Impossible

A Gundam Wing Fan Fiction

Rambled Off by The Manwell

Book Two: PREVENTERS

Heero Yuy

There may be days when I'm not exactly crazy about my job, but when it comes to data collection via electronic sources I never have to work myself up for it. The instant I'm left alone for my afternoon "nap" I manage to commandeer the vid phone and position it to hover within range. It's a given who the first person I'll call is going to be.

He picks up on the second ring.

"Don't ever hang up on me, Maxwell!" he roars by way of greeting.

Despite my situation, I smirk. I usually enjoy watching Wufei make an error. It doesn't happen very often but the look of pissed-off contriteness he produces is well worth the wait.

"Ah... Heero. You're... awake. Um, finally."

"Yes," I reply, taking a bit of pity on him and allowing the stumbling subject change. "And I'm wondering what in the hell has got Duo so wound up." I hate asking about things I should already have first-hand knowledge about... and would have first-hand knowledge about if I hadn't been unconscious the entire time. This is the last time I allow myself to be drugged into a near-coma for five solid days. Never mind that no one had exactly asked me... nor had I been in any condition to state a preference. But, however.

Wufei sighs. "Long story short, Internal Affairs is investigating him for initiating and following through with an unauthorized reconnaissance mission which may have resulted in compromising the agent undercover."

This doesn't make any sense at all. "But if Duo hadn't come after me, you'd be trying to figure out what to do with the flowers from my funeral." Assuming there'd be any. Or a funeral at all, for that matter.

"I know that," he assures me. "But there's still considerable room for doubt. We're investigating."

I arc my brows at that. Sure as hell, no company would invite law enforcement agents into their compound after just trying to fry a Preventer on the premises.

"A virus has been discovered in their main database and it's endangering the health and welfare of the workers. The UES Occupational Safety Department is looking into the situation and keeping us informed. As soon as they turn up anything odd, we'll have a way in."

I can't help but feel a little proud of the fact that my virus is proving somewhat useful after all. Even if it had almost killed me to pull it off.

"And Duo?" I ask, trying to piece everything together.

"On probation," Wufei reluctantly tells me.

Ouch.

"I should have tried to stop him. He was practically going insane the day you were supposed to check in and nothing came through. I should have known he wouldn't wait the full forty-eight hours before–"

As fascinating as Wufei's self-chastisement is, I have to cut him off. "What are you talking about? I did check in. It was Duo who never got back with me."

Wufei physically pauses. I'm not even sure if he's still breathing. I know this posture. He's scenting a new lead. "Are you sure?" he asks carefully.

"Yes," I tell him, knowing my information might change things.

"I'll look into it," he tells me. "And I'll keep you informed."

"What about Duo?" I ask, a little startled that Wufei hadn't offered to share his finds with both of us.

"You'll have to pass it along for me," he replies looking grumpy. "I'm not talking to him again until he shits the stick out of his ass."

I almost laugh at that.

"Now turn off the damn vid and rest like you're supposed to be doing."

And just to get even with him for that little dig, I don't bother to sign off. I just smirk at him and hit the disconnect... and several other keys, I'm sure, what with my hands being bandaged as they are.

I hate the fact that I'm bound to this bed. Just another solar-sick spacer statistic. I suppose I ought to be grateful that so much progress has been made in the treatment of solar burns and radiation poisoning in the last two hundred years. My prognosis is actually better than most; it's likely I'll regain most the feeling in my back and neck over the course of the next year. But the sad fact is that my injuries aren't actually all that uncommon. Colony maintenance personnel suffer these sorts of injuries all the time due to faulty or worn out radiation filters in their mobile suits. And that's another bit of interesting trivia: mobile suits had originally been designed for the upkeep of the colonies rather than war. But that's human progress for you.

Despite the leaps and bounds the science of medicine has advanced since the first space colonies, I'm impatient to be up and capable of punching out Duo's lights. Not because he'd saved my life, but because the doctor had thoughtfully informed me that the idiot had nearly fried his retinas beyond repair when I'd practically fallen into his arms on the Lunar Base. Duo had been seconds away from being blinded permanently. As it was, he'd had to undergo seventy-two hours of optical therapy upon delivering me to the solar burn unit.

Seconds. Mere seconds away from being blind... I just can't wrap my mind around that. I just can't summon up a concept of Duo without his sparkling – or sparking, as might be the case – dark blue eyes. Doesn't he know that I'm not worth that? That nothing is worth the loss of that vibrancy?

For a while, I simply stare at the darkened screen and contemplate my situation and Duo's eyes. Then I turn toward the information I'd managed to pry out of Wufei before he'd realized I should not be doing anything more strenuous than breathing. Thankfully, I now know that I am not the sole source of aggravation for Duo at the moment. But how his nearly going "insane" waiting for my call and then recklessly rushing out after me figures in, I'm not sure. Especially with his rather confident assumption that I won't be remotely thankful for his intervention.

An instant of frustration clouds my thoughts. I rage at the unfairness of it all; this week I was going to go home, watch my cactus blossoms wilt, and work on being Duo's friend. But no, now I'm in a hospital bed, awaiting physical therapy, further burn treatments and whatnot while Duo is emoting elsewhere beyond my reach.

Damn it.

I continue staring at the darkened screen until a voice I know all too well alerts me to another's presence in my room.

"Now that's more like the Heero I know."

I start. Damn it, how the hell had he gotten in here without my knowing about it? I look up and take in the fact the Duo is standing well inside my room, obviously having managed to not only get past the door but almost to my bed before he'd announced himself. I'm on the verge of telling him off for it, but I bite back the words he'd nearly startled out of me.

Instead, I absorb his awkward, wavering silence and know he's come back to apologize for his earlier outburst. But I don't want an apology. I want an explanation. Still, these sorts of things can't be rushed.

"At least I'm here in spirit now," I drawl, unable to mask my exhaustion.

He snorts in good-humored agreement. Still, he has yet to look me in the eyes.

I tell him, "I talked to Wufei."

Duo nods once and refrains from further comment.

"I understand why you needed to let off some steam," I continue, hoping my empathy will pry a meaningful sentence or two out of him.

"Yeah," he sighs out, "if ever there was a reason for me to lose it, that would be it."

"You mean being pulled off the case?" I venture persistently.

He shrugs. "All of it, really."

Duo shakes his head and wanders over to stare at a miscellaneous piece of framed art. I think it's a vase of red poppies or something.

He elaborates to the dull glass, "I know I've got issues with impulse control, but I've really fucked myself over on this one."

Between the two of us, I'd have to say that I'm the one who's the most fucked over at the moment. But now's not the time for a "my-day-was-worse-than-yours" pissing contest.

Duo predicts darkly, "Une won't let me come back after this."

"She doesn't have all the facts..." I start to tell him. But he doesn't appear to be listening to me. He doesn't appear to even remember that I'm in the room. Or that he's still speaking out loud, for that matter.

There's a distance in his voice when he softly states, "I'm nothing without the Preventers."

Those quiet words hover between us, aching between us. And I find myself shocked and accepting and unsurprised all at the same time.

"That's not true," I tell him, albeit a bit lamely.

"No, it is true," he replies, but that far-away quality still lingers in his tone. "It has always been true. If I lose my job..." He sighs heavily. "There's just nothing else out there for me, you know?"

I don't really know what to say to that. I mean, if I had known him better, I might have been able to mutter something meaningful and wise. But I settle for conducting a brief search my memories for anything I think might have been important to him in the past. "What about the scrapyard? Didn't you stay with Hilde for over a year?"

If possible, he seems to fold even further in on himself without actually twitching a muscle. "I can't go back there," he says. "I can't look into her face every day and take seeing the pure, absolute hope... and trust... and fucking idiotic idealism." He shakes his head and a sad chuckle escapes him. "A few years ago I was prepared to die to free the colonies from military occupation... and now – if there's the slightest possibility that I'll be recognized – I can't bring myself to set foot on one. How messed up is that?"

There's one hell of a story here. I briefly toy with the idea of ferreting it out. I've never been around Duo when he's so open and hurting, but before I can figure the odds of making it through to the other end of the conversation without causing a serious setback in our budding camaraderie, he seems to come to his senses.

"In fact, if it weren't for the lack of one God damn email, I wouldn't even have to be worrying about this shit!"

Well, the holiday had been nice – while had it lasted anyway – but now the old Duo seems to be back and blaming me... again.

"I did check in, Duo," I tell him quietly. "I've already told Wufei about it. He's going to let us know what he finds."

"At least the lousy bastard is good for something," he grouches weakly.

Someone more adept than me at personal relations would be able to turn the mood around, I'm sure. But, sadly enough, I'm just happy he's not directing his formidable temper towards me anymore. We lapse into tense, awkward silence and I can almost feel his unvoiced apology and my blatant curiosity dancing around each other in the void.

But he doesn't seem to hate me at the moment. And, as far as I'm concerned, that's a decent enough start.

Notes

: Heero's comment about the original use for mobile suits being colony repair and maintenance is something I read in one Gundam publication or another. The title eludes me at the moment.

: And yes, you may infer that medicine has advanced far enough to provide an amazing level of comfort and regeneration for people in space by the time this story takes place. I don't care if it's not realistic. It's my story, damn it, and I'll write what I want to.