Alright, I don't want to be rude, but who left the review that says, "gross they are not gay" at chapter thirty? I mean, honestly, why chapter thirty? Did it take you that long to realize what they were doing? Did you not know they were men? And I'm fairly sure I at least implied that this would be a yaoi fic somewhere BEFORE chapter thirty. But, beyond that, I could completely understand someone saying, "I do not believe that the original creators of GW intended them to be homosexual and I disagree with your characterization decision." Or even, "I really don't agree with the life style choice of your characters." Or perhaps even the same review at chapter one or two. But thirty? Come on.
Sorry to all my fans out there who are perfectly fine with the life style of my characters and fully understand that they are gay. I was just... kind of awestruck. Not so much that someone disagreed, simply that they didn't disagree until chapter thirty. I was like, "What the heck?" But, anyway, on with the story. Oh, and if anyone does know who left that review, please have them contact me. I would be completely willing to debate this issue with them in a more adult conversation. More than anything, I think it's kinda funny. Sad, but funny.
"Get the hell away from my slaves!"
It was kind of hard to hear, with the blood rushing through my ears and all, but I could faintly make out the demanding words. And, I'll tell you, I'd never been so glad to see that asshole in my life.
Well, I suppose hear would be the correct term, because my vision was still dark and blurry. That changed in a moment, though, as the goon holding me dropped me to the floor. I think he might have charged Zechs, but I was too focused on coughing up my right lung to really tell. All I knew was one minute the guard was running away from me, then next minute he was flying backwards passed me.
Now, I don't want anyone to get the idea that Heero and I were weak or anything like that. Heero, from what I saw, was a damn good fighter, and if it had been one on one, or even a fair fight, he probably would have kicked their asses. But me 'n Heero are both short and scrawny, though I'm a good bit scrawnier than he is. Neither of us have any weight to spare, and it's hard to work up muscle mass without calories to sustain it. That's why the strongest guy in the gang gets fed first; not because he pushes anybody out of the way, but because if he doesn't eat he'll get weak and then the gang falls apart. That's life.
Zechs was that strongest guy. When me 'n Heero went at those guards it probably looked like a pair of five-year-old trying to take on a high school bully, but Zechs was just as big as them, maybe bigger. He had skills, too, although I don't know where he woulda learned to fight like that. He took the big one down with no problem, and the little one just freakin ran away when he saw the ass kicking his friend got.
And no wonder. Damn, was Zechs pissed! I'd never seen him so mad, not even after I dropkicked him in the stomach for no reason. He was literally shaking with rage, his chest heaving, and teeth bared in a vicious snarl. Man, he was territorial. There weren't many masters who'd get so ticked if someone roughed up their slaves. Although, this was going a little far by anyone's standards.
And Heero was almost as roughed up as I was, though he probably didn't think so. Heero was really, really good at completely ignoring his injuries. If I hadn't seen him get them myself I probably would have thought they were painted on or something. But, despite ignoring his injuries, he did have them. All that smashing of his head against the wall had nearly caved it in; he was bleeding pretty bad from the side of his head and the whole right half was swollen and bruised. He'd bitten his tongue at some point and there was blood dripping from his mouth and his nose, accentuating his black eye. I know his stomach must have been bruised, because he'd been kicked there several times, and his ankle was probably damned sprained from all the times it'd been kicked out from under him.
So, I was glad Zechs had come to help Heero and I wished I could spare a little more worry for him, but things were graying around the edges of my world and I decided that needed my attention as well. The air smelled like blood, so I could tell that my nose was bleeding even though I couldn't really tell it from the blood coming from my mouth. And it tasted just as bad as it smelled, too. But that wasn't my biggest worry anyway. No, I wasn't worried about a little nosebleed when my breath was coming in short, sickeningly wet gasps through a bruised and swollen throat and into a severely abused abdomen. It hurt really, really bad. So bad that I almost wished I could just stop breathing, because it was simply so hard to do. But we all know the end result of not breathing and I wasn't too keen on that one either.
Zechs was with Heero, I could see through part of my swollen eye, looking critically at his slave's damage. Probably estimating the price of it already, damn him, but at least I could trust that he'd take care of Heero. If anyone could bring him through this, that old bastard Zechs could.
It was, I thought, a nice parting thought on my behalf, a wish of goodwill toward Heero and at least nothing ill toward Zechs. I had seen a decent amount of deaths in my day and figured I was all but done in. It was terribly hard to breath, and I was really tired, so I figured I'd just... you know... stop.
But fate wasn't done with me yet, and in the next moment I felt hands on my face, hands that suddenly turned me to my side. Panicked and confused, I struggled against the hands, sucking in a breath that was slightly deeper and marginally less painful than the last as I did so.
"Duo, be still!" I heard Zechs snap, and let my body go limp. The last thing I wanted was another beating on top of the last one. Of course, it really wouldn't make a difference, would it?
"Will he live?" I heard Heero ask, his stoically masked voice tinged with a timid reluctance. As though he already knew the answer.
"I don't know," Zechs admitted, "but if he's going to have any chance at all we need to get him to the hospital wing."
"I'll call them."
"He'd be dead before they got here. Just point me in the right direction."
"I..." Heero hesitated and if I would have been able I'd have yelled at him not to tell. The location of the hospital was never to be known to masters, as it was the only way to really keep the slaves safe. The Owner himself protected the right of the slaves to have the hospital and would punish any master who forced his slave to tell. But if Heero just blurted it out... it could be the end of the only safe haven any slave could have.
"I can't tell you," he said finally and lowered his eyes to the floor. I would have cheered, if I weren't so preoccupied with dying.
"What do you mean, you can't tell me?"
"Masters are forbidden. You must understand..."
"Damn it, Heero, if you didn't care if Duo lived or died you should have never let me buy him!" Master roared, "You should have just given him a humane death! Now, I know this isn't because you don't trust me, because I've earned your trust several times over and I've never done anything to betray it. So, you tell me, do you want Shinigami to live or die? He doesn't have much time!"
"It's that way!" Heero said, closing his eyes as he pointed, as though he couldn't stand to look at himself. I would have said it served him right, but Heero didn't deserve my anger. Zechs didn't leave him much of a choice, and he really just wanted to help me. But... I couldn't even bring myself to think of all the damage he might have just done. It was immeasurable.
But all those thoughts were lost in the next moment, when Zechs scooped me off the ground and began to run full tilt down the hall, Heero following just behind. All the movement must have knocked me for a loop, though, and I think I passed out.
I was forced to wake outside of the hospital wing doors, though for the life of me I couldn't tell you exactly what woke me. I kinda thought Zechs might have yelled for help or something, but I don't remember hearing it, so I couldn't be sure. Whatever the reason, immediately upon waking I felt myself tip back as Zechs leaned backwards to give a powerful kick to the swinging doors in front of us. They slammed against the wall on the other side and startled every occupant in the room, making sure all eyes were on us.
An entrance worthy of Shinigami, even if Shinigami wasn't quite up to code at the moment.
Of course, I doubted if anyone would even recognize me as Shinigami in the state I was in. I probably looked like any other abused slave that walked through the doors, and wouldn't have garnered nearly as much attention if a strong, intimidating master hadn't been holding me in his arms.
"Can I get some god damned assistance!" Zechs yelled, and I would have smirked if I hadn't been hurting so bad. I guess he'd gotten tired of yelling, "Help!" all the time. The guy had style, if nothing else.
A pair of doctors hurried toward us, as well as a pair of startled looking guards. Guess they weren't going to get the easy shift they had been hoping for, not with Zechsy-poo around. The doctors started poking at me and I raised a hand to try to wave them away. If they couldn't see what was wrong with me I really didn't want them working on me. Meanwhile, the guards were trying to both get an explanation out of Zechs and drag him out of the middle of the doorway. Unfortunately, I was still in his arms, so Zechs was not moving, no matter what the guards insisted.
"Can we get a wheelchair or something?" Zechs snapped at one of the harried looking doctors.
"Uh... Oh! Yes!" he said, and stumbled off in his rush to find Zechs something to drop me on so he could get out of the waiting room and stop scaring all the injured slaves. Not that Zechs was trying or anything, just that having a master in the slave's sanctuary... it was terrifying.
A wheeled bed came around the corner in the next second, and it was a hell of a lot faster than I'd ever gotten one before. Still, I was bleeding all over their floor, so maybe the rush wasn't quite so strange. Zechs let me down, carefully, but it still hurt like hell when he moved me from his arms to the bed. My ribs screamed as my torso stretched from the curled position I had been in as Zechs held me to lie flat on my back.
Everything faded again and the next thing I knew I was being wheeled quickly down the halls and into an operating room. Damn. I had hoped I'd be dead before they could slice me open.
"Let's get an IV in him people, we don't have all day," one of the medics yelled as three or four others bustled around, setting up instruments and cutting me out of my clothes. One came over with an IV and a bag of fluid and I immediately recognized him as the orderly I'd become chummy with in one of my first stays.
"Mac!" I managed to whisper, harshly and filled with the wet sound of blood. He grinned down at me as he swabbed my arm and stuck me.
"I didn't think I'd see you again. I'm not sure whether to be glad or not, but I guess alive is alive, huh?"
"For now," I whispered just before the drug pulled me under.
I had to wonder if they'd be the last words I ever spoke.