Impossible

A Gundam Wing Fan Fiction

Rambled Off by The Manwell

Book Three: PARTNERS

Duo Maxwell

I flop down without ceremony in the chair opposite Wufei's desk and meet my friend's scowl with a carefully constructed carefree grin. "So, whatcha got for me, Wuf-man?"

"And after that deplorable address, you expect me to give it to you?" he replies with a condescending expression and snide tone. The man must be absolutely exhausted to take a little light-hearted teasing this badly.

"Well, I didn't work my magic to get Heero to suggest coming down here and talking to Une voluntarily – against my better judgment, I might add – to come away with empty pockets, now did I?"

The mention of Heero seems to spark something a little more... humane in Wufei. "How is he?" is the softly asked follow-up.

I shrug. "Confused. In denial." And I hesitate before I add, "Vulnerable." It goes without saying that I really wish he hadn't fallen for my ploy and agreed to see Une this morning. Neither of us is quite ready for that.

A black eyebrow arcs again but the expression is speculative rather than condescending this time. "A truly alarming combination," he agrees.

"Unprecedented," I agree.

"Well, then. Let's not dither about further." And with that less-than graceful opening, Wufei hands over the highly anticipated disc. I pocket it smoothly and maintain my silence, sensing an introduction to the issue on the horizon.

I'm not disappointed.

"It's obvious who wrote that virus. It's got his signature all over it."

"But?" I can't stop myself from asking.

"But the information it contains is... highly unusual. It could help you pinpoint the source of the... damage."

I don't overlook the careful wording. Wufei hadn't used a more definitive term than "unusual" for security reasons, but I have the distinct impression that the replacement of "brainwashing" for "damage" had been for an entirely different reason altogether. I can't stop the wince as this subtle inference supports that aforementioned unfavorable second scenario I'd conceived after interrogating Heero. I don't have to be told to keep this disc a secret from Heero until Wufei and I have some concrete possibilities for him.

"Roger that. Thanks, man."

I watch as Wufei leans back on a drawn-out sigh of relief. That easily, I've assured him that I'm aware of the layered meaning he'd just tried to impress upon me and that I will be cautious with how I proceed.

"Well, seein' as how you're ass-deep in alligators here, I'll just take myself back up to Une's office."

"Yes," Wufei rallies, the moment of exhaustion quickly concealed. "I would appreciate it if you would restrain yourself from bothering me while you're unoccupied."

"Nooo problem," I whirr cheerfully. "Later, dude."

Back in the hall, I keep my smile on as I intermittently pass my fellow agents. I carefully box up my speculations and dread regarding the information in my pocket until it's been stowed in a small and dusty – but air-tight – cabinet in my mind. The last thing I need is Heero wondering if I'd been wandering around conspiring behind his back while he'd been enduring Une's pep talk.

With a charming grin at Une's secretary, I slide into a visitor's chair and settle into benevolent listlessness. It's not two minutes later when Heero emerges. I deliberately squash the spike of alarm at how close I'd cut it. If Heero had walked out of Une's office and not seen me... Well, I would have had to lie to him about what I'd been doing... And he would have become suspicious anyway. But it appears I'm quite the lucky bastard today.

"Well, I don't see any open wounds," I tell him as I stand up.

He steers us toward the elevators and replies dryly. "That doesn't mean it was painless."

"No. No, it doesn't," I admit easily.

As we approach the elevator bank, I recall the last time I'd stood here with Heero. Had it only been two days ago? Hell. A shitload has certainly happened since then. I'm still daydreaming about it when the doors slide open... and that's my excuse for being completely floored at the sound of Relena Dorlain's voice calling Heero's name in obvious delight and surprise. Beside me, Heero seems equally startled.

"Relena," he rasps out. "What are you doing here?"

She laughs. "It's good to see you, too," she scolds with good humor. She smoothly turns to me and we exchange automatic pleasantries before she shines a brilliant grin back on Heero again.

"I'm here to see Une about a budget meeting," she says, finally answering Heero's question. "But more importantly, what are you doing here? Consulting?"

I can feel myself frowning with confusion. Before I can wonder if she'd somehow found out about Heero's precarious employment future with the Preventers, he replies.

"Um, no. It's just... ah... Duo..."

"Ah, catching up?" she guesses with a grin.

Heero manages a nod.

"Well, don't let anyone talk you into a uniform," she warns him. "We both know you love your work too much to give it up for this thankless job. Even if you would be brilliant at it." Her expression softens with genuine happiness. "But I am glad you followed your dream to do something that doesn't involve violence."

I hear him grunt in automatic agreement.

"Well, I've got to get going. Give me a call if you're free for lunch before I leave Saturday morning, all right?"

"Sure," he tells her and then both of us watch her stride purposefully down the hall. After a long moment, Heero turns back around and pushes the button to recall the elevator we'd missed in Relena's wake. I occupy myself with staring at Heero.

"Dude..." I begin slowly, feeling my way through this sudden weird-as-hell situation. "You haven't told her you joined the Preventers." I'd intended for it to be a question... but it hadn't come out that way.

"Obviously," he replies dryly in that lifeless droning tone of his that I usually hate. Now is no exception.

Briefly I wonder if he'd deliberately omitted this information just to keep Relena happy and off his back, but something else nags at me. Something else that kind of clicks together inside my head...

"Your dream of doing something that doesn't involve violence?" I parrot.

"Unnecessary violence," he tries to amend.

But I don't buy it.

I take a moment to study him – really study him – and I'm startled at the subtle disquiet I sense beneath his passive expression and squared shoulders. Suddenly, I'm remembering his oddly absent enthusiasm when I'd asked him during one of his physical therapy sessions if he had been looking forward to returning to work. And I'm also remembering the forced levity last night when he'd explained his spacing episode. Suddenly, it all makes absolute, perfect sense.

"You don't really like this job, do you?" I blurt, almost breathless from the shock of it.

"No, I... it's..."

I don't wait for him to scrape together a complete sentence... or an excuse. I'm immediately angry with him for hiding this so well... and with myself for not having clued into it sooner. "You didn't have to become an agent," I continue in a frustrated tone, recalling his ringing endorsement last night of my techie skills. "You could have gone into Intel or –"

"What's the difference?" he snaps in a surprising show of temper. "Either way I'm supporting actions that have the potential to hurt people. At least this way I can control how much."

With that, the elevator doors slide open in front of us, revealing an empty car. We step in and Heero punches the button for the employee parking garage. It seems to me he hits the control panel with a bit more force than necessary. But I'm too busy trying to figure out why he'd bother lying to me about this to really take that warning for what it is.

Tongue on autopilot – as usual – I hear myself accuse, "That's bullshit and you know it. Whether or not we hurt people isn't up to us. It's up to the suspect and how desperate he is."

"Why do you care why I work here?" he challenges back and I know I'm close to the truth; he can't think of a more convincing excuse to throw at me.

"Oh, gee. I don't know," I snark. "Because you're my partner maybe? Because I give a damn? Do you think I want to trust my life to a guy who doesn't really have his heart in it? I mean, what the fuck, Heero? I thought..."

"What!" he almost shouts, rounding on me. "What did you think, Duo? That I enjoy reliving the most painful moments of my life on a regular basis? That I like being reminded of the fact that I'm a trained weapon?"

"Then why are you putting yourself through this?" I shout back. "You've got an ironclad excuse to get out of this place and get that perfect job you've been lying to Relena about –"

"There's no such thing as a perfect fucking job, Duo!"

"Like you've ever tried to figure that out for yourself! If you didn't want this job, you shouldn't have taken it!"

He growls at me. "My reasons are my own business and I'll thank you to–"

"Butt the hell out, right? Jesus fucking Christ. Nothing ever changes does it? You don't give a good God damn about anything but your fucking righteous battles, do you? Not even your own wants as a fucking person take priority over that shit!"

He crowds my space and I feel the moist warmth of his breath on my face as he spits out, "Do not presume to know why I do what I do! You don't know shit about it!"

"Oh yeah?" I challenge like a rabid wolverine, pushing back into his space. "Well, there's one thing I know, Heero Yuy. I know I sure as hell don't want to work with someone who's here out of survivor guilt or some such shit-priority!"

And before the last syllable has cleared my throat, I've been slammed up against the elevator wall and pinned there. I stare into Heero's enraged face, stunned by the show of strength I'd forgotten he possesses.

Gazes locked, he fairly roars, "My only priority is you, you stubborn ass!"

Oh. My. God.

My entire body freezes.

I think I even stop breathing.

I can feel my mind struggling to wrap itself around Heero's admission and all it necessarily implies as we stand nose to nose, sharing each other's heated breaths, bodies pressed together... intimately. In a Preventer's HQ elevator.

It shouldn't have surprised me when the doors suddenly whisper open – we are in a public elevator, after all – but I flinch nonetheless. And that involuntary movement seems to be the catalyst which releases Heero from the moment we'd become frozen within.

With startling speed, Heero's body heat abandons me and the only thing that prevents me from sliding to the floor is my own deathgrip on the waist-high elevator railing. One minute our bodies had almost been fused together in hot emotions and the next Heero has escaped the elevator entirely.

I should have gone after him.

But I hadn't. Couldn't. Had been utterly incapable of lunging forward to catch the door before it had closed. But as soon as the gears lurch into motion, I fall on the control panel and punch the button for the floor above the parking garage. The single flight seems to take forever and all I can think about is finding Heero. I don't know what I'll say... what I'll do... what I can do... But that doesn't seem to be very important to my adrenalin-charged mind.

I'm almost vibrating before the car stops and I'm out the door before it's finished opening. I clamber down the emergency stairwell to the parking garage in hot pursuit. I don't bother with stealth. Heero has a fifteen second head-start: it's all down to speed now.

But when I tumble out into the garage, my footsteps are the only ones I hear. I strain to locate evidence of his presence but there is none. And, somehow, I know he's not here. Not anymore.

I swear loudly and violently and glare at my unmolested and still-present car.

Holy fuck has this day gone downhill.

And in record time, too.

But really, what else can I expect from Heero Yuy? Things have the odd tendency of ending up broken in his wake. Olympic records and sound barriers not withstanding.