Disclaimer: I don't own a thing (as sad as that realization is), except for the words I've written.

Warnings: Rated for adult language (Duo's got quite a surly mouth and mind), some violence, and mild adult themes.

A/N: You're continued support and reviews are so appreciated. This is one of my favorite chapters thus far, the actions picking up a bit. Let me know what you think of it.

Maxwell

Chapter 11: Chasing Down The Days Of Fear

The Miracle (Of Joey Ramone) - U2

Duo stared down at the eyes below him, watching blandly as the life seemed to filter out of their blue depths with each passing second. The fingers wrapped around his victim's throat were pulled tight across the delicate skin of the man's neck, leaving bruising marks beneath them without an inkling of hesitation.

Death was something he was so unconditionally accustomed to. Feeling the lifelessness of a body in his arms, watching flesh rip from bones and blood drain from slashing wounds. He was the fucking God of Death, Shinigami in its rawest form.

And this moment was no different.

He squeezed against the windpipe harder now, watching as the man beneath him struggled for air instinctively, his face contorted in a natural, human panic. It didn't even phase the braided man. He merely watched with quiet curiosity, strangling his victim with ease.

There was a moment of familiarity and he thought for a split second that his conscience was finally awakening. He looked into those eyes and a spark registered within his mind, but his hands still crushed down around the man's throat. It was too late for him now anyways.

You don't mess with fucking Shinigami.

And you don't fall in love with him either.

Duo shot up in bed, a cold sweat enveloping his entire body. It was morning now, that much he could tell as a faint outline of sunlight filtered in behind a pair of thick curtains still drawn across the hotel room window.

His fingers shakily ran through chestnut bangs, damp now from his restless sleep and those fucking nightmares.

He squeezed his eyes shut, bringing the heels of his hands up to rub at them until he saw nothing but pressurized darkness in their depths. Shit, he hadn't had dreams like those in a long time now. He had, quite naively, thought they were finally a thing of his past. But how fucking wrong he was.

Duo removed his hands from over his heavily lidded eyes and blinked them open, their gaze immediately averting to an empty pillow next to his. Heero was conspicuously absent.

Last night he had pushed so hard, maybe too hard. He'd received one half of what he desired, a damn good portion; the sex was as amazing as ever. But the other half, the words, the discussion he longed for, the answers, those he did not receive. Why did he have to push so goddamned hard?

Shaking his head, his mussed braid swinging against his back, Duo stood up, stretching his arms up towards the ceiling, wondering if Heero had left for reasons other than a need for caffeine or more reconnaissance for the ever pressing mission.

Deciding he hoped his companion hadn't abandoned him like he was always impulsively tempted to do, Duo decided a hot shower might benefit him. Hell, at least he would be somewhat presentable when the other man made his return. And he used when not if to try and somewhat assure himself of that return.

This was something he was unused to. Wanting Heero to return and wanting to still be here when he did get back. This was usually his cue to leave, to run, to hide away and make an appearance sometime later on when he needed the comfort of Heero's skin against his own again. It would have been a perfect opportunity to make his escape, but there were so many fucking things holding him back; the investigation, 'Fei, the photographs, damn Preventer. And maybe so was Heero and that incessant need to figure out just what the hell they were doing together.

He was fucking scared but he still stepped into the shower and tried to fight down his impulses to disappear by doing the normal, human morning rituals.

The hot, nearly scalding, water felt magical over his surprisingly sore muscles, boring into his skin, creating a massage against his body's surface. He knew he would have bags under his eyes, those were fucking inevitable after a restless sleep. But he hoped so badly that Heero wouldn't associate his sleepless night with him. Though he may have played a sickeningly starring role in the bad dreams, Duo knew, after all this time, that they were rooted in his mind for bigger reasons that Heero's return into his life. Shinigami loved to fuck with his mind like that.

So instead of thinking about that, which might have triggered another episode or spilling of his guts, Duo thought about the mission. He unfurled his braid and let the warm water soak through to his scalp, even the scars on the exposed side of his head relishing in the sensation.

The photographs flashed across his memory. The ones Heero had shown him, the ones of just himself or he and Heero together. The one of his bare chest, a pallid arm wrapping around it provocatively. He desperately wanted Heero to believe that one was a ruse, but he knew the man wasn't that damn ignorant.

And then Sean Davis' smug face caught in his mind. Duo unconsciously clenched his fists, the shower pelting the back of his neck and tops of his shoulders in an almost soothing manner. Why the Preventer made him so uneasy he wasn't certain, but he knew he sure as hell didn't trust the man...

His train of thought was broken abruptly by the sound of the hotel room's front door slamming. Fuck. He knew it was Heero, but still it made him jump uneasily. Turning off the water, Duo rung his long hair somewhat dry and stepped from the tub, grabbing a thin, white towel from the rack, drying his skin and wrapping it rather tightly around his waist, just low enough to allow his sharp hipbones to stick out over-top.

Duo opened the bathroom door and walked into the room, trying his best to act as nonchalant as possible. But shit, that was getting to be pretty much impossible now that he and Heero were apparently sharing the same bed, having not-so-casual sex, and being disgustingly open with each other. Needless to say, Duo was on edge about more things than just some fucking nightmares.

Heero sat at the small table residing in the corner of the room, sipping coffee from a to-go cup from some generic coffee house. There was an identical cup sitting on the table next to a paper bag Duo's grumbling stomach hoped contained breakfast.

"How did you sleep?" Heero's question was so knowingly ignorant that Duo had half a mind to laugh at it. But he nodded his head a couple of times, unconvincingly and muttered, "Fine."

Duo bent to unzip his duffle bag in order to find a suitable pair of clothes for the day ahead. He was about to retreat back into the bathroom to change, but Heero's low voice drew him back to the man sitting in the corner, watching him with cautious eyes. "You know, you can change out here."

Duo scoffed, realizing that his behavior was uncharacteristically modest and odd. Normally he wouldn't have thought twice about dropping the towel in front of Heero. But that damn nightmare was still so fresh in his mind that he had almost forgotten their current situation. Shit, they'd seen each other quite naked last night.

With an obviously forced roll of his eyes for the other man's benefit, Duo flung the damp towel onto the bed and dressed, rather more quickly than normal, until he was clad in dark, slim jeans that hugged all the right curves, and a casual, black t-shirt.

His chosen attire was quite the opposite of Heero's crisp, grey slacks, and tight fitting navy blue baseball shirt. Duo's mind thought amusedly of the spandex the man had worn when they were teenagers and wasn't sure if he was happy or disappointed that that particular style choice had obviously gone out the window in his adult years.

Duo raked fingers through his damp hair, expertly braiding it as he stared at Heero expectantly. He wanted the other man to say something, acknowledge their previous actions the night before, tell him it wasn't just sex. Heero stayed silent.

"What's on the agenda today?" Duo asked, finishing off his braid with a dark rubber band, realizing that making conversation directed at their mission might finally get Heero talking to him. Hell, all he needed at this point was some familiarity, some sort of common ground. If their mission gave him that, everything else might fall into place eventually.

Heero's fingers rested lightly atop the papers sitting on the table beside him. "Quatre gave us Michael Richardson for a reason. He doesn't currently have a permanently listed place of residence." He stared at the smirk forming at Duo's lips knowingly. "And considering he once worked with the Zero System I too have some commonalities with the man."

Duo snorted. "So Quat expects me to be able to find him and you to be able to reason with him?"

Heero shrugged. "It says that he works for a security agency. IT specialist."

"Sounds like a stand up guy. Maybe I have less in common with him than you think."

A dark look flashed across Heero's face at Duo's statement, but he tried his best to focus on the mission and not at the man's admittance of apparently not being a 'stand up guy' himself. He shook his head. "Richardson has been arrested on suspicion of hacking and security breaches several times, but has never once been convicted."

Duo's smirk turned to a frown. Hell, maybe this guy really was a lot like him after all. He walked over to grab the now cooling cup of black coffee and lifted the papers up off the table to have a look for himself. There was a grainy picture of Richardson, obviously taken from his work's data base, maybe an ID photo of some sort. He was in his early thirties, with sandy blond hair, a square jaw, and wiry shoulders; a build not unlike Duo's own thin, but muscular frame.

"Hmm," he sighed, still staring at the papers and taking a sip of coffee. "I guess we'll start at his place of work then. Star Security Systems." He found that to be quite a bullshit name, but kept the wry thought to himself.

They ate a quick breakfast that consisted of bagels and some prepackaged fruit. Both men were silent as they ate, and Duo wondered if Heero was thinking about the night before just as much as he was. Shit, he probably should be focussing on the mission, but he couldn't stop picturing the other man's naked body in his memory. Dammit, he needed to get ahold of himself.

Heero drained the rest of his coffee and stood, rummaging through his duffel bag to pull out a small pistol and stuffing it in the back waistband of his slacks. Duo watched him with a sly smile as he did the same with his own firearm and realized that they were in fact much more alike than people gave them credit for.

"Y'think Michael Richardson's really our guy?" Duo wondered as they exited their small hotel room, leaving the previous night behind and slamming the door shut.

Heero eyed him as they made their way to the elevator. "He has probable cause."

Duo shook his head with a grin. "That doesn't exactly answer my question."

Pursing his lips, Heero faced the elevator as it chimed its arrival to their floor. "I've been investigating these names for a while now and nothing has turned up. These last ones are the most probable," he paused as they entered the thankfully vacant elevator. "And yet I can't help feeling there's something we are overlooking."

Duo leaned against the back wall of the mirrored carriage. "It's kind of fucked that one of our leads was blown to bits." He sighed, thinking of the recent terrorist attack all too similar to the one he'd found himself in just after the war. "I hate to agree, 'Ro, but I have this shitty feeling this isn't going to be as easy as we're making it out to be."

Heero grunted his reply and agreement as the elevator shot downwards, carrying them to an unsure fate. And one thing Duo hated most was damn uncertainty.

Star Security Systems was housed in a remote building that looked as ordinary as any of the office buildings in London's 'Tech City.' Everything was modern and colored in shades of grey, white, or black. It was a lucky break that they'd managed to rent a small, black, nondescript car in order to travel as inconspicuously as possible through the city. Duo's eyes flashed in the side mirror of the passenger seat every few seconds, searching for a tail he never was able to make. But dammit if the ice in his gut didn't make him believe they were still somehow being followed. Or make that watched.

"Plan of action?" he muttered, giving Heero a sidelong glance as they pulled into the building's parking lot, finding a space next to some other cars. It was going on 10 A.M. now, everyone should be inside at work so they had to try their best not to seem too suspicious.

"We're just going to talk to the man," Heero said with a shrug. "It shouldn't warrant any problems."

Duo gave him a crooked smirk. "That's why we have guns tucked at our backs, eh?"

"Hn," Heero grunted in his customary way. "Precaution. They're concealed, Richardson won't even know they're a possibility unless they need to be."

They exited the car, locking it securely behind them, and walked briskly towards the security building, going in through the front door as Heero had planned. They weren't doing anything wrong after all, just talking with a certain Michael Richardson. Still, Duo felt some sort of unease in his tense muscles. Nothing was that fucking easy, especially not for ex-Gundam pilots who never seemed to have luck on their side.

The lobby was ordinary and easy to navigate and soon they were staring at a directory with names, departments, and floors listed. Heero's finger found the label for IT and Duo's gaze followed the appendage as it went across the board to stop at the floor number: 6.

They rode in the elevator, not saying a word, Duo only staring at his black booted feet, the toes of the military style shoes quite scuffed and worn. Heero's own shoes shone under the dim light above them, not a fucking mark on them. He wondered if the 'perfect solider' next to him noticed how utterly disheveled the man was and had always been. How on earth they fit together he would never be sure.

The elevator opened on the sixth floor to a receptionist desk that reminded him of the desk he and Wufei had visited during their time at Winner Corp. He hoped that this receptionist would be a bit more helpful.

Both of their eyes scanned the area behind reception where dozens of cubicles and desks resided, people working diligently behind them like they probably did everyday, nine to five. Duo decided he didn't envy them one damn bit.

Heero was speaking to the receptionist with a surprisingly kind and warm tone that made Duo squint; he could really pull out that Heero Yuy charm when he needed to and he wondered why he had never pulled it out for him. But his thoughts were immediately interrupted as his eyes were drawn to a tall figure that stood in a cubicle directly behind the reception area. He had sandy blond hair, slicked across his head with an inordinate amount of gel; the man's eyes connected with Duo's own, studying him oddly for a moment before breaking the gaze at the sound of something coming from Heero's mouth.

Duo's thoughts came back to reality just in time to realize the connection, but not in time to warn Heero. "...speak with Michael Richardson?"

By the time Duo's hand found Heero's bicep, Michael Richardson was already running hard and fast and slamming through the stairwell door at the far end of the IT floor.

"Shit!" Both men uttered the curse in perfect synchronization as they took off after him.

As Heero thrust open the stairwell door, they could both still make out the frantic clipping echo of the other man's shoes as he rushed down the cement stairs, probably taking them two or three at a time. So Heero and Duo met his challenge and began sprinting and leaping as fast as they could without causing themselves bodily injury in order to catch up with their lead.

Hell, they must have been stupid to think this would be anything but fucking difficult. As a matter of fact, fucking difficult was becoming the norm.

"He must be fuckin' guilty!" Duo panted out, nearly having to yell the words over the sound of their feet against the cement and the pounding of his heart in his ears. "Why else would he run?!"

Heero just shook his head, deciding to save his breath for the more pressing trek they were undergoing. Both men had already pulled their firearms out of their hiding places, though the safety's were still on in hopes that they wouldn't have to resort to actually using them.

They reached the first floor in record time, but still unable to quite catch up with Richardson. The stairwell door that led to the lobby was just clicking closed when they arrived, Heero pulling it open roughly, but a soft movement from within the shadows behind them caused Duo to turn, raising his gun and flicking the safety off all in one fluid motion.

Within seconds Heero had let the door slam back shut and had his own gun pointed at the shadowy area just under the stairs that led to the first floor. No one said a word for a long and painfully silent moment before Michael Richardson appeared in the barely lit space, his hands raised and his lips drawn in a pensive frown.

"Don't fuckin' take another step, Richardson." Duo's words were harsh and still heavy with gasps, but there was an appreciative smile on his face. "I've got an itchy trigger finger. Just ask him." He flicked his head towards Heero's stiff position next to him, a light in his indigo eyes as he remembered the first time he and the brunette man had come into contact some years ago on the docks.

Richardson stopped. "No need for violence," he said with a light British accent wrapping his statement.

"Why did you run?" Heero asked simply.

"Hell, I thought you guys were coppers."

"Cops? Us?" Duo bit out indignantly, acting more offended than necessary.

"What other kind of blokes chase a guy down a stairwell with guns pointed at him?" Richardson fit them both with a quirk of his eyebrows and a slight twitch of his lips.

Duo scoffed, blinking a few times and tilting his head in confusion. "You really worked for Oz during the war?" He couldn't believe how ignorant the ex-solider was seeming to be. Shit, maybe he really wasn't their guy.

Richardson's eyes darkened. "How in bloody hell do you know about that?"

Heero shook his head, obviously annoyed by Duo's rash words. "Look, all we want to do is talk to you, ask you a few questions."

Richardson shrugged. "Talk all you like, but you don't need guns in order to ask questions."

"Seems like we do," countered Duo, not lowering his weapon. "Seeing as how you just tried to evade some guys you thought were cops."

Lowering his hands slightly, Richardson eyed them blandly. "If you really knew that much about me, you'd know that evading the police is nothing new."

Duo laughed internally as the bitter thought of 'I know how it is' ran through his mind. Hell, maybe he could get through to the man after all, seeing as how similar they appeared to be. Quatre had put he and Heero on this lead for a reason after all.

"Look I get it, I've done my fair share of running," Duo said, finally putting the safety back on and lowering his gun, but still not putting it away. It took another hesitant moment until Heero followed his lead.

Duo wondered vaguely if his words had struck a chord within Heero as much as they'd just struck a chord in his own mind. His shoulders stiffened at the thought.

Richardson looked pleased with the lowering of their weapons, but still did not make a move other than to place his hands at his sides. "What is it that you need to know?"

Heero began before Duo could, knowing exactly the questions he planned to ask and not wanting the other man to act too abruptly. "First of all, do you know who we are?"

The British man gave them a quizzical look and the genuine confusion in his eyes answered the question for Heero even before the man spoke. "Not cops," Richardson replied with a short laugh. He shrugged before continuing. "Two guys who fancy chasing ex-Oz soldiers down at their places of work?"

There was the opportunity for him to lie, both Heero and Duo knew that. But it seemed after all this, why would he have made it so easy to catch him? Yes, he'd ran, but he was also at work, in plain sight, and wasn't carrying any form of weapon like they were. He'd hidden in the shadows in hopes of tricking them, but if he'd known who they really were he would have known better than that. He'd been clumsy and ignorant not calculating and all-knowing like their stalker appeared to be.

After another moment of contemplative silence, the man sighed and stared at them, crossing his arms impatiently. "Anything else?"

"What did you do during your time with Oz?" Heero asked. He had a file, a fairly comprehensive one, but he wanted to hear it from the man's mouth and see his physical reaction to the question.

He was rewarded as Richardson's body grew stiff and he frowned, visibly shaken and angered by the query. "I don't know how you know that I was ever employed by Oz, but you should bloody well know it wasn't for long." He scowled in their direction, but when Heero's gun raised upwards again towards the man's chest he sighed. "If you must know, I worked with the Zero System, a devilish pilot program. After I watched multiple men become injured, or worse die, at its hands I quit. Had to go underground during the war or else they'd have had my head. Oz wasn't terribly forgiving of deserters if you know what I mean."

The information was both interesting and shocking to the ex-pilots. Duo turned to fix Heero with a stiff gaze. This wasn't their man, he was an Oz solider turned rebel, his motive had just gone out the fucking window.

Heero lowered his weapon again, this time placing it back in his waistband, covering it with his shirt. Duo smirked and followed suit, his eyes never leaving Richardson. "The Zero System, huh? Sounds fuckin' terrible."

The memory of his first time encountering the impossible system assaulted his mind. How in the hell Heero had mastered such a system he would never understand. But he supposed that's what made him Mr. Perfect Solider, didn't it?

As they turned to leave, realizing there was really not much else to say to the now even more confused man, Duo heard his voice through the partially open doorway.

"So who are you guys, anyways?"

The braided man watched as Heero started across the lobby, but he couldn't resist having a bit more fun. He turned back just enough so that his voice would carry through the cracked open door to the British man still standing behind it.

"Let's just say we're the God of Death and the Perfect Solider. Count your blessings, Richardson, you're lucky to still be breathing."

When they made it back to the car Heero sat in silent contemplation while Duo placed his arms behind his head and closed his eyes. Shit, he was actually kind of tired, but all in a good days work he supposed. Though he realized that he was probably more tired from his assaulting nightmares the night before than chasing their lead down six flights of stairs.

The sound of Heero's cell phone ringing caused both of them to jump.

Heero's eyes looked to the caller ID before answering. "Quatre?"

Duo knew instantly that something was not right as Heero's eyes grew larger and the voice on the other end of the phone grew more frantic and unsure. Duo hoped it was just Quatre overreacting and blaming himself for something stupid or unavoidable. But watching Heero's expression he knew for damn sure it wasn't as simple as that.

When he finally hung up, Duo was pawing at his arm. "Heero, what is it? What did Quat say? Fuck, 'Ro, talk to me!"

But Heero wasn't listening to him, he was flinging open the door to the car, slamming it behind him, and running full out back towards Star Security Systems, Duo hot on his heels.

"What the fuck, Heero?" Duo yelled after him.

Heero turned slightly, not letting the movement slow him down as they approached the front doors. "Trowa and Quatre found Matthew Rook dead upon their arrival to L1," he bit out through clenched teeth.

Duo cursed under his breath, realizing the sudden urgency. They rocketed themselves through the front doors and sprinted across the lobby, people dodging them as they went, the woman behind the front desk, looking up at them with shocked eyes.

When they got to the stairwell, Heero grabbed the handle and flung it open, but the coppery smell of blood that assaulted their noses told them of the man's fate before they ever laid eyes on the body.

Michael Richardson lay sprawled across the stairs that led upwards to the first floor, a red bullet hole through his forehead and crimson pooling down the stairs, creating a macabre waterfall of blood. Duo thought he might actually be sick, for the first time in his life, at the sight of death.

Heero took a step forward, his jaw set so tightly that Duo could see the muscles constricting. Heero stared at the body, his eyes icy and hard and it took Duo a moment to realize what he was looking at with such intensity.

Resting atop Richardson's chest was a small piece of plain white paper, a note scrawled in capital handwriting that instantly reminded him of the addressed envelopes they had all received.

Nice try, you're getting warmer.

The note wasn't signed, but they both knew who it was from. And now there was one more fucking dead body to cross off their list.