My ramblings -
Hi! I'm still full of inspiration but I'm still looking for a proof-reader, too. I'm also working on art for this fic in particular, and will add it or link to it when it is done. For now I've used some random GW pictures for this and my avatar.
I don't own Gundam Wing, I just love it.
Non-warning - Hey, so this still contains gay guys (= It's not present yet, however, and neither is blood, violence or swearing, so it's still suitable for anyone.
This is about Duo; I've decided to do it in third person rather than first person, because it reads slightly better when I experimented either. Wufei will be in first person - if I ever need to be the other guys, they will also be in third person. I really want this fic to concentrate on developing Wufei from the uptight, Duo-disliking person he is in Gundam Wing, into someone who is actually in love with Duo and all his manic tendencies.
Anyway, please enjoy chapter 2!
Some Things Don't Need To Be Said
Chapter 2 - So Much for Hopes and Wishes
Handcuffs
Anklecuffs.
Pain in his head.
Running and hiding had only got him so far, after all. It had normally got him everywhere in life - it helped him survive as a kid and he had few street smarts, then it helped him to learn when situations weren't safe in Maxwell Church, even if he did get a telling off after leaving, and finally it helped him become a pilot, even if it wasn't his goal.
Now, he could barely drag himself across the small holding pen to the bars. Despite the disorientating pain in his head, he couldn't help but to think how cliche this all was - it was cold, it was poorly lit, it was probably a basement, and he had a pot to piss in. He gave a short laugh at all of this, and then another laugh at the fact he could somehow find this funny. What else did he expect but the norm, but the prisons he had become used to from the war and the basements from when he was nothing but street trash.
He reached the bars and experimentally hit the cuffs against them. The sound rang out and no-one came running - that wasn't always a good sign. His mind drifted to something he had once read in a paper, in a safe house that had no electricity, about two kids who had died when their pedophile guard had been taken to prison on an unrelated charge. The noise had been quite loud, and if no-one came running, and the room was small enough for him to see there was no-one sitting there either, he could be alone. He wasn't sure how long he had been out, either.
He had hazy memories of the blow to his head - a baseball bat, maybe. Something long, for sure. Down an alleyway - again, how cliche! - and the blow had come hard when someone had asked him for change for the bus and he was fumbling in his pocket. He remembered staying conscious for a short while - he had been a Gundam Wing pilot after all, he was used to slamming his head around in the cockpit - and realizing they weren't trying to mug him. Both of them, the man asking for change and his attacker, were staring at him, that was all. No mugging, no tugging at his clothes; it was confusing, and he thought maybe he said something like that and one of the men - increasingly blurry - smirked.
He didn't recognize the guys, he knew that much. They weren't friends or enemies he knew of - but he also knew a lot of the universe wasn't keen on the pilots. There had been mumbling of them all being arrested for war crimes and, if he was honest, that was why he had bailed during the celebration party. It had been hard enough, dealing with the hateful and sometimes pitying looks from the guests, but even harder to know he was going to lose his friends.
Sure, they had a couple of weeks of staying in the palace. Sure, they had plans to meet up after the party, and he was sure the latter would happen, but what beyond that? The plans were so half-hearted because no-one knew where they were going, not truly. Heero - the Preventers, maybe. Quatre had his father's company to run. Trowa was speaking of going back to the circus, but it was clear from a million miles away that he intended to go wherever Quatre was, and mumbling his plan was just an excuse to try in vain to hide their relationship. Duo had no idea why - the war was over, and most people would give their left arm to be in such a loving, intense relationship. But they were both private people who had revealed more than they wanted to during the war - he was sure they didn't want to see trashy newspapers covered in photos of them together. And Wufei? He was harder to tell. He had no home to go to, and his plans always seemed to vary - there was a mention of studying in England, and then Heero invited him to join the Preventers too, but Wufei seemed less keen than Duo had thought he would be.
Duo didn't know where he was going to be. He didn't know if he would see his friends again. He didn't know if he would end up in chains in front of a judge - a thought that made him laugh hollowly again - but he knew he was in no control being stuck in the palace and about to lose his friends. He wasn't sure which was the biggest motivator to run away from it all; he had been drinking quite a lot that evening, but he knew it made sense. He remembered sneaking into a private room and -
Ow.
He squinted against the pain in his head, knowing that trying to remember may help. If he had a concussion, he didn't want to go to sleep, and trying to put together the puzzle pieces that had lead to this situation may give him clues to his imprisonment. How had he got into a private room? Relena said she was going to keep them locked during such functions. Oh, of course! He had just reached into his hair, and...
A hairpin! He must have a hairpin. He awkwardly groped at his hair - he normally had at least 50 of the things in, keeping his hair in place - and realized, with dull surprise, that his hair was unbraided and knotted. There was some blood in it too, but it was dried and clotted - at least he didn't have to worry about blood loss. Though now, oddly, despite this situation, he found himself worrying about the state of his hair. If the guys could see him now - he didn't think any of them had seen him with his hair down. So whoever had dealt with him and stuck him in this cell was aware enough that he could use the hairpins to pick the locks, and had taken however long to unbraid it and remove every pin, as far as he could tell. He was sure they hadn't been gentle, but he didn't remember it. If he had been out for so long though, chances were he wouldn't have woken up unaided - anything over 5 minutes, especially with a head injury, was potential for severe brain damage. They must have force fed him a pill, or...
He checked his arms and saw one pinprick in his right arm, and two in his left. They had obviously injected him with some sort of sedative, and god knows what else - he could have been out for days. It was impossible to tell even the time of day, let alone when it was. He shook his head, shaking away the slightly woozy feeling. No sleeping, just in case. No sleeping, because he wanted to be awake next time they checked on him, wanted to ask questions - assuming they were still there.
During the party, he snuck up to the second floor under pretense of going to the bathroom, not that he felt anyone really cared where he went. There was a room where they had all dumped their luggage, knowing it was going to be sorted out when they were assigned their separate rooms (and after all the buddying up in the war, Duo knew he couldn't sleep alone, and he was sure Quatre would be using that excuse too) and it was locked. He had reached into his hair and easily found a hairpin, twisting it into the unique shape it needed to be to unlock the door. After a few twists and turns, the lock snapped open and he let himself in, shutting and locking the door behind himself.
He took a breath and shook his arms a little. He was so uncomfortable in this formal suit that he had been fitted for - at Relena's expense of course - and it just wasn't him. It wasn't even black; the jacket and pants were navy blue, the shirt white. The only thing he liked was the red tie, it was the only bit that was 'him'.
He may not have liked Relena but he wasn't a dickhead either - he grabbed a hanger from the closet in the room and hung up the suit on it. He was down to his purple silk underpants - again, thanks to Relena, although this was from 'pocket money' rather than her personally seeing to it - when he heard someone try the door. He froze, and instantly moved to the closet, which was empty apart from some hangers and his suit, shutting the door behind himself. He didn't know why - no-one had a reason to come here, no-one had a key apart from Relena and the staff, and they were all busy at the party.
To his relief, after a jiggle or two they stopped trying, and Duo snuck out again. He found his old duffel bag and retrieved a standard black t-shirt from there, and a pair of jeans that he had bought recently. Hesitantly, he put the tie in his bag, because he just wanted one memory from when everyone was celebrating their achievements. His fingers groped at the priest dog collar, before he decided it would stick out a mile. Besides, he had the Maxwell cross on under his t-shirt, pressed firmly against his ribcage. He grabbed that old cap instead, the hat that had got him through the thick and thin of the war, and snaked his braid under his top and into his pants, before stuffing as much hair as possible in his hat. He looked less conspicuous hiding his trademark hair - it was the one thing that could be recognised if he was seen running away. Dressed and more comfy than he had been in hours, he finished tying his military-style boots and he contemplated how to leave. It wasn't going to be as easy as sneaking in here. Someone was bound to notice one of the 'guests of honor' leaving, especially in scruffy clothes and carrying a beat up bag - or think he was a burglar, at best.
The front door was out of the question, but hell, he was only two floors up. He knew that the rooms with windows facing the way he needed to escape were locked, so he wouldn't be seen that way, and it was raining so the party hadn't been taken outside. He was lucky in so many ways just then. He looked around the room and found Heero's duffel, which was more beat up than his own - unusual, but he guessed Heero couldn't polish and shine his bag like he did his boots. It was so beat up that the string holding it together was loose and hung lower than it should do - when Heero carried the bag over his shoulder, it banged on the back of his ankles. So far, he had refused to accept money from Relena for a new one, but Duo had suspected he would do before he left. Assuming Heero left - Duo had a weird suspicion that him and Relena would end up together, but there were few clues there.
He opened the window with ease, dropping his bag out onto the ground, not minding the damp grass. The bag had been through worse. He carefully caught Heero's heavy bag under the windowsill so the string dangled out. It hung about halfway down the first floor, and Duo grinned. Jumping the rest would be fine. He took one more look around at how fancy even the store area was, and then carefully climbed out of the window, using the rope to lower himself down, being careful not to tug Heero's bag out at the same time. When he got to the end of the rope, he prepared himself and let go, landing with a roll. Trowa had taught him a lot about falling without hurting himself - not that he ever had - and it certainly came in useful when the jump could have twisted his ankle and put an end to certainly running, if not hiding as well.
He was covered in grass as he finished his roll and crawled back to his bag, hoisting it over his shoulder. It wasn't the most hidden running away he had ever done - they would see exactly what he had done, but no-one would come looking for him. Why would they? He was under no obligation to stay with Relena, it was just slipping out of the party that was taboo. But he couldn't bare a second of judgment.
Duo believed he had gotten out unseen and unknown. What he hadn't seen was the man standing in the rain, in fancy clothes like everyone else, smoking a cigarette. Even if he had seen him, he probably wouldn't have given him a second thought anyway - he hardly cared what some high class poof thought of him, though he would have loved the idea of Relena running after him in her poofy dress and high heels if the man 'told' on him.
He took a shaky breath. He had come back home, of course. L2. It was all he had known, all he had wanted to know. It hadn't been hard to settle back into life, but he had only had the chance to do that for three days before the attack that bought him here. He hit his cuffs against the bars again. This time, he hoped someone would come. He suddenly realized his mouth was so dry - probably a side effect of the injections - and he was desperate for a drink. There was nothing in sight, not even a degrading bowl to drink from as he had to deal with when he had been imprisoned before.
The bars rang out and he suddenly realized their thickness and strength. He had never been in a real prison, but he imagined the bars were comparable. There was no easy escape from here. If his hands were free maybe he could fit one skinny arm through the bars, but there was nothing to reach for anyway, it was pointless.
Duo bowed his head. For the first time in his life, he felt truly trapped, and truly hopeless. For the first time in his life, he really wished he hadn't run away. If he had just put up with Relena for two weeks, he would have been with his friends for two weeks - maybe more if he could have harassed one of them into a house share or something. Now he was hopelessly alone, in the dark and the cold.
He only raised his head when the basement - he was almost certain it was a basement now - door opened, and light came through bright enough for him to cover his eyes. His head throbbed and his heart throbbed too - maybe this was where the real torture would begin...
To be continued
