Midnight Coward Chapter Three It was difficult for Duo to fall back into his old routine. After seven weeks without setting an alarm clock, it was alien and unwelcome to hear the shrill bleat of it at seven am. Even more unwelcome considering the fact that he had only had two and a half hours of sleep, and even that precious little sleep had been restless and uneasy. Duo slapped ineffectually at the alarm clock, until he sent the thing flying off of the nightstand and it crashed to the floor and fell silent. He lay in his bed for another few minutes, staring up at the ceiling and wondering how the fuck his life had come to this. Not surprisingly, the ceiling had absolutely no answers for him. Tracing the minute cracks in the plaster, however, proved a long enough distraction that the secondary alarm he had programmed on his phone started to go off. With an irritated grunt, Duo sat up in the bed and looked around for it. Last night, or rather early this morning, when he had finally made it home, Duo had shed his clothes as he made his way through the narrow studio apartment, carelessly tossing his jacket onto the back of the futon, toeing his shoes off while he used the open doorframe of the bathroom for support, not bothering to fully unbutton his shirt but instead just working the top two buttons free and then shucking out of it and dropping it on the floor before unfastening his jeans and shoving both those and his boxers down and kicking free of them before sitting on the edge of his bed, naked except for his socks. Pathetic, Merquise had called him. Duo had been called worse - and had been called pathetic for worse. Even so, he agreed; he knew that it was pathetic, hell, beyond pathetic that a man he despised managed to make Duo feel like he was launching into a pitched MS battle with just a few pointed verbal attacks. Worse than that, grappling with Merquise on the floor of the fucking library in his apartment had made Duo feel more alive and hell, more turned on, than he had in months. Merquise had been right, too. Duo probably had been a heartbeat away from begging the other man to fuck him. It was humiliating, and once again, Duo had found himself at the mercy of an enemy who really didn't give a flying fuck about pulling his punches. Merquise had dismissed Duo like an incompetent servant, no doubt putting the whole night from his mind the moment Duo left his sight. While Duo couldn't help but replay it over and over again on his drive home. He paid little attention to traffic signals and speed limits at the best of times, and while he tried to remember just how it had felt to have Zechs's weight pressing down on him, the flex of the other man's arms and thighs as they fought for superiority, the ragged sound of Merquise's breathing and the low, primal growl from the man as he finally managed to pin Duo down - well, Duo made it home in record time, the Preventers plates on his car likely the only thing saving him from a slew of traffic infractions. Even as he told himself just how pathetic he really was, even as he felt disgusted with himself for doing it, Duo reached for the lube he kept in the nightstand beside his bed and set about taking care of the hard-on he had had since fighting with the older man. Kneeling alone on his bed, eyes squeezed shut tightly while he tried to imagine Merquise's hands on him again, tried to recapture the frantic adrenaline that had pulsed through his body as Merquise gripped his throat and straddled his thighs, Duo fingered himself and tugged at his hard cock with brutal efficiency. The orgasm he managed to wrench from his body had felt violent, leaving him shaking and bent over, breathing heavily while stars sparked behind his still-closed eyes. After he had recovered, after the slightly nauseous and all too familiar feeling of self-recrimination had started to settle in, Duo rose from the bed and cleaned himself off in the bathroom, wiping his ass and cock and then scrubbing his hands. He glared at his reflection in the mirror, at the man he had long-ago decided was fairly worthless and who had, time and time again, provided nothing but disappointment. Duo had crawled back into his bed, still naked, and curled up in the center of it. He had yanked up the covers and burrowed into the darkness and stared at it with open, bloodshot eyes until he had finally had to close them. The apartment was small - so small that Duo sometimes thought that the various holding cells he had been in over the years were larger - but even so, it took him almost five minutes to find the jeans he had kicked off hours before. They had made it into the kitchenette, and Duo knelt on the cold tile while he rooted around in the pockets until he found his phone and finally shut off the annoying alarm tone. He sighed as he looked at the time. 7:30 Which meant that he was already running a few minutes behind. He needed to be on the 8:09 J train if he wanted to catch the D train and get to Preventers HQ by 9:00am. And while Duo didn't especially want to ever set foot in Preventers HQ again, he had to. He started the coffee pot and then took a shower, putting his hair up into a bun that made him think about Merquise again. Duo didn't allow himself to act on his thoughts, didn't allow himself to feel anything but disgust about the whole damn thing as he roughly scrubbed his skin with a loofah. There were more than a few bruises on his body, courtesy of last night's tussle, and when Duo stepped out of the shower and wiped the fog from his bathroom mirror, he saw that he was sporting a swollen lower lip and the imprint of Merquise's hand around his throat. Duo swallowed hard, his fluttering pulse and hammering heart echoing. He fitted his hand over the marks, his fingers not quite able to reach the same extension that Merquise had managed. He stood there like that, reliving the moment again, the struggle to breathe, the pounding in his head, the burn of adrenaline in his body. By the time he finally came back to himself, it was 7:50. And, of course, his uniform was a mess. Duo vividly remembered the day he had come home and ripped it off, had tossed it in the back of his closet and not taken the other two shirts and trousers out of the laundry, and instead shoved those onto the floor of the closet as well. And now, seven weeks later, Duo was faced with his own bitterness and short-sightedness as he pulled all three uniforms out and laid them on the bed. The one he had worn the day of the hearing was missing two buttons from the shirt - sent skittering across the floor as Duo yanked it off. Another dress shirt had a coffee stain on it. The third, the one from that day, still had the spatter of dried blood from Duo's broken nose. Duo grimaced in disgust. He should have at least had that one cleaned. He settled on the one with the coffee stain, since having a shirt gape open over his abdomen was unacceptable even to Duo. The uniform trousers were just as tight and itchy as he remembered them being, but at least two of them were blood and stain free, if wrinkled to all hell. Duo had asked the quartermaster for a larger size once, but the quartermaster had sneeringly informed Duo that he wore a 31" waist, had patronizingly offered to let him try the 33" waist and said I told you so when they were too large and looked ridiculous even after he put a belt on. The quartermaster had then sighed and said that if Duo wanted to have a pair custom made, then he could fill out these three forms and pay for it. Duo had given enough to the damn agency over the years, he wasn't about to pay for anything else. He stepped into the unpolished brown dress boots that completed the look, and then went back into the bathroom to adjust his tie. Two of the bruises were visible above the collar of the shirt, and Duo wondered if anyone would dare to comment on them to his face. His hair was, predictably, a mess. With only three minutes to make it to his station, Duo yanked a brush through it and pulled it back into a tail at the base of his skull. He had cut it short six years ago, the day before he left Brussels, getting it shaved so close to his scalp that the cold of winter had given him a headache. Since then, however, he had let it grow back, having it trimmed regularly, so that it was now just past his shoulders. He made it out of the door by 8:01 and to the station by 8:06. It wasn't until he boarded the train that he realized both of his hands were empty, that his coffee was still in the pot on the kitchen counter. He had the petty, bitter hope that the damn thing caught on fire. And then immediately felt guilty when he realized that his elderly neighbors would probably die in their apartment before the fire department could rescue them. Thoroughly reassured that he really was a shitty human being, Duo tried to take up as little space as possible on the train, using one of the overhead handholds to balance himself while it travelled from Bushwick to Manhattan. He switched trains, merging into the press of bodies on the D train headed to Midtown. It never ceased to amaze him, the sheer number of people crowded into New York City. They were on Earth, where even after thousands of years, humans had yet to cultivate every mile. And yet New York City was more crowded than any colony Duo had ever been on. The crush of people made him claustrophobic in a way that small spaces never would, and Duo realized suddenly that he hadn't even travelled to Manhattan in five weeks. Not since the last time he had met Wufei for dinner, since their last fight, since Duo's unofficial banishment to Brooklyn. He walked into the Preventers headquarters at 9:02, and the lobby was already full of people. Even though the building wasn't officially open to the public until 10:00am, the line of people standing in the 'visitor' security check line was full. Conversely, the employee checkpoint line was short and quick-moving - a simple scan of an ID card and a wave of a detection wand the only thing required of Preventers staff. Duo started towards that line before remembering that his ID had been confiscated on his last day seven weeks ago. He still had his badge - the shiny, worthless bifold that was good for intimidating local law enforcement and not much else - but that wouldn't get him through the employee security check. With an internal sigh of frustration, Duo walked to the back of the visitor line. Twenty-five minutes later, he was gestured forward by a bored security guard that Duo recognized from years of walking through the lobby. The guard frowned at Duo's uniform, and then looked at his face and blinked. "Sir? Are you- are you back?" Duo shrugged, and then held his arms out wide. "Dunno, Bobby. I was supposed to meet with the boss at 9:10." Duo cast a meaningful look at the clock high up on the lobby wall. The guard winced. "Why didn't you go through the other line?" he asked as he started to pat Duo down. "Well, there's the little matter of having misplaced my ID." "Oh. Oh, right." Bobby looked a little embarrassed, his cheeks pinking, and Duo had to bite back a smirk. The morbid part of his brain - the bigger part - wondered just how much the events of that day had been exaggerated over the seven weeks since. He finished patting Duo down and gestured him towards the side of the lobby, where an alcove of intake stations had been set up, all manned by Preventers receptionists. "Just go over there, fill out the visitor paperwork, and we'll get you upstairs as soon as possible." Duo clapped him on the shoulder, choosing to ignore the other man's flinch of panic. "Thanks, man." He walked over to the intake stations and parked himself in the back of yet another line. This one was just as slow moving - slower, actually - and Duo was finally beckoned to step forward at 10:03. A woman was behind the desk, fresh-faced and so young that Duo felt uncomfortable. As he usually did when meeting strangers, he found himself wondering where she had been during the wars, wondering how they had impacted her, who she had lost. If he had taken anyone from her. "Morning," he greeted her with a forced grin, projecting as much charm and ease as he could into the expression. She looked up at him, no doubt ready to dismiss an overly-friendly male's advances with a curt remark, but her eyes widened when she recognized him. "I, ah, good morning." She continued to stare at him. "So, I think I need a visitor's pass," he told her after a moment. "You do? Oh, um, well. You just need to fill out this form, and this one - and I need to see two forms of identification." Duo dug into the back pocket of his too-tight trousers for his wallet and passed over his government ID card, as well as his driver's license. The woman took the cards and gave him the two forms to fill out. Forms that were multiple pages. For fuck's sake. Duo filled them out as quickly as he could, his nearly illegible handwriting even worse as he tried to breeze through the dozens of questions about his past, his political sympathies and his reasons for being at Preventers. He handed her back the forms, noting her grimace, and took back the ID cards that she had scanned and filed. "For question seventeen on form Z2A, you answered that your political affiliation was 'anarcho-communist.' At least, I think that's what you wrote?" Duo offered her a smile. "Yeah. Sorry for the piss-poor handwriting. Never had many lessons on penmanship growing up." She nodded idly. "Sir, your response falls into the category that usually requires me to flag your visitor application and call a supervisor." Duo stared at her. "You're kidding." "No, sir, I'm afraid not. Please wait here and let me get someone?" She waited until he gave her an irritable nod of acquiescence, and then walked away. It was 10:21 before she came back, a scowling older woman in her wake. She looked Duo over, appeared thoroughly unimpressed with what she saw, and stepped up to the younger woman's data console. "Name?" she demanded. "Uh, Duo Maxwell?" "Your papers say-" "David. David Maxwell," Duo corrected himself. It had been Quatre who had suggested he go with the more formal name. If you're going to get a fake ID, you might as well get it with a name that no one raises an eyebrow over. "Purpose for your visit?" "I had a 9:10 meeting with the station chief." The older woman looked over Duo's shoulder at the wall clock, looked back at him, and sniffed. "You appear to have missed it." "Yeah, I noticed." The younger woman, standing behind her supervisor, offered Duo a sympathetic smile. "Our records have you listed as banned from the premises," the older woman arched an eyebrow at him. "Yeah, well, like I said, I have a meeting upstairs with-" "I'll need to put in a call to his office." Duo rolled his eyes. "Fine. Fine. But can you at least tell him that I was here an hour and a half ago?" Her grim face suggested she would do no such thing, and Duo was left to wait once again as both women walked away. When they came back five minutes later, both looked a little subdued. The older woman passed a visitor badge over to him, and Duo slipped the nylon cord attached to it around his neck. "You are to report directly to the station chief's office," she informed him. "Thanks," Duo grumbled, but she was already walking away. "Good luck," the young receptionist said to him. Duo arched an eyebrow at her, and she flushed. "I just- I mean, it's good to meet you, sir. Thank you for everything." It still happened, sometimes, people thanking him for things he had done a lifetime ago, for violence and murder and war. It still took him by surprise, still left him reeling and slightly nauseous as he thought about all of the people who had died. He didn't deserve anyone's gratitude. Duo gave her an awkward nod and walked away, standing in yet another line in front of the elevators. The group clustered around the elevators going to the top five floors was smaller, mostly filled with employees and a few people in dark suits who looked important. Duo earned more than a few pointed looks, and he saw heads tilt together and lips moving as people whispered to each other. He ignored them. He'd had plenty of practice doing that, over the years. Once on the elevator, everyone gave him space, clustering together at least a foot away from him, and Duo had to roll his eyes. So apparently there had been gossip about him and the incident. He'd started off the day in a foul mood, and being a pariah in the fucking elevator did nothing to lift his spirits. When the elevator reached the ninth floor, Duo pushed his way out and stalked down the hall, the path ingrained in his memory from too many visits already. The receptionist was clearly on alert, his eyes neutral and his desk remarkably clean. Duo couldn't help but notice it was also empty of anything heavy or sharp. His eyes were drawn to the wall behind the receptionist, but the drywall had been patched and a new portrait, another of Commander Une in her Preventers' dress uniform, hung in the same place as the old one. "Heya, Steve. How ya been?" The receptionist didn't answer, but instead pressed a button on his phone. "Sir, Agent Maxwell is here." "Send him in," came the brusque response. Duo walked towards the door, smirking when Steve rolled his chair several inches further away from the path Duo took. "You're late." Duo rolled his eyes at the greeting. He closed the office door behind him - considering that the last time he had been in the office there had been a shouting match - and shoved his hands into his trouser pockets. "Missed you too, buddy." Seated behind an imposingly large desk, Chang Wufei looked every inch the model of a lifelong government servant: wire-framed glasses, hair neatly pulled back, his uniform crisp and starched to within an inch of its life. If Duo hadn't known him during the wars, he never would have thought that this man was the boy who had acted so impulsively, had been so driven by vengeance and self-loathing. Wufei's eyes raked over him, taking in everything, no doubt judging what he saw and, as usual, finding Duo lacking. Those dark eyes paused at Duo's throat, and Duo resisted the urge to adjust his collar. "How is Zechs?" Duo shrugged. "Still a self-absorbed narcissist who thinks he's God's gift to humanity." Duo sat down in the chair across from the desk, stretching his legs out and crossing them at the ankles. He couldn't help but notice the coffee mug on Wufei's desk, and he eyed it covetously. "So, unharmed?" Wufei sounded amused. Duo shrugged one shoulder. "He was a little banged up." Duo didn't go into any details, and certainly didn't feel the need to add that Merquise ended the night more injured from him than from the attempted assassination. Wufei drummed his fingers on his desk and pursed his lips in thought. "Any idea who might have been behind it?" "No. Forensics have anything yet?" "Some preliminary findings. You can go talk to them after-" "So, what, I'm back? Just like that?" Wufei arched an eyebrow at him. "I was going to say, after you complete the psych evaluation and do your recertification testing." "A- a psych eval? No fucking way in fucking hell, Wufei." "It's the only way I can get you back in here. The lawyers-" "The lawyers? Oh for- and who the fuck said I wanted back anyway? Getting paid to sit on my ass for the last seven weeks has been fucking bliss." "Then why did you answer the phone at one in the morning?" "Because it was you, and it was the first time you'd called since-" "Then why did you agree to take care of Zechs?" Wufei abruptly changed tactics. Duo glared at him. "Why did you want me to take care of him?" Duo turned the question on him. He hadn't been thinking too clearly when the call came, hadn't really cared about the reasons - he'd just reacted to Wufei's clipped tone, the scant information. Attempted assassination. Zechs Merquise. Discretion. Words that sent off red flags and sent adrenaline rushing through Duo's body. "I didn't," Wufei growled. "But I was overruled." "Huh." That hurt, more than Duo thought it would. Despite everything, he hadn't realized Wufei's confidence in Duo was that nonexistent. "Overruled?" "Brussels." Which meant Une, and probably Trowa. Ironic, considering that Une had wanted him brought up on charges and fired, and that Trowa had recommended he be shipped off to Mars to head up the fledgling Preventers station there. Wufei removed his glasses and rubbed his brow. Less than five minutes and Duo was already driving him crazy - that had to be a new record. "It's a delicate situation, and they felt that given… your past experiences, Zechs would be more cooperative towards you than one of our other agents." Duo arched an eyebrow at that. If last night had been Merquise being cooperative… "Well, he lied his ass off to me and to the cops." Wufei's eyes narrowed, but he nodded. "Une knew he was going to be difficult about this. We need this situation managed. If this becomes a multi-cycle story in the news, then it's going to give fodder to the bureaucrats who want Preventers resources curtailed, and it's going to have an impact on the economic negotiations between the Americas and Russia." "It's- why the hell would it affect those?" It was Wufei's turn to arch an eyebrow. "Zechs owns Labou-Marte Industries, and the Merquise Investment Group has holdings-" Wait, wait," Duo held up one hand. "Zechs owns LMI?" Wufei nodded, and Duo let out a low whistle. It had been obvious, last night, that Merquise was loaded. But LMI was the biggest name in biotech - not just on Earth, but in the entire Earthsphere. That would have been handy information to have last night when he tried to question Merquise. "And the Merquise Investment Group - anything special about that?" "He's got a hand in the redevelopment projects in Russia - they've already financed most of the rebuilding of California after the war damage. There has also been a fair amount of speculation regarding bribes to politicians over the years, but nothing concrete." Duo nodded thoughtfully, revising his estimation of Merquise based on the new intel. The man had to know something - had to at least suspect someone. Public figure, my ass. "There is also, of course, the connection to Relena." "You think she hired an assassin to kill him? I mean, I wouldn't blame her, but that doesn't seem like her style. Not to mention, she could just ask, and I'd do-" "I meant," Wufei spoke over him, "that if this becomes a story, it impacts her as well." "Yeah, I knew that part already." Wufei stared at him for a moment, his eyes, as always, feeling as if they could see through Duo. "We need to know who was behind this, and we need to keep Zechs quiet." Duo lifted his eyebrows. "You know, the best way to do that would be to just let me kill him." "More death?" Wufei whispered it, but the words had the same impact on Duo as if he had shouted them. Duo clenched his jaw, and he swallowed against the sudden, painful lump in his throat. "I only meant," Wufei continued after a moment, "to keep him happy and make him feel like we care." "You're sort of implying that we don't actually care." "Preventers cares about this being dealt with quickly and quietly." Duo hooked a thumb towards himself. "And Une and Trowa thought I was the best for quietly?" "I think you've proven, time and time again, that quietly is what you are best at." That was going too far. Duo felt the words like a knife through his heart. Wufei just stared at him, and then nodded. "Good. Maybe I was wrong." "What?" "I don't think you're ready to come back - I don't think you'll ever be ready to come back, but Trowa thinks you can handle this. Maybe I'm wrong and he's right." "Thanks for the vote of confidence, buddy." Wufei gave him a look. "Duo, I care about-" Duo waved off the words. "I get it, Wufei." Duo drew in a deep breath. "You said something about forensics having preliminary findings?" Wufei nodded, still regarding Duo a little warily. "Jasmin is working on it." "Great. I'll go see her. After I get a cup of coffee." He started to get up from his chair. "Duo." Wufei's tone had Duo sighing and sitting back down. "You have to do the psych evaluation. We're still dealing with the lawsuit, and the fallout from-" "Still? Wufei, fucking settle. Give Anna the money, and let her-" "This is about more than a grieving widow and assuaging your guilt, Duo. This is about the entire agency. Munoz knew what the job was, and-" "Don't you dare give me that bullshit, Wufei. Don't you dare tell me that we all know what we signed up for, and that Anna is just supposed to be proud that she gets a fucking flag and a medal instead of-" "There was an inquiry. You did nothing wrong. Preventers did nothing wrong. You were doing your job; Munoz was doing her job. This agency cannot afford to simply hand out multi-million dollar compensation to the family of every agent who dies in the field." "Not every agent dies like she did, Wufei," Duo reminded him. They glared at each other, but Wufei refused to back down. Instead, he reached into his desk and pulled out a business card. He passed it over to Duo, who couldn't help but think bitterly that he should think about investing in a Rolodex. He looked at the name on the card. Dr. Anthony Marisi Registered Psychologist Trauma and Recovery Specialist "What the fuck is this?" "Your psychologist. When you were put on administrative leave, you were advised to seek out counseling." "When you put me on leave, I told you that I wasn't going to sit on a couch and whine about my fucking feelings to a stranger." "You have an appointment with him at 12:15." Wufei looked at the clock on his desk. "It's already after eleven, and his office is across town. I will have Steven let his office know you might be running late." "There's no fucking way I'm going to-" "Get the evaluation, Duo." "Or what?" "Or you're fired." Wufei delivered the threat in a cold, empty voice. Fired. Une would love that. Hell, everyone would love it. It would be such a damn relief, to have him gone. Even for Trowa and Wufei - no more of his messes to clean up. And Duo… Duo would have nothing left; no purpose, no compass, nothing. "Fine." He pocketed the card and stood up. "Fine?" Wufei echoed. "You fucking win, Wufei, okay? I'll go get the eval." "Thank you." Wufei sounded sincere. Looked it too. That didn't change the fact that Duo wanted to punch him in the throat.
-o- TBC (Another Duo POV and then back to Zechs)