. Chapter 5 . Evasion
Michelle never let anyone know she's angry until the last, possible moment. The emotion must have been sweetest, at its ripest then, because Duo could swear he saw an ulterior joy flash in her eyes when she stormed in his office and slammed the stack of papers on his desk. The thrill of the hunt excited her, maybe. That would thrill a nun, he supposed. Having been previously occupied with a watermelon lollipop and extensively examining the patterns of his wallpaper, he simply swiveled to glance at her, mildly surprised. Temper tantrums didn't scare him much. If she were upset and armed, then he would worry.
Besides, he just doesn't want this argument today.
Unruffled, he glanced down at the stack, then back up at her.
"Good god, what is this, a cop drama?" he drawled slowly, his eyes falling back to the slammed papers again. Unimpressed, he swiveled his chair to comb the blue-white stripes marking the wall for signs and signals. "You're flushed, even. This is too much like television. I don't believe it."
"You haven't even talked to him, have you?"
"No," Duo answered, still staring, but perfectly uncaring in his voice. "I don't think I will." The candy suddenly felt sour on his lips, and, without looking, he dropped into his empty wastebasket. "Listen, 'chelle—"
"I'm listening," she nearly growled.
With a sigh, he turned to face her completely, with respect to their conversation. That's another fascinating characteristic of hers, refusal to argue without eye contact. Fascinating, but also, at the moment, completely aggravating. He settled his elbows on the desk, ignoring the empty bins that serve to cushion her rage as she glanced at them. "I'm not lying to you," he reassured her, feeling her eyes drill into him with a maternal fury.
"I'm sure you're not, Duo. That's not the issue. You're still ignoring that child deliberately."
" 'Ignoring' does imply deliberation, 'chelle."
At this, her lips pucker and twist in barely restrained fury. Briefly, Duo recalls, vividly and hazily at the same time, a similar variation that Sister Helen used to put the faith back into him when he'd cross the line. Perhaps that's why it so effectively silences his sarcasm. "Don't sass." She was just chewing to let loose on him. Duo could hear it in her voice, baying like a pack of hounds. "Tell me why."
Sometimes, Duo was thankful for religion, if only for the fact it reminded her not to forget her Christian tongue and hand.
He shook his head, sighing with a surly puff and pouting lip. "It's not your business, Michelle. Really." He pins her with a look. "Please."
"Okay, Duo," she said, throwing her hands up in frustration, her palms waving white flags. "Maybe it's not. I trust you to that—but that does not mean you have the right to sit here and neglect that little boy, for whatever reason you have. You said you wanted to actually help these kids, each and every one. Whatever happened to that?"
"Nothing, Michelle—it's just personal."
With more ferocity than knifes being sheathed, she jammed her arms together, folding them across her chest and giving her a much more terrifying appearance than she had already. A bun of red hair and green sweater had never been so unsettling. "So, what? What did this kid ever do to you?" She frowns at him. He hates this conversation so much. "Ever since you laid eye on that kid, you've done nothing but run from him. I know you're not a coward, either."
Duo had always hated being wrong. He absolutely hated it now. Unable to stand the truth or anger he knew he rightly deserved, he looked sharply away.
Well, there's one thing you're probably right about. Probably dead-on, in fact—
"Fine," he growled. Mostly to strangle that awful voice ringing in his head, throttle it good, but the effect seeped over into Michelle, as well. She blinked and her maternal rage slackened, fortunately. But unfortunately, she immediately assumed that the surly little word had been meant for her, and she grinned in satisfaction.
"Good. Then you'll spend some time with him? Maybe take over his tutoring session this afternoon for Marcus?"
Duo blinked again, slipping out of his mind to find her stepping merrily backwards towards the door, and made a gurgling, dumb sound of protest. It was too late, anyway. Victory danced in her green eyes, shone in the curl of red hair that fell loose around her face. "Uh—no, 'chelle! Jesus—I did not—"
"You agreed, Duo!" she reminded him, her toes already leading her out the door. "I'll tell Mark to take the day off. So don't 'forget.' " The grin she left him taunted long after it disappeared, one last glance through the glass framing the door only tearing a little deeper. A few more syllables bounced off the door in vain, and a curse flew, ripping out of his mouth. And, with venom that was mostly terror and a low-down emotion without a name, he pounded a fist into his desk and threw his forehead down to match.
"God damn these nuns," he muttered. Pain flooded his forehead, but only half came from the bruise he created for himself.
---
True to her word, Mark was gone by the time Duo had managed to stop pounding a fist into his forehead and leave his office. He absently rubbed that spot now. A knot burned beneath the bone, itching and pinching at his brain and the precious things there. Only a fraction of an inch away, but impossible to reach. Therefore it was not his fault he could only stand and nurse it with a scowl, staring across the room.
Thankfully, it was still early. No one bothered him.
Classes were held throughout the day at varying intervals, and those who didn't sleep in 'til the last possible moment, which was not many, were more content to chat amongst themselves. They hardly paid Duo any mind. There'd been a concert on last night—their twenty-something mentor would always be second to serious musical discussion. That left him free to instead lean against the doorframe, listening both to the teenagers as they lounged together in the Big Room, and the distant echo of kindergarteners squealing happily over a new game before lunch.
Duo smiled mildly to himself, feeling a sliver of victory settle into him and start to bloom into smugness. He was still doing his job—Mark was supposed to supervise and interact with the kids, and if they didn't want interaction and didn't need supervision, then Michelle couldn't yell at him. It was finally a good feeling, after a week that had seemed like a year, filled by lectures, nightmares, and bone-deep aching that had no cause. He ignored the taunting of his own mind, as it quickly listed all the causes, and instead strolled inside the room.
He busied himself for a few minutes, pulling garbage off the tables and tossing it into the trash. He squinted, picking at a dried stain of something marring one of the tables, feeling awfully mother hen when the impulse would not leave him. So he stopped, squaring his shoulders, and set up for a fight.
Short fingernails set to peeling away what seemed now like a spot of ugly paint and Duo bit down at the edge of his tongue. It would not budge. He scratched a little more, then grimaced at his fingernails. "Why do I feel like this should be easier than not getting blown up?" he muttered to himself, shifting to search for a tool to aid him. "Obviously, it's not…"
It was when he went wandering about the room, looking for something sharper than safety scissors, when he noticed the lump beneath the back desk, originally designated for students to do homework in front of the television but now only an ox for overflow files and supplies.
Duo stopped. His senses lifted, sharpening, and he heard the telltale hush of breathing being bottled cautiously back. He squints, and the sound sharpens. Under the desk, facing away from him. Only the edge of a ratty piece of material is visible, laid across an awkward set of curves.
"What…?" he mumbled to himself.
But as he stood there, at the back of the Big Room with the mid-morning sun pouring down on him, he could not bring himself to walk around and look. The curiosity had died. Instinct told him he would not want to know what he'd heard, and—despite the furious image of Michelle's face, puckered into a frown haunting him—he listened to it. He returned to the dried stain and peeled it off with his fingernails instead.
Michelle was furious with him again, but she'd already spent all the fun of playing the 'angry cop,' as Duo referred to it, and needed a new way to channel that rage. This time, it manifested as 'disappointed mother.'
"Have you worked with him?" Nice of her, slinging the unfulfilled duty aspect in his face as well. Not that the piercing eyes of shame weren't enough to punch a little hole in him, worsening the day in an already painful life. When he didn't respond and the blank expression on his face answered for him, her disappointment welled. "Did you even speak to him?"
He didn't smile, but there was something painfully amusing about all this. "No."
This time, there was no lecture. Mostly, she just let the color of her eyes tell him exactly how low he's steeping—an orphan abandoning an orphaned child—and let him make his own decision about it. Not that their nameless son wouldn't get attention from many different people in his newly extended family, but Duo had a responsibility to him as well.
She simply walked around him and continued on her way, a box of newly donated dishes to be stacked in the kitchen. "You're a grown man, Duo. Do what you want, then."
He watched her go, then just slung his face into a grimace and stalked off. It was a shame to despise such a well-earned victory so soon after earning it.
---
"Hey, Hild," Duo called as he stepped inside the house. Already sliding out of his jacket, a swing of his hips shut the door.
Willfully ignoring the closet, and all the painful reminders of authority it strangely brings him, he tossed his coat onto the back of the couch, knowing full well he'll get bitched at later to put it away properly. Not that he worries. He'll find some way to shirk it—he's had plenty of practice at work lately at dodging his problems.
Boots fell loosely to the floor as he tugged his hair out from the ponytail. Sometimes he's honestly surprised the weight of it doesn't rip a portion of his scalp from his skull—and sometimes he's amazed he can keep himself from ripping it out himself. At the end of a long day, the back of his head feels like it's peeling agonizingly away, tugged away by stress and the threads of his hair.
He rolled his shoulders around two familiar knots and muttered to himself, "Gotta cut this damn hair," knowing full well he'll do no such thing. He rubbed absently at his scalp and trudged along into the kitchen. "Hey, Hild," he repeated again.
The dark-haired girl was eagerly cradling the phone to the side of her face, collected up into the stool beside the monitor on the wall, knees resting on the peninsula counter. Eyes the color of the dark sea blinked at him, grinning quickly, and she cupped the mouth of the phone close with her hand. She was highly pink today—pink sweatshirt and a white pair of pants, punctuated by a loud pair of purple and pink striped socks. "Hi, Duo," she greeted, watching her good friend and roommate wave in response before returning to her conversation. Duo watched her toes clench and flutter out of the corner of his eye, then snorted.
He dove immediately for the refrigerator. And, seeing how Hilde was already preoccupied and he'd gotten away with two faux pas, he snatched up the milk and drank from it. Hilde chatted on, oblivious. Duo licked his lips, wiped his mouth clean on his sleeve, and put it back. Not a thing. Duo stood behind the door, with thin waves of cold pouring out over his toes, and watched her for a few moments. But it wasn't until he bent down to raid the pickle jar—no fork needed, only brave fingers—that he noticed the raspberry spot on the counter.
The 'date' hat.
He continued to stare at her innocently, biting into the comforting vinegar of a pickle or six, considering the rich pink-red beret and what it meant. The slight blush of joy and twirling fingers and toes were definitely connected—but Duo still had no idea of just who this new interest was. Lacking anything better to do, he remained there, watching their conversation, only hearing the dull hum of a voice on the other line.
Oddly enough, Hilde only seemed annoyed by his probing for a moment. She looked pointedly over at him, still cradling the phone close, then said, "Yes," in the most un-Hilde like way. Afterwards, she continued giggling and talking onward like he wasn't there at all. Duo scowled over his pickle.
"Who are you talking to?" he asked, putting the pickle jar back. It was an easy answer. He strolled casually off, still watching her as he walked away. The only response he got was a brief, silent shake of the head. Instead, she grinned into the phone. "Really? How was that?" she bid of her precious conversationalist, completely ignoring Duo.
He didn't like that. So he crept up behind her, solider silent. "Uh-huh," she said, oblivious. Duo stood behind her and heard the gentle curl of a male voice on the other side. "Has he kissed you yet, hm? Or are ya still chasing him down?" he purred.
"Duo!" She whirled at him, nearly scandalized. Immediately, she clapped her hand over the telephone, and spun around in the stool seat, pushing him away with a pink-purple-striped foot. He took it in a very brotherly fashion and swat at her in revenge. "Hey, hey, can't a girl get her privacy?"
"I just want to know who's hittin' on my lil' sis', that's all, Hil," he drawled, backing away with his palms in the air and grin flashing. "I'm not butting in on your territory!"
"God, Duo—leave me alone!"
The grin was irresistible, and it forced him to continue. "He's really hot isn't he?" he teased. "That's why you're red—and why you've got that hat again."
Hilde had finally given in to the fight, pulling the receiver away from her mouth, safely cupped, and shot him a withering glare. "Ooh. Patented Yuy death stare, I see. Nice move," he teased her, and she burst out again at him.
"Go tinker with something, for god's sake!"
"Everything in the house is fixed, Hil," he razzed her. Feeling the victory coming to settle on his side, he began to meander backwards, pulling away from the fight just when she would be most frustrated by it.
She scrunched her nose at him in annoyance. "Do you want me to break something, then?"
"Fine! I know when I'm the third wheel…" He even bowed to her in a show of gentility. It only served to further infuriate her, and she twirled back around, knees budged underneath the counter, holding her forehead, and sighing into the phone. "I'm sorry. You know how he gets…" Duo laughed and trotted up the stairs to his room, not really registering what Hilde had meant by that.