Standard disclaimers apply: Direct translation? I own nothing, except my insanity. I wanna keep that. ^_~
Warnings: Everything imaginable... There can't pick at me now can ya? *Smirks* Flames will be used to heat up my poor freezing bedroom.
Suing is absolutely pointless unless you really *really* want my annoying bird *grins*
Thoughts are indicated by / . . . / (Ahh the joys of messing with minds...)
Quick explanations: In part one something has happened to Duo, pay close attention to physical descriptions. Still confusing? Keep reading! ^_^;;
Duo sighed, leaning back against the bed, blowing strands of bangs away from his face and closing his eyes in defiance of the glare emanating from his laptop. He was beyond tired. After spending half of the day playing 'cover the tracks' and then another four hours trying to gather info on this 'Nick Maritino' guy, Duo was about ready to attempt blowing something up. Not that he actually thought he would have any chance of pulling it off--no, but it certainly sounded like a good idea.
Duo started bouncing his head off of the mattress in hopes that it would somehow relieve the pain that was picking at the backs of his eyes. /Tomorrow . . . tomorrow . . . tomorrow . . ./, he thought, each word punctuated with a bounce. It would be *Monday*. /What a way to start out the week. Tomorrow all hell will get to break loose./ Duo groaned while shutting his laptop, kicking at the half eaten pizza box he'd had lying on the floor next to him, and crawling--quite literally--into his bed.
Oh, god, he was tired. Ch', yes, tomorrow Lindsey's body would be found. /Pity the poor bastard that gets the pleasure to walk in on *that*,/ Duo thought quietly to himself.
Oh, wonder. *Tomorrow*, Duo would receive the joy of going into town to buy a few toys, and then he would be off to the local library to look for more holes in 'Nick's' suicide. Oh, yes, the proverbial 'tomorrow' was looking pleasantly bleak. Duo had half a mind to try to wake up dead
Pain . . . At first it had seemed detached; far away. Each gulp of air forced into his lungs brought about more, growing with such intensity it felt like one solid ball of pure agony
/Fire . . ./
His lungs continued to heave and burn as he fought desperately just to breathe. His entire body ached and he didn't even know why. He tried mercilessly to drag himself further into consciousness, it just wouldn't happen. He continued to choke on air with each breath relentlessly scorching, but it was so hard. He just wanted to let go . . .
It felt like he was being torn up inside. The hurt . . . Oh, gawd he fucking *hurt. *
Slowly--he wasn't certain how long it took--each breath started to become easier and less painful until finally he could breath on his own. Someone was swearing . . . but they sounded so far away. Maybe if he just concentrated on the voices . . .
"Oh, God, Heero! He needs a fucking hospital!" Quatre was scared; the last time he'd seen this was--Iie! He didn't have the time to worry about connections. "Heero!"
Heero turned slightly, still concentrating on driving. "What the hell is a hospital gonna do?! They know even less about this than *we* do!" Heero pointed out, his usual expressionless mask shattering down around his ankles.
Heero bit down on the tears that threatened to break his calm. He had to get them the *fuck* out of there. He turned back around in his seat, trying to see past the rain. He didn't know how or even why, but they had been fucking compromised. No one had noticed a damn thing until the house started burning down around them! Heero couldn't explain it--he just fucking couldn't. No one could because they had all been unconscious. If it hadn't been for Wufei's screams . . .
"There." Trowa didn't know what to do, but he had to do something to ease the tension. He was scared, too. There had been so much blood. Trowa didn't think that it was the fact of *what* they had seen, more that it had been Wufei lying helpless in that puddle of blood. /And god only knows what else, / he thought grimly.
Heero was pulled out of his thinking by Trowa's pointing to a small gas station up ahead. Trowa didn't have to say it, but Heero knew. They were all tired. What had happened couldn't be explained, but if they weren't careful--Wufei. Maybe even Trowa--
How Trowa could have just lain there, not even noticing the bullet in his shoulder . . . He had fucking been shot and yet remained unconscious. That right there scared the living hell out of him; *all* of them.
*They* had been sent in to fight this. How the hell could they fight something when they couldn't even *begin* to conceive what the they were fighting?!
Heero took in a few deep breaths as he turned onto the exit. It was 01:28 and they needed someplace to hide. They had already almost lost Wufei twice, and Trowa....
It was only nine thirty, and Duo had woken up at nine. However, he already wanted to go back to bed. The idea of just crawling back in and hiding under the covers for the next million years or so just sounded so good right now.
Duo tried to smile, but it ended up as more of a grimace. He'd already had the pleasure of leaving a tip to the police about Lindsey this morning, and now . . . well, now he was just trying to eat breakfast with out killing something. Wounding would be okay, but killing? No he really couldn't justify leaving a trail of blood behind him. Someone might bother to get all moralistic on him. He didn't know *who* of course, but he was sure that if someone were with him right now they would probably be shocked at his new violent tendencies. Especially since they had only come about in the last two days . . ..
Duo was forced out of his reminiscing by a very tired, very annoyed looking waitress. *Sally* was currently tapping her feet, while playing with her little pen and glaring at Duo. Duo took the time to question whether or not that was her *real* name and then decided that *no* he definitely shouldn't address her by it. She looked pissed.
Hell, he didn't want to be there either, but at least she was being *paid* to be there. All he wanted was a good, strong cup of coffee and maybe a little breakfast. Now come to think of it maybe he would just skip the breakfast all together; it might annoy the waitress. He smiled at that. The waitress? Well, if her glare had been much harder, Duo was sure something would be burning right about now. He couldn't help it. If he had to go through hell today, as far as Duo was concerned, so did everyone else.
He ordered his coffee, and then went back to feeling sorry for himself and planning his day. After breakfast he would get to go into town and look for 'toys.' *That* part would be fun.
Then to the library! Sadly, he had never really liked that whole "lets sit in front of the computer and do nothing thing." For some odd reason it really annoyed him, and he found himself usually avoiding it at all costs. Hopefully something more would turn up on this 'Nick Martinez' guy. According to the articles he'd found last night, 'Nick' had committed suicide. Which was just great.
Duo didn't know why--but he just was *not* buying it. The whole thing was almost too clean. From everything Duo had already gathered, Nick hadn't exactly had the best of friends. Nick had owned a few clubs here and there--Duo saw more. How the hell this guy could have been so rich and then decided to off him self was just beyond Duo. No, it was one hell of a set up. Granted a well-done set up but a set up none the less.
Duo was brought out of his thinking once again by the arrival of his coffee. Oh, hell, yes! Today was just going to be-- Duo couldn't think of any smart-ass remarks at that time; he was too busy downing his coffee.
Wufei slooowly opened one eye . . . then the other. He couldn't see anything. It was all pleasantly fuzzy. He didn't know why, but . . . Something was definitely wrong! At first he hadn't really noticed it, but now that he was becoming more coherent he could feel that there was something wrong with his body. The whole thing hurt and he didn't have the faintest idea as to why.
That was bad . . .. He wasn't quite sure as to *how* that was bad, but it was baaad. He didn't know what the hell kind of drugs had been used on him, but he made a mental note to ask. Wufei didn't know *who* he could ask. Come to think of it-- /What the hell?!/
Whatever drugs they had used could come in useful under torture situations. Yeah, that was it! Torture situations!
He really didn't know what the hell he was talking about. . . .
Wufei would have grinned, but he was busy passing out again.
Rain. Crystaline drips falling into the glass of the window illuminated only by the faint glow coming from the graying clouds outside. /Beautiful /
Trowa wasn't quite sure what to do. He turned his gaze away from the tiny droplets sliding down the pane of the window to look at Wufei. Wufei had been drifting in and out of consciousness for the last two hours. Laying there on the bed not three feet away just looking so helpless . . .
They had cleaned him up the minute Heero had gotten them into the motel room. If things didn't improve much in the next hour, Trowa wasn't going to sit around and wait any longer. Wufei needed a hospital.
Wufei was improving, but not enough; not enough by a long shot. It had been a while since the boys had had to go underground. These last several years had been a joy ride compared to the war.
Trowa sighed looking to the window for inspiration. It was still early in the day. An old OZ base lay only about a hundred miles southeast of them. Heero had left for it a few hours ago. Supposedly the base had been shut down at the end of the war.
Trowa almost smiled. /Yeah. Riiight./ They new better than to expect that.
Trowa started a little as Quatre entered the room-soaking wet, clad only in a towel, and a hairbrush. Words just couldn't explain what he felt toward the golden haired boy. Trowa smiled at the innocent look in Quatre's eyes as the boy went about dressing, pulling things out of his duffel and then sorting them on the other bed. Even after everything they had been through, Quatre still managed to look innocent somehow.
"How's . . .?" Quatre's voice seemed small even within the quiet hush that had settled over the room. To anyone else Quatre would have seemed fine, but Trowa could see the tension lining his lover's back.
"I think he's improving," Trowa remarked, attempting to bring Quatre out of this forced silence, leaving the window.
Quatre turned to eye him warily, watching as Trowa crossed the room to sit on the bed beside a pair of rolled up socks. "Really?" Quatre asked sounding more than a bit skeptical. It was nice to have Trowa here like this. Casually joking, attempting to produce a smile from him.
"I think so." Trowa remarked attempting to sound hopeful.
Quatre sighed, sitting down on the bed beside his lover. "Trowa?"
"Hmm?"
"What the hell are we gonna do?"
"Here," Trowa said climbing behind Quatre while motioning for the brush.
"You're getting the bed all dirty," Quatre remarked absently handing the brush over.
"I know."
They sat in silence like that for a long time; each anticipating word from Heero. They were on their own now, looking for a needle in a haystack--and the Earth was a *very* big place.
End Part 5A
Krystal
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