29-Oct-2000
Title: Inferno's Touch ~ Chapter 12
Author: Ravynfyre
Archive: GW Addiction, Darkflame
Category: Humor, Angst
Pairings: ?
Standard Disclaimer: All parts of Gundam Wing are Not Mine. It's all Theirs. *sigh* Too bad, but otherwise, I guess I'd never get anything done *happy hentai thought*. Anyway, not makin' any money offa this so dun sue me. You'd only get some college debt, a few dogs, and a pair of fuzzy bunny slippers anyway. Ya know. blood. Turnip. Do the math.
Rating: PG-13
Warning: None
Spoiler: None
Notes: This chapter dedicated to Kitsune for the use of her rubber skull.
Feedback: Yes, please. All comments welcome (although flames may be fed to my dogs, who, since they have notoriously gassy intestinal tracts, will be spending the night with the flamer afterwards)
A random assortment of inane morning talk shows flashed past in rapid succession as Heero flipped through the channels they could get in their room. Duo was still carefully ensconced in the nest of blankets he'd mounded about himself the night before, blissfully snoring away. Heero had felt the smallest twinges of guilt last night as his partner tossed and turned restlessly, moaning occasionally in pain or discomfort. Maybe he'd used just a touch too much of the clinical strength laxative in Duo's lunch malt after all. Heero hadn't meant to make the braided driver quite as miserable as he' d apparently been, but damnit, NO ONE touched Wing with impunity!
He sighed, glancing over at his partner as Duo once again shifted restlessly. He'd probably be awakening soon. He'd already long since missed breakfast, Heero having taken pity on his roommate by forbidding the nurses to try to awaken Duo earlier. After all, it wasn't as if Duo would actually drink that. whatever it was that the nursing staff had tried to assure them both was a nutritious meal in liquid form. It may have been chemically more nutritious than a triple thick double chocolate malt, but even Heero, the consummate health-conscious firefighter, would have been hard pressed to try and choke the foul smelling, and all-too-pasty substance down.
The conscience he hadn't even known he'd had, especially when it came to Duo, started to nag him. Maybe he had been unnecessarily cruel to Duo last night. Besides, the pranks were escalating to a dangerous level rather early in their stay. Maybe he could make a peace offering of something actually edible for the braided driver. He needed to stretch his legs anyway.
Coming to a decision, Heero flipped the TV off and slipped out of bed, in search of food for his partner. As he slipped out the door, Duo finally emerged from his cocoon, his amethyst eyes darting over to Heero's empty bed searchingly. Heero's absence was noted with a hostile glare, bordering almost on hateful for its intensity. A calculating gleam entered the braided man's expression as he gingerly climbed from his bed. After sparing a few moments to short-sheet Heero's bed, Duo, too, slipped from the room, and from the slink in his step, he had nefarious deeds on his mind.
Finding edible food in the hospital proved to be a far greater challenge than Heero had anticipated. It shouldn't have surprised him, considering his surroundings, however, it did task his patience. After a 20 minute search, he'd finally had to resort to badgering a nurse into running down to the hospital cafeteria to rustle up something.
As he wandered back to his room, Heero mused about how advantageous that may end up being after all. It was unlikely that Duo would accept any food from Heero, no matter how hungry he was. It would seem too suspicious coming on the heels of the day before. Besides, from Duo's perspective, it might look like Heero was admitting defeat and conceding the Prank War to Duo. Which he wasn't; he was merely trying to slow the escalation before one of the two of them killed the other.
But having a nurse bring him a meal, that would seem less suspicious. Heero nodded to himself as he returned to their room. The combative glare Duo threw at him as he walked through their door would have rocked Heero back on his heels if he hadn't been expecting it. It was, perhaps, a little bit more venomous than he'd been anticipating, but he really had hit Duo in his vulnerable spot. The braided man probably wouldn't be able to eat another chocolate malt for a while now, thanks to Heero's little prank.
Shaking his head, Heero ignored Duo's glare and set about stripping off his bedding and remaking the glorified cot. Once finished, he settled himself on his bed and watched Duo pound the snot out of a group of giant robots in his video game. He had to grudgingly admit that Duo was rather good at the game, and seemed to have an uncanny instinct for the tactics of it. For a brief moment, he found himself wondering what it would have been like to have had Duo as his partner back when Heero had still worked for Dr. J and the Foundation.
With a near inaudible growl, he shook his head and thrust those thoughts from his mind. That was a chapter of his life that had not only been closed, but the whole book had been burned. To ash. If he was lucky, that was. He grabbed their pitcher and poured himself a glass, distracting himself by concentrating on how water had condensed to the side of the container in small droplets. He almost gagged when he knocked the glass back in a single gulp. Whatever it was had been so sweet, he could feel his teeth starting to ache, just from the aftershock.
With a snort, he peered into the pitcher and grimaced. Green Kool-Aid. With about three times the normal amount of sugar by the taste of it. It was so sweet, it left an almost musty taste on the back of his throat. He grimaced, pushing the pitcher away without getting a second glass as he'd originally been planning.
On his own bed, Duo watched the little drama with a secretive smirk teasing the corners of his mouth. He bounced a triumphant little bed dance, and then turned his full concentration back to the video game.
A few minutes later, a nurse knocked and then slipped into the room, carrying a tray laden with an assortment of runny eggs, pudding, soggy hash browns and thin sausage gravy, and juices.
"Mr. Maxwell? I brought you something to eat since you missed breakfast," she said softly, her nervous glance occasionally bouncing off of Heero.
Duo noted her nervousness, glanced over at Heero suspiciously, and then paused his game to firmly cross his arms over his chest, flatly refusing the meal. The implication that Heero had something to do with the food hadn't been lost on the braided driver, and he wasn't planning on falling for that particular gag twice in as many days.
"Is there something wrong? I mean, I tried to find you stuff that wouldn 't hurt your throat." she said uncertainly.
You got this for me? He didn't? Duo hastily scrawled on his dry erase board, nodding sharply at Heero.
"Oh no. They wouldn't let him anywhere near the kitchen!" she assured him quickly.
Duo snorted ungraciously as he scribbled on his board again.
Smart people.
The nurse blinked, at a loss for a moment, as she peered first at Duo, then at Heero, and back at Duo again.
"I can. uh. take this back, if you want."
Duo gesticulated wildly for a moment, halting her and beckoning her over. With a smile, she complied, depositing the tray on his table and turning to leave.
"Can I get anything for you, Mr. Yuy?" she asked nervously, edging towards the door.
Heero shook his head, stifling a large yawn on the back of his hand as she nodded gratefully and fled.
Duo tapped his bed frame to draw Heero's attention to the message he'd written on the board.
What'd ya do to make her so nervous?
Heero shrugged, trying to swallow back another yawn. He wasn't going to give any more answer than that, but his mouth just seemed to take off without his approval.
"Hard to find edible soft food in a hospital. Got frustrated I guess," h e murmured.
Duo's eyes grew wide with disbelief. He abandoned his meal to scrawl down another message to Heero on his board, but the Japanese man couldn't seem to make his eyes focus on the shiny white surface enough to make sense of the words. The world was getting kinda. fuzzy. And thick.
Heero slowly oozed back against his pillows, settling into their embrace comfortingly. Heavy. Everything was getting heavy. Yet somehow, despite this sudden lassitude that was stealing over him, he didn't feel the slightest urge to actually sleep.
Duo made a small, choked cough right before a strange, yet annoyingly cheerful, male voice broke into Heero's musings.
"Good morning, Mr. Yuy! Time for your barium enema!"
His what?
"Mr. Maxwell, you should be in bed, finishing your breakfast. Please, Mr. Maxwell, I need you to get out of my way. That's it. Thank you. No. No, that's all right, I don't want to see your pretty board."
Heero opened his eyes and concentrated his full attention on trying to focus, managing only to make himself slightly dizzy as he saw Duo dancing around almost madly in an effort to get the male nurse to read his dry erase board. Heero blinked rapidly, trying to gather his thoughts as he was efficiently ushered to their bathroom, and the door firmly shut, locking Duo out.
It was getting so hard to order his thoughts. What was going on again? And why did the world seem to be so. heavy?
"There you go, Mr. Yuy. Now don't you worry. I've done this dozens of times. You're in good hands."
Good hands? Good hands for wh-
A startled yelp escaped his mouth, and the whole world suddenly leapt into focus. And there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it, except silently scream at that part of him that had actually felt guilty about that braided baka.
That, and plot exactly how many ways one could murder someone without leaving any evidence.
Duo started guiltily as a figure strode purposefully into their room, laden with yet another batch of the familiar take out sacks. He was surprised to see that it was Zechs, rather than Wufei today.
"Afternoon, Duo, Heero," Zechs said, carefully depositing the sacks on Heero's table.
Duo winced as he watched Zechs sort out the sacks.
"One extra thick malt, chocolate, and two large miso soups for you, Duo and. Heero? Heero, lunch. Wake up."
Duo shrank back into his bedding, tucking the blanket around him like a shield as Zechs tried to rouse his roommate. Unsuccessfully.
"Duo? What's wrong with Heero?" Zechs asked curiously, his eyes narrowing as he took in Duo's almost timid cower.
Duo winced again as he reached for his board.
"What did you do, Duo?"
He's sleeping off a tranquilizer.
"A tranquilizer? Why is he sleeping off a tranquilizer, and what did you have to do with it?" Zechs demanded.
Don't ask. Safer that way.
"Duoooo."
The braided driver gulped nervously, withdrawing back into his impromptu shelter.
Zechs sighed explosively, running a hand through his bangs and shaking his head as he contemplated the pair.
"I know that look, Duo. Bit off more than you can chew this time, didn't you? I don't want to have to bail one of the two of you out of jail," he said warningly.
Zechs peered at Heero's ashen face, and the way the Japanese man, even while unconscious, held a handful of his sheets in a vicious deathgrip.
"I don't know what else you did to him, Duo, but I do not envy you when he wakes up," Zechs said forebodingly.
Duo emerged from his protective nest long enough to flash Zechs a new message from his board.
Spring me? Please? I'll recoup at home where it's safe.
"Your grave. You dug it. You sleep in it," Zechs replied, shaking his head.
Fraid you were gonna say something like that.
Duo retreated back into his fabric shell as Zechs packed Heero's sacks back up.
"I'll leave these at the nurse's station. Maybe you can bribe him with food when he wakes up," Zechs said, pausing to toss another glance over at the unconscious firefighter, "But probably not. I'll write you a nice eulogy."
Nothing more than an uncomfortable shifting, and a startled squeak answered Zechs as he left their shared room.
"Good luck, Maxwell. You'll need it."
Dr. Sorenson's steps fell into the thick silence of the empty hallway like miniature death knells. Which they were, of a sort. The death of prank war at any rate, come hell or high water. He steeled his determination as he paused right outside THEIR room, the 'war room', as every nurse in the building had started calling it. The prospect of facing that rather intimidating young Japanese man made his innards clench uncomfortably, but if Dr. Sorenson didn't do something soon, he wouldn't have any staff left.
He concentrated on maintaining his huff, and stepped into the room. It was like walking into a deep freeze. The emotional chill in the air between the two firefighters was so palpable, it was literally a physical sensation. Like an ice cold shower, only much deadlier.
Heero was awake, sitting up in his bed, still looking slightly green around the gills, so to speak. His arms were crossed over his chest defiantly as he stared, no glared, at the huddled mass of blankets that Dr. Sorenson could only guess was Duo.
As for the braided firefighter, there was neither hide nor hair peeking out of the cocoon.
"Mr. Maxwell. Mr. Yuy," he said in his most commanding voice.
Heero's glare suddenly snapped to his face, softening a little into a sullen pout. Duo peeked out of his nest, his unruly bangs still managing to shield what little of his face he'd exposed.
"I have tried to be patient. I have tried to be understanding. I have even tried to be amused by your constant. antics. However," he said, his voice deepening with suppressed anger, "I can stand it no longer.
"There isn't a nurse left, male or female, who is willing to set foot in this wing, let alone this hall, and your room? They'd rather face deer season naked with a pair of antlers strapped to their head and a case of beer on their flanks! I'm at my wit's end! I can't even bribe anyone with holiday hazard pay to work this wing!
"The cause? YOU!" he yelled, stabbing an accusatory finger at the pair of them.
Amazingly, even Heero had the grace to look sheepish.
"Which leaves me only one alternative. It ends now. No more pranks, no more retaliation, no more jokes, not even a bawdy remark. Period. Only, how to enforce this? I spent all day considering that very quandary. Luckily, I actually came to a solution.
"If I catch wind of you, Mr. Maxwell, forging another order for an invasive medical procedure, or even anything as innocuous as planting a whoopee cushion, I'll have you shipped up to the Geriatric ward for an additional week. I think you'd enjoy it there, Mr. Maxwell. The patients there are just dying for some nice, attentive, non-talkative," he said, emphasizing Duo's condition with a narrowing of his eyes and a slight nod of his head, "company. Think long and hard about that."
Heero's eyes narrowed triumphantly as Duo let out a panicked squeak.
"And you, Mr. Yuy. Don't think you'll be getting off easy either. If I catch you even so much as EYEING him with evil intent, I'll ship you off to Pediatrics so fast, you'll leave your socks behind! Better yet, Pediatric Oncology. Dozens of youngsters, restricted to the hospital for weeks and even months at a time, bored, full of pent up energy, and you'd become their new. best. friend. Do I make myself clear, Mr. Yuy?" he asked dangerously.
Heero, meanwhile, had paled to the color of fresh snow.
"I see that I do."
He spared them each another significant glare before backing towards the door.
"There will not be another warning," he said, letting the threat sink in as he retreated before his knocking knees gave him away.
Back in the room, Duo emerged slowly from his blankets and stared, wide-eyed, at the door the doctor had vanished through. After a long moment, he turned his frightened gaze upon Heero's sallow face.
As their eyes made contact, the unspoken agreement to gracefully lay down their respective gauntlets until they were discharged was almost as obvious and physical as the earlier chill had been.
"How about some Springer?" Heero asked nervously, flipping on the TV with the remote and hunkering down on his bed.
Duo nodded emphatically, shifting apprehensively until he, too, had rolled into a tight curl on his bed, likewise trying to banish images of his own private hell by distracting his mind with insipid afternoon TV drivel.
Silence once more descended over the hall, but somehow, this silence was much less ominous than the last. At least for the staff.
Even with the Doctor's assurances that everything was dealt with and once again safe, it took another 12 hours to coax the staff into returning to their regular duties in that hall. Even then, they all spooked easily, like rabbits during hunting season.
However, when they saw the near angelic behavior of the two bed-ridden (or supposedly) firefighters, word spread quickly, and life returned to normal by the end of the following day.
Dr. Sorenson heaved a sigh of relief. Only a few more days. In only a few more days, he could release them both, and then if the whole city burned down, it would no longer be his responsibility.
An uneasy truce developed between the pair. Neither one was really ready to trust that the other wouldn't set his partner up, but some habits were harder than the Doctor's threats to break.
Duo continued short-sheeting Heero's bed at every chance he got, while Heero continued taking it for granted that his bed would be short-sheeted any time he left it unattended.
Heero bore it with stoic determination, realizing what an integral part of Duo's personality it was to play. Besides, it was something familiar in a disturbingly unfamiliar environment. He hated infirmity. Especially within himself. Duo's antics were a predictable anchor, which, if Heero were being honest with himself, he would sorely miss if Duo were to actually bow to the Doctor's threats and abandon.
Besides, it seemed to be helping keep the braided man happy.
Heero shook his head at that thought. Partner or no, what did it matter if Duo were happy? Other than those gut-wrenchingly pitiful 'puppy-dog-eyes' Duo seemed to indulge in when he wasn't happy.
Heero shuddered. That was a sight he would try to avoid at all costs. It did strange things to the pit of his stomach when Duo's face took on that expression. That odd, fluttery, uncomfortable feeling was almost as bad, if not worse, than the feeling of self-depreciation at being stuck in the hospital.
He found his thoughts turning more and more often towards Duo and the braided driver's effect on Heero's own moods, thought patterns, and over all demeanor. Which would only serve to bring a fresh glare to the Japanese firefighter's face as he realized how much time his musings occupied.
Especially when Duo would awaken him in the middle of the night, his soft whimpers heralding yet another nightmare. Nightmares which the driver seemed to be enthralled by with alarming regularity. Heero began wondering where Duo got all of the energy he had from. It obviously wasn't from sleep.
Heero found himself actually looking forward to the time when Duo could speak again. Perhaps then he could get to the bottom of the mystery.
"Very carefully," Dr. Sorenson instructed, "Say 'Ah.' If it hurts too much, then stop immediately, all right?"
Duo nodded and complied, his voice rusty and scratchy with disuse, but serviceable.
Dr. Sorenson peered carefully down Duo's throat, spotlighting every millimeter with his penlight as Duo obeyed his direction. With a satisfied nod, and a pleased grunt, Dr. Sorenson backed up a pace and motioned for Duo to close his mouth again.
"Very good, Mr. Maxwell. It looks very good. I think it's safe for you to start talking again, in moderation," he admonished gently, "And it also looks like we should be able to discharge you tomorrow afternoon."
"Really? Cool!" Duo rasped, tossing a wide grin to his partner seated across the room.
"Yes. And according to your final CT scan, Mr. Yuy, you should be able to be discharged tomorrow as well. Everything seems to have checked out well, with no lasting effects."
"Hn."
Dr. Sorenson smiled at the relieved grunt.
"I hope you will both be more careful in the future. The staff signed a petition that if you get hurt again, you're getting sent over to Mercy, rather than here at Saints. Mercy," he said confidentially, "has already gotten wind of you both and are sending around their own petition to have you both shipped out of town, should you ever get hurt. I highly recommend that you both stay healthy."
Heero snorted while Duo indulged in a stiff laugh.
Dr. Sorenson smiled sagely at them both, but the twinkle in his eyes belied the mirth behind his threat. With a final warning to behave themselves and stay healthy, the doctor left their room to continue on his rounds.
"Last day, Heero," Duo said, grinning at his roommate.
"Hn. Live it up. Cease-fire is over after tomorrow night."
Duo paled suddenly, realizing what prank Heero would be getting his revenge for.
"Hey. uh. For what it's worth. I tried to get him to stop."
Heero turned a devilish smirk on his partner as he answered, "I'll take that into consideration, Maxwell."
Somehow, that thought didn't comfort Duo very much.
"Hey, guys! I hear congratulations are in order!" an overly hyper female crowed from their doorway late that night.
"Hilde?" Duo called, turning down the TV as he shifted his attention to the door.
Heero watched as an athletic young woman with an infectious smile and a bouncy step careened into their room, arms laden with a heavy paper sack.
"Hey Duo! Hi Heero! Heard through the grapevine that you guys get sprung tomorrow!"
"Through the grapevine?" Duo asked.
"Yeah. Sally's been full of stories about you two and how you've been terrorizing the staff here over the last week. I heard something about a petition and Mercy. Anyway, she let me sneak in after visiting hours to see you and celebrate," Hilde said, winking conspiratorially as she extricated the contents of the sack from the heavy brown paper.
Duo's eyes grew large and round and an excited giggle burbled on his lips as the twelve-pack of beer came into sight.
"Hilde, yer the best!"
"Live it up now, braid-boy. You're buying the next round."
Hilde pulled up a chair between the two beds and opened up the case, tossing a can to Duo, taking one herself, and flipping another to Heero.
"So what have we missed while we've been stuck in here?" Duo asked, popping the tab on his can with a hiss.
"Let's see.. Three house fires, four good accidents, a minor Haz Mat response. Nothing big there, just an ammonia spill on the interstate. Ummm. I lost count of all the aid calls. who cares about the automatic alarms. Umm.. A near drowning, and a partridge in a pear tree," she answered perkily.
Duo's face fell as he knocked back half the can.
"Sounds like it was a good week," he sighed wistfully, "Eh, Heero?"
Heero was still contemplating the can in his hands as he glanced back up at Duo and finally nodded.
"It's not going to bite you. Just pop the top, raise to lips, tip back, and drink," Hilde instructed, exasperated, "Unless you're too good to drink with the likes of us," she continued challengingly.
Heero's eyes narrowed, his gaze locking on hers purposefully as he opened his can and drained half the contents in a single gulp.
"At a boy. Anyone who actually survived being cooped up with him," she said, indicating Duo with a jerk of her thumb, "deserves a brewsky or ten."
Heero snorted with amusement as Duo spluttered indignantly. Hilde smiled indulgently as she started relaying anecdotes of the last week to the pair.
They passed the next hour or so, working their way steadily through the twelve-pack while Hilde brought them back up to speed. As she finished regaling them with Trowa and Quatre's adventure with one patient's overly affectionate pet pot-bellied pig, she glanced at her watch and blinked with surprise.
"Geeze! I gotta go! I was supposed to meet the girls at the bar half an hour ago! Sorry to run like this, but I'll see you guys later, okay?" she said, tossing her two empty cans in the trash on her way to the door.
Before Heero or Duo could do much more than wave, she'd vanished, having blown out the door with the same whirlwind speed that she'd arrived with.
"Heh. That's my Hilde," Duo mused, tossing back the last dregs of his third can.
"Your Hilde?" Heero asked, curious, as he tossed Duo a fresh can.
"She's like my little sis. We grew up together for a little while once," Duo answered, his voice getting soft and his expression growing wistful and slightly guarded.
"Hn. When?"
Duo shook his head, as if awakening from a dream. He eyed Heero warily from under his lashes as he took a long sip and replied, "A while ago. Old news."
Heero frowned. Even if he was working on his fourth beer in less than an hour, he could still smell an evasion when he saw one.
Before he had a chance to confront Duo with his observation, Duo was speaking again.
"That kinda reminds me, Heero. Been meaning to ask you this since the other night, but. heh. ya know. With the fire, and the no talking, and everything else going on." Duo said with a grin.
Heero could feel a tight knot of dread building in the pit of his stomach.
"Who's Odin?"
Deep within him, he felt that ball of dread freeze into sheer, raw, terror. A childish voice within him whimpered and withdrew, seeking refuge in his normal silence.
The soldier within him, however, remembered Duo's tactical slip up that first night. The soldier struck without thinking, going for the kill mercilessly.
"Who's Helen?" he snapped back defensively.
Duo's curious grin froze on his lips, and then faded into hurt silence. The same sort of guarded quiet he'd retreated to when Heero had asked him about Hilde. He tipped his can back and emptied it in a series of desperate, deep gulps, finishing his fourth beer in under a minute. Blindly, he reached down and fished one of the last two beers out of the cardboard case.
"How do you now that name?" he finally asked, his voice deadly quiet as he opened the can with a click and a hiss.
"You called out for her when you had a nightmare that first night."
"Ah."
Duo retreated into his thoughts, ignoring his roommate as Heero finished off the beer he'd been sipping. Tossing away the empty can, Heero fished the last one out of the now empty twelve-pack and grabbed the remote to flip the TV back on.
"I'm an orphan."
Heero paused mid-reach, turning his attention back to Duo, frowning at the still quality to his partner's voice. Duo stared straight ahead, his gaze locked onto his stretched out legs under his blanket.
"No biggie, right?" he asked with a self-depreciative laugh, "I mean, these days it's like odd for a kid to have parents."
"How old were you?"
Duo shrugged, knocking back half his beer.
"Dunno. Never knew em. Was always an orphan. Grew up on the streets. 'S' all I remember. The streets and Solo."
"Solo?"
"Grew up in a street gang. Solo was in charge. He took care of us. All of us. Till. Till the fever."
He fell silent for a long while. Heero peered at him, a frown on his face at the dead, expressionless, too-calm mask on Duo's face.
"The fever. That outbreak of pneumonia back in '87," Duo finally murmured.
Heero wracked his brain, thinking back. He vaguely remembered that. It ran rampant through the homeless shelters and the halfway houses. It had also struck nursing homes and schools as well, but most of those people had been able to afford to go to the hospital, and deaths had been few and light.
The streets and homeless shelters had been another story. Those too poor to afford treatment had died by the droves. Heero shuddered as he considered the implications. In 87, he'd been only 8. He and Duo were the same age.
"Solo got sick first," Duo continued, his voice finally blurring a little, although whether it was with emotion or intoxication, Heero couldn't be sure.
"Real sick. I snuck int'a hospital and stole some stuff t' try an' make him better. But it was too late. Gave it t' th' rest of the gang. Solo died 'n m' arms."
Heero slowly sipped at his beer. Duo had given the medicine to the rest of the gang, but he made no mention of having used any himself. Heero didn't think that omission had been a mistake.
This 'Solo' must have been very important to his partner.
"'S where I got my name," Duo continued, almost as if he was following Heero's train of thought, "Duo. Solo. No one else got sick.
"But Solo was gone. They all looked t' me. Had t' take care of 'em all. Learned t' be a better thief. Not good 'nuff, though. Got caught once. Thought I was a goner for sure. 'Cept. he didn't get mad. Asked me why I was stealin'. Told 'im I had t' get food for th' others. He got this funny look on his face an' then he gave me all his money. Told me he ran this shelter over at St. Mary's. Old St. Mary's. Told me t' bring all th' kids in for a hot meal."
Duo paused once again, lost in thought, allowing Heero to analyze Duo's story.
Point one: Duo was a thief. Had been a thief. Which meant one of three things. Either he'd either been caught as a juvenile, or he'd never been caught. Or somehow he'd managed to cover his tracks somehow to have passed the background check to become a firefighter.
Point two: old St. Mary's had been a beautiful old gothic Catholic Church and shelter back in the mid 80's. Then it had burnt to the ground, killing quite a few people. They'd rebuilt it about five years ago, and had opened an academy school while they were at it. Heero was familiar with the St. Mary's fire; it had happened when he was only 9 years old, but he remembered that fire vividly. That would have been less than a year after Duo had apparently run into the shelter's coordinator.
Point three: Duo had said that this guy had told him to bring the kids. Not the other kids, but the kids. Which meant that Duo, at 8 years old, no longer thought of himself as a kid.
Heero frowned.
"Lived offa that money fer a week. Ran out though. So hard takin' care of them all. 'S hard findin' 'nuff food. Started takin' 'em all in t' St. Mary's. They took 'em all in. He said he'd find 'em all homes. Took care of 'em."
"What about you?" Heero asked quietly.
Duo blinked, glancing over to meet Heero's gaze for a moment. He swallowed convulsively, before looking nervously away. Heero hadn't been fooled. Duo's gaze had been far too lucid to blame the slur on the beer.
"What 'bout me?" he asked with a shrug.
"Did you stay on the streets?"
Duo shook his head, concentrating hard on the rim of his beer can.
"They took me in too," Duo said clearly before his voice dropped to a near silent murmur, "Shouldn't'a."
"They?"
"Father Maxwell. Sister Helen. Th' priest an' th' nun that ran th' shelter. They took us all in. Found 'em all homes. 'Cept me. No one wanted me. I was too bad."
That last declaration, so calm, so. forthright. It rolled off of Duo's tongue as placid and as factual as he'd recite the ingredients for a cough syrup. Before he could open his mouth to refute the claim, Duo was continuing.
"So I stayed at th' shelter. Th' others. found good homes. Father Maxwell an' Sister Helen. they took me in. 'Dopted me."
A stirring of dread crawled along Heero's soul. He could see the flames licking in Duo's eyes, he could smell the smoke flaring in Duo's nostrils, he could taste the fear in the air.
Was it Duo's? Or his own?
"You were there," he breathed, horror dawning in his gaze.
"That night." Duo's voice trailed off, losing the slur he'd been cultivating, abandoning his pretense of inebriation, "that night."
Heero watched as Duo seemed to freeze, his whole being stilling into this single moment, while his eyes grew wide, pupils contracting down into pinpoints as he concentrated on memories.
"The shelter was full that night. Father hadn't slept in days. so busy. Helen too. I'd been invited to a party. but Father forbid me to go. Told me I wasn't old enough, and that he and Helen needed help with the shelter. I was mad. So mad. We yelled. Had a fight. Helen tried to stop us. tried to make us apologize. but I ran away. Ran out. Didn't go to the party, just walked around for a while. Long while. I was so mad at him. He was always. doing that. Keeping me home. Saying no. Always said it was because he. loved me.
"I didn't see it then. god. Father. I see it now. I see. I see that night. When I close my eyes. I can still hear me yelling at him. I can hear his silence. He never yelled. I take it back. Father, I take it back. Helen was so sad when I ran out. saw it in her eyes. She was crying. Helen shouldn 't have to cry. I made her cry. My fault.
"And when I finally came back. it was all wrong. Gone. The spire was caught in a pillar of orange and black. It was all washing away to heaven in sheets of rage. mine. The fire. was like the cloak of the specter of Death. There was no escape. not for them. But I'd run away, so I was. I can still hear his silence.
"That's what I remember the most. The silence. It seemed wrong. Seemed like the Sanctuary should be screaming. tears of blood. like one of those miraculous holy images you hear about in places like Paraguay. But Mary had already been sacrificed. And there was no God.
"I ran inside to find them. It was so hot. couldn't see anything. couldn 't breathe. I thought I finally heard the Sanctuary cry, but it was just the sirens. She was there. in the shelter. That's where I found her, collapsed near the door with a pair of children in her arms. They were gone. Whisked away like the spire. taken into the black cloak. She was still there, though. Helen. Her eyes. they were still crying. but her mouth. it smiled when she saw me.
"She tried to talk, but her throat was too raw. I wouldn't have heard anyway. The silence was deafening. It was killing me. She pressed her cross into my hand and closed her eyes. I could see her faith. and it wasn't enough. I tried to pull her out. Tried to save her. but she was too heavy. Too big. I couldn't move her. Her faith. wasn't enough.
"I would have stayed with her there. but there was a hand. A black cloak to shield me from the fire. I woke up outside. I heard the paramedics talking as I woke up. I was the only one. The only survivor. So I ran. They tried to stop me, but they couldn't. Nothing can stop Death's errand boy. Nothing. Went back to the beginning. started over.
"Alpha and the Omega. And the Valley of His Shadow. where I built my home."
Heero suddenly remembered to breathe again as Duo fell silent once more. The braided man's eyes were still wide, endless pools of violet torment that drowned the casual observer in a starless night.
Heero needed the stars back to guide him.
"Dante's wrong, ya know," Duo finally said bitterly, blinking as he seemed to return to himself with the speed of a stooping falcon, "Hell isn't fire and brimstone. Not alone. It's the fear and the loneliness. And that helpless feeling knowing that that bastard Lowe will never be called to pay for what he did."
A lance of ice stabbed along Heero's spine, grabbing his brain in a vice of surprise and fear.
"He didn't set that fire," he blurted out before he could stop himself.
Duo turned, paralyzing him with a look born of equal parts disbelief, hope, rage, fear, shame, and something even Heero could put no name to.
"What?"
He wanted to stay silent. The explanation burning on his tongue would only thrust the two of them down a path that Heero feared tread. Why force Duo to relive that night yet again by turning all of the braided man's perceptions upside down? Besides. Lowe had no honor, so what did one more death-toll fire on his name matter?
Duo's eyes sharpened into focus again, tipping the balance.
It wasn't Lowe's non-existent honor that urged Heero's tongue to once more run off, spilling the truth. It was Duo. Duo's right to know. To hate him with purity. To hate Heero with purity as well.
"Lowe didn't set that fire. He'd been in Queens setting up that warehouse fire that took out six blocks of slum and killed all those indigent families. It was the one they called the Machine."
"The Machine?"
"Tsuberov. Tsuberov set the St. Mary's fire."
Duo's glare narrowed, filling Heero once again with a foreboding sense of terror and dread. They weren't quite there yet. Not quite to the truth. But-
"How do you know?" Duo hissed.
Now they would be.
"There was someone who wanted the shelter shut down. I don't know who. He never told me," Heero said softly, ducking his head to stare at his hands where they desperately clutched the fragile aluminum of the beer can. He'd expected Duo to demand more answers, but the driver was curiously silent as he watched Heero struggle to find the words to say.
"I don't even know why he turned down that job. It would have paid well enough for him. Maybe even he was wary of defiling a church. So he took the job in Queens instead. Heard later that Tsuberov took it. The Machine.
"They call him that, because he likes to build. things. To make the fire. The more complicated, the better. To take Human error out of the equation. The Machine. did the church.
"Odin was mad, later, when he heard that he was being blamed for St. Mary's. The Machine was, too. Tsuberov wanted his rightful credit."
"Odin?" Duo asked, his voice low and wary, like a child reaching out to grab that poker from the fire, and suspecting, somehow, that he'd be burned.
Heero glanced back up, unable to deny Duo the right to confront his demon through the demon's own spawn.
"Odin Lowe. the only father I ever knew."
~TBC~
RavynFyre
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