Warnings: Swearing, yaoi, violence, general angst, possible OOCness (ages since I've written fanfiction so may be a little bit rusty) m/m sexual relations – limey/lemony, slight sap, Duo abuse

Pairings: 1x2 , 3x4, 5+2

A/N: This chapter and chapter eighteen were meant to be one and had to be split due to length and the amount of plot/character stuff so both this chapter and the next one are inspired by Deranged by Coheed and Cambria. Just seems every time I sit down to actually write the last few chapters they are becoming longer and mutating...

Chapter Seventeen

Dirty Deeds

The doc was the easiest. He'd not expected it and he'd gone to the floor without any protest. I felt down his body, looking in case he had weapons. I knew he was a doctor but this was the Preventers. I guessed our doc was trained to use a handgun at the very least – probably knew hand to hand combat. There was no gun on him but I felt a wallet in his back pocket.

It's been a long time since I've been a thief but it's not something you forget how to do, you know. I opened the wallet and saw what I expected. No ID. No cards but some cash. Yeah, they didn't want us to know who he was and they didn't want him to know who we were. I pocketed the cash without any remorse. I'd done a helluva lot worse as a kid and taken a lot more valuable and personal stuff. My eyes drifted towards the wedding ring – I'd have taken it as a kid. Hell, I'd not have even hesitated at taking it and no way would I have thought about the symbolic meaning and importance it had to people but hey, I've grown and I don't take it. See, not totally an asshole.

I do look through his medical shit. I am not at a hundred per cent. My body is not entirely healed and I am not like functioning at my usual high standard. I take a few vials – I take something for pain and I take an adrenalin shot and another shot of the anti-virus. I'm not sure why I take it but I'm taking it all and putting it into the bag. Maybe it's tradeable? Jesus. No idea.

After finishing searching doc, I push him onto his back and grab my bag and look for where Heero will be. His first task was to knock out Knowles. We'd not really got to know Knowles. Jenkiss had talked to us but Knowles spent most of his time in front of security screens in the dining room and I'd only been in there briefly. This house was fancy and far away from the District and the streets where I'd grown up on. It made sense, you know, we'd become known within the District and here we were as far away from that as possible. I vaguely wondered if someone lived here – if this was a Preventer's home but then it was like a show home. Just could be kept as a safe house.

Knowles was slumped forward and looked like he was asleep in front of the screens. I didn't ask Heero how he'd knocked him out but whereas doc had no weapons, Knowles did. A nice standard issue black Colt was sat next to the screens and the handcuffs. I didn't wanna know why he'd decided to steal the handcuffs as well. He'd pushed Knowles a little to the side and was leaning over the keyboard and I suddenly realised that he was altering the security feeds that Knowles was meant to be watching. On the screens, the images were flickering but you could see where the cameras were located. One on the roof – yeah, logical. One near the door. One in the kitchen… one in most places you'd expect but also one in the bedroom we'd been sharing. Oh. Shit.

"They got footage of… us?"

Heero grunted and nodded.

"Jesus."

"I'm deleting it."

I think this should be embarrassing or at least I should feel some kinda shame at the fact that the Preventers now basically had a sex tape of former pilot 01 and 02 but then I can't help the curiosity factor. It wasn't a kink or anything but, hell, if the tape was available, I'm kinda interested to watch it.

"How'd it look?"

I get a Glare O' Death.

"Oh, come on – you saw it's on the feeds, you gotta have seen a bit of it…"

"It's deleted."

"Did we look hot? Bet it looked hot…"

He just stands up and I see the whole security feed has been put back to yesterday and we're just sleeping in bed together. He offers me the gun and he takes the handcuffs. I really feel like I don't want to know what he's thinking as he's looking serious. Very serious. And my attempt to find out how we look having sex on camera is lost. Damn.

The last task is to find Jenkiss and 'Fei. Perimeter checks. Considering we were in a nice neighbourhood in the "good" area of the colony that was probably just walking around the building. I wondered how 'Fei was keeping Jenkiss outside for the duration – maybe explaining to him in great detail the art of war or something but we now had less than an hour to get as far away from this safe house. I wanted to be deep in the District when the debrief team appeared. I kinda wondered if maybe Wufei told Jenkiss what we'd been doing in our shared room or maybe Knowles did seeing that he'd have to watch us get hot and heavy. Maybe that was enough to keep them outside. Jenkiss was a nice enough guy but hell, I'd not really asked him his life story or opinions. You don't usually start with – hey, how'd you feel about two guys getting it on?

We looked at each other and nodded as we exited via the back door. Jenkiss was checking a camera located at the back of the yard and 'Fei was nowhere to be seen. I let Heero approach and let him wrap his arms around the guys neck, he struggled against his body, legs and arms flailing. I wanted to make a comment about it not being, you know, the nicest way to knock someone out but then, oh yeah, I got sucker punched in the gut and that wasn't fun so I let him suffocate the dude. He stops as he knows when to – I thought once, a long time ago, that he wouldn't know that – wouldn't know when he needs to stop otherwise he'd kill them but he does and Jenkiss slides out of his arms to the floor like a ragdoll. He bends down and retrieves another gun and searches the guy.

"We should take any cash," I said and he looks up at me puzzled. "We're gonna need it to survive."

I don't think he feels comfortable about it but he finds a wallet – I think I should go back and search Knowles but being that my brain was thinking of totally inappropriate things at the time, I'd forgotten. He empties it and pockets it. I realise then that Wufei is watching looking completely relaxed.

We now have a gun each and some cash – it's not enough but it'll do.

"You don't need to search me."

He hands over some cash – more than either doc or Jenkiss had and then reaches for his holster and removes a custom piece. It's definitely not standard issue and I feel bad for taking it but, hey, you never know. I might be able to return it one day. I shove it down the back of the waistband of my jeans and cover it up with my hoodie.

I look at him, ramrod straight and waiting for us to act. I gesture towards Heero but then get the feeling for some reason that I should do this – he's completely trusting us to do this and hell, Heero is stronger than me and more liable to hurt than I am.

"You ready for this?"

Wufei nodded. "Are you?"

"Guess so."

I don't go for the gut punch being that I hated Heero for doing that to me – granted it's a pretty effective method especially when delivered with all the subtlety of a ton of bricks al a Yuy. But I don't. I go straight for the jaw, snapping his head upwards with all the force I have and he crumples. Didn't actually expect it to work and Heero catches him from behind so that he doesn't end up injuring himself in the fall. Considering he's got a dislocated shoulder, I feel bad for the guy as Heero lays him down with unexpected gentleness. 'Fei's one of us, I guess.

"Let's blow this joint."

I get a grunt in response. Now that we have guns and cash, the next step is a vehicle. We go round the side of the safe house and through the wooden gate. All seems very suburban. I don't like it – the clothes we've been provided with are neutral but with hidden weapons and just our general shiftiness, I'm kinda concerned about the neighbourhood watch. Also makes it hard jacking a car. Plus I don't want to jack a car in a fancy suburban area – I want to get a piece of scrap metal that barely runs. The Preventer car is a black town car that says government issue. It almost makes me groan. Hiding out in a safe house is not safe if you have such an obvious mark parked outside. I raise my eyebrow towards the car. We can ditch it somewhere.

We'll take it. Then I realise that Heero's smarter than me. He's got the keys.

I slide into the passenger seat and let him drive. I don't care about playing some kinda pissing contest with him. He can drive. I've got other things on my mind.

"District?"

"Yeah but we gotta dump this car first. Torch it maybe."

He drives from the little dinky suburban block and it makes me shudder. This is the other side. Never really thought about it – this was the wealthy nice area where kids didn't starve. I'd guessed it existed, you know, but it was kinda in the same category as Santa or God for me. It seemed imaginary.

I'm running through things in my head as he drives and I'm thinking. The car is no good to nobody on L2 in one piece. In pieces, however, that's a totally different scenario. It can be stripped and used. Money made and all that. I'm thinking of scrap merchants and people I used to know. Maybe we can trade. Get some cash. Might work. Shame Hilde bailed L2 years ago. Smart chick. She was too clever to stay here and deal in scrap and try and be legitimate and all. Gone dirt side. Lost track.

I think for a second about where we need to go and I don't like it as we join traffic and I don't like not moving. My fingers make a rhythm on my knee. Heero seems to notice I'm nervous. We don't have time to do this. We just need to dump the car as it's too goddamn obvious.

"Plan?"

"Huh?"

"Plan. You know this place better than I do. You're more competent at undercover than I am. What are we doing?"

"Drive to near the spaceport, we'll abandon the car and torch it a little. Get the bus to the District. Then we work on getting some intel on Dallas."

"How?"

"We need weapons… we're gonna go see Antoine again."

He nodded and accepted the information. I raised one foot onto the dash and lean back a little and watch as we go through damn traffic. I feel like the Preventers are breathing down our necks and I hate this fucking car. It probably has tracking. Ah shit.

"Tracking?"

He smirked a little. "Jammer."

"You sure can do sneaky when you wanna."

"Learnt from best."

"Huh. Don't know whether to take it as a compliment from the great Heero Yuy."

"Take it however you want."

I pointed towards an exit. "Guess so."

The drive to near the spaceport is so slow that I want to just dump the car anywhere but I want it to look like we've run – got off colony. I know it won't work – they'd know if we tried to use our fake ID's and the spaceport is full of cameras and the ID recognition software would pick us up but it gives a short amount of time. Some agents will have to find the car and those agents won't be after us.

We get near enough and park on a street that's got a convenience store and I buy some cheap vodka and a lighter – the streets bad enough that we don't get too many looks as we're unloading our bags and I'm spilling the alcohol on the front seats. It doesn't make an impressive fire but does enough to make the car unusable and not be following our asses. It's far too early in the day and I feel so conspicuous and obvious but there's nothing to do but walk away from the vehicle and get a bus.

We're walking together and I look at the way he walks from the corner of my eye. He walks too straight, shoulders too rigid, its just all too… all too soldier boy.

"'Ro, can you slouch when you walk?"

He looks at me and I'm dead serious. Thought it was some witty comment. Hell no. Totally serious, buddy.

"You walk like a soldier. You stand up straight – you need to blend and you need to be not so… you."

"You want me to walk like you?"

"Yeah, well kinda, just not so, like, stiff. You're not a Preventer now or a soldier. Walk more casually."

He watches how I walk and I feel self-conscious suddenly about the way I hold myself. I slouch. I know I do. I shove my hands in pockets and I don't think I ever leant to look like a soldier. It's just natural – everything about me undercover is natural. I am naturally good at blending, at pretending, at bullshitting, at looking like the bad guy and doing the very worst things I can do and still sleep at night. Or sleep a little. And he ain't me. I should've done this alone – made him stay with 'Fei and not got him into this part as I know what we need to do and I don't feel entirely comfortable with it. He's not the bad guy. He's the one who had the fucking angel Gundam. He went undercover in military factions not in the world of drugs and sex and violence and degradation.

"You understand what we are going to do?" I asked.

For some reason I ask, he knows but I just want him to know that he has a chance to get out but then I know he won't leave my side. Not now. Maybe not ever. Our hands briefly touch and then we're getting on the bus, him managing to slouch a little and we're on our way back to the District and the bad side of L2.

We get off before we reach the District. I want to get some weapons from someone who might be a little more neutral and we stop in my old neighbourhood – the streets I'd been raised on. This area was less criminal but more ragged. Real old buildings that had been crumbling for years. It was near the District but far enough away. It had always been in bad shape. The District was bad, you know, but in better shape than a lot of the areas I'd known as a kid. Generally that was because the District was the centre of crime and that meant money flowed through it.

We walked down a few streets and I feel like I've walked back in time, you know. Everything seems the same – no progress at all. And I see Duke's. It's where it always was - the pawn shop next to the bookies and the shitty little coffee shop. Heero followed, a step behind me, wary like some kinda watch dog – it's like I'm running point and he's got my back. It works as we enter the store.

Duke's is as I remember and I feel like I'm eight again. Or maybe I was seven. Something like that. My age is kinda a little vague sometimes – having no defined date of birth. The shop is all bits of machines, car parts, wires, tech and then some glass cases with the stuff people pawn. We knew a guy called Ol' Jack when I ran with Solo who had a real valuable pocket watch who was some kinda of war vet and he lived in a burnt out house near where our crew hid. He got a government cheque every six weeks. But at the end of every fifth week he'd run his way through it – booze and chicks and whatever current drug craze, you know, usual shit. And he traded his pocket watch at week five. Every time. Traded it for that last week. Bought it back when the next cheque came in. Had it for a while until his cash ran out. Then traded it again. This constant cycle, you know, but old man Duke just kept it – didn't sell it on as he knew Ol' Jack would buy it back. Again and again. He'd buy it back.

Huh. Wondered what happened to Ol' Jack. Guessed he'd be dead by now. Not because he was old – he was probably about thirty when I was kid but because he'd done too many drugs, too much booze and too many L2 whores. That sorta lifestyle will catch up to you.

I see Heero taking everything in – from the valuables behind glass to the pieces of scrap. The bell had tinkled as we entered and there was someone behind the glass cabinets that held jewellery. A scruffy looking guy probably around our age, reading a comic book for crying out loud. I walked over with my usual bravado and then he looks up and I'm, like, damn.

"Jorge?"

"Duo?"

Jesus. Blast from the past and all.

"Wow, I ain't seen you since you tried to sell that shit from the church. We were, like, seven or somethin'."

"Yeah, somethin' like that."

"I remember pops beating you round the head and all. Telling you about not disrespecting the church and all."

I remember it too. Being blindsided by Duke was not something you forget as a kid. It was probably dumb but when I first got taken in by the Maxwell Church, I really didn't get that I shouldn't, you know, steal anymore so I took some candlestick holders or something and tried to sell them to Duke. We'd always sold to Duke when Solo was around. Gave a good price. Was sympathetic – though at the same time hated us as we tempted Jorge and he spent time around us and that was kinda bad. Jorge had a pops. And a place. This place. I hadn't totally expected Duke's to be still here and sure as hell didn't expect Duke's to be run by the same folks. Seemed like the world had gone back ten years.

"Your pops still around?"

"Nope, died two years back."

"Oh shit, man."

"Naw, cancer and all. Took few years to get him. Glad when he finally went, you know."

"Weird to think of him gone."

"Tell me about it. Keep thinking he'll come and tell me off and give me those punches round the back of my neck. Like he did when I was running with you and Solo. Tell me I ain't running the place right."

I feel, rather than see Heero, make a slight move at the word Solo. You can't say anything round that guy without him taking it in. Something about being a robotic soldier boy experiment. He doesn't say anything just watches at the exchange between us.

"Thought you got out and all - we heard you went to war. What the hell ya doing back, Duo? Still a shitstorm here, man."

"Yeah, guess I see that. Just looking for some old friends. You know, finding the old crew."

"Somethin' you ain't telling me."

Jorge looks at me and I realise that the problem with old friends – even those who knew you as a stealing, cheating little shit, maybe they see through you a little bit.

"We need some guns."

Heero spoke for the first time and Jorge gives him his full attention. Appraised him from head to foot – I want to kick him, seriously. He just stands so rigid. He looks military – he still looks every bit the solider underneath the tattered jeans and the check shirt. The talk about slouching had done nothing. Nothing at all.

"He ain't L2," Jorge said finally.

"No, he ain't but he's right. We're in the business for weapons."

Jorge looked uncomfortable and then walked over to the door to turn around the happy 'We're Open' sign to the 'Sorry we're closed' and he locked the door behind him.

"My pops would turn in his grave if I knew I was selling shit to you."

"Everyone gets cremated here."

"Yeah, that the saying, ain't it?"

"Guess so."

"Follow me."

We're led at the door at the back of the store. I'd never gone into the back of the store when Duke was alive. It was amazing he dealt with filthy street kids in the shop – most people had hated us and most people wouldn't have bought what they sold knowing the dubious origins of anything we had. Duke did. Duke did as most did on the edge of the District – pretended to be legitimate on the outside while hiding the good stuff. Solo always taught us better marks – taught us how to get the best stuff so when we sold, we sure as hell sold. Things had been okay for us until the Alliance came down hard. Before the virus killed off half of the kids. Before Roth and some midnight handshakes.

The back room is as illegal as the front is legitimate. Jorge used to tell us about this room to impress us. To be fair, being that we were street kids and spent our days stealing, running and hiding, Jorge had a hard time trying to impress us. We were not gonna think he was awesome if he did something for a dare as we lived our life as some kinda dare – jumping between buildings, hiding in rubble and living day to day. He had a pops – yeah, no mom, but his pops was more than enough parent. I'd had the crack across my face to prove it.

There are gun racks and drugs of every rainbow variety, cash that can only be counterfeit and fake docs of every kind. Wow. Now we sure woulda been impressed by this.

"You know I ain't gonna cut any deals just 'cos we were kids together."

"Wouldn't expect it, we got cash."

"You know I ain't a proper arms dealer – you need to go to Black Velvet to get anything else."

"We been there, we know."

And that would be why we need some artillery.

"You guys in trouble 'cos I don't know if I wanna get into shit. I keep my nose clean, you know, I don't affiliate."

"You know Dallas and his crew?"

"Shit. Everyone does."

"Anyone know where he hides now the hospital went poof?"

Heero visibly stiffens at the casual way I'm talking. I give him a glare and motion him to look at the selection of guns. Gets the message. Leave the talk to me.

"Naw, Dallas don't share that shit with nobody. Why you want Dallas? He don't run with the old crews."

I shrugged. "You don't wanna know. Pretend this never happened."

"What shit you in? I don't wanna get involved in anything. I gotta deal with these people, you know."

"Yeah and all we want to do is buy some guns so it's simple."

Jorge had gone pale and I honestly think that coming into Duke's was stupid. We were going to be marked with bulls eyes on our heads from the gangs for being pigs once it got out we were here and alive. And the Preventers would want us for being rogue. We had done everything quick but news travels fast and sure as hell our cards were marked in the District. Thus we need guns. Big ones. And now I'd got someone I used to know into this – he could end up with a bullet in his head for this. Aw hell.

"Work out what you want," he said, shrugging towards the racks on the wall.

I gestured towards Heero. "Work it out."

He doesn't actually question my order – maybe realises I need to look in charge at least for the time being and he's handling a rifle that looks OZ issue, the brown strapping still intact and I looked around at the drugs and drug paraphernalia. There's everything and I recognise the white powders and the syringes and everything he's providing. Then I see all those small pills. Probably Roth's poppers and highs and lows or whatever they are meant to do.

It's then I see the small baggies of pinky pills. I look over to Heero who is discussing ammo and prices – looking at an old shotgun that looks intimidating. He knows the score. Knows what we need to buy.

The pills are pink, tiny, heart shaped – look like candy. Really look like candy. All chalky and sweet. They were always classed as the worst kinda drug on L2 because they looked unbelievably harmless and kids OD'd on them all the time. Roth's shit. I'm sure of it but I'm reaching out for one small baggy and I'm putting it in my jean pocket without anyone figuring anything out. The street name was heart attacks – literally, because they increase your heart rate, pulse, adrenalin courses through your veins and you're invincible, on fire, but it's all so brief. And so people take too many. Far too many so they can dance and fight and fuck and feel high until they crash. And crash they do. Usually into cardiac arrest.

Popular little drugs and I'm taking them. Back to being a thief – everything's useful, you know. Take all you can, give nothing back and all. Trading, I guess.

"Shotgun and rifle, ammo and some handgun rounds – two thousand."

We don't have two thousand. We have what – maybe eight hundred. Should've robbed richer Preventers.

I remember the custom piece – Wufei's gun is a nice piece and probably worth more than an old OZ rifle and a shotgun and all the ammo we need.

"We'll trade for this."

Jorge ain't stupid, recognises a gun that is specially made and would be worth something – worth more than the old weapons we're trying to buy.

He makes a little sound that suggests he's thinking and I get irritated. I want to be out of here sooner rather than later – want to get to Black Velvet before the crowd is too big and before the Preventers are hammering down every door in the District. No time.

"The gun and five hundred."

I roll my eyes. "You know, the one thing I don't miss about L2 is how everyone wants to fucking bleed money outta me."

We pay because we have no time. We pay because we're going to meet with an arms dealer with attitude and a goon who's twice the size of both of us. We pay because I feel bad if Jorge and Duke's gets burnt to the ground or he gets shot in the head. Or a Preventer interrogation – all not fun.

I hand over the cash and we distribute guns and ammo between the bags we're carrying just in case one of us ends up in trouble. Old war time habits. No one person has all the guns and ammo because what if that person gets killed? You're up shit creak without a paddle. So share. Distribute resources. Same thing when I'd been a kid in Solo's crew – share the spoils of a day stealing so that if one of the gang gets caught by the Alliance the rest of us have some of it.

"Good doing business with you, man."

I shake hands with Jorge and it's wary. I look at him trying to figure out if he's got some links with Dallas and he'll make a call the moment we leave. Hell, he could call the Preventers and that would be just as bad.

The door tinkles as we leave and Jorge turns the sign around again. Heero asks one thing as I sling my bag over my shoulder, suddenly heavier with a shotgun and ammo and we walk towards the District.

"Solo?"

"Died of the virus."

He doesn't need anything else and guess it finally makes sense to him. I was never gonna back down from this as it was personal. I could tell him the entire tale but didn't need to. That was enough.