18-Mar-2000
Whew! If you've made it this far, then you get to read the first 2 parts of "Shinigami". ^_^
Feedback appreciated at amiboshi_flut-@hotmail.com per usual.
I don't own GW and I wouldn't really want to see the series follow this plot, so please GW creators don't get mad at me over this one!
Thanks for reading. ~TB
*blah*=italics, thoughts, stuff like that. Also flash-back.
/blah/ is comminique.
Duo hit the control board as Deathscythe lurched to the side. Dazed, he grappled with the safety harness, realising that it might be time to take some safety measures. Blood dripped into his left eye as he struggle to secure it.
Trowa buzzed into view on the screen. /"Duo," he said curtly. "Can you cover yourself? Wu Fei's in trouble."/
"Gotcha," Duo nodded. "Go take care of it. I'm fine here."
Heero followed Trowa's image immediately. /"Maxwell,"/ he snarled. /"Quit fooling around. You're letting some slip by!"/
Duo finally heard the click as the harness latched. "I'm on it. Get off my back, Yuy." His nimble fingers scrambled across the controls. "I heard Wu Fei was in trouble. Cover Quatre, he's all alone out there."
/"So're you, Maxwell,"/ Heero growled. There was a long pause. /"Can you handle it?"/
Duo laughed, hearing the hysterical edge to the already brittle sound but unable to stop it. "I'm Death, Yuy. I won't let any more get past."
Heero briefly inclined his head; the movement was mechanical, suggesting it had more to do with reading some bit of information of Wing's screen than acknowledging Duo's words. /"Be sure of that. Yuy out."/
Deathscythe's weapon blazed as it lifted in the heavy metal arms. Duo felt his face lock into a maniacal grin as he faced off with at least thirty MS's. *If it comes down to you or them, it had better be as many of them as you can get,* he remembered Dr. G saying. Well, he had plenty. Time to make the Doc proud.
Heero shielded his eyes with one hand as an MS before him exploded with a blinding flash. That was the last, for the moment; it gave him a few seconds to breathe and check on the others. Wu Fei was back on his feet, fighting side by side with Trowa Barton, and Quatre was in less-than-perfect shape after the numerous attacks he'd suffered. And Maxwell--
Duo Maxwell was in serious trouble.
Heero saw the Deathscythe stagger like a drunken teenager, the scythe sweeping out and down furiously again and again, but never fast enough to block all the hits. Heero tried to open a line of communication to him, but a loud beep told him it wasn't possible. Duo must have re-routed all auxiliary systems into weapons. Heero turned Wing to go to his aid, but found himself facing off with a fresh line of enemies.
Wu Fei's voice sizzled in, shot with static. /"I'll... Duo and finish... stay with Quatre."/ Trowa attempted to cover the Chinese pilot long enough to get to Maxwell's side, but they were blocked and drawn into battle again a few hundred meters from their previous positions.
The fighting continued, fast and aggressive. But they were overwhelmed. There were too few Gundams and too many MS. It was time to make a strategic retreat.
Heero radioed the message to the three pilots near him, but once again could not reach Maxwell. They had to get out while they could. Maybe they should leave him--
Sandrock shuddered deeply and began to tilt earthward. Only a quick boost from Heavyarms saved it. Yes. Definitely time to leave.
"Let's go," Heero ordered.
/"What about Duo?"/ Quatre demanded.
"He'll see what we're doing and follow," Heero extemporized. "Don't waste anymore time. Get out, and that's an order!" His own Gundam sent a flurry of shots into the line of the enemy, and retreated fast during the confusion. He sensed more than saw the others following.
Except Duo.
Deathscythe was trapped, surrounded and unable to escape. The green-glowing scythe began to sputter as power ran low. The enemy was closing in.
Heero tried one last time to open communications. He had--he had audio, no visual. He shouted, "Maxwell!"
Duo's voice sounded raw... it could just have been the patch-in. /"Heero, there's something I never told you."/
"Don't waste what time you have left--"
/"I'm in l--"/ The static seemed to last forever. At last the line fizzled into coherency. /"Give my apologies to the Doc,"/ the cracked voice finished.
"Duo--"
/"Get as far away as you... hold them until you're out of range. Got a plan. If there's... sure it's given some decent dirt. Maxwell out."/
Damnit! Heero punched the control board as Duo cut the line.
Wu Fei appeared on the screen, gray-faced and tense. /"What now, Yuy?"/
"We get out."
/"Duo--"/
"Is holding them. Move it, Shenlong." Heero punched out. He kicked Wing into gear and got it moving. Duo had some sort of plan...
He glanced out the cockpit just in time to see Deathscythe self-destruct.
Zechs leaned in toward the viewing screen--an old habit, one which really had no effect on the visual transfer but one he had never been able to shake. "Sir," he said, "I see you're feeling better?"
Treize, hundreds of miles away but only inches from Zechs' Romanesque nose, waved a hand. /"My doctors assure me so. As one grows older, these little bouts with 'flu and so forth get harder and harder to shake."/
Zechs laughed. "You speak as though you're ancient, my friend. If you find twenty-five to be old age, I shudder to think of you at forty!" But he shed his mirth quickly, and replaced it with cold satisfaction. "I have a gift for you that will, I think, lift your spirits immensely, sir."
The ginger-haired aristocrat raised an eyebrow. /"Do you?"/ He pretended indifference, but light flashing in his eyes betrayed his curiosity. /"And what would that be?"/
Zechs grinned. "A gundam pilot, sir. Whole, healthy--and talkative."
In an instant Treize was vitalized, sitting straighter, looking sharper at the viewscreen. /"Which one?"/
"The one from L2."
They'd captured the American before--he was, in fact, the only one who had been captured more than once, which meant, in Zech's mind, one of two things. Either the braided boy had the greatest will to live out of all the pilots, or he was incompetent. He rather thought it was the first, having seen the depths of those violet eyes--and the failure of his self-destruct.
Treize nodded, eyes clouding briefly as he considered this new development. /"You'll bring him to me, of course."/
"We're already heading toward you. ETA seven hours."
/"So long?"/
"We need to stop for repairs. Minor damage."
The young general nodded again. /"Very good, old friend. Consider your gift well received. I'll look for you in seven hours, then. Khushrenada out."/
Zechs straightened as the viewscreen fizzed out. "Let's speed up," he told the nearest pilot. "It won't do to keep the colonel waiting."
Duo got in one last good bite on the hand covering his mouth before his guard tossed him into the cell, and was kicked in the ribs for his efforts. Unable to squirm away, he suffered three more heavy jabs before the man left, swearing.
The blonde-and-silver head of Lt. Zechs paused outside the cell door, features indistinguishable with the light behind him. Duo looked up at him, still defiant.
"Soon enough, you'll be taken to see Lt. Col. Une," the tall man told him. "If you are respectful and co-operative, you have my word that we will see to your injuries. If you are not, she will take great joy in personally pursuing whatever action is necessary to ensure that you learn to be."
They had already fought that battle of wills. This time, as before, Zechs won.
The lieutenant nodded. "Someone will bring you water and clean clothing. I suggest you use it. The Lady is a fastidious woman."
*Bite me*, Duo thought, too exhausted to speak the words.
Zechs seemed amused, as if he somehow knew what Duo was thinking. For all the colonist knew, the tall soldier did. It was enough to twist his lips into a bitter mockery of his normal grin.
He had to be dressed, and then he had to be dragged, by the pansy tight-ass recruits local to the base. His injuries--inflicted by shrapnel and a few major explosions--wouldn't permit him any unaided movement, and wrist-irons accounted for the rest of his mobility. The whole time he spent thinking up lies he would spin out for OZ--webs, whirpools of lies, drawing the bastards in with false leads, snapping this hope, crushing that one, all the while leading the OZ forces farther and farther from the truth. He was practically itching for it.
And so he was completely unprepared for the what happened to him in the dark sound-proofed cell with the Lady Une and her men.
One month later
Heero tensed suddenly. "It's starting," he said. The others quieted, and crowded around the laptop as the screen buzzed into coherency.
Treize Khushrenada, noble and righteous, sat before a black, glossy desk, warm lighting illuminating the spartan room behind him. A small, chill smile was set on the man's face.
"Good evening," he said. He steepled his fingers, and leaned back in his chair. "Thank you for listening to this important telecast. As many of you have heard, a battle took place one month ago in which one hundred nineteen loyal OZ soldiers died. As if this tragedy were not enough, a half hundred civilians were killed or injured in this raid performed by the infamous Gundam terrorists. Those of you whose families were touched by this awful event will be vindicated by the announcement I have to make tonight. Those of you who feel the same horror as I do at this slaughter of innocents will, I think, be pleased to view this program." Treize paused. "OZ soldiers have captured one of the terrorists who perpetuated this crime and countless others."
Quatre gasped. "Oh no!" He clutched Heero's arm. "But he self-destructed--we all saw it--"
Heero grimly shook him off. It was a lie. It had to be.
Treize smiled slightly again. It seemed to Heero that the OZ colonel was looking straight at him, smirking at the helpless Gundam pilot.
"The prisoner has provided us with a great deal of useful information, including the names of his fellow rebels, codes used in their operation, and mission plans. He has been tried by a jury and found guilty of treason, mass murder, and terrorist acts. He will be executed shortly."
Treize stood. "The execution, however, has been delayed until tonight. Tonight we will replay a selection from this rebel's interrogation, publicly retelling certain points of information which you, his victims, should know." Once again the screen buzzed, the connection faltering slightly as the telecasters cut to a the tape. When it faded into slightly warped colour again, sitting centered on the screen was a boy in a chair, an armed guard at his side. White letters in the corner displayed the date; nearly a full month ago, just a few hours, in fact, after Duo had been captured.
At a grunted prompting, the boy looked up.
"My name is Duo Maxwell," he said.
Heero grimly turned up the volume.
Duo's face was bruised and burned. His voice was rusty. He had to clear his throat. "I am the pilot of Deathscythe, a mobile suit used in hit-and-run confrontations against the military arm of the Alliance." His eyes were glazed, and fresh blood trickled out of his mouth.
"The names of the other Gundam pilots," an arrogant, unseen man demanded.
In the cluttered hotel room, each of the boys held their breaths. Part of their effectiveness was their anonymity.
"Duo wouldn't betray us," Wu Fei muttered uncertainly. "He wouldn't. He wouldn't compromise us."
Duo gazed unblinkingly at some point beyond the camera. "Trowa Barton," he said at last, mumbling. "Chang Wu Fei--Quatre Raberba-Winner, and--" Duo hesitated, then flinched from an unseen threat. "Heero Yuy, pilot of Wing Zero."
Heero clenched his fists. *Damnit, Duo.*
"Describe your function as a group."
"We do whatever we are assigned. Assassinations, surprise attacks, hacking, destroying bases, anything that will hurt OZ."
"Who assigns these missions?"
Duo was silent.
"Who assigns these missions?"
The injured boy drew a deep breath, and something in his eyes changed. "Khushrenada's access code is five-nine-three-mark-one--" The guard beside him exploded into movement, slamming the butt of his gun against Duo's face, knocking him half out of the chair. "--six-three-one--" This time, the resounding crack of the weapon against his skull muzzled him. The guard hauled him up in his seat, shoving him against the back of the chair and holding him upright. Duo's head lolled.
Heero was already working. It was a long shot. A month old. It almost certainly wouldn't work--
"Who assigns these missions?" the haughty voice continued, undaunted.
Duo's mouth worked, but no sound emerged.
"Louder." The guard beside him prodded him hard with the rifle.
Quatre pressed his fist over his mouth. "Oh, Duo, don't," he whispered.
" ...colonists," Duo said.
"Colonists?(1) What are their names?"
"Don't know. Code."
"Describe them."
"They built the Gundams, to fight against the Earth... they trained us. Because the original Yuy was killed."
"Do you believe that your war tactics are justified? That the murder of the peace delegates was *excusable*? That the many deaths you've caused have been *warranted*?"
Shinigami faltered, losing the thread of the questioning. "I--"
"Do you believe--"
"Yes!" He shoved off the guard's hold, fists clenced, face pale but furious beneath the crusting blood. "Yes! Everything we did is justified. We'll keep on fighting because we can--"
"Why?"
He coughed, and the momentary flare was gone. "Because--because it's all we know how to do," he whispered.
"You kill because you can."
"No, it's not like that--"
"You kill because you can."
Wavering, injured, Duo writhed helplessly. "I don't know."
"You kill because you enjoy it. Because you can. These were your own words earlier, yes?"
"I... yes."
Duo and the guard disappeared, to be replaced by Treize's image. Now the man was cold, power and authority radiating from him. His voice was chilly.
"I know that the other terrorists are listening," he said. He placed his hands flat against the table and leaned forward. "I know you heard everything. You have been exposed. It is only a matter of time before you are found. I issue this warning to you--we know who you are, how you operate, where to find you. Duo Maxwell is doomed. It is not too late for you. Turn yourselves in, and mercy will be extended to you." He straightened. "But if we are forced to hunt you down, you will die. The decision is yours."
Heero slammed a fist onto the table. "It didn't work," he growled. "They've already changed the code ages ago!"
Trowa turned away, and left the room. The transmission ended, and the screen turned black.
Wu Fei followed Trowa out, shaking with supressed rage. Quatre winced as he slammed the door.
Heero shut the laptop off.
The blonde pilot touched his shoulder. "Heero?" he asked, his voice subdued. "Please don't walk out too."
For a moment it hung there. Then Heero stood, took three steps away from Quatre, picked up a lamp set on the counter, and hurled it into a wall. It shattered, sharp ceramic shards spraying the two boys.
"Damn him," Heero hissed. "He should have killed himself rather than reveal all that information. All he's done is give people more reason to resist *us*! No one gives a damn about OZ now--Duo's handed them exactly what OZ wanted them to hear. A dissertation on pyschotic teenage boys bent on terrorizing innocent people!" He was screaming now, his much-prized control completely snapped. With a furious yell, he swept a pile of dirty plates to the floor, and slammed his fist into the wall. Even the pain of bruised knuckles did not distract him. He needed to destroy something.
"Shinigami, he calls himself?" he shouted at the flinching Quatre. "God of Death! He's brought death to all of us, now!"
"Stop it!" Quatre shrieked. "Stop it, stop it, *stop it*!" He threw a punch at Heero, only a glancing blow, but Heero reacted as if the other boy had stabbed him. He launched himself at Quatre, and they went down, rolling and punching, biting and kicking. Slivers of broken plate crunched under their writhing bodies.
It might have gone on indefinitely if Quatre's head had not hit the table leg. The blonde pilot went limp, and Heero sat up, realising dimly that something was wrong. As if cold water had been thrown into his face, the flames in his mind extinguished, and he sighed, looking around at the damage he'd wreaked with faint shame. He sighed again as he touched a particularly sore spot just under his breastbone. This was no time to fall apart.
He picked Quatre up and plumped him into a chair, grabbing a washcloth and wiping away the stains of nosebleed. The other boy seemed to regain some strength after a time, and pushed him away.
"I'm sorry," Heero told him.
"I'm not mad at you for this," Quatre snapped, his voice somewhat muffled by the cloth. "I'm mad at you for saying those things about Duo!"
Heero's frosty expression told the boy that no further apologies were coming.
"They're going to kill him," he cried, sitting up straighter. "Don't you care?"
"No," Heero retorted. "He betrayed us. I'd kill him myself for that!"
"You're hateful!" Quatre flared. He stood, too quickly, and swayed when daggers of pain knifed his head. He groaned, clutching his temples, and glared blurrily at Heero. "I'm going after him."
"Then you'll die too."
"What else can we do?"
"Disappear." Heero also stood. "We should leave here immediately. Maxwell probably told them that this was our current base. For all we know, we're already being watched."
"Oh, I'll leave, all right." Quatre staggered to the door. "I'll leave, and I'll get Duo. He would do it for any one of us! And don't you dare try to stop me, Heero Yuy!" He hurled himself into the hallway and ran to the room he shared with Trowa. Heero could hear them arguing almost immediately.
Heero turned and looked at his laptop. He remembered Duo's eyes staring at him across that awful transmission--lifeless, empty mirrors. Shinigami, Death, was already dead. As far as Heero was concerned, Duo had never existed.
But if that was true, why did some part of him wail in loss?
Treize waited in cool silence until the guards removed themselves from the office. Then he whirled in a fury on Lt. Noin.
"Tell me you didn't know what they were doing to that boy!" he snarled. "And you had better be convincing."
Noin's pale cheeks attained a slight stain of colour. "I'm sorry, Colonel, but it's hardly the sort of thing a soldier shares with his officer!" she said stiffly. "If Darren was experiencing trouble with the other recruits, he has to take the initiative to come to me about it. I can't read his mind, sir!"
Treize fumed helplessly as he glared at the flushed woman who he had dared to trust with this precious mission. Then he turned away from her and went to stand by the couch.
The former pilot of Deathscythe lay slumbering on Treize's antique divan, a coverlet tossed fretfully aside from his thin body. His face, still lightly scarred from his injuries of a month before, was paler than normal and set in an uncertain frown. His white hands clenched repeatedly in the folds of his uniform. He had not woken, even when their voices rose.
Treize said, "I consider this so-called 'trouble with the recruits' to be on your head, Lieutenant. You should have known, and stopped it! You should have more control over your men."
Stung by the unfairness of that, Noin bit back a hot retort with difficulty. "Forgive me, sir," she ground out instead. "I was not aware that I was to be the boy's babysitter."
"That's enough," Treize snapped. He laid his hand on Duo Maxwell's head, brushing chestnut bangs away from the frowning forehead and noting that the boy did not stir. "There are many uses for a young man with his skills. Just as killing him would be a terrible waste, allowing him to be needlessly hurt now, when he is vulnerable, would be a gross misuse of his talents. Not when we have helped him see the error of his ways and molded him into a functioning member of society."
Noin was silent for a long time. "Yes, Colonel," she said at last. She retreated behind Zechs, who so far had been quiet, absorbed in his own thoughts. The blonde man, characteristically masked, laid a hand on her arm. "The telecast?" he inquired. "It went well?"
Treize nodded, willing to change the subject. "Yes. It served quite well, I think, as a warning to our enemies. It also appeased a justifiably angry population mass as well, I expect." He sighed, and softly stroked Duo Maxwell's tangled hair. "Did you find the man who--" His mouth twisted, and he found he could not finish. Fortunately, Zechs understood.
"I did, sir. He's being held in his quarters. You wish to speak to him personally?"
With profound distaste, Treize declined. "You do it, Lieutenant. I wouldn't be able to touch him--as much as I would gladly wring the life out of him."
"Sir," Zechs started. He paused, then apparently came to a decision. "In my inquiries I discovered something--pertaining. I want to make it clear that I don't know *all* the facts, and with the lady not present to defend herself--" He shrugged. "Sir, it was Lady Une who dealt with the pilot when we first brought him in. As you know, she directed his interrogation. As you do *not* know, she ordered her men to... "
Treize's eye narrowed, and his hand stilled on Duo's forehead. "What?" he said, very quietly.
Zechs spread his hands.
The Colonel suddenly smiled. "I see," he murmured. "I see. Perhaps the dear Lady is outliving her usefulness to me and to this organisation. I once told her that she had much to learn about OZ... it seems she has not been a good study." Then he sighed, weary and remorseful as he gazed down at the boy. "Do as you see fit, Zechs, Noin, to the man, and leave Une to me. Make the punishment something suitable to the crime. We do not permit rape in this organisation."
Duo Maxwell sighed, and slept.
In the end, Trowa had convinced Quatre to come with them. It was suicide to try and rescue Duo, he had argued. It was worse than suicide. It would get the rest of them killed, too, because Trowa would follow Quatre, and Wu Fei would not let them go alone. He did not bother to mention what Heero would have done; they all knew.
So instead, they fled. They gathered their meagre possessions and abandoned their base. Quatre did not speak to any of them.
They had chosen a dilapidated shack. Quatre seperated himself from them immediately, refusing even to glare at them as he made a little nest out of blankets and plunked himself in it. Trowa, worried, gazed after him, and several times seemed on the verge of speaking; but in the end, he only agreed to take cooking duty and busied himself with that.
Wu Fei was talking quietly with Heero. "Can't that thing charge any faster?"
"No," Heero replied coldly.
"How much longer?"
"Just a minute."
"I'm sure they'll want us to go after him. If only to get Deathscythe back."
"You're probably right."
Wu Fei lost his notoriously short patience. "Don't you worry about him at all?"
Heero set his jaw. "Maxwell deserves whatever he gets. Isn't that justice?"
"It's inhuman! He's your best friend!"
*He's my lover.* The word still played slightly false on his tongue. It had only been sex, not the love he suspected Duo might have liked it to be; one minute they'd been wrestling, the next Duo had been beneath him crying out in ecstacy as Heero pounded into him. It had only been once, months ago. Heero tried never to remember that night too closely. Perfect warriors did not get drunk and fuck their fellow pilots.
"It's up," he said, and quickly typed in his access code.
/New Mission Objective Received./
"I knew it!" Wu Fei crowed.
Heero ground his teeth as he opened the file. "Do you have to talk so much?"
"Just filling in for Duo," the small Chinese boy told him almost happily. "What does it say? Hurry up!"
Heero skimmed the short message, not sure what he hoped to find. His eyes lit on the important words, the fatal words.
/Retrieve Gundam 02--/
He hesitated before finishing the sentence.
/--and its pilot./
"Thank God," he whispered.
Even Quatre couldn't find fault with that.
Approximately one month later
Duo chose a seat far in the back, at an empty table. He was not yet comfortable with the other OZ academy students; it had only been five weeks. He placed his tray down, swung his legs over the bench, and proceeded to hunch over his food without looking up.
A canned drink hit the table. Duo looked up into light green eyes. It was one of the students, a tall, red-haired boy who had always said hello to him.
"Hey," the boy grinned. "Noticed you back here. Shy, huh?" He sat, and several others followed his lead, crowding around Duo. He watched them warily, unsure where this was leading.
"I'm Aarif." The red-head stuck out his hand. "You're Darren, right?"
Duo nodded. He took the strong, large hand in his, wincing slightly as several fingers crunched audibly under the force of the handshake. "Darren Maxfield."
"You don't talk much in the classes. This is Megumi, the blonde is Kjell, and the beautiful girl busily glueing herself to your hip is Mariah." Duo nodded to each of them, blushing when he saw that Mariah was, in fact, attempting to scootch closer to him. She smiled at him, a slight up-turning of her full lips that was just one side of naughty. Duo felt his ears turning pink.
"So, Darren," Aarif said breezily, opening his drink. "Hope ya don't mind, but we figured you could use some friends. It's always hard the first month or so, when no one knows you. People tend to be a little snobby here, but don't let it fool you. Once you're in, you're in for life, and everyone here is your blood brother."
Duo was impressed, and said so. Aarif, who seemed to be the leader, continued to talk.
"I heard that you've met Colonel Khushrenada. I mean, like, talked to him and everything. Is it true?"
"Yes," Duo nodded. He pared his apple and tried to interest himself in the fruit. Everything tasted like ashes.
"What's he like?" Aarif asked intently. Beside him, the Greek boy leaned forward eagerly.
Duo thought over his answer carefully. *What can I tell them? What can't be said?... * "He's very--thorough," he said at last.
"Thorough?" Aarif demanded incredulously. "The Colonel is *thorough*?" He threw his head back and laughed. After a moment, the others joined him. Duo blushed again.
"Don't mind them," Mariah murmured in his ear. Her dark smoldering eyes caught his. "They're not laughing at you, Darren." She ran her fingers through his hair. "You have gorgeous eyes," she added languidly.
("Come here, pretty boy," the dark-eyed man laughed coarsely. He ground Duo into the wall, roughly pawing his tangled, unbraided hair. "Let me see those big violet eyes... ")
Duo forced a smile. "Thanks," he said.
Aarif demanded his attention again. "Hey, Darren. There's a party tonight. You want to come?"
("We'll have our own party, you and me, fly boy," his tormentor whispered. "You can yell all you want to, pretty boy, it's just you and me.")
"I don't know."
"Aw, come on. You won't make friends hanging out in your room all by yourself."
"I heard you have a room all of your own," the Japanese girl interjected with envy. "How'd you manage that?"
"I told them I was gay," Duo replied. She guffawed, then clapped him on the back, grinning. Mariah suddenly backed off.
"What about the party, Darren?"
"Yeah," Aarif grinned. "Why don't you come? It'll be fun. You could use some fun, I think."
Duo hedged. "I don't know... "
"We'll all be there," Aarif coaxed. He grinned widely. "Mariah, too," he said slyly. He and the others laughed as Duo blushed again. Mariah smiled stiltedly and busied herself with a salad.
"I guess," he surrendured. "Where, and when?"
"I'll pick you up, don't worry," Aarif commanded. "I know where they've put you. I'll come around eight."
"Okay."
"Where'd you get that cross?" the blonde boy, Kjell, asked curiously. "Is it real gold?"
Duo fingered the crucifix. (The woman with glasses pried it out of his fingers, holding the necklace, stained from Duo's bloody prayer, to the light. "Looks like real gold. Maybe I should keep it, foolish child-killer? God isn't going to hear you down here. No one will.")
"It was a gift," he replied at length. "From--a mentor. Father--a father."
The bell rang, signifying the end of lunch. Chairs scraped back and chatter rose to a new peak as the students began a disorderly beeline to the doors. Duo's new friends also stood.
"I'll be there at eight," Aarif told him, and clapped him on the shoulder. Duo winced.
"Bye Darren," the others chorused. Duo moved away slowly. He was supposed to see Treize soon. And the doctors.
"Just a few more sessions, I promise," the Colonel had promised gently. "The pyschiatrists feel that you're holding back from them. I truly wish you wouldn't, Darren."
Duo sighed. Sometimes he wondered if he would ever be able to sort everything out. Metallic explosions haunted his nightmares, dark eyes forever caught in his peripheral vision. And then there was Treize Khushrenada, forever showing him that unfailing kindness and gently patting his hands whenever he couldn't speak any more.
Treize Khushrenada, leading him to the couch, tenderly laying him on it, removing his clothing as if undressing a saint, cupping his flesh in those soft-palmed, strong hands, trying to make it right in the only way he knew. Treize Khushrenada, holding him afterward while he cried.
Duo straightened his shoulders and began to walk back to the medical wing.
Heero lay on his back staring up at the ceiling. In his left hand, balled, he held one of Duo's shirts. Occasionally Heero would lift it and unwrap it, press it to his face, over his mouth and nose, inhaling Duo's missing scent, the mix of musk and hair and soap and incense. The scent that haunted a peculiar brand of his dreams.
They would find Duo. Khushrenada had let him live this long, Heero knew that Duo would live a little longer. They would find him. They would rescue him, and Heero would coldly and precisely delineate every mistake Duo had made, starting with refusing to wear a safety harness and ending with allowing himself to be beaten into submission. Duo knew at least twelve techniques to suicide without the use of arms, training just for cases like these. Duo should have used one. Maybe even two. Rule Number One, never give the enemy any help. Certainly including top-secret information regarding the construction of your Gundam and the operations of your fellow pilots.
Then he would make Duo sleep for a while, since he would undoubtedly require rest after being locked up in a lightless, airless OZ cell for weeks on end when he was already injured, and he would stand by Duo's bed and watch him sleep. He would even reach out and finger that gorgeous hair, that wealth of unnecessity that Heero couldn't take his mind off of. He would wrap a strand around his hand and feel the life in it, the life in Duo, and he would lift it to his mouth to kiss it, the way he secretly wanted to kiss Duo. He might then sit down beside Duo, trace those lips with his own callused fingers, feel them part beneath his touch, inviting the tips inside. He could even touch Duo *there*, maybe, and Duo might groan a little, that hitching, gasping groan he'd heard that one time before, squeeze his eyes shut tightly and wrinkle his forehead. And maybe he could slip under the sheets with Duo, and stroke him, caress the pale velvety skin, find that hot, tight bud and...
Lost in his fantasy, Heero's hand crept over his hips, fingers tingling between his thighs, brushing over the tight material of his shorts. His breathing quickened slightly as he imagined it was Duo who was reaching between his legs, Duo rubbing him, Duo knowing every perfect place to finger and Duo making him jerk and grit his teeth against moaning and Duo making him come--shooting into release, trembling, Duo making him writhe...
Heero pressed his face into Duo's shirt and breathed.
Shinigami.
Duo looked up when he felt a hand descend onto his shoulder. It was Aarif, holding out a beer to him and grinning broadly. "Enjoying yourself?" he said, loudly enough to be heard over the music and other partiers.
Duo nodded, and gulped the beer. He felt overwhelmed. There were so many people, packed into a junior officer's suite of rooms that whirled with endless kalidescope lights. But it wasn't unpleasant... he'd used to enjoy parties, actually, and dancing. Especially the dancing. He remembered trying to explain to Trowa Barton that his face wouldn't crack if he smiled, laughing so hard he fell over when he first tried to teach Quatre that rap music wasn't ungodly noise. Sweating and gyrating on the dance floor at discos, he'd used to love that.
Aarif watched the play of emotion in the cobalt eyes, uncharacteristically silent. He'd never seen anyone quite like this quiet, fragile boy. A porcelain soldier with limpid eyes and a genius for stragety and war, he'd learned that by keeping track of Darren's scores in class. And piloting an MS--Christ! The boy was like an angel of death. Though he was too shy to deliberately outrank the top students, Aarif had no doubts that Darren could do it.
He'd always seen himself, due to his size and commanding personality, as a protector of those who were smaller and weaker than himself. Darren definitely counted in that respect. When Aarif had caught some of the older boys "playing" with the new kid, he'd privately dealt very firmly with them and reported them lickity-split Lieutenant Noin. Darren obviously couldn't protect himself. He was like a lost little child... at least, Aarif had thought so until tonight.
When he'd arrived at Darren's quaters to pick him up, Darren had opened the door dressed not in his uniform, but in casual clothing--a simple red tee shirt, and tight-ass black slacks riding low on the hips to reveal a slit of pale skin at the belly, the crucifix glinting from beneath a fold, his hair in a tail low on his neck. Aarif had found himself admiring the view as they'd walked down the corridors, and the scenery had only improved after a few hours at the party. Darren's upper lip shone with a faint sheen of persperation, and his hair had mostly escaped the tail, tumbling about his face in glowing chestnut cowlicks. His cheeks were faintly flushed from the heat, and his tee shirt clung to a chest that was more sculpted than his uniform had led Aarif to believe. And those hips--Aarif had watched him moving, swaying ever so slightly in time with the music, sexy, sensual... and Aarif was not immune.
"Hey," he said, moving closer to avoid having to shout. "Wanna see my room? I'm just down the hall. We can catch a breather, too. It's too crowded here."
Darren nodded and smiled.
Aarif was glad he'd taken the time to clean up a little... he showed Darren around, pointed out Kjell's bunk, displayed his collection of sports honours won at previous schools. "My dad was a military type, too," he explained, "so I was always moving around. It wasn't too bad--just meant more tryouts every year."
Darren said, "I used to move around a lot, too." He frowned, eyes clouding. "I'm glad that's over."
"You like it here, Darren?"
A tentative nod. "I... I think I do. Or at least, I'll learn to. I want to like it here."
He perched on the edge of his dresser, puzzling out the beautiful young man who slowly drifted about his room. "You sound like you've put a lot of thought into it."
"People always told me I should think before I act."
It sounded to Aarif like Darren thought too much, not the other way around. "You know," he said, "what you need to do is relax. You always look so lonely... so unhappy."
Darren turned to face him, surprised. "I do?"
He nodded. "Yeah." He couldn't resist adding, "I think I know how to help you loosen up--if you trust me."
Darren wiped his palms on his thighs. "You do."
"Yeah... " Aarif moved to stand just a few inches from him, close enough to feel Darren's intense body heat and to realise that he was standing quite stiffly, muscles taut. With--anticipation? It was hard to tell, but--hell--at the worst, Darren would tell him no.
He reached out, and gently drew the younger boy to him. The first kiss disproved Aarif's theory that Darren was inexperienced; it wasn't long before he felt safe enough to tug the smaller boy down onto the bed. Darren did not resist, lying still as Aarif gently slipped his red shirt off over his head, then straddled his hips and bent to kiss him again. Aarif was half-amused to discover that although *he* had not planned to take their intimacy beyond some mild groping, Darren had other ideas. Those gorgeous hips moved under him, grinding his fabric-clad groin against Aarif's.
Unwilling to be rushed, especially with a boy he'd just met and knew next to nothing about, the heavier boy held him down tightly, content with giving him a hickey at the base of his throat. His fingers toyed with Darren's nipples, and his leg, firmly inserted between Darren's thighs, jerked rhythmically.
But he didn't resist long. Darren's hands were everywhere, and the stiff arousal pressing insistently against his crotch was sending overwhelming sensations throughout his body. With a deep groan, Aarif sat up to remove his slacks, then stripped Darren, and tried to press his fingers into the smaller boy's cleft.
Duo's eyes flew open as he woke up from the haze of lust and protested the intrusion loudly. He panicked when he couldn't get Aarif's attention, he shoved him nearly hard enough to knock the other boy off the bed. Annoyed, Aarif sat up again, and glared at him. "What's wrong?" he demanded.
Duo was shaking. "Not like that," he managed. (The dark-eyed man thrust with his fingers, with his heavy, thick cock, humiliating him by violating him with the same casual cruelty as he would have kicked a dog--)
"How else are you supposed to do it?" Aarif griped. He ran a hand through his hair. It was a little late to complain! Especially since he'd started it... Maybe he'd been right, after all. Darren *was* inexperienced.
"What did I do wrong?" he sighed.
Duo was in control again. Treize had told him to enjoy himself--in any way that presented itself. He forced a smile, one that looked real, and gently stroked the evidence of Aarif's arousal, licking his lips suggestively. The other boy's displeasure melted, and he lay back against the pillows, guiding Duo's head into his lap.
"I like your thinking," he murmured.
Duo teased Aarif's swollen member with his tongue, trying to watch his friend's face as he did. Aarif's eyes were lazily half-shut, a look of cat-like satisfaction crossing his face with every wave of pleasure. Not like Treize, who had seemed to be concentrating on something distant with frightening intensity--not like the man who had raped him, who had stared at him, grinning, to watch as Duo meekly knelt, broken, accepting his shame--not like Heero, the night he had pretended to be drunk and turned his face away even as he came wildly inside Duo, unable to look at him with love, not lust...
"I'm gonna call you Dare," Aarif whispered, his fingers alternately stroking Duo's short locks and tugging hard, in time to Duo's activities. "I realise you took a chance on me. Don't think... " He sighed deeply. "Don't think I don't appreciate... angel-face."
Duo did not reply.
(The dark-eyed man--)
Heero wandered the OZ complex, keeping to the shadows, nerves tingling from hyper-sensitivity. In the weeks it had taken him to penetrate the training academy, he had carefully prepared his way with fictional files and records of his progress, then by placing himself in the academy as a first-year recruit and trying to find Duo. The others, too, had done these things, and they, just like him, were moving through the campuses, searching and searching. Heero felt small and strangely threatened by the presence of so many enemies. OZ soldiers. Soldiers who might recognise him and have orders to shoot on sight. His stolen uniform would be scant protection if they already knew him, as worthless as the false files he had created within OZ archives. But...
...what he saw troubled him somewhat; he shoved it repeatedly to the back of his mind, but it didn't stay there.
These people weren't his enemies. These were people, real living breathing people, many no older than him, who simply saw things a little differently. It almost made him question... almost...
Then Heero saw him.
*Duo.*
He knew it was Duo. The moment it took him to reach the other boy's side and grab his arm seemed to last an eternity. When the deep violet eyes turned to him, Heero's heart leapt.
"Duo," he whispered.
Duo looked at him in polite confusion. "I think you've mistaken me for someone else," he said.
For an awful moment, Heero let his grip slacken in amazement. Then suddenly he saw the differences--no braid, just a shoulder-length cut--no ear to ear grin--no dancing mischief in the wide eyes. Could he be wrong? Embarrassed, he mumbled something and began to back away.
As the other boy turned to walk off, a crucifix fell free of the lapel of his uniform jacket, flashing gold in the sun.
Heero grabbed his arm again. "It *is* you!" he hissed. "Duo!"
Duo firmly shook him off. "I really think you've made a mistake," he repeated cooly.
"K'so, Duo, it's me! Heero!" He refused to be put off, catching Duo by the shoulders and pulling him around to stare wildly into his eyes.
"Yo! Darren!" Another boy sprinted over to join them. "I've been lookin' all over for you. We're late, man!" Then he stopped, realising he'd interrupted something. Duo took advantage of Heero's frosty silence to break away again.
"I'm coming, Aarif," he said.
The new boy, Aarif, studied the stupefied Gundam pilot. "Lost?" he guessed sympathetically. "I don't recognise you, you must be new here."
"I was looking for someone," Heero said at last, still staring at Duo. Duo gazed back at him, a little disconcerted by the intense blue eyes, and unconsciously stepped closer to Aarif.
Tall and muscular, Duo's companion draped his arm casually over Duo's shoulders. The movement was blatantly possessive; Heero bristled as the gesture's significance hit him. "Well, hope you find 'em," Aarif grinned.
"I thought I had," Heero said. Slowly, he added, "It appears I was mistaken."
Sudden comprehension dawned on the tall boy. "You mean Dare here?" He snickered, and affectionately ruffled Duo's hair. "Darren Maxfield is the the world's loneliest loner! Sure hope you weren't looking for Dare!" He laughed, and reached out to clap Heero on the shoulder. "Well, good luck. Ol' Dare and I have to run, or good Lieutenant Noin'll flay us alive."
"Yes, good luck," Duo echoed. His eyes lingered on Heero's for just a moment, and then he turned and walked away.
Heero felt as if he'd been kicked in the chest. For whatever reason, Duo was pretending not to know him. Why would he do that? Why?
Heero turned and started back to his barracks.
Quatre was upset. He pummeled an innocent roll of carpet with both fists. "What have they done to him?" he demanded.
"It doesn't matter what they've done," Wu Fei asserted. "What matters is what they're *planning* to do. He knows all our operations. They could send him after us!"
They were sitting in a storage closet. The indignity of it seemed to have put Wu Fei on edge; Heero considered it the best place to meet and talk, because it was practically the only unmonitored (and, judging from the thickness of the dust, the only unbothered) space at the academy. Quatre had claimed a bit of unused floor, Trowa a crate beside him, Wu Fei paced. Heero stood with his feet planted and his back braced against the wall, head cocked at the perfect angle to watch both the door, his companions, and still keep the air vent under suspcious, peripheral, observation. If he, like Quatre, found it discomfiting to see his fellow pilots in OZ sheep-skins, he was not showing it.
Trowa shook his head. "I don't think OZ will make it that easy."
Quatre looked at his partner. "What do you mean?"
"What he knows, he can teach others," the slender, unemotional boy said quietly. "We could defeat Duo if it was just Duo; four against one are good odds. But we may find ourselves facing an entire army of soldiers who know our tactics *and* how to counteract them."
"They should have executed him," Wu Fei muttered darkly. Wu Fei, who had seemed strangely elated at the prospect of getting Duo back, had obviously suffered a severe shock.
Heero's head agreed, but his heart secretly thrilled that Duo was alive. Even the awful changes in his friend couldn't dim that--not the hair, though it made him ache to think of the beautiful chestnut locks being violated by steel. Not even the pain and loneliness buried just beneath the surface of Duo's vibrant eyes mattered. Duo was alive. Everything would be all right. It had to be.
"What are we going to do?" Wu Fei demanded.
Quatre spoke up firmly. "We get him back. Then we'll worry about the rest of it."
Trowa said, "Should we take him back to--whoever sent him?"
"No." Heero was vehement. "We can take care of him ourselves."
Quatre gazed at him with penetrating eyes, then abruptly nodded. "We'll worry about it when we get there," he repeated.
Duo paced endlessly around the bedchamber, ignoring Treize's attempts to coax him onto the couch whenever he passed it.
Finally, Treize lost his considerable patience and pulled him onto a seat. He pressed a glass of wine into the boy's hand, and slipped an arm around his shoulder.
"Calm yourself," he murmured.
Duo obediently sipped the drink, but his fingers tapped his thigh in an agitated rhythm. "They were my friends once," he whispered.
"That was another existence for you, Darren," Treize said gently. "We've been over this time and again."
Duo flushed. "I know. I'm sorry. It was just--seeing him--"
"You did well, keeping your calm and getting the news to me so quickly. I've put men out to search for him and his companions. Soon enough, we'll have them in custody, and we can begin rehabilitating them, just as we did with you."
The worry in the violet eyes eased somewhat, but did not entirely disappear. "What if they don't choose to join OZ?" he demanded challengingly. "Will you kill them?"
Treize sighed. "Do you trust me so little? Of course not. I will give each of them a choice, the same as I did with you, beloved."
Shame crept over Duo's face. "I'm sorry," he repeated. He set the wine glass on the table, and took Treize's hands. "I'm sorry for doubting. Seeing him... "
"I understand," the colonel assured him. He smiled, and lifted his hands to cup the wide-eyed face between his palms. "You're so very young, Darren," he murmured. "And with everything that you've gone through recently, it is understandable that you harbour some doubts. No one will hold that against you, least of all me."
"I know." Duo closed his eyes, and leaned his head into the slight caress of Treize's fingers. "Will you let me talk to them, once you've captured them? Try to help them through the rehabilitation? It might go faster if one of their former companions was with them, showing them the truth, the way you did with me. They'll see how much better OZ is, and we'll all be together again, and it will be all right."
"Of course," Treize soothed. He would have promised anything to boy he had come to love in the past two months. He kept his own doubts to himself. The other Gundam pilots would not be quick to accept OZ's truths. Privately, Treize suspected that he might have to kill them.
Duo had been a different story. His capture after his attempted self-destruct had left him wounded and dazed; the torture he had suffered at Lady Une's sadistic hands had driven him deep inside himself, a shuddering, crying child. Treize had been so careful, so gentle, during the interminable days of trying to reach that battered soul and draw it into the light. His patience had been rewarded. Duo had wanted to believe what he was told. Shinigami had died in a pyschiatric ward. Darren Maxfield had been born, a quiet, unassuming, deeply devoted OZ soldier who desperately wanted to end the Gundam terrorists' threat.
Treize remembered the night he had taken Darren Maxfield to his bed for the first time. Darren Maxfield was the boy he had fallen in love with. To hell with Duo Maxwell, the tormented creation of a warped, unfeeling "scientist;" Shinigami was no more. Treize drew his gentle angel to him, and silently vowed to protect Darren, no matter what the cost.
Heero checked the magazine of his gun a final time, touching the extras clipped onto his belt to be sure that he was ready. Then he looked up at the others.
"We're ready," Wu Fei said. Quatre nodded, his pale face strangely grim. Trowa said nothing, but Trowa never did. Wu Fei was right. They were as ready as they were going to get.
"Let's go," Heero told them.
Duo nipped lightly at Treize's lower lip, then entered the colonel's mouth, nuzzling his tongue, stroking the roof of his mouth, grazing his lips with his teeth. Treize undid the last button of the boy's shirt and slowly slid it off his shoulders, caressing the pale soft skin as it was revealed, teasing a pink crinkled nipple with the tips of his fingers, making the boy arch against him. Gently, oh so gently, Treize lowered Duo back until he lay on the couch, and bent over him to unzip his trousers. Duo smiled up at him, and trailed kisses down the column of his throat.
"I'm not scared anymore," he whispered.
Treize pulled back slightly. "Darren," he said cautiously. "You don't have to say that, just because you think I want to hear it."
Duo shook his head. "I said it because it's true. It doesn't scare me anymore. Treize, I want... I want you inside me."
Treize stared at him, searching for something, some sign, in the violet eyes that gazed trustingly up at him. "You're sure?. . . "
"I've never been more sure of anything in my life."
Heero tensed at the sound of a footstep, and raised a hand to halt the others. Everyone stopped, melting into the shadows, pressing tightly against the walls as the footsteps drew closer. Heero trained his gun on the door.
It opened to admit a middle-aged woman in a janitor's uniform. Bored and weary, she tottered into the back hallway, carting a trashbag over one broad shoulder, completely unaware that her life hung in the balance.
Heero waited until she passed into another hallway, waited until he could not hear her shuffling footsteps any longer, then waited another endless second to be sure. Then he raised his hand and gestured sharply. As one, the Gundam pilots began to move again.
Duo threw his head back, a hiss of pleasure mingled with pain escaping him. Treize stroked his sweaty temple and bent to kiss the exposed throat.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
Duo shook his head, eyes squeezed tightly closed. It was the first time he had made love like this since... since that awful night in the room with the OZ soldier. But this was different. Treize was trying so hard to make it good. With an effort, Duo opened his eyes to look up at his lover.
He smiled. "I love you," he said.
For a moment, it hung there; then Treize kissed him so tenderly that Duo ached with it. "My precious angel," the older man whispered. He kissed him again, and again. "Beloved."
Quatre let the soldier slump to the floor, cushioning the fall so that it was completely noiseless. "Keep moving," he whispered. "Last hallway."
Heero reached the steel-enforced redwood doors first. He waved the others close as he checked for perimeter alarms, finding none. Apparently Khushrenada had supreme confidence in the ability of his soldiers to guard him. That was one more mistake. Heero took off his helmet and tossed it to Trowa, then leaned close to the door and placed his ear against the cool paneling.
A low moan came to him.
*Duo!* He signaled that he had heard their fellow pilot inside, and his chest tightened as he heard the shuddering moan again. What was Khushrenada doing to his friend? He pointed to Wu Fei and backed away, gesturing for the Chinese pilot to hurry. Chang lifted the thermal weapon, aimed it at the lock, and with one quick burst of firepower melted it. Together he and Heero kicked open the door, and the Gundam pilots poured into the room, weapons at the ready.
And stopped.
Duo scrambled up onto his elbows, his face white as he stared at the intruders. Treize, naked as Duo, grabbed a gun from a side table and stood from the couch all in one fluid motion to face off with the terrorist invaders. For an endless moment, no one spoke.
Then Duo lurched to his feet. "Stop!" he cried, throwing himself in front of Treize.
Heero, the perfect soldier, hesitated. "Duo!" He was stunned.
Quickly shaking his momentary confusion, Treize whirled and lunged for a comm unit. Immediately booted feet were heard stamping in the hallway.
Quatre pushed forward, holding out a hand to Duo. "Hurry up!" he cried. "We have to go, now!"
Duo stared at him, and shook his head wildly. Tears spilled openly down his cheeks. "This is for the best," he said.
Treize was once again aiming his gun at Heero Yuy.
Soldiers poured into the room, Zechs leading. The Gundam pilots, caught, slowly lowered their weapons.
"Traitor," Wu Fei hissed. Suddenly he threw himself at Duo, and kicked him in the stomach, throwing him back into the couch. Duo slumped, clutching his ribcage, as Zechs grabbed the Shenlong pilot and hurriedly restrained him. Treize bent over his lover, glaring at Wu Fei.
"Take them out of here," he commanded. He glanced swiftly, coldly, at Zechs, and added clearly, "None of them are to be harmed."
Zechs nodded stiffly. "Yes, Colonel Khushrenada." He jerked his head at his soldiers. "Move it. You heard the man." He hauled the violently struggling, but hopelessly undersized Wu Fei with him.
Heero, dazed, kept his eyes on Duo for as long as he could. And Shinigami refused to look.
"Duo--" he called suddenly.
His guard shoved him out the door. "None of that, now, boy," she said gruffly.
"Duo--kuso, Duo, listen to me--"
Zechs firmly swung the door shut. "Get someone to fix the lock," he said tersely.
Duo waved the guard out. Bowing, the man propped the door open slightly and took up position just outside.
"Heero," Duo started.
"I have nothing to say to you, traitor," Heero growled.
The violet eyes were anguished, and the slender white fingers gripped the crucifix hard. "Heero, please."
The pilot of Wing Gundam pointedly turned his back.
For a moment, pained silence filled the cell; then Duo began to babble. It wasn't very coherent and it didn't seem to have much to do with anything. It made Heero shrivel inside. But he kept his back turned.
Finally, he felt Duo's hands on his shoulders, chill and uncertain, sliding down his sides, bare arms slithering around his waist and Duo pressing tightly up against him.
Heeo shivered when he felt a tear-streaked cheek press against the crook of his neck. No... he shouldn't soften his resolve... shouldn't turn into Duo's desperate embrace... shouldn't press his lips tightly against Duo's eager mouth...
"Heero," Duo croaked, practically into his throat. Heero's last shred of resistance flew, and he crushed Duo to him, roughly groping the trembling body, shoving Duo back into the wall and fumbling with his clothing. Duo eagerly responded, his arms trapping Heero's head and locking his lips over the other pilot's, their tongues violently thrusting. Then something went wrong.
Heero pushed him toward the floor and got Duo onto his knees. Trembling in urgency, he fumbled with Duo's clothing, dimly hearing the fabric of the uniform tear when he roughly jerked it. The sound seemed to snap something in Duo. Suddenly he shoved Heero away and cried out hoarsely.
The guard outside stirred. "Maxfield?" he called, placing a hand on the knob.
Heero grabbed Duo, clapping a hand over his mouth and pressing him flat against the floor, immobilizing him by lying on top of him. Duo froze.
"Tell him everything is all right," Heero commanded, his voice barely above a breathy whisper. He waited a second, then lifted his hand.
Duo shuddered slightly. "It's all right," he called, his voice almost steady. "I'm fine."
There was a pause, then the guard resumed his previous stance.
"Please let me go," Duo mumbled. He was trembling.
"Kuso, Duo." Heero retreated with him into a dark corner, and pushed him into the wall again, this time holding him there. "What the hell is going on?"
Duo shook his head wildly, fresh tears tracing wet paths down his cheeks.
"Does this have anything to do with Khushrenada? Or that boy?" Heero searched his memory for the name.
"No!" Duo shook his head again. "They helped me--after--"
Heero somehow knew what the "after" was. Kill whoever touched him! He shoved the bloody haze clouding his mind into a box and hid the key. Now wasn't the time to be seeing red. He sighed slightly, and loosened his hold. "Why did you betray us?" he demanded--but more gently.
Now Duo was in earnest. "Treize showed me how wrong our actions are," he said. "Heero, we're killers! All the innocent people who are dying, they're on our hands. Maybe OZ isn't perfect, but it's better than throwing the Gundams against every human on Earth. Oh, Heero, can't you see?" He gripped Heero's shirt urgently. "We're the ones perpetuating this war!"
Heero stared at him, appalled. Somehow Khushrenada had convinced Duo that all of this was true. Wildly his mind concocted dozens of methods by which it might have been accomplished--hypnosis, mind games, shock therapy, drugs--torture--all of them brainwashing his beloved partner into believing Khushrenada's awful lies.
"How long have you been fucking with him?" he demanded harshly, but quietly. He remembered something, and added, "and that boy, Aarif? Are there others, too?"
Duo's liquid eyes seemed to flinch back from Heero's cold ones. "What does it matter?" he retorted shakily.
"Damnit, Duo, you never used to be like this!"
"People change." And then Duo began cry, proving the words, and Heero didn't know if he should try to hold him or push him away in disgust.
Duo didn't seem to know either. He sobbed, hiding his face in his hands to stifle the noise. "You don't want me," he choked. "I let him do whatever he wanted to me so he wouldn't hurt me. The first time I let him shove his dick into me over and over--I let him fuck me, Heero, I didn't know what else to do. Then--then he--I did things I'd never even heard of to him, and he would laugh... I did whatever he told me and he would laugh when I cried. It was just one night--he didn't kill me even when I begged and I did beg, I begged on my knees and he just shoved that awful cock into me again--" His voice was barely audible now. "I know that you would have killed yourself before you let anyone do that to you but I couldn't. He wouldn't let me, Heero... I'm just used goods. What did it matter who fucked me after that?"
Heero was consumed with remorse. What right did he have to what Duo did in his bed when it was so obvious that it was tearing him apart? He gently touched Duo's wet cheek, then enfolded him in a strong embrace. He lifted his hand to stroke the shorn chestnut locks.
"You used to be the only one who ever made me feel like I mattered," Duo whispered into the darkness. "I used to hope that maybe you cared, even though you would never say it."
Heero hesitated. Surely he could say it now. Surely he could tell Duo that he *had* cared.
But Duo sraightened before he could bring himself to speak, and wiped his eyes. "I'd better go," he said, calmer now. "I promised Treize I wouldn't stay long."
Heero refused to let him go. He kissed Duo, hard, and gripped his beautiful heart-shaped face between his hands. "You don't have to let him treat you like a plaything," he murmured. "Be strong. I'm here now, I'll help you."
Duo pulled back abruptly. "I'm not his plaything. I love him. And he loves me."
Heero stared.
"Don't ever talk about him that way," Duo said. "Please. If you ever did care about me, just please don't." He ran a hand through his hair to straighten it, and adjusted his clothing. Then, without looking back, he squared his shoulders and walked out of the cell.
Heero had to resist the urge to leap at the door and tear it down with his fingernails as it closed, taking the light, and Duo, with it.
"I knew you'd come back," Heero said dully. "You just never give up. How many more times are you going to try to convince me that the lies those 'doctors' feed me are truths, Duo?"
"My name is Darren," Duo said. He shifted uneasily. "I'd like it if you called me that."
"Your name is Duo Maxwell," Heero told him coldly. "Though maybe it should be 'Traitor.' What are you doing to the others? Torturing them?"
"No! The doctors are trying to help them, the same as they try to help you. Listen," Duo said, stepping toward him, "I know it's hard at first. I've been through it. But fighting it only makes it worse! OZ isn't all bad, Heero. Isn't there something to be said for us if we're the only ones who believe in what we're doing? It isn't because people are misinformed. It's because we're wrong!"
"So you do still count yourself as one of us," Heero retorted, ignoring the rest. "Duo Maxwell, God of Death. Or did you find some rationalisation for the way you love to kill?"
Duo paled. "I know what I used to be," he replied, with difficulty. "But that was another existence for me. I'm not Death anymore--"
"You're still Duo Maxwell," Heero hissed, grinding that sore spot. He took a step forward this time. "You'll *always* be Duo Maxwell, because you love to kill and Shinigami is your partner and you believed in fighting! You're Duo Maxwell for life, because that's what you chose and you can't pretend to ignore it!" Duo slugged Heero as hard as he could. "I'm not Duo Maxwell!" he screamed. "*I'm* *Darren* *Maxfield!*"
Heero rocked with the blow, having seen it coming a country mile away, and caught Duo's arm, pulled sharply, and sent Duo crashing into him. They fell, and rolled, and Heero moved quickly to pin Duo beneath him, grabbing his wrists and holding them.
Duo struggled like a madman. "Get off of me! I hate you! I hate you for coming here and trying to change me back into that murdering, death-crazed maniac--"
Heero kissed him hard, crushing the pliant lips and growling into Duo's throat. Duo thrashed, trying for leverage, and succeeded only in further egging the other boy on. A sinking feeling deep in Heero's chest told him that he was loosing it, that he had to regain control fast or he would do something awful.
"I hate you," Duo whispered, tearing his head free. "I--hate--"
Heero hovered above him, their noses almost touching. His hot breath bathed Duo's face. "Tell me what you what hate, *Duo.*"
Duo lifted feral violet eyes to the cold blue ones. Heero waited for an answer. It didn't come.
Slowly, giving Duo plenty of time to realise what he intended to do, he began to unbutton the Deathscythe pilot's shirt.
Duo lay absolutely still, barely even breathing, as Heero perfunctorily caressed his nipples and abdomen, pausing at the waistband of his pants for a few moments and then unzipping those too.
He shed his own clothing as if it had never even been there, and knelt between Duo's thighs. He lifted Duo's legs and hooked them over his own strong shoulders, then spat on his fingers and used the slick digits to stretch the tight bud presented to him. Heero paused just as he pushed the tip of his penis into Duo's hole. The smaller boy squirmed slightly, a look of discomfort crossing his features; Heero waited longer, drawing out the momentary, erotic almost-pain until it seemed Duo would speak. Then he pushed farther in, taking it so slowly that Duo hissed and clawed at his chest.
He ignored the pain. He wanted Duo to feel every excruciating second of their joining, and to decide just what it was that he hated--Treize or Heero. There would be a decision. He would keep it up as long as he needed to.
Duo was hard. His erection bobbed between them, untouched; Heero knocked Duo's hands away when he tried to stimulate himself, to bring release faster. He withdrew--languidly--and repeated the proceedure. This time Duo writhed, thrusting his hips to engulf Heero's shaft, only to be restrained by hands pressing down firmly on his abdomen.
"Please, Heero," he moaned softly.
"What do you hate?" His searching member found the sensitive prostate, and Heero thrust against it, one brief touch followed by a longer one. Duo moaned again.
"Don't... stop."
"Stop, or don't stop?" Heero mocked, though inwardly he was not sure which exactly Duo had meant. He withdrew and bent lower, touching his tongue to the slit in the head of Duo's penis, quickly laying an arm across his stomach to prevent him from thrusting. Duo's hands clutched his hair.
His tongue played with Duo's shaft until he couldn't stand the throbbing in his own member. He sat up and flipped Duo onto his stomach, and lifted him at the waist until he was kneeling, his head pillowed on his arms. Heero knelt behind him, bending over him, grasping Duo's hips between his hands, and thrust into him hard. Duo groaned something into his arms, and rocked with him.
It was over far too soon for Heero, the rush of pleasure, the explosion of fluid into the hot, tight sheath, the weak feeling in his knees. Duo shouted, climaxing with him, and then, slowly, it was over . . . Heero laid down, pulling Duo with him. He smiled and kissed his lover, reveling in the unique taste on his lips.
After a long time, Duo opened his eyes.
"I'm Darren Maxfield," he said.
Heero was suddenly cold.
The other boy lifted a hand that trembled badly and laid it on Heero's chest. "I am," he whispered. "Don't ask me to change that. I don't want to, and even if I did, I couldn't. I remember Duo Maxwell, but he seems so far away... This is my second chance, Heero. If I had died in Deathscythe, then that would have been fate, and I would have accepted that. But I didn't. God gave me a second chance, through Treize, to redeem myself for all my sins... "
Heero gripped the crucifix, feeling the flesh-warmed metal bite into his palm. "Is that why you still wear this, *Darren*?"
The violet eyes opened, then fluttered close. "Don't mock me."
"So that's it, then? You're staying with Khushrenada? Forever? Will you betray me to him again? Or will you let me go free, then come after me leading an army of mobile suits to destroy all resistance to OZ? Will you--"
"Stop it!" Duo sat up. "I don't know, Heero!"
"You don't know, *Darren*?" Heero also sat up. "Well, you damn well better figure it out!" He grabbed Duo's gun from where it lay nestled in his clothing, forgotten. He aimed it dramatically at Duo's head, ignoring the voice deep inside that shrieked *NO!* "Figure it out soon, Darren, because I'm not letting you leave until you do."
"And you'll shoot me if you don't like the answer?" Duo was pale.
"I'll do what I have to in order to complete the mission," Heero retorted coldly.
"Always the mission," Duo whispered. "That was why I was so stupid to fall in love with you. I never stood a chance--your damn mission had me beat before I ever met you!" He lurched to his feet and began to dress.
*He loved me.* Heero also stood, making no move toward his clothes. "Make a decision, Duo."
"Darren!"
Heero fired a half-inch to the right of Duo's head. Duo froze.
"Make a decision, Duo," he repeated icily.
Treize stared at the screen. Zechs, silent and silently supportive, stood several steps away, far enough away to give his lord privacy and close enough to offer comfort. Treize stared at the screen and watched Heero Yuy tear apart every painstaking step he'd made toward healing Darren.
Zechs regarded his general unflinchingly. "Heero Yuy will take Darren, whether he goes willingly or no. I can have men watching every exit to prevent their escape."
Treize stood abruptly. "No. Do nothing. Darren has to work through this himself." He had half-expected this; it had been foolhardy, he'd known it, to allow Darren to continue to see Yuy alone... armed... it wasn't as though he hadn't seen it coming. But he could at least hope that Darren would say good-by... He had been such a fool to fall in love.
Zechs watched his commander's struggle without any outward emotion; but inside, he was fighting his own battle. He loved Treize Khushrenada, but his love was that of friendship and respect, not romance. It tore him apart to see his old friend suffer so much at the hands of a confused, faithless boy.
Treize drew himself together. "I could use a drink," he murmured, once more calm, even urbane. "You, my friend?"
Zechs nodded, and walked to the carafe. He poured bourbon for his lord, fruit juice for himself. He thought that one of them, at least, should stay sober.
Duo gripped his crucifix in a shaking hand. "You're a monster," he whispered. "You want to make *me* a monster!"
Heero tried to let his eyes show how much he cared, but he did not lower the gun. "It doesn't matter how much I love you if you stay with Khushrenada. Don't think he won't use you against us eventually. He wouldn't be who or where he is if he didn't."
"I love him!"
"Do you love me?" Heero demanded.
Duo refused to answer.
"Do you?"
"Not when you're aiming a gun at my head!"
Heero took the few steps to Duo and pulled him into a crushing embrace. "Well, I love you," he whispered, kissing him. "And I know that you loved me, once. Remember what you said to me just before you self-destructed? There was static, and I didn't hear all of it, so it was easy to pretend I didn't know how you felt about me. Sometimes I wonder if I always let the static interfere with us, Duo."
"Static?" Duo asked weakly.
"Static... the war, your incessant chatter, Doctor J. I let myself pretend I didn't really know. But I do, and I return your feelings. I love you, Duo. And I want you to come back with me."
Silence seemed to last forever. "I *do* love you," Duo whispered at last.
Heero kissed him, stopping the words he knew would follow--"But I love *him*, too." He didn't want to hear them... and if he was careful, he never would.
Zechs knelt beside the bed to remove Treize's boots, and set them by the nightstand where he had laid the embroidered coat. Then he lifted the coverlet and tucked it about his lord's slumbering body.
As he turned to go, he saw the picture.
Darren Maxfield, he thought, lifting the small photograph enshrined in a simple brass frame. He stared down at the pinched, pale face which forced a smile for the camera--this was not the face of Shinigami. This was not the face which had betrayed four terrorists to the enemy, then turned around and betrayed Treize out of misguided love. This was the face of a lost child.
A child who no longer had the will to deny anyone access to his body--or his soul.
Zechs could almost find pity for the face in the picture. Duo Maxwell had been the enemy, not fragile, frightened Darren... it was too bad that Heero Yuy hadn't realised that. What lay in store for the child now? Would Yuy understand that Darren's hold on sanity was tenuous, at best, that the wide violet eyes were no longer capable of grinning away that gnawing internal pain? The shattered remains of Death would require constant, endless, care--the care of loved one even more than a lover. Treize had known that. Treize had seen the wreck he had created and tried to make amends by loving it, as a mother loved a deformed infant. Would--could--Yuy?
Zechs laid the frame back on the table, face-down. He turned the lights off as he left.
Two Months Later
Wu Fei looked up as Duo came into the room. He found a smile for the other boy, remembering the thoughts that refused to be banished--Duo hadn't been the same since the incident with OZ. If Duo couldn't smile anymore, then Wu Fei would smile for him. He hoped it helped in some way. He had long since forgiven Duo for what had happened--Treize's drugs and doctors were hardly Duo's fault. If Wu Fei realised that he had softened his habitual, black-and-white attitude toward failure for the fragile-seeming American, he was carefully not thinking about it.
Duo returned the smile with a weak grimmace, and sat down at the table. He fingered his hair uncertainly--and Wu Fei still thought that he looked at least three years younger without the absurd braid--then chose a slightly aged orange from the grocery bag that was their breakfast buffet.
"Did you sleep well?" the Chinese pilot asked solicitously.
"Um--" Duo mumbled around the slice of citrus he had crammed into his mouth. He set the orange down half-eaten. Chang noted the move. Duo really had changed. He didn't even eat the same any more.
"You've got something on your face," he told his friend.
"Where?"
"Right here... " Wu Fei reached out and brushed at Duo's lower lip. It was hard to tell by sight in the faulty lighting, but he recognised the feel of a split lip under his fingertips. He frowned.
Duo moved his head away. "I slipped in the shower," he said.
Wu Fei stared at him. "Heero?"
"Why would you say that?" But Duo looked away, and Wu Fei knew he'd gotten it right. He leaned forward, incredulous. "You let him hit you?"
"It's not like that," Duo defended his lover weakly. "He--sometimes he can't say things, so he--he--"
"Uses his fists?" The pilot of Shenlong shook his head. "Duo," he said softly.
"He needs me."
"He hurts you."
"It doesn't matter."
"It does to me."
"Why?" Duo stood, and retreated to a corner.
"Because you're my friend!" Wu Fei didn't follow, sensing that he was invading Duo's space enough already. But he wasn't about to let up. Heero had been insufferabe lately, stalking about like a manic-depressive and making everyone miserable. Obviously Duo and he were fighting.
Unexpectedly, Duo offered Wu Fei the missing puzzle piece. "He won't ever let me go back," he whispered. Chang barely heard it. "I don't know if I could, or even if I want to... so many things have happened. I know I can't go back, not during a war. But--"
"You wanted to say good-bye," Wu Fei finished.
Duo looked at him gratefully. "You understand," he said.
Wu Fei thought of Nataku... Meiran. "Yes."
Duo returned to the table, and sat beside Wu Fei. "I like it when you talk," he said shyly. "You never used to, you know."
Wu Fei smiled gently. "Sometimes I wonder if we were ever honest with each other about anything," he muttered. That won a tremulous smile. Impulsively, he put his arms around his friend, and hugged him. Duo stiffened in surprise for a moment, then fiercely returned the embrace.
"The war won't last forever," Wu Fei whispered to him. "Don't give up hope... "
Duo pulled back and looked at him. Then, slowly, he nodded. "Thank you," he said.
They both knew that Duo would never be the same again. They both knew that Shinigami was gone. With a sigh, Wu Fei acknowledged the truth. But it would be their secret. There was a certain justice in silence.
End Part 1
That's the end of "Shinigami." The sequel, "Pity Game" is much much much shorter and I will post it soon. The other two fics in the series, "Once Was Lost" and "Thirty" will come asap as I frantically struggle to post everything during break... Thanks once more for your attention and time ^_^ ~TB
Note:
(1) I originally had Duo saying "scientists". Upon deeper
consideration, I think colonists is more accurate, because it not only
hides the identity of the five scientists, but indicates the existence
of a Resistance group among the colonies. It is not meant to implicate
every single colonist, however.
(2) I know that Noin acts OOC, but I really, really needed her to
say those lines in order to accelerate the plot. :) Sorry Noin!
(:./erin/still1)
