Title: My Tale part 1 of 2/? (first part of the second chapter) Author: Pied Piper Rating: PG-13 Pairings: None Warnings: bad words, references to prostitution, most likely nothing that you haven't read before.
Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing. Summary: A tale of the events that made Duo what he is today. A/N: I'm about half way through the second chapter (no, I haven't be struggling to write for the past month, I only really started a week ago) so I decided to post it now instead of making you guys wait until it's complete (I'll have to split it in two anyway, because ff.n doesn't like big files). The second part will be out before the first of July, if not sooner. If you want me to notify you when the next chapter comes out, just email me or let me know in the review, and I'd be glad to oblige.

I'd like to thank Ally127, Cassie, Hexagon, Sallie, Amber, and Abbally for reviewing my story, I love you guys so much and I'm sorry I made you wait so long.

"There is nothing better fitted to delight the reader than change of circumstances and varieties of fortune" Cicero

"Children are curious and are risk takers. They have lots of courage. They venture out into a world that is immense and dangerous. A child initially trusts life and the processes of life."John Bradshaw

Oliver wasn't really afraid of the dark: he had never been told tales of scary monsters that lurked in the shadows and thus, didn't even know they existed. Even though he wasn't afraid of it, Oliver still didn't much like the dark: he'd rather be in the artificial sunlight where his mommy would wait with arms outstretched for him, but it was dark here, so his mommy was nowhere to be found. She was waiting for him where the sunlight shone, and for right now, Oliver was alone.
But he wasn't entirely alone. No, he was in-fact with a handful of other people, all crammed into a one-person cell and given enough food to leave them all . . . still hungry. They were nice people though. One, a short man with whiskers and a rat like nose, had even given Oliver half his ration, even if the man had sneezed on it earlier. As for the other cell mates, well . . . they pretty much left Oliver up to his own doing, and could care less whether he lived or died, just as long as he didn't snore too loudly when he slept. Luckily, Oliver didn't snore. But then again, he didn't sleep much either. At night, Oliver would stay awake for hours and watch the stars from the small window: so small, so distant, and yet so close that if Oliver just reached out far enough, surely he could catch one and have it be his own little sunlight. After a few nights, he realized that he was not the only one who watched the stars.
There was a boy in the cell whom Oliver first mistook as being Dodger, but quickly realized was someone different. This boy, like Dodger, was tall with blue eyes and blond hair but, unlike Dodger, the hair of this boy was long. It fell down to the middle of his back, and was pulled into a low ponytail, but it couldn't hold a few strands that escaped and framed his gaunt face. The boy didn't seem mean, but then again, neither had Dodger. Just to be on the safe side, Oliver avoided this boy "like the plague," but he couldn't help his curiosity.
For some reason, this boy didn't have the same depressed attitude of all the other cell mates: he seemed to be patiently waiting for something, and just enjoying the wait. . .
Waiting for something . . .
Oliver could feel himself start to wait for something, anything to happen. He was still young, he longed to run around and, well, do anything but sit here, in this small cell, hour after hour, day after day. He was bored. There was nothing to do but sit, sleep, or pace, and try his best to avoid the blond boy. But one morning Oliver awoke (but when had he fallen asleep? he couldn't remember) and found himself face to face with the blond.
The blond scrutinized him for a few long minutes. "What's your name, kid?"
"Oliver . . ." the familiarity of this situation made Oliver nervous.
The blond blinked at Oliver. "Oliver: that's not a street name. Do you have a family waiting for you somewhere, kid?"
"My mommy's waiting for me where the sun is."
The blond raised his eyebrows. "Where the sun is? And where would that be?"
A giggle escaped Oliver's lips. "At the food store; she's waiting for me there."
"Do you mean one of the supermarkets?"
He nodded. "Yea, that's it. She's waiting for me there."
The blond watched Oliver for a few minutes, a strange expression on his face before he sighed and looked away. He eventually looked up once more and smiled at Oliver. "I'm Solo, and I'm going to look after you for awhile, okay?"
"Until I can find my mom?" He was determined to believe that Dodger was a liar.
Solo sighed, "Yea, until we can find your mom."

Life wasn't too bad once Oliver became acquainted with the blond. During the day, he had someone to talk with, someone to keep him company; at night, there was a thin shoulder to lean up and a pair of watchful eyes to guard him. The cell became Oliver's playground while Solo became his surrogate brother, his teacher, and when the time came, his deliverer. That time turned out to be sooner than Oliver expected.
There was no dramatic escaped for Solo and Oliver, just a simple, well thought-out plan. It began with the arrival of a new cell mate; a puny little girl looking to be the same age as Oliver, with straight, mousy brown hair that fell to her chin, her shoulders, her ears, and everywhere in-between, and beady black eyes. The girl gave a little squeak when dropped into the cell, but stood herself up and made her way to Solo. "Did I do good?" she asked; her voice was high pitched and mousy.
"Yea cutie, you did good. A little late, but that's okay. Where's your friend?"
"I let him go right before they searched me, and I made sure he had a pick tied around him, just like you wanted."
"This one knows his name, right? You remember what happened last time . . ."
She giggled and nodded her head up and down. "Of course so."
"Prove it."
Oliver watched as the puny little girl scampered over to the barred door and stuck her hand through. "Enfermy," she muttered, stretched her fingers out as far as they would go. "Come here Enfermy." It was only a few seconds later when a large rat the colour of well worn mud scampered across the hall and into the girl's outstretched fingers. She held it close to her breast and cuddled it for a bit, then held it up so that Solo could see the thin metal stick tied securely around its belly. She gave a cheeky grin before undoing the stick and tossing it to Solo.
"Thanks, Rats," he said, then turned to Oliver and held up the stick. "This, my little friend, is something we street rats like to use to pick locks. It'll come in handy when we escape. And this," he put his arms around the puny girl, "is Rats: a crazy little girl with an odd infatuation with the creatures we all love to hate. Got to admit though, they do come in handy sometimes." Rats giggled. "Now," Solo began once again, taking up a more responsible air as he made his way to the locked gate, "you watch the master at work." Seemingly unaware that the eyes of everyone in the cell were on him, Solo peered through the bars, then nodded and snaked his left arm between the bars and fiddled with the lock until a faint click was heard. He swung the door open as quietly as seemed possible. "And now," he said with a smug grin, "we escape." Motioning with one hand, Solo led Rats and Oliver out of the cell and out of the jail, leaving the door wide open for any other prisoner who wished to escape as well.

Unlike Dodger's sewer, Solo's place of residence was an ancient building that may have been a house at one time but was now so run-down that it didn't even seem livable; at least, not livable for normal people. It suited Solo just fine, and Oliver decided that it would suit him just fine also. The house was large and held an unnamable amount of nooks and crannies that were just waiting to be explored by whatever kid was up to the challenge. Oliver was. The moment Solo opened the door he took off, going into every room in his attempt to see everything, and running into so many other kids along the way that he couldn't even begin to remember their names. Puck, Maria, Samson, Four-eyes, Demon, and many others that Oliver walked in on. And of course, there were Rats and all of her rodent friends, and Solo, who had offered a place for Oliver to stay until he found his mother.
One of the first things Oliver noticed about the house (besides how large it was), was the large amount of food that was within his reach. Apples, pears, bananas, cookies, breads, canned stuff, and nasty looking brown bars were all within easy reach, and Solo said that he could have as much as he wanted today, but he'd have to help steal it tomorrow. And not to worry: someone who knew what he was doing would be there to help and teach, and they wouldn't let him get sent to jail again. For now, just rest and try to relax, we'll worry about that tomorrow.
And Oliver believed him.

The beginnings of Oliver's first full day began similar to his first day with Dodger, only different. He was woken up with a gentle shake on his shoulder by Solo, not a rough one and, though he was given a biscuit like before, he was also given a banana and a small bowl of porridge, which he ate with Rats while trying to ignore the small crowd of rodents gathered around her body, all watching her fingers go from bowl to mouth, bowl to mouth. Instead, he directed his attention elsewhere, staring around at the small groups of kids, all in their own conversations and enjoying their own lives: four young girls all seated on one ancient armchair, reading an age old issue of Cosmopolitan with wide eyes, three older boys sitting on the floor nearby, laughing at them; everyone seemed to be relaxed and having a good time.
"Beautiful, ain't it?" Solo said as he plopped down besides Rats and ripped open the wrapper to one of those nasty looking bars. "Makes me proud. I brought 'em all in, you know. Off the streets. Taught 'em how to steal, how to get by. It's almost like a little school here, only without the reading."
"Can you read?" Oliver asked.
"Ya', but it's kinda hard to teach when books are hard to find. Besides, you don't need those kind of smarts to get by on the streets; you gotta be street smart, and that can't be taught. Speaking of teaching and learning, you ready to learn some life skills Oliver?"
Oliver nodded.
"Alright then, time to meet your teacher." He motioned over a large teenage male whose muscles were as large as his brown hair was long, and since his hair fell nearly to his knees, that was saying a lot. "This, my little friend," Solo began, "is Samson. He's Rats' older brother, and he'll be teaching you for today."
Oliver stared. "But I thought you were going to teach me Solo."
Solo grinned and ruffled Oliver's short hair. "I will," he said, "just not right now. I'll probably be meeting up with you guys a little later in the day."
"Can we try to find my mommy then?"
Solo said nothing for a minute, and then nodded, a shadow passing over his face. "Ya', we'll see if we can find her, but no promises, okay?"
Nodding quickly, Oliver turned to Samson with a shy grin (shyness not being on of his normal personality traits, but this guy seemed like he could crush a little kid without breaking a sweat). "When are we going to leave?" he asked.
Surprisingly, Samson's deep voice was not gruff and harsh, but gentle and smooth. "After I get some breakfast," he replied, "I'm starved." And indeed he was. Even though his portion was twice as large as Oliver's, he was down before Oliver was even half way through and ended up patiently waiting for him to finish. Seeing that his mentor was already done, Oliver ate as quickly as he could and put his bowl down with a loud thump.
"Finished," he announced with a grin.
"'Bout time too," replied Samson, but his voice was teasing. He took their bowls and put them in Rats', who swatted at his hand but giggled non-the-less. "Anyway," he began with a grin, "we should get going; get an early start, you know?" Giving Solo and Rats a short wave, the gentle giant gently led Oliver out of the bustling house and into the bustling street, and Oliver could already feel his heart start to race.

End part 1