03-Jun-2000
Title: Brother Maxwell 3/?
Author: TB
Archive: yes please GW Addiction
Category: action
Pairing: 2xH
Rating: R
Warnings: drug-talk, language
Spoilers: not this part, but likely
Notes: This takes place when Duo is approx. 25; he has
been living with Hirde on L2 since EW took place. The
series and the OAV are cannon in this fic, no changes.
Duo takes the odd job from a group that works for the
government of the Earth-Sphere, spying and stuff. Kind
of like the Preventers but less open to public view.
Julian is an original character of mine from a novel I
never finished.
Feedback: please, thanks in advance! ^_^
Disclaimers: I don't own GW nor do I profit by using
it to write fics. Julian and the other extras are
mine, though.
On to the fic :)
TB note: /blah/ is Julian's narration; anything not in // is actual action taking place in the present time. In a film this would be called "voice over". It worked in my head. We'll see how it comes out on paper (or computer screen), hey?
Duo hesitated, then shrugged. "All right."
Julian seemed just a little disappointed--but it was always hard to tell with him. "Very well. Since we're landing in France anyway, I'll have some traveler's checks procured for the two of you. You might as well enjoy a good vacation, since I've dragged you all the way out here. Consider it my trea--"
"Did I say I wouldn't do it?" Duo interrupted.
Julian finally glanced at him. He smiled. "Good man."
Duo's hand was shaking slightly as he lifted it to snag a waiter's arm. "Excuse me," he said. "My party is already seated. Could I just get in there and find him?"
The waiter moved to a little podium where the table charts and guest lists were posted. "The name, monsieur?"
/"When you arrive at the resturant, you'll be looking for Bruce Gemel. Short man, dark curly hair. Don't be surprised if he acts like he knows you."/
"Gemel," Duo replied. He caught sight of a waving hand, and pointed. "That man there."
The waiter bobbed in a quick, bored little bow. "Go right on in, sir."
"Late as usual, Duo!" the swarthy-skinned man laughed, rising from his table to embrace Duo. He immediately felt overheated, almost to the point of naseau; but the hug didn't last a second longer than necessary, and the man, Bruce, he supposed, was holding a chair for him. "What can I offer you?" Bruce demanded, resuming his own seat. "I've ordered wine, but the waitress was kind enough to fill our water glasses." He pushed one toward the American. "Hot night," he added casually. "Looks like you could use something cool."
Duo tried to restrain himself from gulping like a dying horse, but the water tasted so good to his parched throat. He could feel it leaking through his chest like little tendrils of ice--such a welcome relief to the tightness and little darts of pain. When he finished the first glass, Bruce sympathetically offered his own, and Duo drained that one too.
"It's good to see you again," the man chatted companionably. "It's been, what? Two years almost. Some way to treat an old friend!"
/"Even taking into account the size of the dosage you're taking, the drug is going to run through your system like a brush fire. You'll be completely wasted during the cab drive to Paris, but by the time you meet with Bruce, you'll be in the early stages of withdrawal. Cloud Nine is an extremely addictive substance. You *will* need more, or your body is going to suffer. Descriptions vary. Worms crawling just under your skin, mild hallucinations, painful headaches, insides twisting--Bruce will move as fast as he can to get you to the Bishop, but all bets are off on how fast Joseph will offer you more. You could be experiencing fairly severe reactions."/
"You remember the Bishop?" Bruce stood to greet a tall man who was coming to meet them, and Duo slowly climbed to his feet, leaning unsteadily against the table when his knees threatened to buckle.
"It's an honour," he said, and stretched out a hand to Joseph. "I've heard a lot about you," he added.
The Bishop was a lean-faced, thin-lipped man who narrowed his eyes. "What's he doing here?" he asked Bruce, making no move to take Duo's hand.
Bruce shrugged. "He's an old friend," he said helplessly. "I couldn't just turn him away, Bishop... what kind of reception would that be for a--"
"Gundam pilot." Joseph suddenly seemed to take in Duo's appearance--the thigh-length braid, the beat-up leather jacket with the rolled-up sleeves--and then he took in the sweat beading on Duo's temples and upper lip, the unfocused glaze of the blue-violet eyes, the haunted flinching from unseen activity. The narrowed eyes widened. "I see," he murmured.
/"This bank card has over three hundred thousand dollars on it. I can't tell you for certain how much he'll make you pay. Don't scrimp. Act deseperate. You'll feel it. If you run out of money, we'll transfer more to your account. Joseph might drag out the haggling, to give you more time to feel the pinch--it's another one of those standard techniques when dealing with drug addicts. Take as much as he's willing to sell you."/
The Bishop slowly seated himself, eyes curiously watching the play of need and discomfort over Duo's face. Bruce ordered another round of wine.
Duo was starting to hear things. It was as though someone were standing just behind him and holding a conversation with him, but the words were unintelligible. He rubbed his sweating palms over his thighs slowly, digging hard with his fingernails. Spots danced just at the corner of his eyes, and he tried futilely not to swerve to catch them.
"Mr. Maxwell, you seem to be in some distress," the Bishop noted some time later, a small smile on his lips.
He drew a ragged breath. "Tolerable," he replied shortly.
Bruce interjected, "He's just in from the colonies, aren't you, Duo? Tiring flight."
"I'm sure it was." Joseph poked his order of steak with his fork, but his interest was locked on the squirming ex-pilot. "I do wish I could do something to help," he murmured.
/"He'll play with you."/
"I appreciate that," Duo muttered. The thought of food made his stomach lurch. His heartbeat thudded painfully, loudly, driving him to distraction.
/"The thought of having a Gundam pilot twisting with agony will tickle him to no end."/
"Perhaps you're a little motion sick?" the man was suggesting. "It's been a long time since the war... no doubt you've lost your touch with space."
"No doubt."
"Unless there's some other reason?" he prodded. His smirk was just a little fuller now, his fingers tapping the table gently, in a satisfied rhythm.
/"But eventually, he'll give in. The thought of having a Gundam pilot at his mercy will prove *much* more appealing."/
Duo picked up his water glass, which had somehow been refilled without his noticing. It didn't seem to help so much this time. "A friend," he answered with difficulty, "a friend... offered me some--delicacies--on the plane ride. They must not be sitting well."
"Sometimes the inexperienced will overreact to--delicacies." Joseph laughed. "And sometimes, despite the initial discomfort, the inexperienced strive to... overcome that reaction, and join the world of the--sophisticated."
/"Be blunt. He'll expect that. You'll play right into his court."/
Flatly Duo said, "You planning to introduce me to your level of sophistication, Bishop? Because if you're not, I'll find someone else who will. I'm not really up to sitting through dinner if there isn't a reward at the end of it."
Bruce shot him a warning glance, but the other man was chuckling. "Ah, don't be angry with your friend," Joseph told the curly-haired agent. "He's only living up to his reputation." He lifted a menu from the stack at the end of the table and made a show of perusing it. "Dessert runs expensive here in Paris, Mr. Maxwell. How much are you willing to spend?"
A particularly vicious twist in his gut actually brought tears to his eyes. He wouldn't have been able to hide the expression that crossed his face, even if he'd wanted to. "This is my vacation," he ground out. "I'm not skimping on anything."
/"The ball will be in your court, Duo."/
The Bishop closed the menu with a snap. "Wise decision, Mr. Maxwell."
Things were moving fast then. Bruce stood to help him to the bathroom, and Duo tried not to loose what was left of his lunch on the restaurant's marble floor. Joseph was left at the table, pocketing Duo's bank card and finishing his steak, and then Bruce was locking the door to the toilet and coming back to him at the sinks with a needle taken from inside his coat.
"You better get this in quick," he advised, grasping Duo's arm and pressing down with his thumb over the vein just above the inside of his elbow. He prepared the little syringe.
/"The ball will be in your court, Duo."/
Damn Julian and his game-plans. This was insane. Duo hadn't agreed to become a junkie. He hadn't agreed to risk his life on Julian's stupid games--
He caught Bruce's hand. "Don't," he ordered.
Bruce looked up.
"I've got a better idea," Duo rasped. "And you're going to help me."
End part 3
(:./erin/brother3)
