grew numb from head to foot as he read the target's name:
Heero looked up with vacant eyes. ...President McKinley!? He dropped the papers and the money, flew to the curtain, and pulled the panels apart just enough to peek outside. There, standing amongst the potted palms and smartly-dressed secret service men, was the man in the pictures he was given, the President of the United States of America. The crowd that had been gathered outside the front of the building was filing past the portly man, each shaking his hand and offering a greeting in turn. Heero flung the curtain closed and lurched away from it backwards, nearly tripping over one of the red plush chairs. He leaned against the wall with a thousand pins and needles shooting through his nervous system. This should have been easy. It was what he'd been trained to do his whole life. Get in, make the hit, get out. Now, at the most critical point in his career, he was suddenly behaving very irrationally...almost fearfully... What would Duo think? The second he thought the boy's name, he started breathing again. It repulsed him on a fundemental level that he was balking at a mission because of some silly personal attachment that was long gone anyway. No...he made it quite clear how he feels about our...mutual acquaintance. It's over. This has nothing to do with him. He crushed all thoughts of the boy and sat back down in front of the black case. As he began calmly assembling the rifle, he pondered at how it all seemed to make sense now; Wufei didn't believe Heero could make it out of this mission alive, and it was pretty clear why. Indeed, if he made even the slightest error in disappearing from the scene after the hit, he would be easily captured, and for the severity of the crime, he would not escape execution. He checked his watch again. 3:59. The rifle was loaded with a single bullet and raised to shoulder level. He stood in front of the curtains and nudged them apart just enough to see the President through the sights of the weapon, it's muzzle barely protruding from the cascade of crimson velvet. The angle was a perfect 45° from center, allowing a clear line of vision between the heads of the two people standing in front of the target. It would be a clean kill. Heero took aim. **********Once inside the fairgrounds, Duo thanked the man in the colourful shirt once again and resumed his search. The sandwich had given him an energy boost, but he was still starving, and it was made worse by having to walk past all the concession stands with no money in his pockets. There were tempting goodies calling to him from every direction, so close and yet so far. Food. No food. Can't think about food. Heero. Gotta find Heero. Duo found that if he shut his eyes and cleared his mind, some bizarre instinct sometimes told him which way to go, which way Heero had gone. He had known since shortly after meeting the stoic boy that they were very much alike, but until now hadn't given much thought as to how deep the connection ran. At times, he thought he could feel Heero's presence stronger in one direction than another, and it was always that direction that he chose. After another long, tiring walk, he noticed an enormous crowd gathered outside a very ornate building with a domed roof. Curiosity poked him in the back and shoved him towards the crowd, instantly feeling their collective excitement. A brief search revealed the reason; Duo spotted and read a sign posted nearby that announced the visit of President McKinley himself to the Exposition. Reception at the Temple of Music, visitors welcome. Duo's heart nearly leapt out of his chest. I could meet the President!? No way! His glee soon faded as he remembered the sorry condition he was in after hiding in a life boat for a solid week and then taking a dip in New York Bay. Damn, I can't meet him looking like this anyway! There were a few other people in line who were rather poorly dressed, like he was, but in the end, even the chance of a lifetime was no competition for what he really came to do. He asked around to a few people in the crowd, and as luck would have it, one or two had seen a boy matching Heero's description walking the perimeter of the building. Although met by a small army of security forces when he went to investigate, his stealth techniques were too crafty for the uniformed men, and he slipped inside without anyone noticing. **********The strains of the pipe organ's song echoed in the tiny opera box, muffled slightly by the thick velvet curtain separating the elevated room from the auditorium below. Heero waited, with his sights on his target's head and his finger on the trigger, waiting...waiting for a clear shot... An image of Duo popped into his mind uninvited, and he faltered; an image of Duo reading of the President's murder in the London newspapers. If he'd never taught the boy to read, he might have kept solely to his humble kitchen duties, at the worst perhaps hearing the news from someone in the street days after the fact. Now, since the sheer number of security forces blanketing the area were considerable and escape less likely, he was going to read the terrible news himself and see the name 'Yuy' written alongside it. Heero gave him that power of knowledge, and now he was going to hurt him with it. Badly. The view down the sights of the rifle wobbled. Heero realized his hands were shaking and was forced to put the weapon down. Desperate for the reinstatement of his mental stability, he took the familiar paper out of his inside coat pocket and read the five lines penned in Lord Jeffrhyss' hand:
Heero felt better, but not much. The calming effect of his master's words was diminished somewhat, but they gave him enough strength to pick up the rifle and take aim a second time. The pipe organ was beginning to distract him now, stray notes of Bach pushing one half of his mind further away from the task, while the other half struggled to pull it back. 'Peace comes from harmony.' What am I doing? Why am I here and not someone else? His trigger hand was getting slippery. He wiped it hastily on his trouser leg and repositioned it. 'Harmony comes from oneness.' What if I do escape? How could I ever go back to England? His tenuous grip on the rifle allowed the sights to drift onto one of the secret service men. He quickly righted it back to his target. 'Oneness comes from obedience.' Duo loves this country...if he finds out I struck down its leader, he'll hate me for the rest of his life. He grew dizzy from holding his breath to steady the weapon, exhaled, inhaled again quickly, and refocused himself. 'Obedience brings about order. Order brings about peace.' Slowly, very slowly, Heero leaned back, lowered the rifle, and stared blank-faced through the gap in the velvet curtains. What peace can possibly come from this? Right then, he committed perhaps the most grievous sin for a sharpshooter next to missing the target, and that was questioning his orders; oddly enough, the expected wave of guilt and self-reproach never came. He just watched the line of people trot forward at a snail's pace to shake the hand of the President. For no reason that he could identify, he imagined Duo in that line. Duo. In an ugly flash, it struck him how right Wufei had been about Duo distracting him from his mission. Horribly right. He could almost see the Chinese informant smirking at him from the other side of the curtain. This wasn't supposed to happen to him. He was the best of the best, and now he was throwing it all away to save the feelings of a boy who didn't even care about him to say goodbye. In a sudden rage of shame and self-hatred, Heero angrily flung the rifle at the two chairs, knocking one of them over and coming to rest in a tangled heap on top of the scattered money and bits of paper. When he'd calmed down a bit, he realized how lucky he was that the gun wasn't discharged by accident from the force of the impact. He checked his watch. 4:04. The job should have been done by now. He had to decide what to do next. The money could take me anywhere in the world, but I'd need a new identity. When it becomes clear that I abandoned a mission, I'll be labelled a berserker and Jeffrhyss will have every available man looking for me. He was feeling a bit panicky and was actually wringing his hands. He had just begun to wonder how meeting one person could have such a profoundly strange effect on him when a knock came at the door. The would-be assassin froze. After a moment or two, a second knock was heard. When that went unanswered, someone began testing the door handle. Heero kept very still until a series of clicks and light taps indicated that someone was trying to pick the lock from the other side; he slowly went for his gun, tucked in the shoulder holster under his jacket all this time. He levelled the handheld weapon at the door just as the lock gave a final, resounding click, and the door began to swing open. On the other side, looking exhausted and able to stand only by some miracle of the Almighty, was a weak, hungry boy wearing a filthy tweed suit. The lad looked up and into the tiny room with weary violet eyes and smiled with immeasurable relief. "Heero..." he whispered. Totally aghast, Heero forgot his dilemma instantly. He stared in shock, wondering if he was seeing an apparition of his own demented mind's making, but when the vision dragged himself inside and shut the door, that was proof enough. He holstered his gun and dashed forward just as Duo was caught a little off-balance and nearly toppled over from fatigue. The braided boy all but collapsed into Heero's arms. He looked up and slapped his friend lightly on the shoulder. "Tag. You're it." Heero swiftly put him in the chair that was still standing and tilted his head back by the chin, looking with misery at how gaunt and sickly the boy had become. He'd been in better health living on the streets of London. "Duo...when...how did you get here!?" The chef grinned as much as he was able. "You know the poor people who sail economy class? Well I was about four classes below them." Heero's eyes bulged at the realization. "You stowed away aboard my ship!?" Duo pushed himself upright in the chair and looked around. "Is everything in this room paid for?" "....yes." "Awesome." In the blink of an eye, all the edible items on the gilded tray were in Duo's pockets instead, except for a huge slab of shortbread stamped with the Exposition's logo, which he was quickly stuffing in his mouth. "Living at the manor's made me soft. Can't go one lousy week without food anymore." Heero found himself missing the gift of speech for several seconds. More powerful than concern for the status of his mission or worry about his own fate after that day, he was immersed in the most calming feeling of security and warmth. His friend hadn't turned his back on him after all, and now that he was here, they could think, fight, and cheat their way out of any bad situation. It was going to be okay. "Duo..." "Before you say anything," Duo said with his mouth half full and his hands raised in a pleading fashion, "I know you're probably mad at me for tagging along without asking, but I wanna explain everything to you. I promise I had a good reason for doing what I did." Heero blinked, then very faintly smiled. "I'm not angry at you." Duo smiled back brightly, looking surprised, but relieved. He rubbed his hands together as he thought of the best place to start explaining. Outside in the auditorium, the pipe organ was building up to a tense crescendo, and a few high notes lingered in the air and danced in circles far above the heads of the crowd. A shot rang out. Startled screams were heard, and a second shot followed. Duo leapt out of the chair and crashed into Heero. There was shouting and fighting and cries of 'Mr. President! Mr. President!' that melted into a vague, heavy din. Heero motioned for Duo to stay back and looked through the curtains. My God...somebody else did it... He turned back, white as a sheet, and took Duo by the arm. "We're getting out of here, now." Duo was equally ashen, but not so keen to leave, tugging his arm in the opposite direction. "What's going on? What happened!? Let me go, Heero, I want to see!!" Distraught and fuelled by fear, Duo wrenched his arm free, whirled around and tore open the curtains. The scene below was chaos. People were running frantically this way and that, shouting and gesturing wildly. A group of men, some uniformed, some not, had a scrawny beanpole of a man on the ground and were beating the tar out of him, having pried a revolver out of his hand. In the middle of it all was President McKinley, seated on the floor and propped up by his secret service men, reaching out to the mob in a tender plea not to be overly brutal with his attacker. A large crimson stain on his shirt was growing larger by the second. Heero reached in front of Duo and drew the curtains closed again. He turned him around to look straight into his trembling face. "There's nothing we can do. We should just leave quietly and let the police do their job." Duo slowly shook his head in disbelief, tears welling up in his eyes. "Who would do such a thing?" he breathed shakily. Bitterness and guilt stabbed at Heero. "I don't know." He tried to pull Duo gently towards the door, but the boy's foot caught on something. They looked down at it, and both their hearts felt a terrible crushing agony instantly. "What is this!?" Duo demanded angrily. Heero tried to tug him away, but the boy savagely ripped his arm out of the other's grip, all while giving him a violent look of pure rage. He crouched down and examined the object, a shining black sniper rifle. Underneath it were papers, notes, and photos of the President. And money. A huge amount of money. Duo's head snapped up with a shadow of fury Heero had never seen on him before, and hoped never to see again. He jerked his whole left arm towards the curtain. "That's what you came here to do, isn't it!?" he shouted, clearly meaning the gruesome scene below. "...you were here when we heard the shots," Heero said in a weak voice that surprised him greatly. "We were both right over there...I wasn't anywhere near--" "You were going to shoot him!!" Duo hollered, leaping up with the rifle's muzzle in his right hand. He stalked towards Heero holding the weapon upright, punching the air around every other word with his fist, the rifle dangling from it limply as if ashamed of its own presence. "You knew how much this country has always meant to me, you knew how I felt about the symbols of decency and democracy that my parents believed in, and you were gonna sit up here in front of the most important symbol of all and put a God-damn hole in his head!! All for this!!" He kicked the pile of five-dollar bills, sending the freshly minted bank notes flying. Heero actually flinched at the action, the verbal bullets piercing him everywhere. He swallowed and shook his head once. "...no.." "Swear to God!?" Duo cried, shoving the rifle's upright barrel sharply in Heero's face. Without warning, he dropped it, and it fell to the floor end-first with a jolt. Heero was lucky a second time that it didn't fire by accident, only clattered to the floor harmlessly. Duo grabbed the stunned boy by the lapels and jerked him closer to his own reddened, tear-streaked face. "Swear to God, Heero," he choked out in a raspy voice, "swear to God that you weren't gonna do it...I promise I'll believe you...just swear you weren't gonna kill him..." Giving up the last of his dignity, Duo leaned his head forward and wept into Heero's shoulder. Something unusual that Heero had never felt before made him draw his arms around his sobbing friend and hold him. "I couldn't do it," he breathed into the grungy, stringy chestnut hair, "I didn't want to...I knew it would hurt you just like this, and I couldn't be the one...I couldn't do this to you." Drained by the last seven days, and especially the last seven minutes, consciousness loosened it's hold on Duo, and he suddenly went limp in Heero's arms. He caught the boy and lowered him gently to the floor, away from the rifle, and decided it would be best to let him sleep for awhile. Neither one of them needed to escape in a hurry now anyway. Heero leaned against the wall and cradled Duo close to him, listening to the hundreds of anguished voices crying out just a few yards away. On the floor amongst the rubble, he spotted a slip of tawny paper he hadn't seen before. He picked it up, thinking it must have been dislodged from some hiding place among the bank notes when Duo kicked them. It was a memo in Lord Jeffrhyss' handwriting: 'I have decided that I will permit you to return to England once this assignment is completed. However, be certain that I will be watching you more closely from now on. Never forget who your master is.' Staring blankly forward, he dropped the note and put his arm back securely around Duo, determined to sit there and think about absolutely nothing until he woke again. **********With the stealth of a sidewinder snake, Quatre crept into the bedroom he shared with Trowa and slithered halfway under his bed, looking for buried treasure. Glancing carefully about to make sure his bodyguard wasn't guarding him at that particular moment, he pulled out the metal tin of sesame cookies and had another quick snack. He wouldn't like me munching on these...but they're so good! I can't put them down! "Quatre, come back to the kitchen when you've got a minute," someone said from the doorway. The gardnener froze at hearing Trowa's voice, but fortunately his back was turned, so he couldn't see the tin of cookies. Quatre swallowed quickly wiped the crumbs off his face. "Coming!" He frantically slapped the lid back on the tin the second Trowa was gone and put it back under the bed. That was close. As he rose from his spot, he felt a sharp pain in his stomach, and thought perhaps it was for the best if he left the cookies alone for awhile. He went to the kitchen and saw Hilde working busily on the last of the dinner dishes. Her back was to the boys as she toiled, and Trowa beckoned Quatre silently over and mouthed the words 'follow my lead.' Quatre nodded curiously. Trowa cleared his throat. "Hilde..." The girl jumped, and turned around, obviously startled. "Oh! Come for a late-night nibble? There's plenty of those muffins left..." "If Duo's as sick as he sounds, shouldn't someone call a doctor?" Trowa asked in an innocent tone of voice. Hilde shook her head. "He's afraid of doctors, he'll only jump out the window, trust me." "Well then, at least someone should take him his dinner. He won't get any better without food, you know." He glanced over at Quatre. "Oh yes, you're right," the blond boy chimed in, "it's not good to starve yourself when you're trying to recover from a sudden illness!" The scullery maid blinked a few times. "...huh? What exactly are you saying, that I haven't been feeding him? That's ludicrous!" Trowa pointed to the stack of dinner plates that had been used that evening. "You're one short. He hasn't had dinner yet, or there'd be one more dirty plate, wouldn't there?" Hilde gave a tiny little gasp, then composed herself to look reasonably confident. "Well...he ate out of a bowl. And I already washed it and put it away, so tough luck." "Just one bowl? You mean he didn't have dessert?" Quatre asked in mock despair. "Nobody should go without dessert, especially when they're sick! I'll take his dessert up to him now." He quickly took a little plate and put a couple of the muffins on it. The nervous girl jumped forward and tried to block off Quatre's exit. "No, no! That won't be necessary, he's asleep! And he's in no condition to be woken up, so you might as well save yourself the trip!" "Then why don't I just put these on the bedside table and he can eat them when he wakes up?" He sidestepped Hilde while Trowa sneaked up on her from behind. The tall boy quickly clamped his arms on hers and restrained her from making any further motion towards the stairs. "Eeek! Let me go!" she shrieked, kicking and thrashing so much that Trowa had to wrap his arms all the way around her torso and lift her off the ground to keep either of them from getting injured. "Put me down! And you! You get away from those stairs!" "Why, Hilde? Why shouldn't he go up and see Duo?" Trowa asked in a sly voice, still lifting her several inches off the floor. "I'm going up now, Hilde, unless you want to say something," Quatre sang from the bottom of the stairwell. The girl cried and whimpered, but finally relented. "Don't go up, please! I'll tell you what you want to know, just don't tell anyone else!" Slowly, Trowa lowered her back down and Quatre came back with the plate of muffins. The cornered her against the kitchen table and waited for what Trowa expected would be one whopper of a story. "Duo's....not here." Trowa folded his arms. "What do you mean, 'not here'?" "I mean he's gone. He left a week ago." Quatre looked confused. "Where did he go in such a rush that he couldn't tell us where he was going? And how could you make every one of his recipes come out perfectly without him? You said you were up and down those stairs three times a day asking him for cooking advice because you'd never touched a pot or pan in your life." Hilde looked them both in the eyes back and forth, and sighed. "It'd be easier to show you than to tell you." She took them by a hand each and led them to the pantry. This was going to take awhile. **********Duo woke in a dark haze, after suffering many strange dreams that involved Heero and blood in some way, and trying desperately to shut them all out of his mind. He vaguely wondered why he had fallen asleep sitting up until he felt the closeness of another person and instantly knew who it was. He smiled weakly. "Heero?" "Hn?" "What happened?" "You passed out." Duo nodded and snuggled his face back into Heero's shirt. "Oh." He looked up at the gap in the curtain. The auditorium was still brightly lit, but the voices were much quieter than before. "How long was I asleep?" "A few hours." The chef sat straight up and scooted away from Heero enough to look at him. "A few hours? What did I miss? Where's the President??" Heero leaned on arm on a raised knee, looking very tired. "They took him away. He was still alive when he left the building." Duo sighed and closed his eyes. "Did you hear anything else?" "No." There really wasn't any further to reason to stay there, and Duo was more than ready to leave. "Can we go now?" Heero almost smirked at that, and would have, had there been enough will left in him to do so. He sat up and gathered up the notes and pictures, put them all in a hollowed-out section of the gilded tray, and took out his lighter. Unwrapping one of the complimentary luxury cigars on the tray, he lit it, as well as the papers, placing them together in the hopes that the smell would be disguised to anyone passing by. Next, he reassembled the rifle and put it back in the case, then put the knocked-down chair back where it was standing earlier, and looked down at the floor. He wasn't sure what to do about the money. "Take it, Heero." A surprising suggestion came from the weakened lips of his companion. "It's nobody's business anymore who gets it or why they got it." Heero crouched next to the scattered five-dollar bills, but hesitated. Whether it got what it paid for or not, it was still blood money. "Are you sure?" Duo leaned against the wall, putting on a brave smirk. "Yeah, what the hell, go ahead. It'll be like stealing from your boss, but he deserves it, after trying to make you do something like this." Wordlessly, Heero gathered up the money, and they left together, keeping away from crowds of anguished people huddled around newspapers trying to piece together what happened. The mood of the place had darkened considerably. The feeling of fun that had permeated every molecule had disappeared completely, and all the citizens were in a depressed state unlike anything they had collectively experienced before. It was almost 10 o'clock, and fairly dark out, but the hundreds of thousands of electric lights scattered around the fairgrounds did nothing to brighten the atmosphere. The two boys slipped out and tried to plot a safe route back to the train station to drop off the rifle and pick up Heero's suitcase, but there was a dramatic change in the city that wouldn't allow for covert movements. When they neared the city core, they found thousands of people crowding the streets, an angry mob that filled Main Street corner to corner, focused around police headquarters, where the true shooter was being held. Ropes had been strung in strategic places by the police in an effort to control the mob, but they pressed out against them, shaking newspapers in the air and chanting, 'LYNCH HIM! LYNCH HIM!' Duo clasped Heero's arm from behind, as he sensed the other boy tense up at the mob's angry cries. They ducked down an alley to escape the ruckus, and Heero leaned against a brick wall and ran a hand through his hair, looking shell-shocked. "That could have been me they were shouting for...I was an eighth of an inch away from causing this...so close..." "But you didn't. You're innocent, and you're going to stay that way," Duo ordered, grabbing him by the shoulders. Heero looked away. "I won't be innocent in the eyes of the people who sent me, not when they realized I refused the mission and kept the payment." "How will they know that? There were two shots, right? You could say one came from his gun and one came from yours!" "But this gun hasn't been fired!" Heero pointed out, giving the black case a sharp shake. "I'm supposed to put it back in the storage locker where I found it, but they'll be able to tell it was never used!" "Fire it now and put it back later!" "With that lynch mob standing a few feet away!? It would only cause a riot!" Duo scratched his head and ran over his brief knowledge of American geography. "Throw it in the lake!" "...what?" "Just throw it in the lake! It's not that far from here, and nobody will ever see it again! You can tell your boss that the police were hot on your trail and you had to get rid of it! Please, Heero!" After a moment's thought, he nodded, and they took off towards Lake Erie, avoiding the eyes of the mob and the police. Guilt and suspicion were hovering over them the entire time, and whenever they bumped into someone, it jolted them into wondering if that was the person who would turn them in for acting suspiciously. Another long walk later, and they were at the lakeshore. It was pitch black out, and nobody seemed to be around at that particular spot where they were standing. Heero opened the black case a crack and filled it with water, then snapped it shut, and with a gargantuan effort, hurled it a good twenty yards away, and it sank instantly. Watching it fall beneath the black surface of the water, he felt a strange sense of liberation, even though he knew he would probably pay for it later. Duo came up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder. "What now?" Heero shrugged. "I didn't plan on getting this far." "Well, I'll tell ya what I think you should do," Duo said, walking around to face him, "you told everyone you were going on vacation, right? So now you're on vacation. Seriously, what else can you do? You're stuck here until your boat leaves, you're incredibly rich, so you might as well enjoy the time you've got left." The day's events had put Duo in a strangely philosophical mood. Heero looked deeply into those amethyst gems, marvelling once again at how much their owner was willing to sacrifice just to be close to him. He must have put himself through hell to get here...to get to me...why? At that moment, he could think of only one fitting way to reward him. He stepped beside Duo and draped an arm around his shoulders, walking him slowly away from the shoreline. "In that case," he announced, "as soon as we fetch my suitcase, we are going to take that money and seek ourselves the finest rooms in the finest hotel to be found within a hundred miles of this place. First class all the way. And we are both officially on vacation until it's time for me to leave. Agreed?" Duo smiled widely. "You bet," he chirped, "but you've gotta agree to something too. Sooner or later, I want you to talk to me. I want you to tell me about yourself, the whole truth this time. I want to know what's going on with you....because I worry about you, Heero." He coiled his own arm around his friend's shoulders, tying them together in an inseparable knot. Heero smiled. It was no use, Duo wasn't going to let go of him for all the world, so it would be quite right to make the best of it. He didn't realize until then that he had something very special in this friendship, someone very special walking beside him, who would drag himself to the ends of the earth to be with him. It was a nice feeling, and he had too few of those in his short lifetime, so he was doubly determined to enjoy it. "Agreed." Explanations would come later. For now, they had some serious relaxing to do. |
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Next, in Episode Eighteen: While Duo and Heero share their secrets in America, something unsavoury is happening back at Bridlewood. Quatre falls ill mysteriously, and nobody knows the cause. How could the event have been affected by Duo's disappearance, and how long can the staff keep it a secret from Relena?
YEE-HAW! I thought I'd NEVER finish this one! I made so many revisions, and did so much research...oh by the way, a MAJOR research credit goes to A Souvenir of the Pan-American Exposition, an excellent site from which I took pretty much all of my historical facts about this event. It's got a ton of info and pictures, so check it out! And incidentally, there may be the odd deadly weapon at the bottom of Lake Erie, but definitely not Heero's rifle, so put away your wet suits, people. =P Next episode is due out September 14th! =^_^= Baibai!