Impossible

A Gundam Wing Fan Fiction

Rambled Off by The Manwell

Book Two: PREVENTERS

Heero Yuy

"Fuck you, man!"

That voice.

"Don't fucking tell me..."

I know that voice.

"I am calm, you asshole!"

Duo...

The sound of his voice is the only sensory input that manages to filter through the strange grey place I'm drifting through weightlessly. I attempt to open my eyes and I frown at the significant amount of effort I put forth with no appreciable results. Damn. Something this simple shouldn't be this difficult.

"Look– You know what? Just don't fucking call me unless you've got some half-way decent good news, all right!"

I hear the click of Duo's phone closing. A heartfelt sigh accompanies the rustle of clothing and the creak of a cheap resin chair suddenly being forced to accommodate someone's weight.

I finally win the battle against the dim nothingness and the sight I'm greeted with is of my partner slumped forward in an ugly orange chair with his face in his hands.

My eyes water in the low but persistent glow of the room's diffused light and something in my chest knots in upon itself at the utter dejection in Duo Maxwell's bowed body.

My immediate reaction is to reach for words of reassurance, but in my free-floating, vague confusion, I'm at a loss as to how to gather them to me. When my quest for words fails, I attempt to locate a memory for inspiration but even those evade me. For what could be seconds or actual minutes, I simply lie here struggling for syllables that won't come to me. Helpless, I watch as Duo sprawls back in the worn, plastic chair and quite abruptly treats the tiled ceiling to a rather colorful diatribe.

Those nebulous and as yet unarticulated reassurances lodge in my lungs.

And then Duo tears his malevolent attention away from the fascinating view above us and I find myself lined up in the sights of his hostile gaze.

The slippery words of comfort I'd been trying to close my fingers around shatter completely.

"Oh, great," he says flatly. "This day just keeps getting better and better."

I'm startled by the hot aggression lurking in his voice. I watch him rock to his feet and approach me in a determined swagger. I feel like I ought to be cringing under the heat and weight of his glare, but I just stare, mesmerized.

For a moment he just glowers at me. For the life of me, I can't understand why he's so angry.

"So," he bites out as he punches the call button at my bedside with barely contained rage. "You gonna take your turn and bitch me out about professional responsibility now, too?"

What?

"No?" he continues, steamrolling through my confused silence. "Well, I'm sure you'll get around to it when you're feeling up to it."

Feeling up to it? I don't feel much of anything at the moment except vaguely unsettled. I try to trace the thread of this thought as well, hoping it will lead me to the hows and whys I can't seem to name. But then that splinters into nothing as Duo narrows his eyes at me. I can't remember ever seeing a shade of blue as hard or as cold as his eyes.

"I guess you'll just knock me out again for being so helpful," he snarls.

Whoa. What the hell is he talking about? Is that how I got here? I hit Duo and he decided to reciprocate? But I can no more understand my motivations for doing that than I can comprehend the source of Duo's hostility. I mean, what can I say when forced to endure derision of this magnitude?

For a seemingly eternal moment, I just don't get it. I can't remember ever hitting him. I can't think of why I would even want to. I really have no clue.

And then a flash of memory reluctantly answers my witless confusion:

"I need a favor."

"Sure, man."

"Hit me."

Oh, right. X18999. Wait... He thinks I hit him because... But, hold on... All that happened years ago, didn't it? I strain to tie the fluttering ends of all these thoughts together but it's just too hard. None of this makes a damn bit of sense and it's starting to irritate me.

"Duo..." I finally croak out, blinking in response to his anger, my confusion, and the steady stream of light-induced tears crowding my vision.

"Ah, so your vocal chords do work," he observes snidely. "Well, after the doctor's through with you, I imagine you'll be ready to chew on my ass to your heart's content."

And I'm so busy trying to figure out what a doctor has to do with anything that I miss my chance to respond.

A third, new voice asks with no small amount of puzzlement, "Why would you be angry with the man who saved your life, Agent Yuy?"

I send a watery glance in the direction of the door and stare at the man who has apparently been appointed my doctor. I want to tell him that I'm not angry with anyone, but my brain takes far too much time sorting out the words.

"Don't ask me," Duo mutters as he abruptly heads for the still-open door. "That's just the way the miserable fucker is."

And then with a quick twist of his body and a flick of his braid, he's gone.

I stare at the doorway and suddenly I'm remembering another portal entirely – one with an electronic control panel – and I'm remembering light – infinite, blinding, searing light. And for the first time since I'd opened my eyes, my mind feels perfectly clear.

I turn my now-sharp, lucid gaze onto the doctor and hear myself demand tonelessly, "How bad is it?" And it must be very bad indeed if I can't feel a damn thing.

I listen to his well modulated and carefully worded lecture on third-degree burns, nerve damage, and radiation sickness with only half of my attention. I've heard most of this before, years ago, in pilot training. Mostly, I'm absorbing the following facts in silence:

Duo had gone after me.

Duo had saved my life.

Duo expects me to think less of him for it.

The specifics of third-degree burns, nerve damage, and radiation poisoning I can understand.

Duo Maxwell, on the other hand... now that's an issue that requires some serious investigation.

Notes

: Heero's recollection of X18999 and hitting Duo is from Endless Waltz.