16-Jan-2002
Title: Tracing the Plot (formerly entitled 'Autonomy')
Author: Sparcck
Rating: R
Genre: Yaoi [1x2], Fusion, Angst
Warnings: Duo Introspection, a little blood, a little language, a little sex (lime-ish)
Archive: As always, the wonderful GW Addiction (http://www.gwaddiction.com) houses all of my GW work.
Disclaimer: So many things here that aren't mine. GW, XF, and song lyrics all belong to their respective owners. No money made, no harm meant.
Notes: So this came from an episode of the X-Files that I think they really dropped the ball on. About halfway through, I turned to Chrissy and said, "You know what would make this idea rock?" And she said, "Duo and Heero?" Ah, I love living with a Gundam Wing fan.
I seem to be on a streak with it, so I'm posting as I write in the hopes that it will make me write faster. For those of you still waiting on "Waltz", I promise that's also in the works. But it needs a little breather because Heero's being incredibly difficult.
Tracing the plot finds
Skin touching skin
Absence follows-Deathcab for Cutie, "For What Reason"
Fear. It was a wholly unfamiliar sensation, and Heero's first clue that this whole mission was going to go terribly wrong.
"It's okay, we've got him. Just ahead of you, turn left."
"Roger. 01 out." Heero flattened himself against the wall, checking again to make sure his gun was ready.
Wufei had been the one to do the profile on the guy they were tracking and while stressing how dangerous he was, he hadn't had this edge to his voice during the briefing.
And Duo's comm had cut just as he reported seeing the suspect.
The feeling solidified into something akin to panic. He took a breath and crept forward.
There was a muffled thud from around the corner: the sound of a body hitting the ground.
No.
Heero knew. He felt it in his gut, in the stabbing in his heart, in the sudden, violent trembling of his arm.
It burned into the hollow of his throat where Duo's cross lay, a gift for their first anniversary.
Duo was dead.
For a second, he thought he would be unable to draw another breath, and an involuntary sound of pain escaped him.
Duo. Dead.
Oh, god.
"01, report."
That was officially sharp fear in Wufei's voice and Heero forced air into his lungs.
"I've got our guy. I'm going in." He wondered if Wufei knew, too, knew that his best friend was dead. He thought maybe the other man would be able to hear it in his voice.
"Wait, what's--"
Heero ripped the comm from his ear.
Ice in his veins, like he was back in 195, like he was alone in a strange world again. He felt the reassuring weight of his gun in his hand and spun around the corner.
Don't look oh god don't look.
He faltered, his eyes automatically drawn to the lithe body slumped on the ground against the wall, searching out the long braid that had been pulled from its place under Duo's jacket.
Pain stabbed into his palms and his fingers were thick and numb, the feeling of that silky hair burned into his hands.
Duo.
The braid, Duo's prized possession, lay coiled across his chest, bloodied from the wide slash in his throat.
Duo.
Plum eyes were wide, glazed over with death. They looked surprised, much younger than they normally did with Duo's quick wit lurking behind them.
Duo.
His gaze stuck to lips wet with blood and frozen in a silent 'o', the spray of crimson on one pale, sharp cheekbone, the fingers of one hand curled inward, the others splayed back, as if to grab onto something.
He remembered just last night, those hands clutching his shoulders, sliding over his chest; those grinning lips grazing his earlobe; the curve of that cheek brushing the nape of his neck.
Not like this, Duo. Please, not like this.
He felt detached from his body, his hand reaching out of its own accord, hovering over the crown of Duo's usually shining head, hair that was matted with sweat and blood.
"Du--"
He caught a flash of a blue jacket out of the corner of his eye and he snapped his head around.
He was there, blue windbreaker drenched with Duo's blood.
The voice that came out of Heero's mouth was one he hadn't heard in over two years; it was the cold, mechanical tone programmed into him during the war. "Preventers! Freeze, Wagner!"
The man stopped in his tracks.
"Hands up. Now."
Wagner turned slowly to face Heero, gore-covered hands raised and steady while Heero's arm still trembled slightly.
He could still see Duo out of the corner of his eye.
Wagner looked on the verge of a smirk.
Something in Heero snapped and he felt rage burn through his limbs. "Move," he said softly. "Twich even a muscle. I dare you." His finger tightened on the trigger, his body straining against his training, begging to be allowed to watch him die, know that he did it.
Behind him, sirens blared and Wufei's jeep screeched around the corner.
Heero glanced over his shoulder and yelled, "I've got him." He looked back to Wagner.
Who was gone.
Heero narrowed his eyes and took a step forward, swinging his upper body around to bring the gun to bear. Nothing.
His eyes fell on Duo and he swallowed hard, feeling tears finally come to prick the back of his eyes.
"Wagner." Another step. This time he felt a moment of nausea sweep over him as he swung back around. Still nothing.
He looked back again to see if Wufei was ready to go after him and found that he was alone in the alley.
There was that fear again, that awful creeping cold feeling and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.
"Got you," came a voice from behind him and Heero turned to see Wagner holding Duo's gun. His gun came up too late, and he heard the gunshot at the same time he felt a blinding pain in his belly.
He fell hard, cracking his skull against the street when he hit the ground. He rolled his head to the side, mouthing Duo's name. He was alone.
Duo, Duo, he tried again.
And the world went white.
"Oh... no. Um. Shit."
It wasn't really my choice of whether to put it down or not when the box of books slipped out of my sweaty grasp and hit the floor with a solid thud. I just couldn't hold it anymore after hours of moving and lifting and shoving and dammit, why hadn't we stopped to eat yet?
I cocked my head for a second, wiping my hands on my jeans and then called out, "Don't panic, I'm totally fine."
There was a soft but distinct snort from the hallway. "Books?" Heero called back.
"They're really heavy." I sat heavily on the floor, propping my arm up on an elbow on the box and resting my chin in my hand. "I'm hungry."
Heero appeared in the doorway, holding two large boxes labeled 'KITCHEN STUFF' and 'MORE STUFF'. "I told you you should have hired movers."
"Movers?" I said automatically. My gaze was stuck to his forearms, the muscles there cording under the weight of the boxes. I knew how hard the flesh was from seemingly casual touches and my fingers twitched. "What would be the fun in that?"
He glared and set the boxes down.
I absently noted the pull of the undershirt across his back.
"Never again," he said, casting a disapproving glance around his once Spartan living room. "Next time--"
"Movers, right," I said, stifling a yawn. We were silent for a second and I stared at his couch, eye level with my slumped position on the floor.
Next time. Of course there would be a next time. This is temporary.
I heaved a huge sigh and he rolled his eyes. "Food," he said, not really a question.
I jumped to my feet. "Chinese. My treat."
He was shaking his head before I even spoke. He knew me so well, the very thing that made this both the best and worst idea I'd ever had.
"You are not cooking," I snapped. "I'm buying. It's the least I can do."
He grabbed my elbow and spun me to face him. "Stop it." His hands were warm on my upper arms, his stormcloud eyes very close to my face.
I pushed him away. Yeah, maybe I was a little in love with him, but he could still piss me off and this was still sort of a touchy subject. "'It'? What 'it'? I want Chinese."
"Duo." It was said in his 'I'm warning you' voice.
Well, piss off.
"Whatever. You cook and I'll order food for myself." I pulled away from where he was still holding my elbow and crossed my arms.
We glared at each other for another two minutes until he finally said stiffly, "Chicken and broccoli, brown rice."
"Fine," I said, just as stiffly.
Yeah. It was 'sort of' a touchy subject. Just like 'maybe' I'm 'a little' in love with him.
I scrubbed my hands over my face and he hesitantly touched my shoulder. I jerked away involuntarily and an indefinable look crossed his face.
"This option makes sense," he said. "And it's only temporary."
I must have looked as crushed as I felt -- I'd been slipping in the past few months.
"Until you feel you're one hundred percent," he added, his brow furrowing. He stepped away. "I'll get the number."
That's what I get for seeking comfort from Heero Yuy, I suppose. 'Makes sense,' he said. 'Only temporary.'
I didn't want to be temporary. My hands clenched into fists and I kicked at the hardwood floor, feeling heat rise to my cheeks. I didn't want to be here because it made sense.
He was right, though, and I knew it. We were partners and we'd lived together before. And in my state of near breakdown, he had been the one I'd turned to so somewhere in my mind I knew that moving in with him was the only thing that made sense.
About eight months before I went to Heero, I stopped sleeping entirely. I'd always had some trouble sleeping, at least during the normal sleep hours (stick me in a weekly meeting and I had no problems nodding off). But it got to the point where I was unable to sleep, unable to relax the muscles in my shoulders.
I stopped going out. But I couldn't stay home, either. I was driving myself crazy: staying in the office for days without leaving, spending hours watching my hands shake, taking out razor blades more and more often and--
And one day, Heero found me at his door in the middle of the night, teeth chattering and begging him not to leave me alone. At least that's what he tells me, since I can't seem to remember it happening.
I hate that I couldn't do it myself. I hate that I needed to be fixed.
My cell phone rang. Wufei's cell number appeared on the caller ID. "You call, I'll go down and get it," I called out to Heero. "Shrimp chow fun and pork fried rice." I flipped open the phone. "Oh, and two egg rolls. Hello?"
"Duo."
I was instantly on guard at the slight waver I heard in Wufei's voice. Cold slithered down my spine. "What's wrong?"
He was silent a second, white noise buzzing between us. "It's Heero," he said finally.
I laughed a little. "What about him? You want me to get him?"
"Duo," he said again, and his voice was rough and tight, out of breath like he was struggling with something. "He was on a mission. He was... we found him in an alley in Westside."
I laughed again, a little bit hysterical this time. "I'm sorry, Wu. I don't think I heard you right."
"We have Preventers EMTs here and they're taking him to St. Vincent's." He paused and I knew what he was going to say next. "I won't lie to you, Duo, he... it doesn't look good."
"No, that can't be." I picked my way through my scattered belongings to the kitchen. "Heero wasn't in Westside today. He was helping me move. He's right--" I rounded the corner to the kitchen to find it empty.
"Duo, I'm sorry. I wanted you to hear it from me."
"Is this a joke, Wufei? It is, right, to make up for the leather underwear incident." I spun around and practically ran to the bathroom, throwing the half-closed door open. Empty.
"I wish I were joking."
"Look, I'm serious. It can't be Heero. I was just with him, for Christ's sake. I'm at his place right now!" In the second bedroom, now my bedroom, I even dropped to my knees and looked under the bed. My heart pounded in my throat and my hands were clammy and shaking.
Wufei made a small sound. "Come to the hospital and wait here with us. Quatre and Trowa don't know yet, but I'll call them--"
"Fuck you, Wufei, this isn't fucking funny anymore."
"Duo, please," he said sharply.
"Heero," I shouted. "Where the hell are you?" No answer from the suddenly empty apartment. I ran out into the hall. "Goddammit, Heero!"
From my phone still clutched in my hand I could hear Wufei shouting my name, tinny and far away. I took the stairs three at a time, stumbling and sliding down until I crashed into the foyer door, my weight throwing it open and spilling me onto the sidewalk. "Heero!"
But Heero wasn't there. He wasn't anywhere. I looked at the phone in my hand, heard Wufei still shouting at me. Slowly, I hit 'end' on the phone and stood motionless in the middle of the sidewalk in the crisp September air.
I looked down at my bare arms, at the pale pink scars there, and thought, oh, God, this is it. I finally have gone crazy.
End Part 1
(:./sparcck/tracing1)
