19-Feb-2003
Title: Inferno's Touch - Chapter 23
Author: Ravynfyre
Archive: GW Addiction
Category: yaoi, AU, occasional humor
Pairings: 1+2, 3+4, 5+6
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
Warning: None for once.
Spoiler: None.
Notes: All terms will be explained at the end of each chapter. If I miss something, please let me know and I'll be happy to explain.
Feedback: Yes, please. All comments welcome.
Special Note: This chapter is dedicated to Captain Joe Rotherham, who was lost in the line of duty on January 13th, 2003. He was a Brother, a friend, and the inspiration behind the "pie incident", a prank he pulled on me. He was a hell of a fireman, a hell of a guy, a hell of an inspiration, and he'll be sorely missed. This one's for you, Joe. You're still missed.
Never thought you'd see another chapter of this, did you? Hopefully, my muses have decided now to conspire *with* me to get many more chapters done, rather than *against* me. Many apologies for the massive delay in getting this chapter out (dear god, has it really been a *year*???). Life snuck up, whacked me over the back of the head, mugged me of my spare time, and left me naked in a back alley of Overwhelmed. Will try to do better. Anyone who needs a refresher of earlier chapters, they can be found at http://www.gwaddiction.com under the archives menu. Appologies for the cross-post. Enjoy.
"But I don't understand..." she'd started to say, eyeing the bundle of papers clutched in her hands with a perplexed blink. "That hardly seems an appropriate-"
"And what defines propriety?" had come the quietly murmured reply. "You? Those shadowy figures who presume to hold a leash they have imagined about our necks? Myself, even?" Treize turned then, so smoothly facing the window once more that the deep red wine in the glass he held did not even offer to slosh up the cut crystal sides.
She'd remained silent as her employer and pledged Master regarded the panoramic view of the city spilling out before him. Far in the distance had been a shimmer along the horizon, the barest hint of distortion, of darkness marring the perfect dawn. The promised storm hovered just beyond mortal ken, waiting for the moment it might be set free. There would be rain and worse before the night fell.
"Society is a blight upon the perfect face of this world, my dear Lady Une. It seeks to fetter Itself, chaining dreams of righteousness in trappings of honor, pretense, and some assumed sense of false morality. Mores, learned at birth, taught by leprous fools to unknowing babes, poison what humanity could be, twisting it into what humanity is. The potential our souls once held is slowly being leeched from us by the very world we ourselves have created. Life has become too easy, too simplistic and vulgar to continue fostering the competitive drive for transcendence that drove our ancestors to these shores more than a century ago," Treize had expounded, pausing now to sip delicately at the fragrant wine Une had selected for him. Nodding with appreciation, he turned his head, eyes not leaving the mesmerizing view of the city, merely feigning more interest in the Lady than he currently truly possessed.
"Once, all it took was the sight of the stars above to inspire our fathers to reach for them. And now our children think it too difficult a task to catch one, so they retreat to their 'cyberspace', and their game consoles, and their insipid little melodramas and complain about the things they haven't the courage or integrity to grasp for themselves. We have strayed from the path, Lady. Righteousness is now nothing more than a word, spouted by politicians and diplomats to mock the memory of past glory. War has become a video game to be played by Ender's children; joysticks and displays rule the fate of honor now, not the honest bloodshed and valor of flesh and blood soldiers."
Once he'd turned back towards the floor to ceiling window, Treize might have been little more than a statue of onyx silhouetted against the clear morning sky. If he breathed, Une had not seen the shift of his body, nor heard the faint bellows of his lungs as they drew breath in and out. She held her peace, waiting out his pause if for no other reason than to bask in his presence another moment more than she otherwise would have been able to. Deep within her chest had fluttered a faint stirring of awareness that both titillated and terrified her. As if part of her soul could reach out to touch his, could commune on a deeper level than ever before, but by doing so, would see a truth so frightening that the rest of her soul would not be able to contain it. For a fleeting moment, she'd found herself wondering if it was possible for a devotion this deep to kill, for a love like this to kill simply by longing too much. Surely this vacuum would seek to be filled somehow.
Even with her own thoughts rattling around in her mind, his next whispered words had been like hammer strikes against her ears.
"Life was much simpler when it was still ruled by flame."
The silence curled about them both for long moments, a cat winding itself about Fate as She prepared to descend a staircase. Would She be caught up in the feline's dance and trip, clattering down the steps to die in an inelegant heap at the bottom, or would She fall into step, tamed by Mr. Treize and his glorious vision?
"Sir," she'd finally murmured, a statement rather than the lilting question it sounded like.
As if awakening from a distant dream, Treize turned slowly, meeting her eyes for the first time that morning. Though his cerulean regard did not shift to include the instructions in her hands, she was well aware that they had been included in his attention.
"It is up to us to set humanity back upon the correct path, Lady. We must cull weakness from our midst and give the strong wings to fly once more. Each single step we take, no matter how small it may seem, is one more away from the menial masses which seek to drag genius down."
"Sir," more confident then, with the faintest of nods.
"I leave it in your capable hands, Lady," Treize replied, sipping once more from his glass as he turned back towards the window.
The fading echo of those remembered words filled her as if she were little more than a bowl awaiting his voice, a vessel to be filled with his touch, with his regard. The last of the wiring fell into place, tamed by her nimble fingers as she relived her conversation with Mr. Treize that morning. Being entrusted to accomplish this small part of Mr. Treize's grand vision filled her with a sense of purpose and pride, despite the rather austere surroundings. While she had not originally understood what use burning down this one useless warehouse out of the whole city would accomplish, the brilliance of the undertaking had quickly unfolded. The casualty count would not likely be that high, but the effect would be stunning.
Rising from her knees, Une dusted her hands off on the thighs of her coveralls and surveyed her work. The components were common, so common, in fact, that having first set her eyes upon them, Une had thought their Radio Shack homogeny to be beneath her. Of course, that was the brilliance. They were, in fact, for the most part scavenged from a pair of portable stereos favored by the very workers who usually prowled these steam tunnels and service ways. Their plastic carcasses, picked nearly clean by her frugal fingers, sat in a niche behind the rows of propane fuel tanks used on the forklifts that sat patiently in the warehouse above and behind her. Checking the remote, the one bit of refined and expensive equipment in this venture, Une smiled. Everything was in working order and was ready for Mr. Treize. All she had to do was deliver it to him and then return near sunset to trigger the initial blaze.
And then sit back and await the destiny Mr. Treize had envisioned. A destiny of flame and strife.
It would be magnificent.
Heero escaped into the relative safety of the bunk room to dress before he let the vision of a still naked Duo tempt him into forgetting his promise to seduce the long haired driver on his own black sheets. The bunk room was still too close to the dangerous ground of steamy shower, however, so he continued his strategic withdrawal into the kitchen beyond where at least the presence of other people might serve to help protect him from himself. Belatedly, Heero remembered that there was a woman present in the person of Noin, still helping Wufei to fix their brunch. Obviously, she had been part of the whole firehouse life before becoming an Investigator, but Heero frankly felt a little awkward unzipping in mixed company to tuck in his shirt-tails. Opting to suck in his gut, hard, to give him the needed room to cram the navy fabric beyond his beltline, Heero finished composing himself before stepping up to offer his help at the stove.
Noin, who had caught the maneuver from the corner of her eye as she flipped bacon onto a platter, simply grinned to the Japanese firefighter before declining his offer. Turning to place the now full platter on the counter, she asked, "Duo almost done in there? Brunch will be done in a minute."
"He's been in there longer than usual," Quatre commented in a worried voice, remembering the aura of dejection that had enveloped his friend earlier that morning. Shooting a suspicious glance at Heero, he was surprised to see the other man stifling a smile.
"He was just rinsing off when I left," Heero replied, his expression almost too neutral, the gleam in his prussian blue eyes almost too calm. Something was up. "Besides, he used up the last of the hot water, so he can't stay in there much longer."
Quatre paused in setting the table, his brow furrowing as he took in the complex jumble of emotions pouring off the normally collected Japanese firefighter. A faint flush rose in Quatre's cheeks as he absorbed the roil of satiated hunger that still emanated from Heero like the shimmer of mirage on desert sands. There was more to it, though, than pure primal lust - something deeper and fiercer, calming and enflaming all at once. It was like a slow burn, all smolder and embers, waiting for a fresh breath to explode into magnificent fury. Quatre had never doubted Duo's prowess before, but this abrupt about face in Heero's demeanor had even the blond empath slightly poleaxed.
A dark thought from deep within the center of his heart suddenly had Quatre praying that nothing ever happened to Duo; the consequences would be... dire.
"Oh, I did, did I?" Duo replied sardonically from the doorway, T-shirt tucked into unbelted pants, and his towel draped over one shoulder as he squeezed the last few drips from the tips of his unbraided hair. "Don't tell me that super-rookie Yuy is whining about it not being... hot... enough in there."
"Was I complaining?" Heero asked Quatre, reaching out during the distraction to steal a strip of bacon from the platter beyond Noin and earning himself a whack across the back of the hand for his troubles.
"Ha. Better not have been," Duo muttered, not giving the blonde paramedic a chance to answer Heero's rhetorical question before he padded barefoot over to peer over Noin's shoulder. After nodding in appreciation, Duo turned to spear Wufei with a mock-accusatory glare. "There's a woman in my kitchen."
"Actually, it's the taxpayer's kitchen," was the Investigator's bland reply.
"Hey, I pay taxes, too. Besides, last time I checked, I don't remember seeing any of these mythical 'taxpayers' in here polishing my chrome," Duo retorted, sauntering back towards the bunk room to braid his hair and pull on some shoes and socks.
"'Polish your chrome'?" Quatre mimicked, "Is that what they call it these days?"
"Euphemisms get more colorful every day, Quatre," Heero replied as he fetched a pair of chairs from the office to accommodate the extra bodies around the table.
"Besides," Wufei muttered to himself, "it looks like Maxwell's 'chrome' has been polished enough for one day already."
Zechs, who was the only one near enough to make out the soft growl, saved himself from a burst of laughter only by faking a choking fit on his coffee.
Nearly an hour and a half later, the last of the brunch dishes were loaded into the dishwasher, the largest items already drying in the dish rack beside the sink. Noin and Wufei watched the unhurried bustle of cleaning from their vantages on the couch and in comfy chairs near the TV, having been chased off by Duo who'd quoted the "Firehouse Rule: You cook, you don't clean," at them before running them off. He'd attempted to snap Wufei in the rear with a well placed and tightly wound up towel, only to have Zechs prevent him by doing the same thing to the braided driver. That had devolved into a round of name calling and horseplay that had even Heero snickering behind his hand. Taking full advantage of the, so far, relatively lazy Sunday, everyone drifted over to take their normal seats for a showing of Wufei's movie of the week: "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon" this week. Duo dropped gingerly into the only other unoccupied chair, his rear still stinging a little from Zechs' last well placed shot, before he glanced up and cursed. With the addition of Noin, Heero's usual chair had already been taken, leaving them one seat short for everyone.
Plus, Heero had one of his study manuals in hand as he glanced around the already full seating arrangement.
"You're going to study," Duo accused, crossing his arms.
"A little," Heero admitted, "Not for the whole movie, but I have that state cert test in a few weeks, and I really need to get these chapters memorized. I'll buy you all a beer to make up for it tomorrow night. I promise."
Duo frowned, but nodded, stifling the odd sense of wistful disappointment that surged up within him at the sight of Heero's manual.
"Here, hold this," Heero replied, shoving the book into Duo's startled hands before vanishing back into the bunk room. He returned momentarily with one of Duo's pillows, purloined from under his bed, which he dropped to the floor in front of the recliner the braided driver occupied. Taking back the manual, Heero dropped into a cross-legged seat on the pillow and then leaned back against Duo's legs. "Okay?"
Duo nodded with satisfaction as he relaxed back into the chair, letting his lips curve into a small, if slightly surprised, smile.
Heero grunted an acknowledgement, pointedly ignoring the stunned looks everyone but Wufei was casting his way. With a secret little smile of his own, the Chinese investigator aimed the remote and started the movie.
Duo managed to sit still for a whole twenty minutes before even the lazy Sunday afternoon had to concede defeat. Surprisingly, Heero was so absorbed in his reading that he didn't even notice Duo's increasing restlessness until the violet-eyed man reached down and tapped him on the shoulder.
"Heero, here, take the chair. I need to get up," he murmured, urging his partner forward so he could stand.
Heero blinked in bewilderment a few times before settling into the vacated chair, watching Duo for a moment as the braided man made sure he was settled. "What-"
"Just feel like baking," Duo replied, answering Heero's question before he could ask it.
"Baking?" Quatre piped up. "You haven't felt like baking since the last time you managed to pull off short sheeting every bed down at Station 1."
"I just feel like an apple pie," Duo replied with a shrug. "Unless you don't want one?"
Zechs promptly reached over and clapped his hand over Quatre's mouth, silencing the paramedic. "Apple pie sounds wonderful, Duo. Pilfer away."
Duo grinned and then started sorting through the other two shifts' refrigerators looking for ingredients. After "borrowing" the apples from First Shift, and lemon juice from Second Shift, plus the spices and flour and butter from general kitchen supplies, he had everything he needed to make a nice pie from scratch.
"Remind me to pick up some apples to replace if we go out later today, okay Cap'n?" Duo called as he started mixing up the pastry crust.
A grunted chorus of affirmatives came from the direction of the couch, making Duo smile. Turning his attention back to the bowl, Duo tuned out the rest of the room and concentrated on mixing and rolling, cutting and peeling.
"Crouching Tiger" was more than half over before he was able to slide the lattice-topped confection into the oven to bake for the rest of the movie. With the pie in the oven, the counters now cleaned once again, the utensils and left over ingredients all put away, and a shroud of contentment settled over him, Duo slipped back over to the chair he'd given to Heero. He pushed the Japanese man back into his seat as Heero tried to rise and give up the recliner, murmuring a quiet, "Stay there," before dropping onto the pillow Heero had brought out. He shifted back until he was settled against Heero's legs, flipping his braid up out of the way to lay beside Heero's knee.
Once again the pair was the center of attention as the normally taciturn firefighter accepted this breech of his personal space with nothing more than a brief shake of his head and even a tiny little smile. Once again, Wufei seemed unphased by this turn of events, and merely allowed his own infinitismal smirk to widen by a fraction as Heero's hand absently sought out the soft tassel of Duo's braid.
Eventually, everyone's attention shifted back to the movie, leaving the pair in peace save for the occasional curious glance at Heero's fingers, which continued to brush through the short chestnut strands, or the oddly contemplative smile playing across Duo's features. The oven's buzzer, when it went off just as the first of the credits started to roll, came as something of a shock to them all. Heero glanced around warily for a few moments until he realized that his jarring sense of discomfort stemmed from his now empty hand. Brushing those fingers over his thigh, he concentrated on slowing the frantic tattoo of his heart.
Duo carefully extracted the now golden brown treat from the oven, setting it on a cooling rack he'd already placed out for just that reason. Bending down, he inhaled sharply and the turned to gloat at the others when the speaker popped loudly and everyone's heads snapped up.
A moment or two later, their diligence was rewarded when the speaker squawked, "This is an Aid Call. Engine Eight, Medic Six, need you to respond to the intersection of Laurel and First Street for a two vehicle 10-50 (1) with injury. Report of multiple patients complaining of neck and back pain. Engine Nine will be responding as well."
By the time the last of the details were echoing out of the speaker, everyone had already fled to the bay and was quickly pulling on their gear. Wufei and Noin waited by the door, watching with a little hint of nostalgia as their friends geared up. At their belts, both of their pagers started vibrating and chirping an alarm.
"Looks like we have a call, too!" Noin called to Zechs.
"We'll be back if we can. Be safe," Wufei yelled over the rumble of the diesel engines before turning to head for the phone.
The blonde captain waved sharply once before pulling on his helmet, hopping into his seat, and slamming the door. A second later, the lights flickered on, the siren blared, and Engine 8 took off in the wake of the quicker, more nimble ambulance, leaving the doors to clack shut on the now empty bay.
"'My way or the highway,' Tro?" Duo said incredulously as they filed back into the kitchen from the bay a little over half an hour later.
Trowa merely shrugged and smiled that half-serious smirk of his before replying, "He was faking. He just wanted to try and sock that nice little lady that tapped him with a bogus lawsuit. If he hadn't intentionally cut her off, she never would have tapped his car anyway."
"Besides, there wasn't even a scratch on either car. I'm not entirely sure they really did tap each other," Quatre added, wandering over to the cupboard for a mug to make tea. "I'm just glad the backboard and cervical collar was enough to scare him into being truthful about not being hurt."
"Yeah, well Trowa getting the big ass needle of morphine ready to stab him with probably helped. Funny how it's always the big linebacker types that always seem so squeamish around sharp pointy needles," Duo snickered.
"It was only saline," Trowa replied evenly.
"Yeah, but the guy didn't know that. He thought you were all ready to dope him to the gills, and with Quatre going on about constipation as a side effect of morphine, it looked like he was ready to jump up, do a jig on the roof of his car, and 'dance dance revolution' his way home just to prove he was okay and didn't need it all so he could escape you two," Duo retorted, crossing his arms and leaning back against the now cool stove to eye them both with respect. "I thought Nine's crew was gonna bust a gut trying not to laugh watching you two handle him before we cut them loose and sent them back to their quarters."
"Duo, where's the pie?" Quatre asked suddenly, breaking into the braided driver's mirth.
"Whatcha mean, 'where's the pie,' Quatre? It's right there on the cooling ra-" Duo's voice trailed off as he turned to face the paramedic, nodding at the empty cooling rack. Or rather, the cooling rack than now held up a slip of paper rather than a pie. Reaching over, Duo snatched up the scrap and read it out loud, frowning fiercely. "'Thanks for the pie. It was great. Engine Nine.' Those *bastards*! Okay, find my pie."
Heero, who had just entered the kitchen from the rig room on the tail end of that outburst, simply stopped in his tracks, his face curiously blank and cheeks oddly flushed.
"Find your.... What?" he asked quietly.
"My PIE! You know, the apple pie I just spent all afternoon making for you all. From SCRATCH. With the cutting, and the homemade crust and the... Just look for the damned pie, you smug sadist!" Duo growled, watching Heero's slow smile spread as his partner ranted.
After several long minutes of searching, every dish had been searched, every cupboard opened and sorted through, every fridge checked, and even every locker in the bunk room invaded, all to no avail. Zechs quickly gave up, snickering as he watched Duo continuing his quest. Finally, when Duo returned from a fruitless perusal of the rig room, Zechs simply held out the phone, hiding his smile with his other hand.
Duo snatched it up, normally nimble fingers almost violently punching in the familiar number. He didn't even bother waiting for the voice on the other end to finish its greeting before snapping, "Okay asshole, where's my damned pie?"
Even from across the room, everyone could hear the tinny electronic voice burst into laughter. After a moment, the noise subsided to a murmur only Duo, in sole possession of the phone, could decipher. What he heard merely made him scowl more deeply.
"Yes, *that* pie. And no, we didn't make enough to share. Try to be nice by cutting you loose early from the bullshit calls, and you steal our friggin' pies. Gratitude," he growled, only the sparkle in his eyes giving away his amusement. "No," he drawled in answer to an unheard question, "tonight. Before dinner. Now. Yeah, now would be good. I can't believe you actually removed it from the premises! That's going too far, man. You do realize that this means war, right?"
Another tinny eruption of laughter, louder this time and slightly harmonized as if more than one voice were responsible.
"Yeah, just remember that when I shrink wrap your whole rig on my next K-Day (2)," Duo shot back. "We want that damned pie back, Joe. I'll sick Noin on you, don't think I won't."
There was a pause as Duo listened to the reply, and then Duo nodded, a satisfied laugh escaping him before he hung up without so much as a good-bye.
"They actually *took* it with them. We cut them loose, so they snuck over here to prank us, saw the pie, and *took* it. I can't believe they actually removed it from the firehouse," Duo said incredulously.
"And the other, presumably acceptable, option would have been.... What exactly?" Heero inquired.
Duo spun to stab him with a shocked glare. "To *hide* it! Here! At *our* firehouse! Taking a fireman's food out of his own firehouse is really going one step too far, man! I thought you knew that! Geeze, Zechs, what are they teaching these rookies these days?" Duo asked, throwing his hands into the air in a patently false show of melodrama.
Quatre had enough and burst into a fit of giggles, dropping to a seat at the kitchen table where he buried his face in his crossed arms. After several long moments, he composed himself again and glanced up, calm enough to manage, "So they're bringing it back?"
"Theoretically," Duo replied, shaking his head ruefully. "Teach me to leave a fresh pie unguarded in a firehouse. Animals. The lot of them, all animals."
Before anyone had a chance to respond to that, the speaker squealed, burping out, "This is an Aid Call. Engine Eight, Medic Six, please respond to Sun Valley Rest Village for a possible heart attack. 81 Year old man complaining of chest pain, history of cardiac bypass."
"Crap," Duo muttered, eyeing the kitchen as he followed in everyone's wake out to the rigs. "No time to nail it all down. Wonder what else they'll steal this time?"
Quatre merely snickered before slamming his door shut and flipping on the siren. Once again, the doors were quickly left to clack slowly shut on an empty bay.
Duo barged into the kitchen, gaze warily darting around to take in every detail and see what could be missing this time. Everyone else simply filed in behind him, waiting for the verdict. Sharp violet eyes quickly picked out the still pristine pie sitting back on its cooling rack, a new slip of paper balanced atop it, and a package wrapped in a plastic grocery sack on the counter next to it. Duo snatched up the paper and read it silently, smirking before he re-read it, this time, aloud for everyone else.
"'Thanks for being the generous souls we'd heard the Engine 8 crew to be. We appreciate being invited to share in your baked goods. Unfortunately, duty called, so we had to leave before you got back. Hope you enjoy the ice cream. Don't wait up for us. - Joe' Better not be some weird ass jamocha fudge flavor," Duo snorted. "Wouldn't go with the pie."
Heero dumped the cardboard carton out of the plastic, holding it up with a triumphant smirk for Duo to see. "Natural Vanilla. Happy now?"
"Of course," Duo replied. Grinning as he minutely examined the pie for damages. Satisfied after a few moments of inspection that the pastry was no worse for wear, despite its rather amusing journey, he placed it back in the cool oven for safe keeping. "I'm still going to shrink wrap their rig on my next K-Day."
"Only you, Duo," Zechs muttered, settling to a seat in front of the TV to look for something slightly less mindless than infomercials, "Only you."
Though he smirked, his eyes twinkling with bedeviled meriment, the braided driver did not refute his captain.
~TBC~
(1) 10-50 - a motor vehicle accident. Most police and fire departments use versions of what are called "ten codes" to shorten radio traffic and protect both the public and the public servants.
(2) K-Day - also known as a Kelly Day. Some departments give their firefighters an extra day off in a set pattern. Such as, every tenth shift they would normally work, they have off. It's mostly a morale booster, an added bonus to relieve the stress that builds up from such a stressful job. Honestly, I'm not entirely sure why it's called a "Kelly Day"... Tradition, for certain, but a tradition of what, I don't know yet. Perhaps named for the first guy who thought it up or implemented it. All I know is that having essentially a week off every month *rocks*.
RavynFyre