Warnings: Angst, violence, language, drug use, abuse, supernatural things, sex, yaoi, yuri, het. If you desperately need to know who is paired with who send me a message and I can tell you, but I'd rather you get to experience the evolution of the characters first.

A/N : Thanks to the always amazing Cuzo, more than a beta and no less than a friend.

A/N#2: To everyone asking for a Heero POV: it's coming up, I promise. But you have to wait a few more chapters.

A/N#3: Holy Crap it's been forever since I updated this!

Deviant

Chapter Ten

Duo's first day of work fell on a Tuesday, more than a week after his final day of community service, and his eye, nose, and lips had healed enough that he didn't look like a reject from Fight Club anymore. There were still a handful of small cuts on his face, courtesy of Trant shoving his face against a gravel road, but even those were now faint.

It was almost just a bad dream. Almost, except for the fact that every time Duo looked in the mirror he thought about it, thought about how completely powerless he had been in the face of Trant's strength and determination. Almost, except for the fact that Duo honestly felt like he would never, ever be able to look Trowa in the eye again.

Last Saturday, the final day of community service, Duo had decided to simply ignore everyone – from Trowa and Hilde to Trant himself. He hadn't spoken to anyone, hadn't even looked at anyone.

He was disgusted and ashamed and he felt like a weak idiot. He should have simply started to run when he saw that it was Trant in the car – but Duo was too stupid and too prideful – he didn't want Trant to win, and he hadn't wanted to give that bastard the victory of making him run away.

So instead he had given Trant the victory of destroying his life.

Duo could only imagine how Hilde felt, the night that Mitch had assaulted her, and now he understood perfectly why Hilde hadn't said a word to him about it – why would she, when Duo was perhaps the most incompetent and useless person in Clarkson? It only made sense that Hilde, who knew him best, had known just how pathetic Duo really was. He couldn't protect himself – how in the hell could he protect her?

So now he was going to start his illustrious career as a janitor.

Duo was, in all truth, grateful for the job. It paid a hell of a lot more than the three jobs he juggled and had better hours. Of course, it was at Clarkson College, which meant that Duo would now have to deal with shit heads and spoiled bastards on a regular basis.

But Duo couldn't shake the sensation that his life had taken a turn for the worse. Maybe it was the lingering, phantom feel of Trant's hands gripping his hips hard enough to bruise. But for some reason Duo felt like Friday night had only been the start of something much worse.

Just how things could get worse than Friday night, Duo didn't much care to find out.

So now, at six a.m., Duo found himself walking into the maintenance office on the Clarkson campus and asking for Randall.

The head housekeeper turned out to be an ancient man with flaming red hair. Duo had no idea what Treize had told him, but Randall introduced himself and then immediately launched into a lengthy diatribe about how snotty the Clarkson students could be. As he gave the lecture, Randall showed Duo around the campus – and it seemed that each new building reminded the old man about some heinous act that the students had committed that Duo should know of. By the time they returned to the maintenance office at nine, Duo was vaguely worried that Randall was plotting to kill all of the students in their sleep.

Randall assured Duo that he had the best schedule – working six to three, with an hour break at ten – and the least active buildings in the morning, the theatre and the music building, both of which had most of their classes in the afternoon. Neither of which, Duo hoped, taught any classes that Trowa or Trant would be in. He knew that Trowa didn't have an interest in performing arts, and he could only hope that Trant's general attitude with the world precluded a passion for music or theatre.

On his way home for the day, Randall gave him three red polo shirts emblazoned with the Clarkson College logo and told him to wear black pants with the shirts.

He had a date scheduled that night with Treize – although date, Duo thought, was a gross overstatement. Duo was certain that like all the other nights he had spent with Treize, they would have a light meal, hours of sex, and then Treize would kick him out in the early morning.

But that was hours away, and this was perhaps the first afternoon Duo had had free in years. He knew that Hilde would be getting off work in an hour and would be home soon after, so he decided it was time to make amends.

It wasn't that Duo was still angry with her – in fact he was more angry with himself than he had ever been with her. But he didn't know what to say to her, or even really how to act around her anymore.

A quick run to Talley's – even without his employee discount it was going to be hard to give up shopping at the store, he was too spoiled by the taste of organic food now – and Duo had all the ingredients he needed to apologize to Hilde.

By the time she came home at four thirty, Duo was almost finished with making French Toast, Hilde's one true weakness when it came to food.

She sniffed the air when she entered, and a look of pure bliss crossed her face before she caught sight of Duo and her entire body tensed.

Duo sighed. This was all his fault – she shouldn't be suffering for it.

"Hey," he said.

She frowned.

"Hey?" she echoed uncertainly.

"We should talk." He held out an empty plate to her.

Slowly, Hilde walked over and joined him in the kitchen.

"Are you finally going to tell me what happened to you last Friday night?"

Duo shrugged.

"Bar fight."

"Again?" She sounded disbelieving, but Duo just shrugged.

"You know me…" Duo trailed off. "Hil, I'm an asshole."

She searched his face for a moment before smiling slightly.

"Tell me something I don't know," she said softly.

Duo chuckled.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have – fuck, Hil, I shouldn't have done a lot of things in the last two weeks. I'm sorry I ignored you, I'm sorry I was angry with you. I'm sorry I –"

"Duo, are you going to stand here and apologize for everything you've ever done wrong? Because I don't really have that kind of time."

He glared at her, but Hilde only smirked in response. She reached out and hugged him.

"I'm sorry too. I wanted to tell you, but I just… felt so completely fucking pathetic." She released him and sat back. "I can see the future but I can't even see myself getting attacked by Mitch! And I… I shouldn't have told Trowa what I saw. I'm sorry."

Duo shrugged.

"No. It doesn't matter."

He had been upset about that, especially when it seemed that Trowa liked the idea. Duo really didn't have anything against Heero, but he didn't want to share Trowa with him. Not that any of that mattered now.

Duo sighed. At least those two had a chance together, he hoped.

"So… you weren't at work today," Hilde said. She finally took a bite of the French Toast and actually moaned at the taste. Duo couldn't help but smirk.

"Actually, I've got a new job."

She frowned and he could actually feel her internal battle over whether or not to be angry with him for not telling her.

"Where at?" she eventually asked, her tone surprisingly even.

"Clarkson College. Housekeeping staff… so it's pretty lame, but the pay is… really fucking awesome."

"You're… a janitor?"

"Housekeeper," Duo corrected, though in his own mind he still hadn't worked out which one sounded worse.

"So do you have a feather duster and a lacy apron?"

Duo made a face at the suggestion.

"So, we're okay now?"

"Yeah," he told her and draped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer. "We're okay."

"And… you and Trowa? You didn't talk to him at the last day of community service."

"I didn't talk to anyone," Duo pointed out. He hated lying to Hilde, but if he told her the truth she would only worry about him… then again, she might get a vision of the truth and then she would be really pissed. He sighed.

"I don't think things are going to work out, for us."

"I'm sorry." To her credit, Hilde did sound genuinely regretful.

Duo added more syrup to his French Toast.

"Anyway," he said to change the subject, "anything fun happen with you today?"

At seven, Duo showered and changed into his nicer jeans and a sweater. He had noticed that Treize seemed to prefer him in a cleaned up state, as opposed to his standard casually-borderline-hippy attire. It bothered Duo, a little, that Treize liked a polished, superficial version of Duo, but on the scale of things that bothered him in their relationship it was at the bottom.

Having Treize rescue him had been… surreal, to say the least. Having the attractive college professor then ask him out had gone past surreal and moved into the realm of unbelievable.

Sleeping with Treize, however, had been the most real thing that had happened to Duo since getting struck by lightning two months ago. It hadn't been entirely pleasant, and it showed no signs of getting better with practice. Last Tuesday night, Duo had thought that being with another man, of his own volition, would help erase any thoughts of Trant. Duo had been wrong, and the Friday and Sunday nights after that hadn't changed anything either.

Duo found himself beyond grateful that Treize was such a raging bottom – he had no idea how he would react to having another man looming over him, playing a dominant role, after Trant. Still, whenever Treize looked at Duo there was a certain cold, analytical look in his eyes that chilled him. It didn't help matters that Duo flinched whenever Treize touched him, or that the older man sneered whenever he caught Duo reacting.

But Treize was right about one thing – Duo didn't want to be a victim. He wanted, he needed to be a survivor. If that meant a few weeks of emotionless sex and literally the worst orgasms of his life, then Duo would do it.

Better that than having to go through the torture of seeing Trowa's disgust for him. And Duo was confident that Trowa would be disgusted. The physical side of their relationship had never progressed to anything that required complete nakedness, mostly because Duo felt that rushing into it, considering Trowa's reluctance to begin any kind of relationship, would only ruin things, but what little sexual activity they had engaged in had more or less indicated to Duo that Trowa likely preferred being a top to bottoming. Which Duo had been fine with – even eager about, considering the complete lack of action he got around Clarkson and the fact that he genuinely liked the feeling of having another man inside him. But that had been before Trant.

Now, Duo found himself freaking out every time Treize approached him from behind and he woke up in the middle of the nights, sweat covering his body and heart racing, reliving that night.

Treize kicking him out after sex instead of inviting him to sleep over was another thing Duo was grateful for – it meant that he got in so late most nights that Hilde was already asleep, so he didn't have any questions to answer about where he had been. It also meant that he didn't have to see the disgust on Treize's face when he cried out in fear and frustration, fighting his way through dreams and memories.

Tuesday night was, as Duo had predicted, much like every other night they had spent together. Treize made dinner, and after they had cleaned the kitchen together they moved the evenings activities to Treize's bedroom.

And, just as before, when Treize approached Duo from behind and put a hand on his hip Duo shifted away uneasily and turned so that he was facing the other man.

Treize scowled at him.

"Perhaps I've been wrong about you all this time," Treize mused, and the look in his eyes filled Duo with shame. "It's been more than a week, yet still you flinch and I can practically smell your fear."

Duo swallowed hard.

"I don't like being touched from behind, it doesn't make me a victim," Duo pointed out, even though he knew it was a lie. It did make him a victim, and every encounter he had with Treize seemed to reinforce that.

Treize snorted.

"Absolutely pathetic. Here I was thinking that you were stronger than your brother… but maybe he had the right idea after all. Killing himself was at least some kind of action."

Duo felt his heart actually skip a beat at Treize's words.

"What are you – you know about my brother?"

Treize sneered.

"Everyone at Clarkson knows. At least the faculty. The cover up wasn't that detailed."

"What cover up?"

The look in Treize's eyes turned speculative.

"No one wanted the students implicated to be expelled. After all – the life of one townie didn't compare to more than one million dollars in tuition."

Duo had no idea what Treize was talking about, and it must have shown on his face.

Treize's eyes widened and then narrowed. A smirk curved his lips upward, and Duo felt a chill at the predatory expression.

"And you have absolutely no idea what happened to your brother, do you?"

Duo frowned.

"No," he finally admitted. "I found his body but… no, I don't know what happened."

Treize shook his head, but he appeared anything but remorseful. He stepped past Duo and laid down on the bed, stretching out and lacing his fingers behind his head. He turned slightly so he could look Duo in the eyes.

"A few years ago – seven years ago, I believe?" Treize waited until Duo nodded in agreement. "Yes. Seven years ago Delta Tau Delta decided that their hazing ritual that fall would involve a certain townie who was, to put it mildly, a flaming homosexual. Apparently he had tried to pick up a few members of the frat and they wanted to teach him a lesson. He was raped by no fewer than twelve members of the frat."

Duo closed his eyes against the mental image and fought to keep his breathing even and the contents of his stomach down.

"He went to the police… but, as you pointed out earlier, the Clarkson community doesn't like to involve its students in criminal cases. Everything was covered up – which was very easy to do after your brother had the good sense to kill himself. How did he do it, anyway? The papers never said."

Duo lost the fight with the bile in his throat and had to sprint to the bathroom.

As he knelt in front of the toilet, vomiting and then dry heaving after his stomach was completely empty, Duo had to fight back the urge to cry.

Solo had always said – boys don't cry. Solo – Solo.

At some point, Treize came into the bathroom and leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed and a look of boredom on his face.

Eventually Duo stood and tried to rinse his mouth out with water from the sink.

"He was in the military, wasn't he? So did he shoot himself? Or did he cut his wrists? I wonder –"

"He hung himself," Duo interrupted harshly. He had to grip the edges of the sink to support himself, and he glared at Treize's reflection in the bathroom mirror. "There was no blood. No knife, no bullet. Just a fucking rope."

"Hm. Is that how you'd do it?"

The question floored Duo.

"What?"

Treize shrugged one shoulder.

"Surely you've thought about it – how you'd like to go. Do you plan on following in your brother's footsteps? After all, you're already –"

"Fuck you," Duo growled. "Fuck you."

Treize rolled his eyes.

"The point is that you do fuck me, Duo. But what would happen if I laid a hand on that tight ass of yours, hm?" Treize took a step forward and Duo moved back. "Exactly. You're pathetic. So I'm asking, do you plan on hanging yourself as well?"

Duo wasn't normally a violent person, but he felt an almost overwhelming urge to hurt Treize, physically, as much as the other man was hurting him.

"Or are you too afraid to do even that?" Treize continued, his tone softer and the words cutting even deeper. "Because you certainly aren't a survivor, or a fighter. This attitude of yours – it's very disappointing. You were amusing, for a time, but now –"

Duo shoved Treize back against the doorframe and Treize's eyes narrowed further.

"Yes?"

Duo clenched his fists in the fabric of Treize's shirt and then released him and stepped back.

As he did so, Treize swung his right fist towards Duo's face.

Duo caught his wrist just before the punch connected with his face.

"But then, you are special, aren't you?" Treize said. "More special than he was."

Driven by some emotion Duo didn't care to name, he shoved Treize out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom. He ripped the other man's shirt off and undid his trousers before roughly jerking them down.

"Get on the bed," Duo commanded him. He was shaking in anger, and it was hard to keep his voice steady.

Treize hesitated, and Duo put one hand on his chest and pushed, unbalancing Treize and forcing him to fall backwards.

Duo pulled a condom from the nightstand by the bed and pulled his own pants and boxers down, not bothering to even take off his shoes or shirt.

He didn't bother to prepare Treize. As soon as he was hard enough he put on the condom and slammed into the older man.

Treize groaned, and Duo couldn't tell if it was in pain or pleasure.

Duo set a fierce, bruising rhythm. He felt so much rage and despair, so much anger and disgust, that he wanted nothing more than to bury them inside this twisted man.

But of course, when Duo came a heartbeat after Treize, he still felt those emotions burning inside of him.

Without the adrenaline from the sex, however, he felt even worse. He felt dirty and exposed and so very, very tired.

Treize chuckled and pulled away from Duo.

"Now that," he remarked with a satisfied smirk, "is exactly what I've been waiting for."

Duo was pleasantly surprised to find that Hilde had packed him a lunch Wednesday morning, and when he took his break from ten to eleven, he found a secluded picnic table under an oak tree near the music building.

The weather was finally turning colder, and there was just enough of a crisp bite in the air that Duo's arms turned to gooseflesh.

Still, he welcomed the discomfort.

After last night, feeling anything was a welcome distraction.

Treize had actually invited him to spend the night, after Duo's performance, and Duo had been too drained and too disgusted with himself to leave. So he had spent the night sharing Treize's bed, his silk sheets feeling more like barbed wire on his skin than anything else.

That morning, Duo had slipped out before dawn, while Treize was still asleep, and fled to his apartment to shower and discover the lunch that Hilde had made him.

It was amazing how easy it was to not think when he was cleaning toilets, but now that he was alone, outside, eating, it was impossible for Duo to not think about what Treize had said to him last night, and what Duo had done afterwards.

Duo had never even known that Solo was gay, let alone had an interest in any of the students at Clarkson.

He could still remember exactly how cold Solo's body had been when Duo found it, hanging from the ancient, rusty monkey bars in the backyard of their foster home.

That had, not surprisingly, resulted in Duo getting reassigned. Something about having a corpse in their backyard had turned his foster parents off foster care, and they had wanted Duo gone as soon as Solo's body was buried.

Lost in his thoughts and memories, Duo almost didn't see the blonde man walking past him until it was too late.

"Hey – Junior Deputy! Long time no see!"

Quatre stopped and looked over at Duo with a scowl.

"Please stop calling me that. I'm nothing like my father."

Something about his tone gave Duo pause.

"Yeah, okay. No sweat – law enforcement isn't for everyone. Can I call you Streaker instead? Hey, that's not a bad Superhero name, is it?"

Quatre looked around in alarm, but they were completely alone. He cautiously approached Duo.

"The Streaker is a terrible Superhero name," Quatre said as he sat down beside Duo on the picnic bench.

"Yeah," Duo agreed and held out an open bag of chips for Quatre.

The blonde took a few.

"Thanks."

"Sure. Maybe you should be a villain instead? The Streaker works out okay for that."

"Not very intimidating," Quatre argued between chip crunches. "Besides, the Streaker sounds fast – maybe you should go by that."

"I'd have to be naked, though."

"You have enough fans that I doubt there would be too many complaints."

Duo snorted a laugh, but his humor quickly evaporated as he pictured Trant's reaction.

Quatre gasped and then reached out to put a hand on Duo's shoulder.

Angrily, Duo shrugged him off and glared.

"Stay out of my head," he said.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean –" Quatre shook his head. "I'm sorry. I just wasn't expecting –I'm really sorry."

Duo forced himself to think about making coffee – his go to strategy for anger management – and when he could almost smell the scent of fresh coffee he turned back to Quatre.

"Don't sweat it," he told the other man. "Just… learn how to control yourself."

"I am – I mean, I'm trying. And that time I wasn't even listening in – in fact I was very actively not trying to hear your thoughts or feel your emotions. You just got so… dark. You sort of sucked me in."

Duo frowned.

"Well, then I guess I'm sorry."

"Don't sweat it," Quatre told him with a slight smile.

Duo smiled back.

"How about the Flasher?"

Quatre rolled his eyes.

"No. I'm not going to go around naked."

Duo sighed theatrically.

"Pity. Well, I've got to get back to work." Duo started to pack up the remains of his lunch.

"Duo, don't you think… I mean, don't you want to do something more?"

Duo arched an eyebrow.

"Than what?"

"Be a janitor?"

"Housekeeper," Duo corrected.

"I've never even seen you on campus before."

"I started yesterday. And yeah, my life's ambition is not to clean up after other people."

"Then why – Duo, you have a gift. You have this incredible power. You could use it to help people."

Duo arched an eyebrow at him.

"How? By cleaning up their shit really, really fast?"

Quatre scowled.

"No – you could be a cop or a firefighter or –"

"No, no thanks. I'm not really the selfless type."

Quatre opened his mouth, no doubt to launch into a tirade, but Duo held up a hand to silence him.

"Quatre, I don't have a gift – I don't have an incredible power. I have this… thing that I can do. It doesn't make me a better person. It doesn't change the fact that I'm a - that I'm a fucking deviant. I'm not like you. I'm not interested in helping other people."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really. I'd rather just mind my own damn business."

"What if Hilde were involved? Wouldn't you want to help her?"

"Obviously – but I can't – I can't even help her. Okay? That's how fucking useless I am. I can't even help myself, let alone her."

"You weren't like this, before." Quatre frowned and grabbed Duo's arm when he started to walk past him.

"Before?"

"In community service – you cared about other people. You cared about Hilde – and Trowa – and Heero. You tried to –"

"Jesus Christ, man, give it a rest. It was community service. That's over now. Now I'm a fucking janitor, and my power helps me vacuum the auditorium quickly. And caring about other people – come on. You're the one who can read minds. Does anyone really care about anyone but themselves?"

Duo broke free of his grip and stalked off, praying that Quatre wasn't trying to read his mind.

Because Duo did care. He cared about Hilde, she was his best friend, practically his soul mate. And he cared about Trowa – and even Heero. He cared enough to stay away from them and not try to drag them down into the hell that he lived in.

They were, Duo knew, infinitely better off without him.

TBC