We Were Promised Jetpacks
Reinforcing Sandcastles
He sprinted down the streets, mind too preoccupied with avoiding mailboxes and pedestrians to think of anything else. Exactly how he wanted it to stay.
It was just too much—too much to absorb—too much to deal with. No, he would avoid thinking about it until he absolutely had to.
In the meantime, he would pour all of his energy into getting in contact with Heero. He had to be sure. Sure that any of this craziness was even possible.
And maybe that was his greatest fear. That he'd wake up, and all of this was just some crazy, bad-Twinkie-induced dream. So, before he lost himself completely, he was going to make sure the damn thing had at least an ounce of reality.
Though, it wasn't like he'd ever admit that.
He had been the one that pushed and prodded when everyone else said it was hopeless. He was the one who shook his head when everyone said it was impossible. He was the one that believe it was her when everyone else said it couldn't be. But, then, filled to the brim with doubt, Duo didn't know what he believed anymore.
After what felt like both hours and seconds, he found himself rushing up the flight of stairs that would empty him outside Quatre's apartment.
Gripping the familiar golden handle, he tore into the entryway like a bat out of hell. An action he regretted the moment he found himself the recipient of a certain brunette's inquisitive, piercing stare.
"Hey, Trowa, how's it going?" he rasped, trying desperately to slow his ragged breath.
The brunette was perched on the far windowsill with some book lying carelessly in his lap, and Duo wished beyond anything that his friend would just pick up his stupid book and act like everything was hunky-dory. Though, Duo acknowledged bitterly, that was like asking the Earth to stop revolving around the sun.
He shifted anxiously from foot to foot, while his eyes darted around the space searching for a certain blonde.
"Uh-Quatre's not around is he?" he asked with an uneasy, crooked grin.
Trowa had to enjoy watching him squirm because he decided to take a ridiculous amount of time to respond. Either that or the guy needed a hearing aid.
So, having spent enough time under the x-ray vision of those green eyes, Duo turned back to the door and called over his shoulder, "well, okay, then. I'll see you later."
"He's in the study."
In one motion, Duo twisted on his toes and streamlined toward the hallway to the right. He wanted to get the hell away from the 'too-observant-for-his-own-good' ex-pilot as fast as physically possible.
"Thanks, man!" he called back without turning. He didn't have to look to know that Trowa's burning gaze had followed every movement of his hasty retreat.
Duo scurried down the hallway towards the far door, pausing before it to take a few calming breaths.
He picked up snippets of what sounded like a heated conversation Quatre was having with someone. Forgetting what he had come for, no one to miss an opportunity to eavesdrop, Duo leaned in and pressed his ear to the door.
"—another shipment...third one in a month—but we were told—yes, but…the extra security measures…of course…the whole shuttle?—and the crew—no, I will not relax…if this continues, Rashid…have to be—stopped…I know but—"
The conversation was suddenly cut short, and he listened closely, trying to pick up the other persons voice, as Quatre said his farewells. Deeming it a lost cause, Duo shrugged carelessly—one less thing for him to worry about.
Duo's fist knocked loudly against the wooden door, though he didn't bother waiting for a response to let himself in.
He'd been in the 'study' plenty of times before. Superficially furnished to look like any other home office in all those fancy magazines, with a large, mostly empty, wooden desk and plush, shiny new armchairs, it was obvious that Quatre had never actually put the room to real use.
Well, at least until then.
The poor blonde lay in the center of a mess of papers, pens, and portfolios, looking every bit the exhausted, worn out CEO he was.
For a moment, Duo almost considered sparing him the headache he was about to bring.
Almost.
Grinning widely, Duo plopped himself down on one of the armchairs. "Work sucks?"
Quatre gazed at him dryly. "That's certainly one way to put it."
"Well, that's what you get for trying to run a multi-million dollar company at the ripe age of eighteen."
The blonde folded his hands under his chin, which Duo thought was more to keep his head upright than anything else. The poor guy looked as if he hadn't gotten a decent nights rest in days. Though knowing him, it had probably been weeks. Quatre was one of those guys that just couldn't seem to help being all concerned and self-sacrificing.
And it was those precise features of his Duo was counting on to be able manipulate Quatre then.
"Is there something I can do for you, Duo?" Quatre asked pleasantly, though with suspicious undertones.
Duo considered beating around the bush and dragging the conversation on, but a quick memory of his afternoon steeled his resolve.
"Actual, yes," he said, all traces of cheeriness gone. "I need to talk to Heero."
It took a moment for Quatre's mind to process his request. "Heero? Why would you need—" He paused mid-sentence, mouth thinning in disapproval. "Duo, this doesn't have anything to do with—"
"Look, I just need to talk to him okay? Nothing big." At the sign of Quatre's hesitation, he added, "and I know you have his number. You're the only one out of all of us he'd trust to keep him informed and not annoy the crap out of him."
The blonde regarded him with serious blue eyes. "You're right, Duo, but I have explicit instructions from Heero that the line is only to be used in the case of an emergency, which I seriously doubt whatever you need is."
Duo's jaw clenched. He knew Quatre was just trying to help him out or whatever, but he'd come way too far to be stopped now.
"Quatre, please. It's really important." Duo was close to begging, knowing that the soft-hearted blonde wouldn't be able last much longer. "Please, just do me this one favor."
He let out a silent cheer, as he watched the blonde's blue eyes soften with pity. Maybe he should consider getting a side job as an actor…
Running a hand over his face, Quatre exhaled heavily through his nose. "I know I'm going to regret this but…fine," he relented, but added quickly upon Duo's hopeful look, "I don't have it with me, though. I can call Rashid to send the phone to me, but it'll take a few days."
Duo slumped back into his chair, absorbing the information.
A few days, huh? What the hell was he supposed to do for a few days? He felt like pulling out his hair.
"I'm sorry, Duo."
He looked up and locked eyes with Quatre's pity filled ones. Jeez, now he felt bad.
Sucking in a breath and standing, he waved dismissively at the blonde. "Don't worry about, man. A few days wait won't kill me," he announced.
Hopefully, he added silently, hand already twisting open the door.
"Thanks, again, Quatre. Later."
He closed the door behind him, but stood outside it for a few moments not sure what to do with himself. He tucked his hands into his pockets moodily and started for the front door.
He needed a distraction.
Against his best efforts, he had fallen into a routine.
He hadn't really meant for it to happen—not at all.
But, the very next day, he had shown up in front of Locke's All Purpose Tech Shop without even knowing how he'd even gotten there.
And to just thoroughly disturb him, it had even been three o'clock.
.:::.
He stood watching the pink, neon blinking sign for an immeasurable amount of time until he finally gave up and threw caution to the wind, stepping confidently into the shop. He tensed anticipating some sort of onslaught, but the place had been empty.
However, for reasons beyond him, he didn't stop to consider that maybe he should just come back later, or, in fact, never at all, but, instead, without hesitating, he waltzed past the bead curtain, past the kitchen, all the way to the back door, which stood propped open.
High-pitched clangs of metal against metal and the distinct roar of gears told him that he had found the 'garage,' the place that she had been banished to all those days ago.
He moved forward and lingered in the doorway, pausing to absorb the sight of the area. It reminded him vaguely of the front area, a chaotic, mess of a room crammed full of metal parts of all sizes. Pieces of mobile suits, tanks, cars, computers, phones, and everything in between were scattered everywhere.
The sight was oddly comforting.
A hand fell heavily on his shoulder. Duo yelped and tumbled forward, turning just in time to catch a greasy rag with his face.
"You know how to fix a combustion turbine?"
He pulled the object off, nose wrinkling at the pungent smell of oil, and locked eyes with Curtis' intimidating form looming over him.
"Uh-yeah," he answered, thoroughly confused. If he wasn't mistaken, he had just technically broken into the man's personal garage—house too, if one wanted to be technical.
"Good. Follow me." And with that the old man took off into the labyrinth of metal.
Without hesitation, Duo scrambled after him.
.:::.
And routine set in.
It had been a week since then, and it had become unspoken between the two men that Duo would show up every day at three, ready, though not always eager, to be put to work. He wasn't paid, nor did he ever expect to be, but he needed to keep himself busy, and he thought that maybe the old man had understood that.
Though, he would like to pretend that was the only reason he went back day after day.
The two also had another unspoken agreement. Duo was to leave the shop the moment Nicole—or really Alice—got back from wherever she disappeared to everyday.
The girl had thrown a pretty impressive fit when she discovered Duo's new investment of time; however, Curtis, in a way unbeknownst to Duo, had effectively shut down any future arguments from her about his volunteer work. However, that didn't stop her from mumbling cutting insults and harsh sentiments of hate any chance she got in Duo's presence.
But, as the week came to a close, even her complaints and biting comments began to lessen and weaken, though, whether she was simply running out of insults or actually getting used to him being around, Duo couldn't begin to tell.
At the same time, consciously or not, he wasn't quite sure, his time there began to lengthen. He found himself staying longer and longer past the normal deadline, taking on more and more work.
Despite this pattern, as he pulled out from under the frame of a car after over a week at the garage and glanced at the clock, he was nonetheless shocked. She had to have been back for hours by then, but Duo hadn't seen any sign of her or her snarky comments, which meant either she wasn't back yet for whatever reason or that she had skipped her daily session of 'antagonize-the-crap-out-of-Duo-until-he-leaves'.
He knew it couldn't be healthy seeing her every day, for however short of time. At some level, he knew it was tearing him apart. Every time she didn't recognize him, every time she kicked him out.
But he kept coming back for more.
There were those moments, few and far in between, which sent him back two years ago. She would say something or send him a certain glare, and he became convinced that he was talking to his Nicole again.
He both wanted and dreaded those moments.
Ready to clear his thoughts with more mind numbing work, he considered retreating back under the car, but immediately shot down the idea. Quatre would be worried if he didn't make it back soon, and he supposed it was best to stay in the blonde's good graces, anyway— at least, until he got hold of Heero. Then, well, then he could do whatever the hell he wanted—within reason, of course.
"Curtis, dinner—"
Duo whipped around to see Nicole standing in the doorway to the garage with a glare on her face.
"Oh, you're still here."
Duo rolled his eyes and moved towards a far table, permanently leaving behind any ideas of staying longer.
Shrugging on his leather jacket, he answered her jokingly, but with traces of bitterness, "yeah, yeah, I know. I'm leaving now, don't get your panties in a knot."
She moved to let him pass by, but he felt her eyes burning holes into his back as he rattled his way past the bead curtain.
His stomach clenched at the delicious smell of whatever she had been making. He had never tried Nicole's cooking before, but he knew at least Trowa and Quatre had back on the Peacemillion. The blonde had said it was delicious, though he was too polite to have said anything else. And Trowa, well, he had just declared it simply 'good,' which coming from him probably meant much more.
He lingered at the door, wishing that he had gotten the chance.
"Hey, uh-Duo?" a voice asked, hesitantly.
He whipped around to find Nicole standing awkwardly under the bead curtain, gaze averted somewhere to the right of his head.
"Um, see—er— well," she floundered, face getting steadily redder. "Uh—I made too much spaghetti, right? And, well, the fridge's already packed, so I would just end up throwing the extra out. So—er—you wouldn't want to, I don't know, stay for dinner, or something," she rushed out so fast it took Duo a few moments to understand what she was saying. "Though don't think this a lasting invitation. I just hate wasting food."
Spaghetti?
His stomach rumbled loudly, breaking the ice.
Nicole let out a snort before sending him a smirk, which he returned with a cheeky grin.
"I guess saying I'm not hungry would be a bit obvious, then."
"An obvious lie? Yeah, I think you were just overruled," she told him, motioning for him to follow. "Come on. If you're going to be a freeloader, the least you can do is set the table."
Duo grinned widely at her back. "Sure thing, babe."
Shit.
It was late, too late.
Quatre was gonna kill.
He twisted the door open slowly and slipped inside, praying that the two would be off doing something more interesting than waiting for him to get back. He clicked it closed behind him and began creeping over to the right hallway.
"Duo?"
Well, damn.
"Eh, hey, Quatre. How's it going?" he asked with a large grin.
Maybe if he just pretended as if he hadn't just got back at midnight, everything would be fine.
"Where have you been?"
Duo winced. That would be asking too much of course.
He sighed and replied seriously, "Quatre, you can keep asking me that question, but I can guarantee I'm going to keep giving vague, half-ass responses every time. You don't have to worry, I'm not doing anything you wouldn't do."
Okay, so maybe the last part had been a lie, but what Quatre didn't know, wouldn't make him worry.
The blonde didn't look at all comforted, but, with a huge effort, stepped back. "Duo, just don't do something stupid, okay? Please. I don't want to have to be the one to call Hilde."
Duo winced. As nice as he was, Quatre sure knew people's weak spots and wasn't afraid to use them either, for their own good, of course.
"You should know me better than that Q-man," he said in effort to lighten the mood, which failed spectacularly.
Quatre gave him a hard stare. "I do know you better than that," he said dryly, "which is precisely why I'm worried." He sighed loudly, running a hand over his face, before abruptly shifting the conversation. "I got Rashid's package today."
Duo snapped to attention.
"You mean you have the phone?"
Quatre nodded, looking worn. "Yes. I left it in the safe in the study." He headed down the hallway with Duo close behind.
Duo resisted the urge to cheer; he needed to concentrate on what the hell he was going to say to Heero. To be honest, he hadn't quite thought that far ahead. The only thing he was certain of was that he had only one shot to hold the moody guy's attention.
Quatre headed over to the far wall and lifted a painting off effortlessly. A solid, electronic safe lay nestled into the wood. With a few beeps, the door popped open.
Running a hand through his hair, Quatre exhaled heavily. "I know I'm going to regret this but—fine. You better make it short, though, and don't blame me when he hangs up on you. I know I would…" he murmured the last part, digging through a layer of Styrofoam.
Duo ignored him, trying and failing to plan out what he was going to say to Heero. He shrugged giving up. He had always been better at winging it anyway.
"Here," Quatre told him, holding out a small black cell phone. "Heero told me it was built to be untraceable," he explained, after Duo sent him a questioning look at the phone's simple and archaic design. "There's only one number stored in the contacts, so just press here, and you should get Heero."
Duo turned the phone over carefully in his hand, staring down at it thoughtfully.
Before he could do anything, he needed Quatre out of the room. He couldn't afford for him to overhear this conversation, especially with his relentlessly annoying attempts to convince Duo to return to L2.
He scoffed at the idea.
A clearing of a throat caused him to glance up to find Quatre staring down at him expectantly.
Duo crossed his fingers.
"Actually, man, is it okay if I made this call—er—in private?" he asked, nervously, hoping the blonde wouldn't make too much of a fuss over it; however, he was pleasantly surprised when Quatre simply nodded and left the room after sending him one last meaningful look, as if to say 'don't-screw-this-up'.
Duo let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding when the door clicked shut.
Clumsily opening the phone, he pressed a few buttons and waited on edge as the phone rang.
Moments passed without a response, and he felt his stomach drop.
This couldn't be happening. He had to answer. If he didn't, Duo just didn't know what he would do.
A soft click sounded.
Duo jumped to his feet and waited.
"Heero?"
"Duo?" the deep voice replied with subtle traces of surprise.
"Hey, man. Look, before you hang up, just hear me out okay? I need your help."
Silence answered him.
For a moment he thought the worse.
"I'm listening."
He let out a whoosh of air and got straight to the point. "I need to know what you told Nicole two years ago in regards to the gundam PHEONIX. You helped her solve its cockpit problem, and I need to know how."
It took Heero a few moments to respond.
"Why?"
Duo felt like ripping out his hair. "Look, I just really need to know, okay," he said through clenched teeth.
There was a pause.
For a second, Duo was convinced Heero would dig deeper, ask what all of this was really about, but, for the second time that day, his friends surprised him.
"Added layers of Gundanium alloy concentrated around the cockpit. The layers would have reduced the force of g's on the pilot without throwing off the suit's equilibrium."
Duo collapsed back into the armchair. His free hand rose to cradle his head.
"Thanks, man," he said, forcing a joking tone. "If you ever decide to make an appearance within the next lifetime, I'll buy you a new gun or something."
And with a click, the line went dead.
Well, he had certainly gotten his answers.
Though looking back, he wasn't so sure if he hadn't been better off taking Quatre's advice and leaving the whole damn thing alone.