Author's Note: After reading Memeal and Sakusha's enthusiastic reviews, I decided to try to edit and post this chapter a little sooner than I'd planned. Besides, my internet connection isn't being a total turd today. Bonus.
Savor the Darkness
- Five -
Heero Yuy surreptitiously glances at his Keeper as the young man pulls on his tailored, black half gloves. Not for the first time, he feels a strange tug in his solar plexus and wonders if he should have even told Duo about the assignment. He could have immediately replied with a negative response and no one would have known it had even come. But he hadn't. Perhaps he hadn't even been able to. Heero knows how much Duo loves the way it tests his skills. He knows how much Trowa needs the perfect concert of their teamwork. He knows how much he thirsts to conquer his training, to use his skills for what he chooses, not what headquarters dictates.
For Duo, it's the challenge.
For Trowa, it's the harmony.
For Heero, it's the freedom.
With an inaudible sigh, Heero knows he couldn't have sent off a refusal without telling the others. Frustrated at his inability to solve Duo's exhaustion with a simple, enforced holiday, Heero glares out at the dirt track he's currently navigating. And blinks in surprise when a hand touches his shoulder. Trowa offers him this moment of consolation from where he sits in the back, and offers it to the shoulder furthest from Duo. A gentle squeeze loosens Heero's tension and the hand withdraws. Duo does not appear to have sensed the moment of communication between his two concerned charges.
"Why are you bothering?" Heero says with a nod to Duo's gloved hands. "We won't be there for hours."
Duo leans back in his seat and chuckles. The motion and sound draws Heero's gaze to the young man's exposed throat. "Why not?" Duo challenges. "These gloves have a certain... appeal, don't you think?" The last phrase is drawn out in a drawl that makes Heero's fingers tighten violently around the wheel to prevent him from touching Duo. Normally, he wouldn't stop himself, but the terrain is rather uneven and getting tossed out of an all-terrain vehicle would certainly put a damper on things.
Grin widening, Duo points out, "I notice you're not disagreeing with me." He rolls his head toward the operator of the vehicle and offers up a gaze that sparkles with warmth. Then, tilting his head back again, he speaks to the man in the back seat, "And neither are you."
Heero smirks at Trowa's reply: "What's to argue with? Although 'appeal' might not be the word I was thinking of."
"Oh?" Duo inquires.
Trowa leans forward until he can speak directly into Duo's ear and whispers a single word. Although the act seems to indicate Trowa had desired for it to be a private moment between himself and Duo, his whispered suggestion is uttered loud enough for Heero to catch.
In reply, Heero snorts. "Well," he muses aloud, "I have been known to say our situation is better that sex or your money back..."
Trowa chuckles and Duo tosses out a laugh. Proud of his successful attempt at levity, Heero hopes it's an indication of how the remainder of this mission will proceed. He doesn't bother to hide his smile as Duo and Trowa try to recreate the stunned look they'd witnessed on Wufei's face when Heero had first delivered that famous line. The results are hardly accurate, but they are rather amusing.
Relaxing further into his seat, Heero stops agonizing over whether or not he'd made the right choice in telling Duo about the assignment. He and Trowa had been right: Duo lives for this. And Heero does not have the desire to deprive Duo of anything that makes him laugh.
...ooo...
The man in his living room moves with an efficient, deliberate conservation of movement that the Quatre Winner of a few months ago had never quite managed. Wufei's eyes follow every motion of this older, sharper version of his friend as he studies everything in the room. Wufei doesn't delude himself into thinking Quatre is unaware of his presence. And in the next instant it's confirmed.
"Are you ready to go?"
"No," Wufei states flatly.
Quatre seems unsurprised by this. "You require some sort of explanation?"
"You know me so well," Wufei quips darkly.
To his surprise, Quatre actually chuckles at that. Once upon a time, the young man would have offered something placating or diplomatic in response. Instead, he responds with, "What part of 'in transit' is proving too complex for your logical faculties to digest?"
"Why haven't I received word from the Bedouin that you'd... concluded your visit?"
Quatre sends him a sidelong glance at his careful choice of words. The expression is so out of character for his old friend that Wufei is momentarily taken aback. "When did you learn to be so diplomatic, Chang?"
"When did you learn to be so obnoxious?"
"Natural talent, I assure you."
"The question," Wufei reminds him tersely. "Answer it."
Finally turning away from the view beyond the room's balcony doors, Quatre lifts his gaze to Wufei's and says, "No one called you because there was no one capable of operating a vidphone." Turning toward the pair of framed photographs arranged on the mantle over the propane fireplace, Quatre continues, "And before you ask what happened to them, let's just consider my true nature combined with my contempt for megalomaniacs and I think you'll have a rough idea."
"Megalomaniacs? The Bedouin?" Wufei frowns. "What exactly happened there, Quatre?"
Clearly more interested in the photographs than the subject of their discussion, Quatre inquires, "Do you really want to know?"
Wufei opens his mouth to snap out an affirmative, but curbs his automatic response. He takes a moment to consider the information he's requested before saying flatly, "Yes."
"Then answer my question first."
Instantly on his guard, Wufei nods once. "Fine."
A single pale finger traces the surface of one photograph in particular. "Why do you still have this photograph of the two of us sitting out?"
Startled, Wufei doesn't reply immediately and Quatre takes the opportunity to describe it out loud.
"Last Halloween we went out to that karaoke bar and all of you conspired to get me stupid drunk and make me sing. I remember Heero stole Duo's camera and took this picture after I'd accosted everyone's ears. I could barely walk; you had to go fetch me down from the platform."
Wufei does not need Quatre's words to remember either that night or the photograph. Some portion of his every day is spent contemplating his image's tolerant smile as he holds Quatre's body tucked securely against his side. The boyish grin lighting Quatre's features is a permanent resident in Wufei's memory.
"The only other photograph you have out is of all five of us," Quatre points out, blatant curiosity entering his voice.
Somewhat disoriented by the memory, Wufei tells him, "It's there because I've missed you. And because I don't want to forget who you used to be."
"Who I used to be..." Quatre repeats softly. His voice almost sounds sad. "It seems like you've given up on me."
Wufei finds himself the recipient of that guileless blue stare and has to make an effort to swallow. "Should I?"
One corner of Quatre's mouth curves softly upward. Diplomatically, that is all he offers in lieu of a reply. With a nod toward the assortment of wallet, keys, and badge resting on the kitchen table, Quatre says, "I'll tell you about the Bedouin in the car."
Wufei opens his mouth to protest but those blue eyes forestall his words with a hard glare.
"It's a long story," the blonde promises before moving toward the door.
Scooping up his belongings, Wufei determinedly follows. He tries to ignore the ache that dealing with this new Quatre has induced. He tries to ignore the fact that his old friend is gone. Changed. It's strange but he'd never really considered how much he'd miss Winner's innocence and optimism. But then, one never misses such things until they are gone.
Wufei forces back the crushing guilt that accompanies the knowledge that once again he has failed someone he should have protected.
...ooo...
Pain.
Six months ago, he would have collapsed under the sudden, blinding pressure that had erupted throughout his body, but Duo doesn't even flinch as he deftly buckles the utility pack in place around his calf. Straightening again, he frowns at the slight tremor in his fingers.
Weakness is not acceptable.
He reaches back into the rear compartment of the vehicle and removes one of the custom-designed firearms and secures it in the holster snugged against his ribcage. This ritual is one he can complete automatically so he allows himself a moment to assess his condition.
The random, but not unexpected, moment of agony has left his muscles aching. The long-ago damaged tissues in his left calf twitch with exhaustion. Six months ago, he would have pitched himself into the backseat of the all-terrain vehicle and slept for eighteen hours.
But he is needed.
The concerns of his Owned do not permit this. Heero requires Duo to be strong. Trowa requires that he be in control.
Duo secures a spare clip of tranquilizers to his belt and marvels at the contradictions within his own body. He knows he is in pain, but due to Heero's determination he does not feel it. He knows he is exhausted, but because of Trowa's unease he does not notice it. And he knows the reason: The Oath.
He has suspected, for some time that their bond is not nearly as simple as it had seemed. But until this precise moment, he hadn't actually felt the needs of his Owned calling to him like a palpable caress. He hadn't realized that every time his body attempts to defy their wishes for his health and safety he calls upon seemingly endless resources of energy to adjust, to endure, to conceal.
Suddenly, Duo is not sure his reserves are so endless after all.
Slightly shaken by this sudden epiphany, Duo pulls his black cap down over his eyes. He notices that his hands are steady. He tells himself he is in control. After all, that is his duty as a Keeper.
But not for the first time, Duo feels something is... off. In the past six months, he has endured the subtle tension of something that is misaligned in his life... in his soul. He looks from Trowa to Heero as they finish suiting up in silence and knows that whatever mis-calibration of energies that is causing the pain and exhaustion is not coming from Heero and Trowa. How can it when Duo knows with every fiber of his being that the three of them are meant to be together?
For a moment, he considers sharing his murky insights with them. He opens his mouth – even draws in a breath – but hears himself say instead, "We still on schedule, Heero?"
Heero checks the digital screen on his watch and nods. Trowa finishes securing his own spare ammunition clips and looks up at Duo. And in that instant of Heero's apparent control and Trowa's calm, he feels it; their need to be reassured overrides Duo's sudden observations of their bond.
He moves toward them, unable to ignore this call. His fingers sift through Trowa's hair and settle at the back of his neck. His other hand reaches for Heero's wrist and pulls him closer until he can press his palm against the small of his back. He stands here, comforting his soul mates in silence and promises himself that after this assignment is finished, he will have to tell them what is happening to him. He will have to find the right words to explain that he had, quite possibly, initiated The Oath incorrectly. He will have to tell them the truth: he does not have the answer to the phenomenon of his own exhaustion. But he's willing to bet that the Bedouin will.
Sensing both Heero's and Trowa's renewed focus, he removes his hands from them and double checks the fit of his vest one last time. Gathering his concentration, Duo softly assumes command, "Let's move out."
End of Chapter Five
