Duo lay awake for hours after the others left him alone in his quarters. Though the room contained a bed and a set of table and chairs, the place still felt as close to a cell as his tiny lockup in DeSchepper's warship ever had. Always, there were guards stationed outside, and a horizontal barred slat cut through the middle of the wooden door instead of a window. Now he thought on the matter, the place seemed even colder than DeSchepper's warship ever had-at least when he had been there people had fussed over him, spoken to him, and made certain that his well-being was looked after. Now it was as if he didn't exist.
It had taken a while for Duo to settle in that evening. The absence of Quell had made him jittery and anxious, a phenomenon Quatre had attributed to post-traumatic stress that had otherwise been well-managed, if not dampened entirely, by the drug. Duo hoped the feeling would go away soon, would give way to happier feelings he'd not experienced in far too long. He wanted to enjoy company again.
Hilde's visit had been overshadowed by the nervousness, and Duo regretted that. But if that had bothered her she gave no indication, as she spent much of the evening seated around the table with Quatre and Sally giggling happily over Heero's run-in with the Corporal and the subsequent news articles detailing the event. Over the hours it turned into a kind of game: Each would suggest a ridiculous headline and the others would have to guess whether or not it was real. In the end it was left to Duo to decide who had won, a feeble attempt to include him in the fun, and he decided on a whim that Sally had come out ahead. It was a lie: He'd not been paying much attention to them at all. Still, they accepted his judgment and moved to other silly games.
No one mentioned Duo's horrifying time in the cockpit. He had hoped to speak to someone about it, even in passing, but no one brought it up. He wondered what they thought had happened, if they thought that speaking about it would drive Duo back into hysterics, or if they believed he didn't remember what had happened. In truth, he hadn't. Not at first. But as he alternated between laying on the bed staring at the ceiling, flexing his sore fingers, and watching his three friends sitting at the table in their revelry, the memories came back until the entirety of the experience had crystallized clearly. Whenever he closed his eyes he saw that still frame of Sister Helen, the one that had triggered such terrible and mind-numbing hallucinations. He could see her seemingly lidless, dead blue eyes staring up into the nothing, the blood pooled in every crack and crevice. Even the tiny crow's feet around her eyes, wrinkles Duo remembered only when she laughed, had been caked with the crimson. The blank look on her face had been so unnatural, perhaps more unfitting for her than death itself. Her face had never been so dispassionate in life.
Duo blinked twice, hard. He didn't want to think about her. She had occupied so much of his thoughts lately, both waking and dreaming, that he wondered just how deeply the hallucinations had reached. He wondered back to the dream he'd had of her while in stasis. She'd said to move on.
And then he heard the shuffling of men in the hallway outside his door, the familiar noise of the early morning shift change that reminded Duo of the time. Four in the morning. He'd have to be up in a few hours to endure that insufferable courtroom again. He was sick of feeling like a criminal.
"Did you hear what happened?"
Duo perked up at the voices, but he did not move.
"Shut up, you idiot, he'll hear."
"He's been asleep for hours. Hasn't moved a muscle."
Four men were talking just outside, and the first who had spoken seemed excited.
"They sent in the agent. For the Secretary General," said the first voice.
"No," two of them replied skeptically. "This soon?"
"Yeah, screwed it up big time, too," said a fourth separate voice. "Botched the whole damned mission."
Duo wanted to sit up, but he reckoned they would stop talking if they so much as thought he'd moved. So he continued listening intently, eyes closed. He could pretend to sleep if it meant hearing some interesting news. And this sounded juicier than Heero's assault of the Corporal.
"I heard that our agent is dead," said the first. "They recovered him with a nasty wound to his head. Benning figures he ran into the First Gentleman."
One of the others laughed heartily. "As if he could've expected otherwise. Why didn't they send a team? You'd figure a squad could overwhelm one guy, especially an old man like that."
The fourth voice spoke now, and he seemed angry. "You're all idiots," he pouted. "You have no idea what we're dealing with, do you? I mean, think about it. Think about the stories the Corporal told us. He fought against the lot of them in the One Year War and barely scraped away with his life."
"He didn't fight against any of them," said the second voice with bravado. "He was enlisted during the war, yeah, but he never saw a gundam, not one of them, and not even at a distance. Maybe on television."
"Still, you know the reputations of these guys," the fourth insisted. "Even the old guy in there is deadly if we let him get a jump on us. Why else do you think they've got us in pairs at his door? Why take such precaution?"
Duo could've laughed.
"He won't hurt us," said the third voice. "I saw the Winner guy doping him up with something the first night he was here. He's pretty much brain dead. Harmless."
Duo scoffed. Harmless, he thought, I'd kill every last one of you if you gave me a reason.
"And that Winner guy-doesn't seem like he'd hurt a fly. He called me sir earlier. Come on, now. I'm an airman, not a sir!"
"So what happened, then?"
"They've got a siege situation over at the hotel," continued the third. "That other dude...The brother..."
"Zechs Marquise?" shouted the second voice, apparently star struck.
"Shut up, dumbass!" scolded the first. "You're going to wake him up!"
"Yeah, that guy," explained the third. "He's got Secretary General Peacecraft and her husband locked in his room. Apparently they got a gun somehow. One of the other pilots is running messages between rooms using the balconies-what a freak, right? I saw him jumping around on one of the news broadcasts. But still, our guys are pretty much stuck."
"What's worse is they wounded the First Gentleman," said the first. "Pretty badly by the sound of things. If our agent just finished the damned job instead of getting his head bashed in, we'd be home free. Now our guys have to get out of this mess without blowing our cover to the rest of the military."
"Benning's going to have O'Keefe's head over this one."
There was a long pause.
"Better be on the way," said the first. "We don't want anyone getting any ideas."
And then two sets of footsteps receded down the way. Duo could imagine the new guards settling into their positions outside the door, their guns held sling ready.
But what had he just overheard? Heero had been wounded, by the sound of things, and the others barricaded in their rooms. Left to draw his own conclusion, Duo would've imagined that someone had tried to assassinate Relena, but he couldn't imagine why. She wasn't under scrutiny. She wasn't in any way involved with the court martial except ceremonially speaking. All eyes were supposed to be on him.
What was more, it seemed that the guards outside his door were a part of a smaller faction within the greater military. Duo wondered what that meant-a special operatives group, perhaps, or a squadron. But an uneasy feeling in his gut told him otherwise. He lay there for a while, thinking, before deciding to act. He needed to speak with Quatre about this, and he needed to speak to him as soon as possible.
A comfortable amount of time after shift change, Duo groaned as sickly as he could and as loudly as he could. He heard the guards shift outside. He groaned again, threw in a choked cough for good measure.
"Hey, are you all right in there?" one of the guards asked. Duo moaned in reply.
"Come on, man, he's a superior," said the other. "Sir, are you all right?"
Duo rolled tangled himself in the blankets and rolled off the bed with an exaggerated thump.
The second, more honorific soldier swore. When Duo shot a covert glance at the door he could see the both of them peering through the window. One set of eyes was wide, the other narrowed skeptically.
"Go get the medic," said the second. "We've got to help him."
"No we don't," said the first.
"We're duty bound to help him!"
"Don't be stupid," said the first.
"Shut up! He'll hear you!" said the second frantically. "Just go get Winner! I'll keep watch. I don't want this guy dying on my watch. I don't want to have to answer to Benning."
"Pussy."
"I might be, but we've got ourselves up the creek far enough with the First Gentleman situation. We don't need to throw our paddle away completely."
Duo continued groaning and rolling until long after the first had disappeared from view. The second continued staring in, terrified. And then, Duo stopped moving and lay as still as he could on the floor, hoping his act had played on long enough.
"Oh no, oh no..." the second soldier lamented. "Sir? Sir?" But he didn't open the door. It seemed he wouldn't underestimate Duo, no matter what, and Duo wasn't surprised. If word had spread that Heero caught one of their men off guard, it would only follow that the others would be more vigilant.
After a while Duo could hear footsteps rushing down the hall, and the second guard disappeared from the window for a time. Then he heard Quatre's frantic voice out in the hallway, the second guard debriefing him, and the door opened with the click of a lock.
"Duo!" A slightly damp Quatre dropped to the ground and began to fuss over him, but Duo shot him a look that halted him immediately. "Duo?"
Duo lifted an eyebrow and shot a quick glance toward the door. He hoped Quatre would get the idea: get rid of the guards, pronto. It seemed that Quatre understood, because he stood at once and approached.
"I need supplies!" he said, his voice a perfect mimic of fear. "Get me water, and towels, and I'll need a supplemental med kit."
"We can't leave the room unattended, sir," said the first, skeptical guard.
"Do you want him to die?" Quatre said angrily. "If you don't get me those supplies he won't last ten minutes!"
"We'll have to lock you in, Mr. Winner," said the second guard. His voice had gone shaky, and then he added in an undertone, apparently to the other soldier, "It'll be okay, man. We'll just be gone a minute. They're not going to get out of here."
Then the door clicked again and the guards rushed off down the way.
Satisfied that the guards had gone, Duo sat up. Quatre had rounded on him, was staring at him curiously. "Good job getting rid of them," Duo said.
"What's this all about?" Quatre asked. "What's with the fake out? I rushed over here in the rain and-"
"I just overheard them talking at shift change," Duo said. He felt his heart racing. "They tried to kill Relena, they apparently got a hit in on Heero or something. They said he was hurt."
"What?" Quatre asked. "I don't understand."
"They said that there's a siege at the hotel. They're all locked up with some military guys outside. They said something about screwing up the job, blowing their cover to the rest of the..."
"Duo, what are you talking about?" Quatre asked dumbly. "I don't understand."
Duo drew a deep breath. "Tonight, at shift change," he began again, as calmly as he could. "The guards coming in, the ones you just sent away, were telling the previous shift about a job. Some guy-Bearing? Benning?-sent in a special op to take down Relena. Well, from the sound of it Heero got to him before he could get to Relena."
"They tried to assassinate her?"
Duo shrugged. He truly couldn't say for sure. "They injured Heero in the fight. Somehow they wound up with Zechs and Noin. Those guys said something about not blowing their cover and having to start the job over."
Quatre looked to the door nervously. "They tried to kill Heero and Relena?" he asked. "Is that what you're trying to tell me?"
Duo nodded. "As best I can tell."
"We need to get out of here, then," Quatre reasoned with a look back to Duo. There was genuine worry in his eyes now. "I've had a bad feeling about all of this since we got here. These soldiers have been too..." he paused. "I don't know. They seem too cocky. They seem too aloof."
"Yeah," Duo agreed. "Hearing them talk to each other they think they're something pretty hot."
Quatre sighed. "They'll be back here any minute. They'll have to open the door to get me the supplies I asked for. How do you want to handle this?"
Duo thought. It'd been a while since he'd had to execute a jailbreak, and he'd never done so with Quatre at his side. Most often he'd had Heero to rely on, and Heero had always been somewhat more daring than Quatre had. Heero had never been afraid to hurt someone. But the wing in which he was presently housed was nearly empty-there were not many prisoners at McCarthy Base-and he'd seen only a handful of guards since he'd waked earlier that afternoon. After dispatching the original two, any they happened across would not be difficult to deal with. How they would retrieve Sally and Hilde, and ultimately escape the base was a different matter entirely. Duo would have to think about that on the fly.
"Get them to me and I'll take care of the rest," Duo said. "Just don't let them know I'm awake."
"You think they'll come in here?"
"If you get them scared enough they'll do whatever you want," Duo replied. "They think you're a pushover."
Quatre nodded, seemingly oblivious to the insult. Duo laid his head back on the floor, closed his eyes, and waited.
It did not take long for the soldiers to return, and they paused outside the door to confer about how they'd get the materials inside. But Quatre interrupted them angrily, shouting, "Get in here with that! We don't have time!"
Duo could hear the guards discuss this briefly, until one of them insisted that they were the ones with the guns, and that there was nothing to worry about. The door clicked open, and the soldiers came inside. One of them carried a bowl of water and a brown leather box, and he kneeled at Quatre's side, apparently anxious to help. The other trained his gun upon Duo and Quatre, and stood at Duo's unmoving feet, anxious in an entirely different way.
"Thank you," Quatre said breathlessly, accepting the tools. "I was beginning to worry that-"
All at once, Duo drew a deep breath and kicked out. He caught the armed guard full in the knee with both feet. A stomach-turning crack echoed out and the guard went down, crying out and clutching at his hideously twisted leg. The other scrambled at the motion, but before he could get too far away Quatre had swung the med kit around with all his might, catching him squarely in the side of the head. He went down in an instant.
Quatre looked to Duo wide eyed. "What now?" he cried.
"Get his gun and any weapons we can find," Duo said matter-of-factly, motioning to the unconscious soldier, and he retrieved the rolling guard's gun from the floor while Quatre searched. Duo trained the gun on the wounded, crying guard and said in a low voice, "You shut up right now or I'll shoot you in the mouth."
"Duo!" Quatre scolded.
"Now's not the time to be nice, Quatre," Duo replied. Then he turned back to the guard, who presently stared up with tearful eyes, but had fallen wholly silent. "You sit on your hands and don't move a muscle. If you move, I'll shoot you. You stay still and I won't hurt you any more, do you understand? Quatre, search him."
The guard complied with Duo's every order and Quatre went to work. He produced a flashlight and an additional pistol: The same gear as the unconscious soldier had carried. And then Quatre got to his feet and backed toward the door.
"Keys," Duo demanded of the guard on the ground. "Who's got them?"
"I do, sir," cried the guard, terrified. His voice was a trembling squeak.
"Give them here."
The soldier produced a small key ring from his pocket and slid it across the floor.
"Good boy," Duo cooed as Quatre retrieved the keys. "Now you're going to tell me who you're working for."
"Captain Charles Benning," the soldier squeaked. "We're part of the Red Ops."
"Nice name," Duo said sardonically and he looked to Quatre, who seemed ready to depart. "What was your mission tonight? The agent you sent?"
"To kill Secretary General Peacecraft. That's all I know, the rest was Blue Ops.' job."
Curious but satisfied, Duo stepped toward the guard and knelt low, the barrel still pointed unerringly at his head. "You watch who you're calling an old man, eh, kid?" And then he whipped the gun about, smashing its butt into the poor boy's skull.
"That wasn't necessary," Quatre admonished.
"It was if we wanted to keep our cover," Duo replied. "Let's go, and lock the door behind us. As long as we're quiet and stealthy we shouldn't run into any problems."
Quatre did as he was told, and the two set off down the ways in silence. Duo led them along, relying on hand signals to communicate and happy he didn't have to speak. He felt breathless and afraid, and yet entirely in his element. His hands trembled with a nervous energy that kept him on edge and alert. He remembered this energy. It was good.
Duo knew that he could get them out of lockup. After that, Quatre could take over.
They dodged three patrols on the way out of the predictably empty building, and as they reached the door to the larger lot, Duo pulled Quatre down toward him, crouched. "Look," he said, "I need you to get Sally and Hilde. We've got to get them secured before we do anything crazy."
"They're in my room in the civilian barrack," Quatre whispered in reply. "I woke them up to let them know where I was going."
Duo nodded and thought, looking around. It was still raining outside. "Nobody knows that anything happened here except you and me," he reasoned. "If you go back to your room alone nobody will think anything of it, right? You're not restricted in the civilian area?"
"Not that I was ever told," Quatre replied.
"Good. Give me your gun." Duo's mind worked frantically. "We're on a military base," he thought out loud, pinched the bridge of his nose. "We're on an air and space force base. They're going to have some kind of vehicle here, a plane or something we can take. Maybe even something space-capable. I'll sneak to the hangars and have a look around."
"You don't think that'll be too dangerous?"
Duo regarded Quatre, and then looked at his hands. His left still smarted. "No," he replied flatly. "We haven't run into trouble yet. Nobody's put up the alarm. If we do this right, nobody will until we're well on our way. Besides, this rain will give us a little extra cover."
Quatre nodded. "How will I find you?"
Duo hadn't thought that far. They hadn't managed to salvage any communication devices from the soldier's they'd mugged. "The flashlight," he said after a minute. "I'll shine it toward the civilian barrack every couple minutes. Hopefully that won't draw any attention."
"You be safe, okay?"
Duo smiled genuinely. "As if there's any doubt."
"I'm being serious," Quatre insisted. "You're not stable yet."
And then Duo looked at him quite seriously, with an expression that quieted Quatre immediately. "Have I ever really been stable, though?"
Quatre patted Duo on the shoulder and disappeared into the night.
And then Duo set off on his own, one gun strapped to his back and the other firmly in his hands. He moved quickly and quietly, slipping between shadows cast by the enormous compound's many buildings and watchtowers. He watched a patrol slip by before creeping behind them, and though one of the pair rounded, Duo was long gone.
His head hurt from thinking so much. The rain was cold. The joints on his left hand had stiffened slightly. He had to remember the layout of the base. If it was standard, the hangars would be to the south of the lockup. Most bases were laid out that way, and civilian housing would be to the east of the hangars. He racked his mind to recall if McCarthy was standard.
Settling on his gut, Duo headed south toward two large round-topped buildings that he reckoned were hangars as soon as he saw them. The closer hangar's door was open. As Duo crept closer he could see a large plane inside of it, what looked like an old-model mobile suit carrier. His interest had been piqued.
Dodging another patrol, Duo slid around the back of the buildings. He peeked into the rear door of the first hangar and nodded. It was indeed a mobile suit carrier. He was certain of that. This meant that there must have been a mobile suit on the base somewhere. He gently cracked the door and poked his head inside.
The hangar was dark. Duo could make out only the shape of the enormous plane, a few small vehicles and machines for its maintenance. There were no mobile suits here. But there were guards patrolling everywhere from the ground level to the catwalks hanging overhead. One of them was peering down at the door, but Duo was gone. He couldn't have said whether the soldier had spotted him.
Nervous now, Duo made his way to the second hangar's rear door and pushed it open.
"Jackpot..." he whispered to himself. He produced the flashlight, shined it briefly toward the east, and then slipped into the hangar.
Darker than the last hangar, Duo could scarcely see anything at all. It was only thanks to the catwalks' flashing red rope safety lights that Duo could tell that there we mobile suits in here, and he could not discern a model or make. To his great surprise, the hangar was otherwise deserted. There were no soldiers.
"Why the hell do they have mobile suits," he mused to himself. "They were outlawed..."
But still, he felt heartened. If he could get them to fire, these would make for an easy escape. Quatre could pilot one with Sally and he could fly the other with Hilde. If they were properly equipped, they could help aide Zechs and the others with the siege at the hotel. Better, they could get the lot of them back to space, back to safety. Duo wanted to go home.
Duo poked his head back out the door and flashed the light to the east.
Back in he went, quicker now, toward the feet of the nearest suit. He shined the flashlight up at it. The suit was round-topped and angular, military in design. It bore an uncanny resemblance to a Virgo of the old day, which Duo recognized at once meant that it should be capable of spaceflight. Upon closer examination, he noted an enormous beam cannon equipped in its right hand and two beam saber hilts embedded in the torso. Clearly it had been designed with offense in mind.
"C'mon, Quatre," Duo grumbled, and he rushed back to the door.
Something was wrong.
Over the sound of the lightly falling rain Duo could hear voices, lots of them all around. There were footsteps moving in formation. Soldiers were moving toward him. Across the way he could see Quatre, Sally, and Hilde scrambling across the barren tarmac, Quatre's head low. They seemed to be aware of the danger.
Duo peered around the opposite side of the hangar.
"There!"
Shots fired at once, and it was all Duo could do to throw himself back behind the building and ready his own weapon. His heart raced as he tripped the safety and blindly pointed the weapon around the corner. He fired, and the recoil took him by surprise. He'd never been used to automatic weapons, never weapons with this much power. He'd always preferred the smaller, stealthier pistols and single shot weapons of his youth, but those he'd stolen from his guards wouldn't put a dent in machine gun fire. Yet he fired all the same, and was fired upon in turn.
"Duo!"
He ceased fire and turned to watch Quatre advancing. Shots ricocheted off the tarmac, throwing sparks into the rain. They were running in the open. They were being fired upon, too.
Duo's breath was coming in quick gasps now. His mind was blurring, and whenever he blinked he saw that terrible image of Helen, Elliott DeSchepper's enormous warship blasting into space dust, the demolition of the church, the explosion of the colony. The images repeated in a disgusting loop, and all Duo could do was stare and watch. It was as if time had slowed.
The sound of contact was sick. It was dense and wet. It was like a splat, like a baseball bat smashing a pig's carcass, like a butcher's knife cutting through dense meat. And Hilde fell. Her head bounced on the asphalt. She didn't move. Quatre stumbled and paused for a hesitating moment to look back at her, and then he pressed forward.
"Go!" Quatre cried. "Go!" He shoved Sally ahead.
Duo stared even as Quatre and Sally rushed behind the building. His body had gone suddenly very numb. His feet had been frozen to the spot. She wasn't moving. But she wasn't bleeding. She wasn't moving. But she wasn't bleeding.
"We've got to go!" Quatre cried, grabbing Duo's wrist. "We've got to go!"
Quatre dragged Duo into the hangar, and in a haze Duo pointed him toward the mobile suit.
"Virgo," Duo said flatly. His shaking voice sounded distant to his own ears. His brain seemed to have shut down. He couldn't feel his hands. Guns were still firing outside. The footsteps were drawing closer to the door.
"Duo!" Sally shouted, and both hands were on his shoulders. She shook him violently. "Wake up! We've got to get out of here!"
Duo snapped back. He was a soldier. He was trained for this, if only he would rely on it. He shook his head. There was still hope for her. She hadn't been bleeding. But he had to move quickly.
"Virgos," Duo said, all the training in him coming out at once. He felt command mode taking over. "Space ready, well-equipped. Sally, you get up in one with Quatre and I'll take the other."
"Do they work?" Quatre asked tremulously. He seemed ready to burst into tears.
"Let's hope so," Duo replied numbly.
They split at once. Duo's mind was blank as he approached the mobile suit's pulley system. His body moved as an automated machine, ditching the stolen weapons, pressing the lift button, entering the cockpit, fastening its five-point harness around his body. It fit too tightly, but there was no time to adjust it. He looked at the console, digging in the back of his mind to every console he'd ever looked at in all his years as a pilot. It was closest to the old Taurus unit. He punched in familiar commands and the screens flared to life. More familiar commands displayed the load out and specifications. He'd been right about the suit's weaponry, and in addition to the sabers and cannon it boasted two head mounted vulcan guns as well.
He opened a communication channel and said, "Quatre, report." His voice sounded strange, oddly cold and quiet. It sounded the same as it had on the Quell, back when he first spoke to DeSchepper. There was some hidden resentment, some hidden anger there, but it would not come forth. "Quatre, report," he repeated. "Taurus configuration. Repeat, Taurus configuration."
And then Quatre's face appeared on screen.
"Can you handle yourself?" Duo asked, and Quatre nodded, pale faced. It was with great effort that Duo continued, half-choking on the words. "Get Hilde," he said. "I'll take care of the rest."
He powered on the suit's engines and lighting systems, and the hangar illuminated with bright red light. Soldiers were swarming at the mobile suits' feet. Duo wouldn't let them. He fired the vulcans into the lot, and soldiers fell in a spray of crimson. They were like ants.
"Duo, no!"
"Get Hilde," Duo replied. "That's an order."
"You can't order me! Stop firing on-"
Duo cut the communication feed and maneuvered the suit toward the hangar door. He raised the beam cannon, charged, and fired. In a flash of blinding light, the door vanished. The soldiers not caught in the blast fell back, far enough out of the way to pose no threat, and outside Duo went.
The rain obscured the camera, but Duo continued to fire indiscriminately as Quatre's suit exited the hangar behind. The soldiers swarmed and their bullets ricocheted off his hull. Duo fired. He knew it wouldn't be long until he'd have to engage heavier weaponry.
Quatre's voice came back into the cockpit through a new, unblocked communications channel. "I've got her."
Duo rounded his suit and stared wordlessly. Quatre had not been lying. In the hand of his mobile suit Hilde hung lifeless and unmoving, her face white and dead. Duo felt the urge to vomit.
"Let's go!"
Quatre fired his suit's thrusters and was in the air before Duo could gather himself. And then he followed, numb and afraid.
