23-May-2002
Title: Everything Beautiful
Author: Sparcck
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Howard and Duo character study (Can this be its own genre? I think it can.)
Disclaimer: GW is still the property of people and companies of whom I continue to be jealous.
Notes: I love Howard and I don't think he gets enough attention. This idea came from a song called "Everything Beautiful is Far Away" by Grandaddy. One of the best fics out there that delve into Howard and Duo's relationship is 'A Duo and Howard Out-take' by Erin Cayce. Read, read!
Feedback: Seeing as this is more a few connected scenes of an attempted character study than an actual story, feedback is begged for. I would love to see what you guys think would make this stronger and what other aspects of Duo and Howard's relationship you'd like to see. All comments, criticisms, praise, death threats and marriage proposals should be sent to sparcck
He just finished eating dinner
And stepped outside the cave to smoke
A cigarette he made from rolled up photo paper
They were pictures of things back on earth
He looked out on a greyish white expanse
On uninhabited terrain he now called home-"Everything Beautiful is Far Away," Grandaddy
The feel of metal digging painfully into your thighs is something only mechanics and engineers could appreciate; all kinds of them, even burnt out glorified mechanics like me.
I snort to myself, tipping the bottle up to my lips and taking a long drink. I've been off dope for almost two years, but the only way I know I'll stay off is by getting a little drunk every now and then. The guys accept it. I'm not one of the best damn MS mechanics for nothing, and they don't begrudge me my little rituals.
Looking at the stars on a clear night is the only time I can take off my glasses and see more clearly than I ever could, even before the accident at the Federation plant. It's times like this when a mechanic is much more than a mechanic, and knowing the universe is so much bigger than I can even comprehend makes me content.
I blink, squint, blink again; one star is suddenly brighter. Falling towards me.
My meteor dreams rush into my mind, the ones that had finally convinced me to go straight: fire and heat and so much light it burns my eyes even behind my sunglasses.
The star is coming in fast, and I squint against the tearing in my eyes. Goddamn generator malfunction. Goddamn good for nothing eyes.
I think of G and his annoying sense of humor -- only he called it a sense of the ironic. "Get off the drugs," he said, "and the name meteor will mean something else entirely. Especially if my intuition is correct."
He meant his stupid punk kid pilot, who he suspected would either try to steal the mech or destroy it. I was half hoping he would just blow the damn thing up and take G and the sweepers with it, and with any luck, the whole mess would fall on me and that would be the end of it.
By the time the star hits the landing strip, it's a blur of light and black metal, and I shield my eyes with the back of my hand.
The cockpit door opens and I swear I my heart stutters in my chest, stopping for a second before starting again double-time.
I stand slowly.
It's her. It has to be her.
"Emily..."
Standing on that star, shrouded and glossed over by lights and haze, she's everything the heroin was supposed to show me, a vision that my best acid trip had never even come close to.
She's young, like I remembered her, long golden-brown hair tied in a loose braid, and a skinny little body that she always cursed but, god, I thought was perfect.
So what if from where I stand, even half-blinded by the light, I can see that there are two blurs of vibrant blue where her cinnamon colored eyes should be.
So what that the ethereal mist stings my throat and eyes and smells like atmosphere and hot metal.
And so goddamn what if she can't possibly be standing in front of me because I had seen her dead with my own eyes.
I curse, fumbling for my sunglasses, which are jammed in my breast pocket.
"Hey, are you alright, man?"
I curse again when the glasses catch on the top button of my shirt and I yank hard, popping off the little plastic disk and sending it through the air. As I shove my glasses on my face and the world is once again reduced to a tolerable darkness, I meanly hope the button catches the kid in the eye.
A soft tenor laugh reaches my ears and I blink rapidly, watching the figure in black approach and become more in focus.
He's young, real young, probably not more than twelve. His hair is not the same color as Emily's was, just incredibly close; it hangs in a braid down past his waist. His waist, which looks too skinny to be healthy. Colony brat, from L2, G had told me. God, he must have grown up half-starved.
He'll be a good-looking kid, though, when he gets a little older, if he even makes it that far.
I notice two things almost right on top of each other: one, he's wearing a black priest's outfit, and two, he's holding the stupid button between his thumb and forefinger.
I instantly like him and hate him at the same time. I sigh. Of course G would pick this one. Probably thought it would be good for me.
He casually flips the button into the air, and when it land's on his palm he holds it out to me like a peace offering.
"I think this is yours." He laughs again, but it's sharper than I first realized. Not mean, but definitely not inviting. When you work around orphans and widowers, you get to know the difference. None of them are mean, but they don't trust easily.
War orphan, definitely.
"You're G's kid, right?"
He smiles wide, showing a row of surprisingly straight, white teeth, then turns his hand upside down, letting the button fall to the deck. He shoves his hands in his pockets. "Yeah, I'm the pilot, if that's what you're asking."
I snort a laugh. "The pilot. What are you, twelve?"
He smile doesn't change, and my mixed feelings grow tenfold. "What are you, sixty?"
I clamp down the urge to run my fingers through what's left of my hair.
(Howard, hon, it'll fall out if you don't quit working so hard.)
He grins and whistles and takes the bottle out of my hand that I had forgotten I was even holding. He tips it back and takes a long swig.
I change my mind about G's reasons for this kid and for sending him to me. He wants me back on the drugs. Gotta be.
I jerk my head back towards the hangar. "Come on, then. You're the pilot so come meet the ground crew."
"I thought you'd never ask." He tilts back the bottle, finishing it, then shoves it back into my hand before taking off towards the hangar at a pace he must know I can't keep up with.
"You go on ahead," I mutter to myself, although I hear a chuckle float back to me. I take off my glasses and the haze of the Gundam's lights softens his edges. "Ah, Em. I always said you'd be the death of me. Looks like I might have been wrong."
"There's a blip here, Howard, you'd better come take a look."
I flip the weapons report closed and lever myself up carefully. Drinking last night had gone a little further than planned in light of Duo's first mission tonight and now I'm paying the price.
"Barnes, is that you? I almost didn't recognize you without that toilet stuck to your face."
Of course Duo is still as sharp and sober as ever.
"Fuck you, Maxwell."
"No, thanks."
I rub my eyes behind my glasses. "Knock it off, yeah? My brain's pounding."
"All I'm saying--"
"Maxwell, I swear, one more word--"
Duo wraps his arms around Barnes' shoulder and rubs his face into the burly man's neck. "Aw, I'm just teasing, you know that, big bro?"
Barnes grumbles out some response, but I can see the half grin on his face. Duo has that effect on everyone. Sometimes I think he must be Emily come back. He's just about the right age--
I clench my fist inside a pocket, digging it into my thigh muscle. Stupid to be thinking that way. I'm no scientist, but I'm no monk, either. And those things don't happen.
Barnes points out the blip on his radar screen and I lean over Duo to get a better look. "What do you think it is, Howard?"
"Too big to be a search vessel." Duo's voice is suddenly low and serious. This is the part he doesn't like, the planning and strategy. He wants to be in the middle of the fight, he likes to deal with problems as they affect him, not before.
"Could be an MS," Barnes says, thick fingers tapping rapidly across the panel to get a more detailed readout.
"Too big to be a Cancer, too." Duo looks at me. "Howard?"
"No other suits have underwater capabilities," I say slowly.
"Except mine."
We're silent, staring at each other. Suddenly, I'm afraid for Duo.
"Stop," he says softly. "We partied last night because I'm gonna kick ass, right? So let me go kick some ass and pick up some spare parts at the same time."
(You worry too much, Howard.)
"You worry too much, Howard."
I jerk my head up and see that Duo's already halfway to the door, heading for his quarters.
(I have to worry for both of us.)
"Howard, you okay?"
(Spoilsport.)
Duo takes my hand.
(Reckless girl.)
"Come help me pack, okay?"
(You can pack my things. It'll make you feel better.)
"It'll make you feel better."
(Hm. Reckless and lazy.)
I nod and jam my glasses harder against my brow. This is nothing like it was then and I have to keep reminding myself that Duo is a pilot first. It's his job and getting him prepared and out is mine.
I didn't think Duo would join me so soon before having to fly out, but he plops himself on the tarmac next to me, his skinny little legs dangling off the edge next to mine.
"Done." He puts his bottle of beer against the edge of the platform and smacks it down with his other hand. The cap pops up and he catches it neatly in the same hand. "Stupid L1 jerkoff. Stupid Barnes' stupid blip."
"How many suits did you end up taking apart?"
"No, only one. I'll send you the money."
I slant a glance at him. "No you won't."
"You calling me a liar?" he asks mildly, taking a long drink.
I shake my head and focus my gaze at the beer in my hand. For some reason, I don't really feel like it tonight. There's a pang of something deep in my gut, something that I normally would have wanted to drink away, but just now it doesn't seem right.
Duo leans back, flicking his wrist and sending the bottle cap spinning out onto the ocean. It skips once and then sinks. He examines the beat up pack of cigarettes next to him and then brings it to his lips, shaking one out and clenching it between his teeth.
He nods at me. "Light?"
I use the lighter he gave me to hold for him. Not quite sure why he doesn't hang onto it himself, but I feel like I understand the idea behind it.
He inhales deeply, lets out a thin stream of blueish smoke, then flops backwards, one arm behind his head. "Howard."
"Kid."
He pulls a face, sticking his tongue out at me briefly. But his eyes are serious. "I don't think I'll be coming back for awhile."
I look again at the label of the beer. It's been sitting in the cooler for so long that the name has rubbed off, the paper almost translucent against the bottle. "I know."
We're silent a moment and I look at him out of the corner of my eye. I see again Emily's honey colored hair and pointed face.
Maybe this is why he came here. I don't know that I believe in God or in fate or in any of that mumbo jumbo, but the resemblance is uncanny.
And if I squinted my eyes just right, the world blurs and I'm saying goodbye to her all over again.
"Howard?"
"Yeah." I reach down to touch that hair and trace the curve of a cheekbone that I've missed so much.
A thin, calloused hand catches mine.
I blink and see Duo watching me intently, his weird blue eyes sharp and serious. The cigarette is in his other hand, pinched between his thumb and middle finger.
Tears prick my eyes and suddenly even the dim light is magnified ten times. I put the beer between my knees and pull my sunglasses out.
"Don't."
"I can't see," I say hoarsely, feeling as old as I know I look.
"No, you can. I know I look like her. I was always sorry for that." He laces our fingers together and brings them to his chest.
"Don't be sorry. She was the best thing that ever happened to me." I look again at the beer in my hand.
"Did G know?" He's rubbing slim fingers over the back of my hand and all the hairs on my arms stand up straight. I can faintly smell tobacco from the stub he's crushed out on the tarmac.
I lift a shoulder half-heartedly. "Maybe."
"Did it bother you ever? Me being here?" For the first time, Duo seems unsure of himself, and he's looking past me, at some middle distance.
I hesitate. "Never."
He brings his gaze back to mine and tugs lightly on my hand.
I lay next to him and there's silence for a time, our shoulders touching, our hands intertwined. His thin chest rises and falls slowly.
"Howard."
I grunt.
"That Japanese kid, the other pilot."
I turn my head to look at him and he has a faraway look in his eyes, something I've only seen on his face when he talked about flying just for the hell of it.
"He's something, huh?" My throat is tight.
"Yeah." He shakes his head and laughs lightly. "Not sure what kinda something."
It would be so easy to tell him to stay away from him, to concentrate on the mission, to tell him some sad story about two kids who fell in love twenty years ago and go so turned around they thought they could beat the odds set aside for soldiers. Instead, I squeeze his hand.
"Don't make me get all soft on you, kid. You do what you have to do."
"I'm not asking for your blessing." But his fingers tighten around mine.
"I know."
"Howard."
I cough out the lump in my throat. "You never stop, do you."
(Don't lie to me, Howard.)
"Why did you lie before? About me being here."
"Because..."
(You don't have to say it back.)
Duo looks foreign in the dark, Emily's ghost melting off his face and suddenly the tightness in my chest relaxes. "I love you, kid."
His eyes shine and he tweaks my upper arm. "Well, duh." He rolls neatly to his knees and leans over me. "You, too." He traces a finger over one of my eyebrows and I just look at him.
My second chance.
He gets up and dusts his rear off before turning to jog back to the hangar.
I sit up and call, "Duo!"
He turns.
"See you later, yeah?"
"Sure thing, old man."
And then he's gone and I'm left to stare up at the stars. I remember when I thought that everything beautiful and good was too far away for me to ever touch it. And then I met Emily. And then I met Duo.
I pick up Duo's pack of hand-rolled cigarettes and tuck them into my breast pocket.
A whole new life. Maybe now's as good a time as any to take up smoking.
The End
I would love to have some feedback on this -- it's sort of a work in progress, something I'd like to continue to work on. So let me know what you thought!
(:./sparcck/beautiful)
