24 Aug 2000

Note: This is the prelude to 'Complicated', a much longer story arc, and it takes place between Episodes 2 and 3. Ever wonder how they got Heero out of the water?
/ / denotes thoughts.
Pairings: (More like a cast list, really--no smooching in this one) 1+2+R
Warnings: Explosions! Swimming! Excessive use of pronouns! (They don't know each other's names, after all.) Possibly OOC, depending on your point of view. Hints of potential shounen-ai and (what's the other word?) hetero-ai.
Disclaimer: I don't own these delightful people (Sunrise and the Sotsu Agency do, and Bandai gets to pass them around), nor do I intend to infringe upon the rights of their owners.

Pull by Lilias

BOOOMF. The explosion shook the pier, the shock wave lifting the anchored ships; seawater showered down, returning from its brief flight. They stood frozen as they watched the two mobile suits, still locked in a half-embrace, sink back under the waves.

/Of all the idiotic--no time. Have to get him out. Now./

He wheeled to face the girl, but she was already over the side. /Great. Two idiots./

She came up gasping, looking around before heading unerringly for the pale shape in the water. Kicking off his boots, he arrowed into the bay after her. It was a warm night, but the water was cold. /You're just lucky I've been hiding out at sea, m'boy--never even seen this much water till a couple of weeks ago./ He spluttered as the icy waves smacked into him again, then directed his attention to the mechanics of moving through the water. Kick, reach, pull--it wasn't far, and the girl in blue had already dragged the unconscious boy's face out of the water. But he wasn't moving, and it was hard to see how he could still be breathing, face-down in the bay for so long.

Treading water, the boy in black looked around for a break in the pier railing--there seemed to be none, until the girl spotted a ladder. There. He nodded, wasting no energy on words when he needed it to tow the other pilot across the open water. Christ, it was going to be a hell of a climb--but the girl was already dragging herself onto the lowest rung, holding out her hand. "Push. I'll pull."

Setting his teeth, he heaved the unconscious pilot up as high as he could, bracing himself against the sidewall. She twined her ankles around the ladder's sides for leverage, and managed to catch the limp body under the arms. Leaning back, she yanked him up a rung, then scrambled to reposition herself. The boy pushed. She pulled.

Twice they almost fell, the slippery metal and their slick skin making for a risky combination. Salt water stung in their eyes, and he cursed the sheer weight of his sodden braid as it seemed bent on anchoring him to the water. Eleven rungs. It seemed like miles.

She was concentrating so hard on the rhythm--pull, scramble, adjust, pull--that it came as a total shock when she reached the top, tumbling backward onto the pier. He slid after her in a pile of inert limbs, and then the boy in black followed them wearily over the side. There was no time even to catch breath--he certainly wasn't catching any. Moving together, they turned him on his side to let at least some of the water he'd swallowed drain away, before beginning the compressions and exhalations that could bring him back.¹

Breathe, push, wait--and then at last he choked, spluttered, and coughed up several quarts of the Mediterranean before collapsing back against the slotted metal of the pier.² Still out, but breathing. Sitting back on his heels, the boy in black shook his head. /Idiot./ He ran a shaky hand through his dripping bangs, staring down at the other pilot. /Another one--just like me. Only even more into dancing with death, it looks like. How many of us are there?/ It was hard to look away from the boy he'd helped drag from the water; the pale, pointed face looked defiant even while unconscious, the rough hair wet against the arched cheekbones. /God, he's beautiful. And deadly. Especially to himself./

He remembered the girl, and looked up to where she knelt on the other side of the waterlogged mystery man, swaying with exhaustion, hands gripping knees. "All right?"

She nodded, mutely. Her eyes were huge with fear and concern, but her mouth was set in determination. Who were these people? So much alike, this boy in black every bit as guarded and dangerous as the one she almost knew. Were they on the same side? They didn't even seem to know. But Heero--he'd be all right, now. If she could just figure out how to get him home.

In the distance, sirens approached along the coast road. "Damn, damn, damn. That'll be Oz. Or Alliance military police. No luck, I've got NO luck. Let's hope they brought along an ambulance, at least."

She looked up at him with some surprise--weren't these guys with the military? And what was Oz? She could easily understand how their superiors might object to tonight's demolitions display, but still--

"Listen," he was saying,"This may hurt him even worse, but we've got to get him a little farther away from here. To the sand. You've got to pretend to be dumb kids necking on the beach, okay? Scared to death by the big bad explosion. Lover boy here got whacked upside the head with flying debris. Didn't see the scary bad men who did it."

She nodded again, though she gritted her teeth at his tone. Together, they pulled the pilot to his feet and supported him down the endless pier to the edge of the sand. They deposited him as gently as possible, wincing together at the audible thump he made when he hit the ground. All set. But--"What about you? Are we two dumb kids necking, or three?"

He looked as exhausted as she felt, but managed to flash her a shadow of what must usually be a megawatt smile. "Not tonight. I'm about to disappear, oujo-san. They can't find me here. But I'll be back when things settle down. Don't leave him, if you can help it. Nobody knows, right? What--who he is?"

"Just me."

"Lucky you." He smiled , trying to look reassuring. "It'll be okay. Whoever that is--" he nodded toward the sirens,"they'll help him until they figure out what's really going on. And by then I'll be able to come back for him. You protected him back there--I'm trusting you to do it again, for both of us. All three of us, I guess."

One tight nod. "What else could I do?"

"Lucky him."

The sirens were almost upon them, searchlights approaching from the water as a coastal patrol boat came within range. "Go," she urged him. "I'll make sure I have their attention."

He reached out to cup her face with one calloused hand, looking intently into her wide blue eyes. "Counting on you." That smile again.

Then he was gone, a shadow among shadows, moving at a fast lope down the beach. As she arranged herself convincingly at Heero's side, she barely heard the low growl of what must have been a well-hidden speedboat as it rounded the cliff face, heading away down the shore. As the blue-white-red of the emergency vehicles' whirling lights spilled over their sheltered corner of the beach, she composed her face to broadcast innocent terror.

The first officers to peer over the railing saw a graceful maiden in distress, her arms and face gashed by the same debris that had apparently laid out her companion (Relena had been busy with a handful of sharp-edged shrapnel).³ "Help! Over here! Oh, help! My boyfriend--he's hurt!" It wasn't that much of a stretch to put real fear and pain into her voice, drawing the techs and officers from the pier to the sand, keeping their lights from scanning farther down the shore. With everything she had, everything she'd learned from her years of playing the demure daughter, she willed their attention to her, tears of relief in her eyes as they moved to her rescue. And then, almost gratefully, she fainted.

The End

Notes:
(1) I really don't know enough about CPR to be describing this--need to watch more Baywatch!
(2) Augh! Okay, I admit it--I don't pretend to have a good handle on GW geography. So let's pretend Saint Gabriel is on the Mediterranean, shall we?
(3) This is partly inspired by a scene toward the end of Ayn Rand's _The Fountainhead_, in case you were wondering

(:./lilias/pull)