Author's note: hmm. Wow. I've been thinking about how to approach this chapter for a pretty long time. So that should be some sort of signal to let you know (if not just a reminder to me) that this is supposed to be... like... you know... that important thing... that happens in stories...What was it? Where stuff actually happens? Like... OH, plot development! Riiiight... Hahaha. Yeah. That's rich. well, I guess we'll see. Don't shoot me for taking us strange places. Oh these dangerous waters.


Warning Signs (part VI) The Last Dance

By Onions Make Me Cry


(one year prior)

"Baby don't you know I love you so, can't you feel it when we touch? I will never never let you go, I love you oh so much..."

The half sung, half hummed lyrics settled nicely in the dry afternoon air, despite the dusty aftertaste the hotel room had to offer. Having long since thrown open the windows to the brightness of the day, Duo Maxwell wafted between a flimsy looking chest of drawers and his overflowing duffle bag, folding and arranging as if he were moving into a brand new Barbie Malibu Dream Palace. Some particular glint seemed to have caught him on this day, adding a mysterious touch of happiness to the mechanical, menial tasks of moving and folding.

"Well you can dance, you can carry on 'till the night is gone and it's time to go," the youth hummed, resplendent today in a pair of black slacks and an old tan beater, (complete with holes in the places where it was beginning to wear thin.) "If he asks if you're all alone, can he take you home, you must tell him no..."

The carpet gave silently under Duo's waltzing feet as his body reacted to the internal rhythm, and he swayed gently to the imaginary music, tail end of his braid nipping the air. Back and forth he went, between the bed and the drawer, again and again as if some higher quality of optimism were demanding a longer stay this time, in this place. This mission would be different. More time here, maybe... Possibly a little calm. regularity even? Security. Maybe that was why Duo was bothering to unpack at all. He was usually so messy.

Heero sat stationed in the corner, watching his companion sway to the silent melody, under the false pretense of writing a letter to Quatre. Curled as tightly into the tiny space he'd created in the shadowy, desk-cramped crevice, the young assassin had completely frozen into one singularly uncomfortable position hunched over his paperwork, in favor of staring furtively after Duo as he busied himself with the unpacking of their things.

"Cause don't forget whose takin' you home, and in whose arms you're gonna be... Hey Heero, did'ja end up getting a new identification card for B-13?" Duo broke the song for a moment, casual and easy, though still busy with folding. "Cause, if you don't have clearance, I really don't wanna have to hack you past security again because that takes, like, fifteen valuable minutes."

It took a brief moment for Heero to realize the question had been asked, and almost embarrassedly, he began rifling through his papers again. Had he just been caught staring? Or had Duo really noticed anything at all? Probably the latter, but the mere concept of ever being detected doing something as weak (not to mention as unproductive) as that, would be demeaning as best.

"Yes. Last Thursday, from down in the city."He voiced, sounding particularly deadpan.

"Good. And what about the bits and tools thingamabob?"

"A travel tool case isn't a 'thingamabob'."

"Doesn't matter. Deathscythe's all ship-shape anyway. Don't need repairing right now." The tone was light and dismissive, Duo having long ago found out how to block Heero's cynical tones from his attention. "We'll head out in the morning, aces?"

Heero made a muted grunt of acquiescence, but said nothing further. Instead he busied himself with reading the paperwork spread out on the desk.

However, if it was silence Heero desired, he would have to find it someplace else. It was moments before the singing resumed again, touching the stiff-shouldered soldier's ears with the same melodic lull of the old-time melody... though this time a bit louder, and a bit lustier.

"Oh, Cause don't forget whose takin' you home and in whose arms you're gonna be, hey darlin' save the last dance for me."

A glance in the braided boy's direction revealed Duo waltzing circles in the center of the room now, with Heero's rubbery motorcycle jacket in tow as a new partner.

"Say darlin, save the last dance for me. Oh please darlin' save the last dance for me..."

Silently, and into his papers, the slightest private smile crept it's way across Heero's lips.

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(Current time– the riverbed)

The boy lay spread before Heero, grotesquely peaceful. And yet, Heero couldn't help thinking that something beautiful still lingered about him. It was in the wet creases of his clothes, maybe... And in the delicate curve his neck made. It was impossible not to stare... That pale, round face was turned to the side, lulling as if in sleep, into the muddy shallows of the river's shore. In the distance, an early rising marsh bird let out a lonely warble, greeting the gloomy morning from within the misty reeds, and all was still.

"Heero," Quatre breathed the name, both in fear and empathy as he crouched by Duo's immobile figure.

For an impossible minute, Heero stood sinking into the sludge of the river floor, staring for lack of any reaction at all, and into the face of his downed lover, partner, and friend. The seconds dragged by, excruciating in their length, as each pilot stood with baited breath, waiting for the terrible and inevitable explosion which would inexplicably come. Their wait wasn't a long one.

Heero launched himself into movement with a frightening speed, sloshing down the final separating yard between himself, and where Quatre was now standing, feebly trying to deflect him from viewing the horrible site. It took a simple fist to knock the protesting blonde out of the way, and Heero ignored the strangled shout of protest from Trowa, somewhere on the muddy incline behind him. Duo was the goal, anyhow.

When handling the cold figure, Heero used very little of the tenderness Quatre had felt necessary. In fact, the now stony faced soldier was using every opportunity to give the body a series of good, violent shakes, as if he were trying to hear his soul still rattling around inside it's frozen shell like a can of marbles as he dragged Duo ashore.

For a few minutes, all that could be seen was the dip and glide of Heero's shoulder blades through his thin shirt as he began to yank the waterlogged jacket away from the frozen body in his arms. Already sinking here into the mud of the river's edge, what had once been the last dry foot of Heero's pants were slowly beginning to turn a putrid, sticky puce. Duo was covered in the mud in a matter of seconds, now that he was out of the immediate flow of water. However, Heero seemed to mind very little about the mud– or, moreover, was resolutely focused on his task at hand, and couldn't be otherwise distracted.

The jacket went flying.

But then, a shudder of something unintelligible passed through Heero's figure, his hands still busy with smoothing and warming, and for the first time in what seemed like an eon of life the lonely soldier did something completely and utterly uncharacteristic. He turned his face and shot his friends an incriminating look of such pure loathing that it couldn't have been mistaken for anything other than the fury of love.

"How could you leave him in the water?" Heero suddenly exploded at Quatre, a violent inquiry shouted over the shoulder as he wrenched Duo's flopping limbs close to him. Mud wracked up around Heero's knees, and he threw the cold body out flat on it's back. Trowa began scrambling down the opposite bank as the boy fell to CPR.

Still tumbled over backwards, Quatre watched as the murky water swirled around his shoulders, with a look of infinite pain. Heero struggled alone. The blonde ignored the throbbing in his cheek, or the red reflection of the quickening bruise Heero had given him. They meant so little now, as he listened to the sickening squelch of Duo's waterlogged clothes as Heero pounded down on him, attempting a revival. Back and forth, Heero moved between mouthfuls of air, which sickened Quatre as they mocked the sanctity of a kiss, and then back again to the squelching, squeezing pounding on Duo's soggy chest. The young boy looked on in silence, no longer willing to interfere.

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(afterlife duo POV- the crossroads)

Before me spreads quite possibly the greatest choice my immortal soul could ever conceive of making. The hugest most monumentally critical moment in the history of my entire soul– and as each path forks out into the different leads of the crossroad, I can almost see the horizon giving me the joyful finger. Like it's shouting 'Fuck you, Duo, this ain't gonna come easy.' and adding extra uncertainty to my inevitable choice.

I can't help but flash back to that distant and comforting time as a child, when I knew everything. I knew the world, as a little boy. I was so sure. So resolute in my actions. I've always known what to do, where to step, how to go. What to think. How to speak. Who to work. (And I worked 'em good.) But now, from the passenger seat of this God damned (and that's saying now with complete certainty that he exists) Station Wagon, sweating with nervousness, I look between my crossroad options and have no idea how to proceed.

Left? Or should we go Right? Or straight?

"You look like you're going to piss yourself!" Solo is laughing at me again, but I can't listen anymore. He can't tell me which path I should choose. Or, where any of my options will lead me.

"Hey, fuck off... This is totally critical and you're laughing at me..." I spout off a reply, though I'm not really behind it. My thoughts are in the scenery in front of us.

Silence settles as Solo's chuckles taper off, and out of the corner of my eye, I watch him lean back, unbuckle his seatbelt, and set a sneakered foot up on the dashboard. Maybe he's finally decided to lay off for a while. (His relaxed posture certainly would suggest so.) Well.. Good. His constant fucking mood swings were beginning to grate on me anyway.

Left? Right? Left... right... straight? No, left. But, straight might be... right. No, I mean go right, not right right– actually, left! Straight left, bearing right? Or Just straight? Or left all the way? Is that right? Where is heaven, anyway? Will I have to wander around wearing a pair of Burkenstocks with a harp wedged under my arm? Or is it hell for me? That seems more likely... I've escaped that place, idea, fear, so many times, it's like, karmic justice that the man downstairs should get my ass this time around. Oh well. At least people spend some of their time fucking down there, instead of playing horseshoes with halos and eating marzipan up there. My balls ache.

A heavy sigh distracts me from my thinking. Solo is peering into the sky, now both feet up on the dash and his hands folded behind his head. He looks strangely put-off.

"What?"

He shakes his head.

Let me just clear a little something up... If there's something I hate, more than rapists, Benedict Arnolds, or cannibals, it's people who have something to say, but decide to fucking can up instead, like they know deep down you're gonna ask, 'what?' and somehow it makes the story more exciting-like for them. Jucier, kinda.. That just kills me. (Err... metaphorically, anyway.) So, of course, now that he's denied me an answer, I have to know. No, scratch that, I've got to. I need to know.

"What?" I insist again. "Look, you threw me off track anyway with that sigh, so just, fucking say it."

"Ehh..." Craning his head, my dead friend is flat out staring now, up beyond the hood of the car and into a patch of sky I can't see. "I dunno... I'm not supposed to discuss non-transportational information with the recently deceased. It isnt pertinent. Or, it isn't supposed to be, anyway..."

"Jesus Christ, just tell me!"

And suddenly, for the first time since the beginning of this trip, I get the distinct feeling that Solo may not be the omnipotent being I thought him to be. It's the look on his face, I think... He looks... worried? Concerned at the least, but paranoid at the most. Mostly when I thought of death before, it was pretty much the movie bag. Hood. Scythe, and all that jazz. My kinda guy, right? But right here, this piece of shit is sitting in a bucket of insecurity and questioning like some kinda fucking kid... a kid a lot like me. Who is this? He seems a lot less like an employee for a higher being than so much as a boy playing a practical joke.

"I think... it's going to rain." he says at last.

I huff irritatedly. Was that the whole fucking deal? "So what?"

Solo slowly lowers his feet off the dash, and is sitting up now, eyes glued to the sky. His thin fingers wrap tightly around the steering wheel, and I can see the sag in the seat from where he's leaning into himself, in order to get a better view. Feeling his nervousness, I look up too.

The sky is darkening, and in the distance, heat lightning illuminates the heavy, low hanging clouds.

"What's up?" my question has a little edge to it.

Solo shakes his head, sounding mystified. "It doesn't rain here."

An ominous, questioning silence takes us as the first fat splatter of rain hits the windshield.

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Author's Note: Man, I edited the shit out of this chapter and it still didnt come out like I wanted it. Okay, well on to some thanks and comments...

Lile Arresty: Ah! At last some intelligent questioning of my methods! Not to discredit general compliments, but one can learn so much from a good scrutinizing. To answer your question, this is a lot of me just writing. Venting situationally through a story about my own life. There are lots of parallels that I won't go into, but, a lot of Duo is bolstering a lot of me. Haha, though I do have a plan. There IS a plot line in here, I swear to god.

Anonymous commenter on Chap.5: I think I love you. Can we have babies together? Are you a girl? It doesnt matter, our love should be pure! Haha, no, if you can't tell, I really appreciated your comment. It made me feel good! You got all the important stuff I try to convey, non plot withstanding. Lets get married!

kcgal: haha! I'm so glad you like my Solo! I thought of making him a little like Duo, though more grown up. I'll try and update faster this time.

Shannon: Thank you for your close reading and smart comments! I like that you read all the chapters at once, because a lot of the time I get bored and have to skip stories. This makes me think you have a genuine interest, which makes me happy!

Zakai: thank you for your CONSISTENT commentary! Someone who really reads! I love you! Lets be friends.

Anyway, look forward to some closing chapters coming soon. Sequel maybe? Hmmm...