Impossible

A Gundam Wing Fan Fiction

Rambled Off by The Manwell

Book Three: PARTNERS

Heero Yuy

I regard the number keys on Duo's handset with no small amount of appreciation. He has quite the system worked out with the speed-dial: Preventer HQ emergency response, shuttleport reservations center, and no less than four different kinds of local, ready-prepared food delivery businesses to name a few. I briefly consider calling up all of the programmed numbers, but I know I'd only be checking to see how far down the list my contact information is. And I don't want to sour the evening like that. It's been a good day.

So, with our Chinese delivery order on its way, I wander in the direction of Duo's spare bedroom, wondering what he's up to. Leaning in the open doorway and crossing my arms over my chest, I end up watching him mutter at the inelegant remains of something that might have once been a very outdated food processor in his hands.

"I don't think you're winning," I inform him with a tiny smile tugging at my lips.

He grunts. "It's hardly the first losing battle I've fought."

Too true. "Still, that thing is beyond help."

Duo chuckles softly and glances up at me. "Nothing's beyond help" is his quiet and knowing reply. And those few words are the catalyst for some warm and chaotic event inside of me. When the churning warmth settles down a bit, I relax back into the conversation. "That's just your ego talking," I hear myself tease him.

He releases a genuine laugh at that.

"Probably. I am one arrogant sonuvabitch," he admits.

I drawl, "Then aren't you and Chang a pair."

"Oh, ho! And look at you: the only modest one of the three of us."

And then it's my turn to laugh. When I wind down, I find my gaze trapped in his. For a long moment, we simply stare at each other. But then, in a soft voice that doesn't disturb the warm connection we've fumbled into, he invites, "Well, come on in and take a look at all the victims of my little hobby like I know you're dying to."

My smile widens. "Ulterior motives exposed yet again. Drat," I monotone.

He snorts and returns to his latest "victim" and, after a slight hesitation, I sidle into the room and start poking through the various gadgets he's repaired and foisted improvements of dubious practicality upon.

Several minutes leak past us before I hear myself mumble, "It's too bad you're an adrenalin junkie. You'd be a brilliant addition to the Tech department at HQ."

"Yeah, too bad I don't like chatting it up with balding geeks about improving microprocessor efficiency."

I briefly glance at him over my shoulder and grin. "That's just the repression talking." And I gain another chuckle for my witty rejoinder.

"Uh huh. And just what would Une do to me after I'd told her I was transferring out from under her watchful eye?"

"Hm," I ponder briefly, "she'd probably assign me to tail you twenty-four-seven." And I'm not a little startled to realize that tailing Duo Maxwell might very well be the best damn assignment I could ever hope for. And in an instant, I experience a near-blinding moment of clarity and truth: I really would follow Duo Maxwell anywhere. Getting paid for doing it would only be an unanticipated bonus.

"Not unless you jump through her hoops to get reinstated first," he cautions with sudden gravity.

The bolt of panic I experience surprises me. The very thought of Duo going back to work without me there to watch his back and fix his coffee and make sure he remembers to eat lunch scares me more than I'm prepared to deal with. "I suppose I should speak to Une about the steps we're taking to make sure I'm... stable," I acknowledge somberly.

"I'm sure she'd appreciate the courtesy, Heero," Duo tells me, looking up from his once-was-useful appliance. I can feel his gaze on my back, through the fabric of my shirt. "But you know you don't have to..."

"No," I quickly assure him. "I want to. It's important. I want to go back to work..." With you.

"Okay." His reply is easy and light and I feel his gaze slide away from my tense back and return to the hopeless bit of almost-rubbish. "I'll drive you to HQ first thing in the morning, then?"

I let out a long, hot breath in relief. "Yeah. Thanks."

This time when I risk a glance over my shoulder at him, I get tangled up in his warm gaze. "Sure thing, man. Partners."

And with those few words, I feel luckier than I ever have in my short, misspent life. Lucky to know him at all. Lucky to have lived through the war. Lucky to have been born in the first place.

The intensity of that conviction rocks me. Almost literally. In moments like this one, I tend to experience an epiphany... In the breathless instant after my usual defenses have been surprised away, a wave of understanding often overcomes me. Sometimes it almost feels like I'm drowning.

And tonight I'm pulled under so quickly I don't have time to offer up even a token struggle.

Suddenly, I flash back to the war, to the time immediately following Quatre's having succumbed to the Zero System. Trowa's fate had been unknown and Quatre and I had been captured by Oz. The docs hadn't wasted any time in hooking Winner up to various instruments and starting their analysis of why their perfect system had failed. Nor had they wasted any time in filling us in on events from their perspectives. I had listened in silence – hearing the words, processing the information – but consumed with something else entirely.

I hadn't heard a single thing about Duo. Had he managed to escape despite his injuries? Or was he still in Oz custody? But even as the questions had burned through me, I hadn't asked. The words had been hot and overlarge in my throat. Impossible to utter.

And then my mentor had told us that both Maxwell and Chang had made it out with their partially completed mobile suits. The relief I'd felt I'd always understood. No, what I've occasionally wondered about since then is why I hadn't been able to ask in the first place.

But tonight, the answer to that comes to me:

I hadn't asked because asking would have implied a willingness to accept any possible answer. And I'd only been interested in one outcome. And shocked as I am in the wake of that realization, I quickly deduce what the underlying sentiment implies.

Christ.

"Hey, Heero. You all right, man?"

The sound of his voice cuts through the buzzing white noise of my thoughts. "Fine," I reply automatically. I frantically sift through my brain and latch onto the first semi-convincing lie that comes to me: something I'm relatively sure he'll buy because he wants to hear it. "I was just envisioning myself taking names and kicking ass again..."

Duo chuckles. "And here I was going to accuse you of spacing out on me."

"Would I do that in your divine presence?"

"Well... you always did have something of a deathwish," he returns with a grin and a teasing tone.

"As if you're one to talk," I reply with a snort.

He hums mildly in agreement and we lapse back into comfortable silence. I find myself staring at the infamous toaster Duo had modified to talk. I'm tempted to turn it on and fetch a slice of bread to toast just so I can listen to Duo's voice announcing the browning process. My favorite line is the "Here's your hockey puck, sweetie!" that sounds after the machine has finished toasting on the darkest setting.

I smirk at the toaster and allow myself to get lost in the memory of this appliance's unveiling. God, Wufei's reaction had been positively precious...

Deep down, I know I'm putting off the inevitable. I know I'll have to face that moment of self-discovery I'd just been dragged through by my subconscious. But not right now. Please God, not right now. I'll deal with it... and everything else... tomorrow.

Notes

: Heero's flashback is from episode 26.