30-Jun-2000
Title: Breaking Predestination 13/?
Author: TB
Archive: yes please GW Addiction
Category: AU, some yaoi
Pairing(s): various, but heavy on the 2x1/1x2
Rating: R
Warnings: angst, language
Spoilers: yes
Notes: Thanks go to Marsh, as always, for her inspiring role as my muse and
beta goddess. Thanks also go to Bonne, whose discussions with me about time
lines were really fascinating and informative, not to mention helpful.
Thanks go to Star Trek, for providing me with details about starshippy life
and space stations. This fic is set in AC 202, considering the series and EW
cannon.
Feedback: please and thank you.
Disclaimers: Unless by chance or major miracle I someday come to own the
rights to Gundam Wing, I'll never profit off this fic, so please don't look
unkindly upon my little effort at entertaining people by using borrowed
characters and universes.
"Well," Trowa said. "Aren't you just the utter limit?"
Heero looked up from the clenched fists that had occupied his attention since his emotional encounter with Duo. His eyes were narrow. "Excuse me?"
A feathery eyebrow climbed. "You want me to repeat it?"
"I heard you," Heero growled. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"What do you think it means?" The slender performer entered the room, shutting the door behind him. "Was there something in particular that you were trying to prove by being utterly bull-headed about Maxwell's confession?"
"You're kidding me, right?" Heero stood, feeling the sudden need to walk off his frustration. "The entire thing--it was a joke. A bad joke. In fact, this entire disgusting chase that he's led us on has been a joke. And you want to know the irony of it?" He stopped when he stood less that an inch from Trowa's nose. "The joke's on *me*."
"Why don't you believe in him?" the green-eyed man asked softly. "You used to, once upon a time."
He wanted to be angry. He wanted to be furious, to smash something, smash Trowa for pushing him when he was so close already to the edge--but he didn't. It didn't have anything to do with control.
He was just too tired, and the pain was too much even for him.
"I did once," he said. "And it wasn't enough." He turned away, and slumped onto his bed. This obviously wasn't the answer Trowa had been expecting. There was a long uncertain pause; and then the subtle air of confrontation eased away from him, and he slowly moved to sit beside Heero's prone length.
Very simply, he said, "Talk."
Heero stared up at the ceiling. "I'm not proud of what I did," he admitted after a while. "Not proud of much of what I've done to him, actually. But I have my limits. How many times have you and the others told that I'm *not* the perfect soldier? I'm human. I make mistakes. And this is killing me, too. You all weep over him and think 'how hard for poor Duo' and 'I understand why he did it.' I know. I think those things too. But he's hurt me too, with this, Trowa. And I don't know anymore what I believe in."
Troubled, Trowa was silent.
Finally Quatre's lover asked, "Do you still love him?" He didn't wait for an answer. "If you do, then don't fight it. It will be the only thing that can heal both of you, and together. Don't pretend to hate him anymore. Don't let him think that he's got to face your hatred."
Heero felt something painful clench deep inside. "No. God, I never hated him, I wanted to, and I'd like to now--but I can't."
"Then don't let him think it, Heero."
Heero sat up. "He's gone, isn't he? You were supposed to come in here to distract me while he got away."
Trowa nodded.
"Tell me where he is. *Please.*"
"I don't know where," was the helpless reply.
"Maxwell. Maxwell knows, he has to."
"Yes."
He scrubbed a hand over his face, feeling the faint dampness of what might have been tears and grimacing. "I can't face him. Not after what I did in there."
Trowa shrugged. "But you have to. And you will."
He stood, and grabbed a jacket from where it lay draped over a chair. "Where, and how far ahead of me are they?"
"They were headed to Angel, to the Reubena satellite." Trowa also got to his feet. "They're almost an hour ahead. If you hurry, Duo won't get too far."
He barely acknowledged that as he threw open the door. A final warning earned a tiny pause, however.
"Don't botch it. This is *your* chance at redemption."
Heero nodded, and ran.
Quatre watched the departing shuttle from behind a pane of thick, indestructible glass. Duo was free. He'd had a part in saving his friend... that wasn't such an awful feeling. No doubt he'd pay for it later, when official questions were asked and charges were leveled.
He'd face it then. Right now, he was just glad for Duo.
Maxwell slowly moved beside him. "Well," he said. "That's it, then."
"What will you do now?" Quatre asked him, facing the tall Captain.
The older man smiled a little, and absently rubbed a hand over the stubble on his cheeks. "Shaving is in order," he mused. "And a long bath. With very, very hot water."
Quatre smiled. "I meant, now that what you've come here to do is done. What will you do? Where will you go? Since you didn't disappear?"
"It doesn't really matter. For all intents and purposes... this is really the end of my life."
That should have been sad. And it was, a little, and daunting as well; but Maxwell seemed peculiarly satisfied by it. And so Quatre only nodded and smiled again.
There was a soft throat clearing noise behind them. It was Shai Winner. Uncertainly, he stood several feet away, unsure of his welcome. Maxwell touched Quatre's elbow, and bowed himself off. He paused slightly to lay a hand on Shai's shoulder as he passed, and then he was gone.
"Uncle Duo said it would be okay if we talked now," Shai said, his voice cracking slightly. "Um--since it's all pretty much over, and you won't tell, anyway."
Quatre moved to sit on a nearby bench, and patted the seat beside him. His son perched lightly, rubbing his hands over the dingy cotton on his trousers in a nervous gesture Quatre remembered keenly from his own childhood.
"I'm sorry," Shai said directly. "I wanted to hurt you. I did, I think."
"What changed your mind?" He took the time to really study the boy's face, note the tiny differences between their looks. Shai was thinner than Quatre, lacking some of the round-cheeked innocence that Quatre had privately detested; and his eyes were more grey than blue. There was a cynical tilt to his head and a hard-headed stubborn tug to the mouth that Quatre had never had, but it suited him. And Quatre suddenly felt so much love for this boy that he was moved to gently take Shai's hands, and lean forward to kiss his forehead.
"That changed it," Shai whispered, choking. "I can feel how hurt I was making you. And I can feel you forgiving me for it, and loving me... I never knew before. That changed it. I know now."
He could feel? Ah--of course. Quatre realised what Shai meant, though perhaps Shai himself didn't understand completely: obviously, his empathic abilities, his space heart, had passed on to his child.
Shai drew a deep breath. His hands were clammy and tightened convulsively on Quatre's--it didn't matter. It was enough that they were there together.
Something pricked at the edges of his consciousness. Quatre looked up, and found himself staring at Heero Yuy. His first thought was one of pure dismay--*Oh, shit.*
Heero's dark eyes flickered back and forth between the two blond men; he lifted his chin slightly, and his eyes were begging.
"Allah save me if I'm wrong," Quatre sighed. "Two corridors straight, left turn, and second door on the right."
Heero nodded, and then he was gone, taking the directions at a run.
Maxwell turned when the door opened, damp hair swinging at mid-back. His eyes widened.
Heero let the portal swoosh closed behind him, and took in the sight of the Captain's mostly-naked state--obviously the man had just come from bathing. The sight was strangely arousing--hard flesh, Duo's familiar flesh, sinew and pale skin over the long-boned frame--and because it was arousing, it was also severely uncomfortable. It paused him for a moment.
Maxwell seemed to come to himself; he reached for a clean shirt, and slipped into it without quite meeting Heero's eyes. "I'm not going to excuse what I've done," he said. "I'll concede that it was selfish, breaking him out--"
"Stop," Heero interrupted. "I need to say some things. I need to say them, and I need you to listen, Duo. Please."
Maxwell stilled. Conflicting emotions chased themselves over his features. He nodded. "Go ahead, then. You want to sit?"
"No." Heero wanted a little distance between himself and the Captain. Maxwell sat, slowly, leaning back against a plain and utilitarian sofa, eyes now locked on Heero's face in something like unhappy anticipation.
Heero swallowed. "I'm sorry," he said.
Cobalt melted into violet and widened. "Are you now?" Did Maxwell sound a little breathless?
"Yes. And-- and, I am asking you, help me fix this." It was like moving a mountain, but Heero took a few steps toward the older man. "Please. Duo, I messed up. Phenomenally... "
"You could say that again!" Maxwell flared suddenly. "Whatever, Heero. I don't believe this. I don't believe you any more than you believed me! And why should I? I know you, remember? Who the hell do you think you're talking to?"
"I'm talking to you," Heero managed huskily, trying to force the sound past the lump in his throat. "To Duo. My Duo."
"I'm not yours anymore," was the harsh reply. "And he's free too, the other me. He'll be all the better for forgetting you ever existed."
"I don't believe that!" Another step. "Listen to me. Every minute here is another minute between me and the chance to make him, you, happy. Make *me* happy. Make it right. Those were your words, remember? I want to make it right!" One last step, and there were only inches between him and Maxwell. "Listen to me. I don't care who you are or what you've done. You're Duo. And I love you."
Maxwell's eyelashes fluttered, his hands clenched into fists. "Don't. Please."
"If you ever loved *me* the way you say you do, give me this chance, Duo. You have to. You have to." It hurt so much inside. He reached out with both hands, and touched Maxwell for the first time, his fingers wandered over the planes of a face that the pads of his palms knew by rote, his skin brushed over the rough and age-worn skin beneath him, his lips were everywhere his hands had been, stopping finally at the mouth in a kiss that was mindlessly bruising in its passion. *I love you,* he repeated, over and over, desperately reaching for the soul that was made for his.
Maxwell didn't make a sound as Heero slowly pulled away. His eyes were closed, and his lips were flushed from the pressure of their kiss, and his face was curiously at rest, without grief or anxiety or even anger marring the suddenly smooth surface.
He opened his eyes, and looked at Heero. "L2. You know where to find him. Make it work this time, for both of us."
End Part 13
(:./erin/break13)
