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: Your support is wonderful, you guys rock, seriously! I believe some of your questions might be answered in this chapter, but things are still a bit muddied for our pilots, I'm afraid. Read? Review? (P.S. - check out my latest fict, Down In Africa, if you're interested in a little summertime adventure AU!)
Maxwell
Chapter 22: There Is An Answer In A Question
Black Sun - Death Cab For Cutie
He was in a hospital on Earth, that much he knew. He had been in a facility on L2, but he'd been since transferred; the details involved with that he couldn't remember for shit. He wasn't sure how long he'd been in the hospital for. Heero had said two days, but that couldn't have been right; it felt like a fucking eternity to Duo.
His eyes peeled open to stare at the white tiles above him, hovering there, taunting him. The facility reminded him too much of the place he'd been held captive in- could it really have just been over twenty-four hours? That too seemed like fucking forever in his mind. And though he got a nauseous sensation in his gut every time a monitor beeped, a nurse came in to take his vitals, or the needle currently stuck in his hand shifted uncomfortably beneath the surface, Duo did not say a word about it to anyone.
Not even to Heero. If he'd been forced to choose someone to confide in he supposed that the Perfect Soldier would have been the most appropriate choice. But he wasn't about to burden him with more worry; shit, he knew Heero wasn't sleeping, he could tell, he could see it in the tiny pink lines running across the whites of his eyes. This was the man he loved after all, how selfish would he have to be to impart on him any of the pain that was currently flowing through his subconscious every time he closed his damned eyelids?
"You lost a lot of blood." That's what Trowa had said to him from the front seat as he drifted in and out of consciousness. Duo had appreciated the man talking to him directly, instead of explaining the situation like 'frail little Duo' wasn't laying right there. But still, it had been hard to grasp onto the conversation what with the shit-awful feeling of impending death by exsanguination coursing through him.
"It looks like maybe they were going to do some kind of transfusion." That was the second part to Trowa's explanation. It was those words that had pulled Duo back to reality long enough to reach into the elastic waist of his scrubs, push his fingers through the hole he'd ripped there earlier, and retrieve the tightly folded pieces of paper he'd managed to filch from the morgue upon his first and only tour of the 'totally insane and fucked' hospital he'd been forced to call home.
At first Heero had seemed confused and that had somehow annoyed Duo. But after watching the man unfurl the packed papers, his eyes adjusting and beginning to skim and then re-skim over the words and information there, Duo had felt well enough to lay back and let his eyes close at his own volition, not his now unpredictable and feeble body's discretion.
"I didn't have time to investigate much further," Trowa had supplied in some sort of finality to the earlier couple of sentences. Duo sensed the movement as Heero had thrust the papers denoting the blood types of the 'John Doe's' he'd discovered in the morgue forward presumably for a response from their other traveling companions. That's when the conversation had stopped and the next memory Duo had was waking up in the fucking hospital room from hell until he realized it was cleaner and he wasn't strapped down to the bed-rails and it was, in fact, a Preventer run facility.
In the back of Duo's mind somewhere he had the faintest memory of heat and every so often his nose would prickle at an imaginary smell of smoke. There was something in his subconscious, images and scraps of memories, that he couldn't quite decipher. The thoughts circled his mind like an odd dream that he couldn't quite remember. But, he knew this for certain, the singularly clear sound of Sister Helen's voice coursing through his mind was no reverie.
He was being released today. At least that was something, finally some fucking good news. But Duo couldn't help but feel off, feel odd at the idea of coming back into the group of ex-pilots after having been nearly at death's doorstep not four days before. He didn't like to be vulnerable, to need rescuing, he didn't want Heero to hover over him, but he couldn't do much about that as the other man seemed to be just as stubborn as he himself was. That was sure as hell gonna make this whole 'loving relationship' shit fun to work their way through.
A nurse was currently rattling something off, staring at a clipboard as Heero stood by and nodded every so often in accordance with how one should be acting in such a situation. Duo was at least grateful for the fact that not one of his friends actually wanted to be inside the hospital. They'd all had enough negative memories associated with them from the war, and now with the med facility on L2- Duo was pretty certain that none of them were ever going to be willing to admit themselves under a doctor's care ever again unless absolutely essential.
Apparently almost bleeding to death was placed pretty high up under the 'absolutely essential' category, much to Duo's chagrin.
"Ready?" Heero asked, watching the braided man with those careful, clinical eyes of his.
Duo sat on the edge of his hospital bed, thankful to finally be rid of the irritating hospital gown and back in his own, entirely black and much more comfortable clothing. He nodded, but when he stood he couldn't fight the near instant head-rush. Duo had been practicing feigning normality so as to not alert Heero to any sort of weakness he was experiencing. After a few uncertain seconds of dizziness the spell passed and Duo was able to follow the other man out of the hospital, abrasively denying the use of normally mandated wheelchair service.
He sat on a bench in the fresh air of Sanc while Heero went to pull the car around. It was a vehicle provided graciously to them by Winner Corp, a company car of sorts. Their new place of residence for the time being had also been provided by Quatre- the safe-house that four of the pilots had broken into at the start of their investigation.
Duo supposed that their need for secrecy had pretty much flown out of the window by now what with everything that had already happened. He remembered an overheard conversation that Wufei had had once when he'd thought Duo to be asleep in his sterile bed- a lot of terse words and irritation from his end; he'd presumably been speaking to someone at Preventer- Une? Davis?- due to his tone and manner of speaking, even if he'd thrown in several brash curse words for emphasis.
During his time in the hospital Duo hadn't asked about the investigation, hadn't asked about the body identification papers, not about any M.R.'s or M.P.'s, not even about Sean Davis or Sally and Noin's sudden, apparent involvement. He'd figured the knowledge and new anxiety wouldn't have done him much good as his body struggled to whip back into homeostasis.
He found himself sitting on the low couch in the safe-house's living room, staring at nothing in particular on the cream toned wall ahead of him, when the first inkling thoughts of what had actually happened to him on L2 began to trickle back into the forefront of his mind.
"That wasn't their base of operations. Couldn't have been. Maybe a temporary lab, somewhere out of the way to tinker around, but not HQ."
He'd subconsciously been listening to a conversation taking place between Wufei and Trowa in the kitchen behind him when Duo decided to speak up.
After a few silent seconds he thought perhaps that they were going to ignore him, just chalk the rambling and seemingly random thought up to shock, when Wufei appeared at his side.
"Maxwell-" he began, but then his voice seemed to even out. "Duo- did you have any contact with anyone in that facility? Anyone at all?"
Duo was nodding before his mind could even formulate which thing he wanted to explain first. "A doctor- or at least he called himself a doctor, hell the guy didn't seem too sure himself."
He watched Trowa, who'd also sidled into view, share a sidelong look with Wufei before the other man leaned in towards Duo, his deep black eyes very serious. "Did this 'doctor' give you any reason to believe he may have had contact with any of the scientists during the war?"
There was a pause of hesitation as the words sunk in, then Duo's eyes were widening. "Actually yeah. He mentioned Doctor J once- something about Heero and research and- hey, you're speculating there 'Fei- how the fuck did you know-"
"Not speculation," Wufei interrupted firmly. "When we met with Menta Rolland she told us about her father, a man that used to be known by the name of Meister R."
Duo's mouth formed the thought before his voice could catch up. "M.R.," he whispered in realization.
"But now we must consider the initials M.P. from that morgue paperwork," Trowa supplied quietly, clearly not wanting to admit the new wrench thrown into things, but unable to just overlook the development.
"Milliardo Peacecraft?" Duo's mouth had spat out around a smirk before his mind could quite catch up to stop it. The idea had been meant as a joke, but neither man seemed to find any humor there save for perhaps himself. Any other day he might have been reprimanded for speaking so recklessly, but they all still seemed to be walking on eggshells around him since his 'harrowing experience.' Shit, he hated that.
Duo sighed roughly and looked down at his hands. For a single second he thought he could see shining red coating them before his vision cleared. Everything seemed so royally fucked, even with all the new recon they kept stumbling upon.
There were steps behind him then, one set clicking against the floor and the other barely ghosting across it. He turned to see Quatre and Heero enter the room, their expressions grim as if they'd caught the tail end of the conversation.
Heero came to sit next to Duo on the couch, not at all trying to hide the worried affection in his eyes as he gazed at the braided man in the same appraising way he'd done ever since Trowa had handed him over to the strong and capable hands on L2. It made him feel like a damn porcelain doll.
Ignoring the thought, Duo tried to hide a shudder as his vision flicked between the men now practically surrounding him. "They had all of you, 'cept Tro," he muttered, only half coherent as the thought seemed to randomly manifest on his tongue. "Shit, it was fucked up."
Heero inched forward so his knee came into contact with Duo's own. "You mentioned that the first morning in the hospital."
"Oh." Duo didn't honestly remember the entirety of his first day in the hospital and he figured he probably had said some weird shit being on as many drugs as had been pumped into his system.
"So- there are clones of us then?" Quatre's voice was soft, but only because he'd been tiptoeing ever since they'd arrived back at the safe-house, like he didn't want to accidentally trigger anything for Duo, which he appreciated, but still it had gotten to be damn near impossible to hold a normal conversation in this fucking condo.
"Not 'clones' exactly. They're more like Frankenstein's monster," Duo snorted in response.
"You're right actually," Trowa said. "A clone would, biologically speaking, entail some sort of reproduction of cells to form the new and genetically identical organism."
Wufei was nodding then as if something had just clicked delightfully into place. "That would take years, but from what we can tell Meister R has only been working with this technology for what? Maybe a few months at most?"
"We've determined fairly certainly that Meister R and M.R. are one in the same," Trowa explained upon seeing the slight look of disconnect on Quatre and Heero's faces.
"We've just got fuckin' M.P. to contend with now," Duo spat out, rubbing at the side of his head unconsciously. His earlier quip filtered back, but he swallowed it down harshly.
"And Sean Davis," Quatre added with a slight wince.
Yes, dammit, him too. Duo's teeth ground together; he'd been explained that particular situation just before being released from the hospital. Heero had even shown him the image that Iria Winner had sent over by way of communicator. Duo had decided immediately that something was not right, that Davis was fucking lying, but Heero had been less quick to jump to the conclusion if for no other reason than to try and stay a calm and reasonable force for Duo's sake of recovery.
"Sally's been keeping her eyes and ears open around Davis, but I'm afraid she does not have as much access and contact with him or Une to be much of an authority." The way Wufei spoke about the woman, the slight sadness in the depths of his eyes, led Duo to think about believing in the once contested idea that Sally was 'good for him.'
They sat in silence then, each man mulling over this new and somewhat disturbing idea to its fullest extent. Still things didn't quite add up, but slowly- painfully slowly- pieces seemed to be fitting into the puzzle. Duo hoped that perhaps now that he was out of the hospital the investigation would resume full force, but he had an inkling feeling in his gut that it was going to take some great convincing of not only his newly hovering lover, but of his other concerned companions as well.
He thought about the blank stares and sunken eyes of the 'duplicate' men he'd encountered in the medical facility on L2. He thought about the odd description Heero had given him of having to fight his own body double and how fucking weird that would have been in a reversed situation. Duo wasn't sure he'd have been able to break bones of someone that talked like and reflected the muscular, handsome image of Heero Yuy, even if he was trying to stab him in the ribs. Hell, he probably would have been able to do it, but it surely would have invoked some sort of much needed therapy session or some shit.
"They're made to look like us, act like us, hell even think like us to some extent, huh?" Duo started, his voice sounding far-off. "Plastic surgery these days is an in-and-out job what with regen tech. And besides, our personal information, at least some of it, isn't that well secured- I mean we were Gundam pilots after all."
Heero blinked. "The bodies of Rook and Richardson- it was their blood these people were after, according to the papers you've given us."
"The blood-types logged are a match for myself and Duo," Trowa said, his lips pulling downwards at the corners.
Scratching at the back of his head, Duo cocked brows upwards and began to speak, slow and deliberately. "They're trying to duplicate our blood- or whatever's in our blood- not the entire genetic makeup. Taking out what they need and then pumping in a match to keep us alive then? For whatever fucking reason."
"Or else using the blood matches for their own experimentation," Wufei added with a quiet shrug.
Quatre shook his head in disbelief. "But why go to all this trouble? What with Winner Corp and Preventer and whoever else might be involved."
"Perhaps that's a simple answer." They all turned as Trowa's green eyes began to glow with understanding from beneath his shroud of bangs. "Imagine all the things we are capable of, ex-pilots or not.
"Wufei is a highly ranked Preventer agent. Quatre, you manage a billion dollar corporation with ties to all the colonies and their resource satellites. Heero has his own ties to Relena Darlian and her security- close ties." His eyes stopped on Duo for a moment, hesitated, and then flicked towards the floor. "I- before the war- was a mercenary. Even in peacetime a solider-for-hire such as myself would be quite the acquisition in the wrong hands."
Trowa's vision flicked back up to his braided comrade, but before he could try and complete the thought he'd gotten stuck on earlier, Duo had stepped slightly forward, his brows furrowed deeply. "I'm the fucking God of Death," he muttered, almost as if the words were completely bitter against his tongue.
"I'd probably be useful in a lot of nasty situations. Got eyes in nearly every colony sector, got lines in the Sweepers- and they don't take kindly to people they don't know very well so that's pretty valuable in and of itself. Did some pretty horrible shit during the war- and with whatever duplicate nano-tech they've been able to get from my blood, with a little brainwashing, a glorified body-double could be worse than the real thing," Duo explained, his voice low and even. He looked up. "I guess that goes for all of us."
There was silence then, for an indefinite amount of time, before Wufei spoke. "So how do we propose handling this situation?"
It was an odd thing for him to do, to ask for help and advice like that, so blatantly, but it was clear when Duo's head lifted to look at the other four men that they were all at somewhat of a loss.
Duo shrugged then, the movement somewhat weighty in his muscles. "We all must have some sort of identifying mark not listed on our files, ID's, any intel that's apparently circulating the Earth Sphere."
Wufei nodded at that, but Duo found his eyes flicking to the Japanese man next to him. "For example, Heero, you with that scar on your hip?"
That scar had been quite a topic of conversation between himself and Wufei and even Trowa, but Heero did not realize that, and Duo had to reign in the smirk at the near sheepish look that came across his usually hard features.
Duo craned his neck then. "And Trowa, I'm willing to bet that work of art on your back ain't public knowledge even within Preventer."
He saw Trowa swallow, his vision going sideways to Quatre. Apparently he'd not remembered their shared hotel bedroom a while back.
"And so what about you, Maxwell?" Wufei grunted, trying to ease any ensuing tension. He gestured towards the other man's head. "Your scars are visible, fairly replicable wouldn't you say?"
Duo held a far off look as his fingers ran just above the shaved portion of hair. "Hmm- oh these?" He shook his head and grinned rather forcefully. "No, not these scars for me. Pretty little cigarette burns- lower back. Don't normally talk about it, but the Ozies on Barge weren't particularly fond of my company back in the day."
Quatre grimaced openly. "Oh Duo-"
The braided man gave a dark chuckle. "Nah, nothin' like that Quat, don't you worry. Very few people have gotten to see the Maxwell goods." The wink he shot towards Heero almost didn't make it past the man's unbelieving stare.
Heero's teeth gnashed, trying his best to ignore the out-of-place flirting. "The 'Duo' I came across must not have been- complete. He did not harbor your telltale scars."
"Yeah, that or else they're not as smart as we're givin' 'em credit for," Duo snorted out. "But- you're probably right 'Ro. Doesn't seem like they'd have had enough time to create a fully equipped monster-copy in the time I was there- before you guys showed up and the place blew sky high."
Meanwhile, Quatre's fingers were tracing over his midsection, his brows furrowing over hard eyes. "The scar tissue left after Dorothy's foil," he muttered. "I never went through regen afterwards- but perhaps for good reason now."
Wufei's own eyes were tracing downwards towards the floor. Duo watched with curiosity as he bent forward and grabbed at the bottom of his pant leg, lifting up to reveal the crisp black lettering of a tattoo.
"This would count as an identifying feature," he stated, studying the ink that read L5-A0206 running up the edge of his muscular calf, starting just before his knee and moving downward vertically against his skin, though the letters and numbers were denoted horizontally forcing one's eyes to shift slightly in order to read it properly.
"That's new," Duo muttered, leaning forward, his voice barely loud enough for anyone but Wufei to hear.
He shrugged. "I've had it not too long now. But you're right, Maxwell, even Preventer doesn't have this one on file yet."
His precise phrasing made Duo wonder how many other tattoos the man had- more-or-less recently- etched into his body, the thought momentarily enticing him to look, but then almost immediately causing his stomach to clench in guilt at thinking about the Chinese man's body in any other way than completely and totally clothed. Damn his overactive imagination, damn it straight to hell.
As Duo fought with his new internal unrest the entire dynamic of their brief conversation had changed. He heard Trowa and Quatre discussing together in low tones the implications behind the paperwork he'd managed to smuggle back to them. The odd signature of 'M.P.' rather than 'M.R.' had apparently been an ongoing debate amongst the five of them, especially since his release from the hospital. Heero rose silently to head towards the kitchen, his eyes not even glancing to check on Duo. Wufei seemed to be ignoring everyone forcefully, probably caught up in his own thoughts. For a brief second all was right with the world.
Without a word Duo lifted himself from the couch, brushing off the looks Quatre and Trowa shot him, their conversation put on hold for only a second, and he walked towards his bedroom in hopes of retrieving something from the duffel he prayed hadn't been tampered with. But even with their concern for him- unnecessary concern that is- as ex-pilots they all knew and understood the importance of privacy and rifling through one another's things would have been less likely than Heero professing his love in front of every last ex-Gundam pilot.
Wait- Heero had already done just that. In front of each and every one of them- multiple times. Duo suppressed a groan; the man had since gone from one extreme to the other, like Heero witnessing his near death had let loose the flood gates or something. Shit, why was he having such a hard time dealing- this is what he always wanted, wasn't it?
Duo's fingers clasped tightly around the small, cardboard box he'd been hoping to find, stuffed into an unidentifiable compartment in his personal carry-all. He'd just managed to find a nice, comfy spot sitting cross legged on the condo's balcony to light up- staring down the side of the building he'd previously watched Trowa and Heero scale- when a voice from behind him nearly caused him to choke.
"Maxwell, when did you start smoking again?"
He wanted to tell him that he'd never actually stopped, but that would open a whole other jar of worms that he just didn't have the patience for right now. Instead Duo turned to meet Wufei's slightly scowling features with a dark smile. "Since when did you become a tattoo enthusiast?"
Instead of continuing to stare disapprovingly at the cigarette dangling from Duo's curved mouth, Wufei sat down next to him, resting forearms against his bent knees. "Enthusiast?" he bit out. "Hardly- I have three. They all are very important in meaning and design."
Duo shot him a sideways look, blowing smoke from the corner of his mouth in the opposite direction. "So no skull and crossbones or pin-up girls then, eh?"
Ignoring the comment, Wufei lifted his shirt then- to Duo's great surprise- to show off two very different tattoos. The one lining his ribcage was a series of intricate branches harboring many small cherry blossoms, a name almost hidden within the flowers- Meiran. The other was situated across his right pectoral muscles, something written in black, Chinese calligraphy against the skin of his chest.
Duo studied it for a moment. "Past, present, future," he read aloud.
Wufei nodded once. "You know Mandarin?"
"Eh." Duo shrugged it off. "You pick up a lot of things traveling through the ESUN no strings attached."
They were quiet then for a long time, sitting comfortably in each other's presence for what seemed like the first time since their past had gotten dredged up in this increasingly infuriating investigation. Duo wasn't even sure why Wufei had decided to seek him out in the first place, certainly not to reveal what appeared to be quite personal markings across his body- right? He was about to voice his internal queries when his eyes spotted something rather alarming as smoke exited in a rapid exhale between his lips.
"Hey, does Sally have eyes on Davis right now?"
Wufei looked puzzled for a brief second before his gaze was able to travel along the same thread as Duo's. Instantly his features darkened and he let any composure from the previous moment fly away with a low snarl of anger.
He stood instantly, the action thrusting Duo upwards as well. The braided man had to nearly dig his heels straight into the cement patio to hold him back, fingers clasped around the man's bicep. "Slow your roll, 'Fei," he hissed out. Shit, and they thought he was impulsive.
"With each passing day this man is proving to be less and less trustworthy," Wufei hissed out through clenched teeth, straining against his friend's grip.
Duo hastened to wonder just what possible reason Sean Davis could have for tracking them back to their latest safe-house, but the look of pure hatred in Wufei's dark eyes, and the overwhelming instinct bubbling in his gut, told him that it could not be anything good.
No- the Preventer had become such a black cat in their lives as of late, it definitely could not be anything fucking good.