04-Aug-2005
Title: Inferno's Touch - Chapter 27
Author: Ravynfyre
Archive: GW Addiction
Category: yaoi, AU, occasional humor, action, drama
Pairings: 5x6, 1+2, 3+4 (this chapter - overall, 1x2x1, 3x4x3, 5x6x5)
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 and medical debt, a few dogs, a
cowboy hat, and a pair of fuzzy killer bunny slippers anyway. Ya know...
blood. Turnip. Do the math.
Rating: NC17
Warning: Yaoi/Lemon, Angst
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. Also,
hopefully the next chapter won't take me most of a year to write like this
one did. *crawls back into the saddle and tries to stay on this time*
Feedback: Yes, please. All comments welcome. Gotta warn you though... I
have a torrid love affair with fragment sentences and elipses. If that
bugs you, feel free to comment on it, but understand that it won't make
me stop doing it. heh...
Slowly, as if surfacing from a great depth, Zechs clawed his way back to consciousness. He could feel Wufei, still fully dressed, still lying atop the bedding, spooned up in the hollow of his belly. Distantly, his shoulder ached, but it was a pale second to the ache in his heart. Wufei was taking last night's events hard, and there was nothing Zechs could do to soften the blow to his lover's confidence. It didn't matter that no one could have predicted the attack itself, let alone the violence of it - Wufei still considered the deaths of Otto and the others to be a personal failure. Perhaps even greater than the one that had cost Meiran her life. Wufei would still not let either of them leave an argument unfinished, never let either of them leave the other in anger like he had once upon a time with his young wife. Zechs had tried that once. Only once. He vowed he would never again come that close to breaking his lover's heart, for the look of fear and loss on Wufei's face that night had nearly broken his own.
He tucked his head down into the curve of the back of Wufei's neck, inhaling deeply, memorizing every tiny nuance of his lover's scent. He would not think about that, would not think about the previous night. He could feel a tight band circling his heart as he forcefully shoved the memory of Otto backlit against the flames away. Otto who, supporting the determined young Miliardo, helped him to stand up to his domineering father when he informed him that no, he would NOT be taking his "rightful place" at the head of the Peacecraft corporate empire when his father retired. That he would be striking out into the world on his own, thank you, to try and make a real difference. Otto, who smuggled meals to the grounded young heir for a few days until the lad had formulated his plan to take off as soon as he was old enough, leaving not even a note. Otto, who had eventually tracked the young Zechs down and informed him that his Father had disowned him, disinheriting him, and would not be mounting some crazy scheme to drag his errant heir home. Otto, who had stood by him through his trials and tribulations, always a watchful guard, but never trying to interfere in the life he had chosen. A silent guardian, always there, but never a crutch.
"There is no shame in grieving for an honorable soul," Wufei murmured quietly. Without waiting for a response, Wufei turned in Zechs' grasp, facing the blonde man and shifting up to wrap his arms around him. Zechs could feel the warmth of Wufei's breath atop his head as he held him tightly.
The band constricting Zechs' heart snapped and a wracking sob escaped him. He tucked his head into Wufei's chest and gave vent to the tears he'd only barely started to allow himself the night before in the cold, lonely bed. He could feel Wufei's hands as he gently stroked along his back, not so much trying to sooth as simply being there, a pillar of solidity to lean upon. No condemnation nor censure for his weak tears, no disappointment nor weariness for being leaned upon, pure strength that was strength because Wufei received as much comfort from holding Zechs as Zechs did from being held. Like opposing sides of an A-frame, each made secure by the other, each taking what the other had to offer purely because it was exactly what was needed at that moment. Zechs, a shoulder to lean on, Wufei to be strong enough to comfort his lover's loss. Finally, after a time, the tears slowed, spending themselves into the musky shirt Wufei still wore and leaving behind an oddly accepting peace. There was sorrow there, sorrow for the loss of his oldest friend, but released, unable to fester within him. Long minutes passed into silence leaving Zechs spent and breathless, quietly sheltered in the circle of Wufei's comforting arms.
"It wasn't your fault," he whispered fisting a handful of that damp shirt.
"I don't want to fail them."
"You won't." Looking up, Zechs met Wufei's quiet gaze. "We won't."
An odd look crept into those dark eyes, far away, as if Wufei was staring at a distant star. Zechs would not give him up to that other world, however, and simply held Wufei, watching him with his heart in his eyes. When Wufei returned to the here and now, what he read in his lover's gaze filled him with resolve, set him back upon his feet again. He nodded simply once, and then tucked his head to brush his lips briefly across Zechs'.
"She believes you, too."
That wasn't good enough for Zechs, and he shook his head. "Do you?" he demanded, hoping, yet afraid that even he would not have strength enough to help his lover find his confidence again.
Wufei's lips curved up in a shadow of the first real smile Zechs had seen there since the afternoon before, and he stopped fearing. "With you by my side, I will never doubt again."
Zechs tucked his head against Wufei's chest again. The mingled scents of sweat and smoke, even a little blood and now tears filled his nostrils. Wufei chuckled mirthlessly.
"We stink."
"I didn't feel like trying to figure out how to try and take a shower like this by myself last night," Zechs admitted, shrugging the splinted and bandaged shoulder stiffly.
"I'd have been a little pissed off to come home and find you unconscious in the shower," Wufei agreed. He slowly loosened his hold on Zechs, reluctantly as if he would have been happy to stay there until the end of time, body odor or not.
With an equally reluctant sigh, Zechs slowly levered himself up until he was seated on the edge of the bed. Sorrow swelled up over him, threatening to drag him down for a moment until he felt Wufei's hand upon his shoulder. Looking up, he met his lover's understanding gaze. "If you're promising not to fail them, I promise not to go all maudlin," he said softly.
Wufei shook his head once. "Honor their memory. Just don't let their memory drown you. They would not wish that."
"I'd rather drown myself in the shower, actually," he replied, allowing a note of wistfulness to creep into his voice to lighten his mood.
"I'd rather you didn't, myself."
"Then I guess you'll just have to make sure I don't," Zechs replied fondly, setting the sorrow aside, still a part of him, but apart where it would not threaten to consume him anymore.
"Such an onerous duty," Wufei replied, allowing himself to be drawn, both into the mood, and into the bathroom. Of course, the fact that Zechs was clad in nothing but his bandages probably had as much to do with that as his lover's hand pulling him along. Surely when Zechs glanced back at him, his eyes were avidly drinking in every detail of his lover's body, committing every inch to memory, though he'd done that a hundred times or more already. For the briefest of moments, a shard of guilt raised its ugly head from the pit of his gut, condemning him for feeling such strong desire for Zechs so soon after the tragedy. Stubbornly, Wufei shut that voice out, ignoring it. Just as he would not allow Zechs to feel shame for grieving for their lost friends, Wufei would not allow himself to fall prey to it for getting on with their lives.
"You're woolgathering," Zechs accused, eyeing his still fully clothed lover as steam started billowing from the glass enclosed shower.
"Just enjoying the view," Wufei contradicted, swiftly shedding his clothing, leaving it in an untidy pile on the floor. One of Zechs' brows quirked up in amusement as he watched his lover uncharacteristically walk away from the mess on the floor. "I assume," Wufei continued, "that you realize that you'll get your bandages wet and I'll have to replace them?"
Zechs managed a one shouldered shrug, smiling philosophically. "A perk of living with a former EMT."
"My license is still valid, even if I don't have occasion to use it that often," Wufei replied, following Zechs into the shower. Wufei sighed as the hot spray washed over him and instantly started loosening up muscles that felt as if they'd been replaced with iron bands weeks ago. He opened his eyes when he heard Zechs chuckling.
"You look like a cat lying in a pool of sunshine - all whiskers trembling and feline smugness," Zechs said pressing close to Wufei and wrapping his free arm around the Chinese investigator's slim hips.
"Hmm," Wufei murmured, wrapping his arms around his lover and letting his eyes drift briefly closed again. "I feel as if I could learn to be human again after a bit of this."
"Only this?" Zechs asked, disappointed. His hand slid down, stroking suggestively over one firm buttock.
"The doctor said no strenuous activity, Merquise," Wufei replied, his voice a deeply purred counterpoint to the hissing of the hot water striking the glass of the enclosure. Before Zechs had a chance to answer that, Wufei released him and pushed him back against the wall, a predatory flash in his now open eyes. "Of course, standing isn't too strenuous."
Zechs bit back a gasp as Wufei dropped to his knees and began kissing a trail down his abdomen and thighs. As his manhood began stirring, coming to life, the irreverent thought that he should have known better than to tease a dragon crossed his mind. Wufei's hands crept around to massage his thighs, nimble fingers mirroring the trail his lips were blazing. The tips of the fingers of one hand slid gently into the cleft of his ass, just barely brushing across the tight ring of muscle there. Zechs felt his breath catch in his lungs as, at the same moment, Wufei's tongue lapped a long trail down the underside of his shaft before returning to nuzzle at the soft sac of his balls. Zechs gritted his teeth; Wufei was obviously in a serious mood, to skip most of his usual preamble like this. His fingers crept up to carefully fist a handful of the damp black silk of his lover's hair. He felt Wufei's chin, the faintest scratch of stubble, rasp along the crease of his thigh and Zechs looked down to see Wufei's dark gaze greedily drinking in every second, every nuance of Zechs' surrender. That ebon regard still pinned to him, he felt Wufei's fingers dare just a little more, dip just a little deeper to press gently upon his opening. A wicked smile flitted onto Wufei's lips and stayed until the dark haired man dipped his head once again and gently drew first one orb, then the other into his mouth, carefully rolling them within their velvet sac with his tongue.
Zechs groaned, his eyes shuttering closed even as his knees threatened to give out. He felt Wufei shift to hold him up, pinning him to the wall with his shoulder before pulling his head back long enough to murmur, "Not until I'm done with you, Merquise."
Those nimble fingers were back, pressing more insistently as Wufei lapped at the tip of his cock. With little more warning than that, Zechs felt his lover engulf him in that hot mouth. The suddenness of it stole his breath for a moment, holding him in surprised, exquisite immobility until the first digit slid unerringly within him from behind. He felt Wufei's sadistic chuckle of amusement shudder through him, vibrate along his shaft, ride him like the earlier weight of his sorrow, but infinitely more pleasurable, and had to remind himself to loosen his grip on Wufei's hair before he did damage. Wufei's tongue worked at him with each stroke, moving in ways that should have been impossible, rolling along his engorged flesh like a creature with a life of its own, and those fingers worked their way deeper, deeper still until, with a shock like the first burst of sunlight on the horizon, Zechs felt Wufei hit that place within him that made the whole world dissolve into a shower of pure pleasure. And still, Wufei took him higher.
Distantly, he could feel his lover cradling his balls, then holding him steady, then massaging him again, an expert rhythm between mouth and hands that left no room for conscious thought. He felt the grating of his voice in his raw throat as the wave built itself higher and higher, threatening to collapse under its own weight, and still Wufei pushed them higher. Finally, it was too much. The heat of the water, that tongue wrapping itself around his flesh, those fingers working their way deeper, ever deeper into him, Zechs shuddered, a cry ripping itself from him as the first edge of his release rolled over him. Zechs was thankful for the wall behind him, Wufei's weight pressing into him, holding him on his feet as the world vanished in a wave of purest pleasure. He could feel Wufei's throat and mouth working to receive his release, drinking him in, as if by not letting even a single drop escape, by taking it all within himself, he could keep his lover safe, could weave a talisman to protect them both from the world beyond their walls. Could keep him forever safe and at his side.
Slowly thought returned, and the fading glow of that release left him spent, still standing only because of the wall behind him, and Wufei leaning upon him. He glanced down and saw Wufei milking the last of his own release from himself, head bowed and chest heaving as a groan broke from his clenched teeth. The sight of it made the muscles in Zechs' abdomen tighten again, and he felt an echo of his own pleasure ripple through him once more.
"Bastard," he murmured through gritted teeth. "I wanted to do that."
Wufei was silent for a moment as he remembered how to breath again, then he slowly began to chuckle. "My parents," he said quietly, "were legally married, I assure you. Besides, you'll live. You can always return the favor when your shoulder is healed."
"When my shoulder is healed, I'm tying you to the bed and having my way with you until you beg for mercy," Zechs countered swiftly, shifting so that he could slide to his knees beside Wufei and wrap his good arm around him.
"Changs do not beg," Wufei replied, eyes glittering with silent challenge.
"We shall see. We shall see."
Wufei merely snorted before leaning in to claim Zechs' mouth in a fierce kiss.
Half an hour later found them both clean and, Wufei at least, fully clothed in the kitchen. It was only 10 am, and neither felt as if they had gotten even a fraction of the sleep they needed, but neither could they settle down to sleep any more. There was still too much to do.
Wufei finished wrapping the fresh bandages around Zechs' shoulder, securing the now dry splints back into place.
"I'd like to have Trowa or Quatre double check that when we get to Maxwell's, but I think that should do," Wufei said as he tied off the last knot. Zechs tried rolling his shoulders, satisfied when he couldn't move the splinted one enough for it to hurt any more than it already did, but also didn't bind up and cut off his circulation.
"I think it's fine," he replied, tipping his head back to rest upon Wufei's firm abdomen. "Help me with my shirt, and I'll make us something to eat."
Wufei frowned, eyeing Zechs' injured shoulder and the other smaller bandages he sported with skepticism.
"I'm injured, but I'm not an invalid, Wufei. I can cook something simple while you go over your reports," Zechs growled, knowing his lover well enough to guess that Wufei was anxious to do just that before they headed over to Duo's to compare notes. "Don't treat me like a child."
Wufei's eyes narrowed, and he licked his lips suggestively. "No. No, you are most definitely not a child," he murmured. Despite himself, Zechs felt his cheeks flushing, and as Wufei smirked, cursed his European ancestry for its fair skin. "I'll get you a shirt," Wufei said, leaning over to leave a gentle kiss atop Zechs' head before vanishing down the hallway towards their bedroom.
"Bastard."
"I told you," Wufei called, "My parents were most assuredly married at the time of my conception. I believe my father still has the sheets to prove it."
"That is utterly disgusting, Wufei," Zechs replied, shaking his head as Wufei reappeared with a navy blue sweatshirt in soft cotton held in his hands.
Wufei shrugged absently; they had long ago run the discussion of his ancestors' odd familial rituals to death. He had to agree with Zechs - the old custom of displaying the wedding night sheets to prove the cementing of the union was disgusting and terribly invasive. He was just thankful that he and Meiran had been able to avoid that when- He frowned, firmly pushing thoughts of his dead wife away. Wufei liked to think that she would have approved of the half naked man sitting not five feet away from him, and he was bound and determined to enjoy every moment that he shared with his blond lover.
"You're safe from that, at least," Wufei said at last, returning to their discussion. Zechs frowned a little, guessing at where his lover's thoughts had drifted to. Rather than answering, he stood and wrapped Wufei in a one-armed hug, holding him for several long moments and just being content to be there.
"I'm making old fashioned oat meal," Zechs eventually said.
As Wufei slowly disentangled himself, he nodded. "I'll get my files set up. You can help me look over them when you're done."
Zechs grinned a little, and then turned towards the stove. Wufei forced himself to turn his back on Zechs, ignoring the odd bangs and clatter of utensils and pots as the blond man attempted to cook despite being short a limb. Wufei knew that if he watched, he'd probably blow it and try to "help" Zechs out, which would only piss the older man off. He bit his lower lip and slipped out to his truck to grab the box he'd stopped past the office to get on his way home. Setting the box on the table, he started sorting through the files and notes, tuning out the chaos behind him. Noin would probably be pissed to find that he'd ransacked all of the open case files, including all of her own cases, but Wufei had the sneaking suspicion that there was a larger pattern to be found - if only he had all the information available.
He was only halfway through sorting the various event reports out when a bowl suddenly materialized at his elbow and Zechs joined him at the table. Wufei offered him a smile of gratitude, and then continued sorting through the files, pausing now and then to snag a mouthful of breakfast. Now and then, he would pause and shove one of the files over towards Zechs, letting the older man read through it and listening to his observations. Once, as Wufei was pacing restlessly across the floor, listening to the last of Zechs' thoughts, he bypassed to the telephone and made a brief call before returning to the table.
"I don't remember there ever being this many open Arson cases before," Zechs finally said as they both stopped to stare at all the open files spread across the table.
"We've never had this many open Arson cases before. This alone," he said, holding up a stack that was obviously filled out in Noin's handwriting, "Would have been above average if split between us all. But the rest," he continued, indicating two more equal sized stacks, one in his own name, and the other signed off by Otto, "This is madness."
"How can one person be so active and not get caught? What the hell is going on?" Zechs mused, shaking his head.
Wufei frowned slightly. "Because it's not one person," he murmured thoughtfully, pieces finally falling into place now that he had finally read all of the various open case files. He took the three stacks, condensing them into one pile again. before slowly flipping through each once again and setting it into one of two piles. He finally came to the last one and his frown deepened.
"It doesn't fit," he declared in frustration.
"What doesn't?" Zechs asked. He accepted the file held out in his direction and set it down to flip through it. "Relena? I don't understand."
"These," Wufei explained, pointing to one of the two stacks, "All seem to have been set in low traffic areas. Places where few people would have been there to witness an act of arson. Relatively safe for the arsonist to set, however each fire was either designed to be a trap, cause an injury to responding personnel, or was a diversion of resources. These," Wufei continued, indicating the other pile, "All were set in areas where there would have been some witnesses. Much riskier for the arsonist. They all seem to have been set to eliminate whatever witnesses there may have been, but in such a way that the fires almost contained themselves, reducing risk to surrounding properties and responding emergency personnel."
Zechs frowned, taking the break in Wufei's explanation to skim back through the report he held.
"The fire which injured Relena was set by an incendiary explosive device in a crowded hotel. There could have potentially been witnesses, however there was no attempt made at that fire to contain it, to design it as the others were to prevent spread to other spaces that would have risked nearby people or structures. There was also no attempt made to set any sort of trap for the responding emergency personnel," Wufei explained as Zechs read. "Further, in all the fires set by the fire-safe-scene arsonist, someone was killed. Those people, in most cases, were drug addicts, prostitutes, homeless, or members of local gangs. The exceptions to that were those individuals who had been featured in the newspaper shortly before their deaths. In every case, they had been featured for breaking some sort of law."
Zechs looked up sharply, eyes narrowed and lips pursed. "A vigilante," he guessed. Wufei nodded gravely.
"I believe so. Relena, however, doesn't fit that pattern. She was neither a member of a lower class, nor featured for any illegal activities. Nor did the individual who set that fire seem to have any desire to keep the fire contained to her immediate area as the potential vigilante has."
"Could it be that whatever trap the other arsonist might have set simply didn't go off as planned? That this fire is related to the other ones?" Zechs asked, indicating the file about Relena in his hand and the other stack of reports.
Wufei frowned and thought about it hard for a few long moments. "It could be... But it just doesn't feel right. Too risky of a scene for the other arsonist. Besides, neither Noin nor I found any indications of any sort of firefighter trap in that scene, and there wasn't another event going on anywhere in the city at the time for that to have been a distraction." He shook his head. "No. As much as I hate to consider it, I think that the fire that was set for your sister was set by yet another person, one unrelated to either Arsonist A or Arsonist B. I'm not entirely certain we should even consider that one a true arsonist, in fact. I think, while he may be skilled with fire, that he only resorted to fire as an interesting way to achieve his objective."
"Achieve his objective? What objective?" Zechs asked warily.
"Killing Relena Peacecraft."
The blanket was way too heavy. And it was shivering slightly. Shivering? Wait. What the- ?
Heero's eyes popped open suddenly, arms instinctively tightening around Duo, who was still sprawled across his chest. The gear shift was digging painfully into Heero's thigh, the leather of the seat was sticking uncomfortably to the backs of Heero's bare ass and thighs, the seat had them both twisted into a painfully awkward configuration, and Duo, at least, was chilly enough in the pre-dawn cool of the garage to be shivering.
Heero smiled to himself. Life just couldn't be more perfect at that moment that it already was.
With a sigh, Heero started to shift. Besides being likely that he was overdue for waking his braided lover up, Duo needed to be in bed where he could be warm and comfortable. He couldn't resist the temptation of letting his hands wander over the bare contours of Duo's back and ass, though. It was far safer to indulge his curiosity when Duo was unconscious, apparently, than when he was awake and on a mission to stake his claim. One of Heero's hands crept up to a spot or two on his chest that still throbbed a little; there would probably be a mark there for a few days at the very least.
"Duo, wake up," Heero murmured leaning in to lick a thin trail from Duo's neck to earlobe. "It'll be more comfortable in bed. Duo shifted a little, but otherwise stubbornly clung to sleep, tucking his head a little tighter against Heero's shoulder. With a sigh, Heero began the arduous task of trying to climb out of the low slung muscle car with Duo's naked form gathered securely in his arms. For the first time, Heero actually thanked whatever powers that were listening that the Foundation had seen fit to mold him into such a powerfully built soldier. Doubtless they never considered carting about unconscious naked men as an application of that strength, but their loss was Heero's gain. Or rather Duo's, as it allowed Heero to indulge his injured lover.
Heero paused with his socked feet on the cold concrete of the garage floor, simply absorbing that thought. His lover. Despite injuries and stiffness, despite the temperate chill of the morning air and the mental chill of ominous foreboding, Heero couldn't help but smile. Duo's lover. The warmth of that thought dispelled his shivers and chased that ache in his ribs and shoulder away. With a lighter heart, and a seemingly lighter burden even, he heaved them both out of the car and kicked the door shut behind him. It took a little creative juggling and an application of certain body parts that God had probably never envisioned, let alone intended, in order to get the door into the house open without dropping Duo, but after a tense moment or two, both were safely standing in the kitchen with the garage door closed behind them. It was a measure of how often Heero had visited this house that he didn't even have to flick on any lights as he carried Duo down the hallway to his bedroom without banging into any walls or tripping over any rugs. He'd always had a good memory for floor plans, anyway, a talent, it seemed, that was standing him in as good a stead now as it did during his days in fire academy. Yet another talent his former "keepers" had probably never intended to be used in this manner, Heero pondered with a smug smirk.
The valve on his mask was gummed up, making it hard to draw in a full breath. Somewhere up ahead of him, he could hear the fire chuckle cruelly, could feel it laughing at him. Somewhere behind him, Heero was sorting out the tangle of their hose, freeing up a few more feet so they could reach the seat of the fire and kill it. Duo was getting worried, though. It felt like Heero had yelled that he was going back to free up the hose ages ago, and still he hadn't returned. He still didn't have enough slack in the line to do anything about the fire up ahead, and it was getting damn hot. He should cool the room, but he didn't know where Heero was. He didn't want to blow his partner out a door or a window if this thing steamed badly when he tried to cool it.
Where the fuck was Heero? This damn thing was going to get out of control soon, and here he was, stuck at the end of a too-short line. Like pissing in the wind, shooting from here wouldn't do much more than get him wet and annoy the Dragon.
Duo set the nozzle down and started crawling back the way they'd come, expecting to run over Heero somewhere along the way. Several long, sweaty, hot minutes later, he tumbled through a doorway into cooler darkness, and suddenly realized that he was outside, sprawled across the porch of this house. He'd never come across Heero.
Around him, guys were running this way and that, equipment slung over their shoulders, ladders, fans, saws, and uncharged hoses. None of them seemed to pay Duo any mind as he slowly picked himself up off the porch and popped out his regulator. He tipped his head back to look through the hole in his mask where the regulator usually went, the rest of his mask still being too foggy with the condensation of his own sweat and breath to see more than fuzzy, indistinct blurs in. He tried to grab one of the guys running past to ask if they'd seen Heero, but the other firefighter simply tore out of his grasp and continued on his way. Another firefighter dodged around Duo as he grabbed for him. Finally, the third time Duo tried to stop someone, he managed to hold on tight enough to get the man to stop.
"Where's Heero? Have you seen Heero?" Duo yelled, fighting down a wave of panic.
"Who?"
"Heero! Heero Yuy! He was in there on the line with me! He went back to untangle the hose, and never came back! Have you seen him?"
"Yuy? Yeah, he came to the door, grabbed the last flake of your hose, and then went back in. You must have missed him. You left your partner in there, man. What are you doing?" the other firefighter asked accusingly. With a shove, he broke free and stomped off, staring back at Duo angrily.
"Shit! Heero!"
Duo popped his regulator back in and found his hose. Dropping back to his knees, he crawled back into the black smoke that had banked down to the floor and began carefully feeling his way back to the nozzle. He kept the hose between his knees as he crawled, so that no matter what side of the hose Heero was on, Duo should practically run him down.
It was getting hot, and the smoke was glowing with the strength of the fire raging up ahead. Duo flattened himself as close to the floor as he could without coming to a complete stop, and pushed on. He was surprised when his hands hit the nozzle again. Heero wasn't there.
Heero wasn't there anywhere.
The regulator muffled his voice as he shouted for his partner. It was as if the fire was swallowing his voice as he tried to scream for Heero to find the line, to find him. It was laughing at him now. No longer content with just chuckling sinisterly, it was full throated laughing at him. The smoke pulsed in time with the voice only Duo seemed to be able to hear.
Duo snatched up the hose and opened the bale, setting loose a torrent of cool water that almost immediately converted to thousands of gallons of steam. He felt it slamming him to the floor like a huge hand, squeezing the breath out of him, pressing him down, pinning him.
He couldn't move. Where was Heero? Had he just killed his partner with that blast of steam? Why couldn't he seem to move anymore?
And still the fire laughed. He could see it now, flickering, dancing amidst the smoke, a demon of crimson lightning. It filled his vision, terrible and huge. He must be in the seat of the fire now. He still couldn't move. The smoke was too hot. His mask wasn't keeping up. Where was Heero? His mask started vibrating[1] as the low air alarm went off. Shit. He probably only had a few minutes of air left. Maybe less. Where the fuck was Heero? They had to get out of their before their tanks ran dry. Before they fried. Before It got them both.
God, he'd failed his partner. They'd both die in this inferno. The hose fell from his fingers. The smoke. It burned. The darkness vanished in an explosion of light as the room flashed over and even the smoke and what little air remained burst into flame. Everything burst into flame.[2] He was on fire. He couldn't move, and he was on fire. Heero was dead, and Duo was on fire. He'd die soon, too. At least then he would be able to find Heero. His mask sucked up against his face as he tried to draw a breath, and his tank ran dry. Out of air. Out of time.
"Duo!"
Too late, he heard Heero's voice calling him from someplace cool and safe. But it would all be over soon. No air. Too much fire. Too hot. The end would come swift now. Soon he would -
"DUO! WAKE UP!"
Duo sat bolt upright, sweat streaming from his brow, down his bare chest. Heero held him in his arms, shaking him as gently as he could. They were in bed. How did they...
"Wake up, please," Heero pleaded, voice very small and frightened like Duo had never heard him before.
" ...'m 'wake. I th'nk," Duo managed to murmur, though he wasn't sure if Heero would understand him through the slur.
Duo's head ballooned in pain as Heero suddenly crushed Duo to his chest, relived. "You were dreaming."
"A dream? Just a dream? You're here? Real?" Duo asked, ignoring his pain to run his hands over Heero's back. It was the bandages his questing fingers found that convinced him that this was probably real. If this were another dream, he wouldn't have imagined Heero in bandages. It felt... *real*. The... dream had felt real, too, though. It hurt to burn.
"You frightened me," Heero admitted, whispering to the nape of Duo's neck as if Duo was even too precious to look upon fully. "You were yelling and thrashing. I couldn't wake you up. I thought I'd waited too long."
"Waited too long?" Duo asked, still not really able to gather his wits about him. His head hurt too much to think about anything beyond the fact that Heero Yuy was in his bed, willingly, and they were both, theoretically, still alive.
"To wake you up. Your concussion. Do you remember?" Heero asked, finally releasing his deathgrip on Duo to check his lover's eyes for signs of Duo's head injury worsening.
It all came flooding back. The fire. The explosion. The hospital. ... the Camaro. The little devil that seemed to share a corner of his brain with him commented that it was a good thing the Camaro had a leather interior; it was easier to get stains out of leather than fabric. Crossly, Duo wondered why that little demon-voice wasn't sharing his concussion and headache along with that brain space. Fucker. Or his muscle aches from having slept in a totally unnatural position for far too long with way too many injuries. The only answer his traitorous brain gave him was a nasty little snicker.
"Duo?"
Duo blinked and shook his head to clear out the cobwebs. "Sorry. Yeah. Concussion. I r'member. The fire."
"You were dreaming about it, I think," Heero replied, shifting so that he was sitting up, leaning against the headboard with Duo still held protectively in his arms.
It was absurd, but even that simple shift in position seemed to do wonders for making Duo's head and body aches vanish. Of course, most of that was probably because Heero was finally here, not just in his room, but in his bed, naked, or at least mostly, and holding him. Everything else was secondary to that.
"No. Not that fire," he finally said. "Another one. A house. Never seen it before. No one was listening to me, and I couldn't find you. It flashed. I thought you were dead. I couldn't find you, and I figured I was gonna be joining you soon," he explained carefully, slowly so that his words didn't slur anymore. It was still vividly with him, making him shiver a little with remembered fear. The nozzle in his hands, that sick feeling of suffocation when his tank ran dry, and knowing that Heero wasn't there, was probably dead, and it was his fau-
"I'm not dead. I'm here. I'm not leaving."
"Promise?" Duo asked, turning to look up at Heero. He felt a little foolish, like a child too old to believe in the boogieman crying when something thumped in his closet or under his bed. But he had to know. He'd come too close to losing Heero before he'd ever really had him to let this chance, however small, get away without a fight.
Heero stared at him thoughtfully for a long while. Duo was afraid he'd overstepped his bounds. Finally, after what seemed like a small eternity, Heero nodded to himself and began speaking. His words were soft, but quick, as if he was plowing through something he was afraid he wouldn't get to finish, or wouldn't let himself finish unless he spoke too swiftly to stop. "I promise. In fact, if you're well enough in a couple of hours after I feed you, I'll let you drive yourself home from my apartment when I go back to get all of my stuff to move it in here."
Duo smiled, the pain in his head gone in an instant. "For that, I could be well enough to fly to the moon and back."
Heero snorted and tucked Duo's head back down against his chest. "I don't live on the moon. I only live across town."
"No. Now you live *here*."
Duo felt Heero's arm tighten around him. "Hai."
"Kill... my sister?"
Zechs was still staring at his lover with a look of complete disbelief and faint horror when the doorbell rang imperiously. Zechs jumped a little, surprised; Wufei merely nodded as if he'd been expecting it. Laying a comforting hand upon Zechs' shoulder as he passed, Wufei headed for the front door. Before he could get there, the doorbell sounded out again, and Zechs could almost hear the impatience in the crisp tones. After a moment, he hopped to his feet and went to join his lover at the door, until he heard the front door close again, and two pairs of footsteps crossing through the house to the kitchen. Hilde followed Wufei in, a thick manila folder clutched tightly in her hands. Wufei dropped into his seat again, clearing off a spot at the table for her and nodding towards one of the other empty chairs. Zechs sighed, thankful to be distracted from Wufei's theory by his concern for the pinched look about the female firefighter. Despite it being obvious that she had not yet slept, had probably only grudgingly let the hospital staff bandage up her head and arm, and probably had even more injuries that she'd refused treatment for just so that she could get here that much quicker, she refused the seat.
"So you've still got that friend over at the FBI, right? The profiler?" Hilde demanded rather than asked as the envelope full of papers dropped to the table with a substantial thump.
With a sigh, Wufei nodded and then reached for the envelope. "I've already spoken to her. She's agreed to meet me tomorrow for lunch."
Hilde reached out, holding the folder in place and preventing Wufei from flipping it open. "And what happens if this nut hits again today? Or tonight? In case you haven't noticed, Wufei, six guys are dead and-"
"Hilde!" Zechs growled, ice blue eyes flashing with angry fire.
"It's all right, Zechs," Wufei interrupted the potential tirade wearily. "She has the right to be angry."
"You're doing the best you can," Zechs countered, stepping up to stand behind his lover's chair and laying a protective hand upon Wufei's shoulder.
"In case you haven't noticed," Wufei replied, mimicking Hilde's words, "My best isn't good enough. She has the right to be angry. As for my associate, tomorrow was the earliest she could fit me in, and she had to juggle three cases around and hop a flight from D.C. to get here to do so," he continued, glancing up to meet Hilde's gaze. "As much as we would like it, this world does not revolve around the woes of one fire department, even if it is being stalked by a serial arsonist/killer."
Hilde dropped into the seat across the table dully, her expression stricken. "So it's true," she murmured. "Word's been going around, but I thought they were being paranoid. So do most of the guys, but Walker..."
"What about Walker?" Wufei prompted as gently as he could.
"You know Walker," Hilde temporized. "He's always been a little... over-aware. When Duo and Yuy got hurt, he started talking about a conspiracy, about someone trying to hurt firemen or something. I thought he was just paranoid as usual, because not all the weird fires have been like that. Some of the rest have actually been pretty safe for us, all things considered. Not for the people killed in them, but everything around them and stuff."
Despite the graveness of the situation, Wufei almost smiled. "Almost as if there were two arsonists at work?" he asked.
Hilde's head jerked up sharply to stare at him, and he felt Zechs' hand tighten on his shoulder.
Wufei sighed again and pulled the folder over and flipped it open, sorting through the medical reports he found there. "You should come with us when we meet the others at Maxwell's. There is much we need to discuss and compare notes on, but yes. I have come to suspect that we are dealing with two different serial arsonists now. One out to kill firemen and the other..." His voice drifted off as he let his thoughts sort themselves out.
"The other?" Hilde asked.
"I have started to suspect that the other is on some sort of demented crusade to purify the world of evil. I'm hoping my associate will be able to assist me in shedding light on his or her motives."
"Purify the world?" Hilde asked, confused and a little horrified.
"I'd rather not have to explain it all more than half a dozen times," Wufei commented a little sardonically. "The others are probably already on their way to Maxwell's now. We should leave now, ourselves, if we don't wish to be too late."
"Where do you even hide all of these? I swear they weren't here before. No manuals."
"No dice."
Duo blinked, never having heard that bit of colloquialism come from Heero before. "Did you just say, 'no dice'?"
"I did," Heero replied evenly as he dumped another pile of magazines and books into the box on the table. "How about, 'no way, José'? Nein. Nichts. Nyet. Iie. Negative. Bite me." Heero glanced over his shoulder to gauge Duo's reaction, smirking at the slightly poleaxed expression on his lover's face. "I need those, Duo. I plan on testing for officer sometime."
"That was a real sense of humor peeking out there, wasn't it?" Duo replied, grinning a little. They were both still a little punch drunk and giddy with a new sense of freedom and relief. Or at least that's what Duo was chalking it up to.
"Are you kidding? Everyone knows that I don't have a sense of humor," the Japanese firefighter replied, waving one of his drier manuals at Duo for emphasis. It was a little scary, this sense of... almost euphoria. He kept expecting to wake up back at the Foundation, this whole last few months of freedom, Fire Academy, *Duo* having all been a cruel hallucination whipped up by J to break him down further. Well fuck that.
Duo laughed, a little surprised. "Well then, in that case," he finally said, standing up from where he'd been sprawling on the couch in Heero's apartment, "Do I pass muster? It's almost time for everyone to be showing up at my house. One of us should be there, and you still... apparently, have stuff to pack. I can head back and clear out some space for you to dump your boxes before they get there."
Heero set the stack of books down and stepped over, peering deeply into Duo's eyes only half in jest. The braided man *had* just suffered a pretty nasty concussion less than 24 hours ago, after all. Duo met his gaze unflinchingly.
"I suppose. I won't be too much longer here, though. I had most of the stuff packed already."
"Yeah, I know," Duo muttered a little bit more bitterly than he'd intended.
"I was a jackass. I admit that," Heero replied, remembering that Duo had broken into his apartment not more than 72 hours earlier.
Duo sighed and leaned in to brush his lips across Heero's. "No," he replied with a self-depreciating snort, "You weren't. No more than me." He silenced Heero's automatic objection to that statement with a swift kiss. After a thoughtful pause, he broke away. "Someday, though... you'll have to tell me what you were so scared of."
Heero eyed him for a long moment before nodding curtly once. "You pass muster."
"Don't be too late. We've got a lot of stuff to figure out."
Heero nodded once more, turning back to the last of his packing. They didn't kiss before Duo slipped out the door; neither one of them trusted himself with the temptation.
"Be careful, Maxwell!" Heero yelled before his door clicked shut again. From the corridor outside his apartment, he heard Duo call back that his head felt surprisingly fine, but he would anyway.
"It's not your head I'm worried about," Heero muttered.
Wufei pulled up to the curb in front of Duo's house, nodding with satisfaction as he noticed the familiar form of a silver Stingray sliding into a spot right behind Hilde's big truck. In the driveway, Heero was just stepping out of his own truck, the motorcycle strapped into the back bed. As everyone piled out of vehicles, Heero leaned into the passenger side of his cab and pulled out a box filled with what appeared to be spare uniforms and his off duty clothing. Wufei nodded with satisfaction; it was about damned time those two faced the truth.
Subdued greetings were all that broke the silence as they headed towards the front door, everyone still tired and a little shell-shocked from the night before. They all needed more rest, more time to reaffirm bonds, more privacy with their loved ones to gird themselves for the battles to come. Unfortunately there wasn't enough time for that. Their mystery arsonists could strike again at any time, and too many people had died already.
"Duo?" Heero's quiet call broke into Wufei's musings.
Heero stood on the porch, whole body tensed for flight, head cocked to one side as he peered at the door which was cracked open a few inches. Of the braided driver, there was no sign. Inside his head, Heero thought he felt the Soldier smile with smug satisfaction.
Wufei felt his skin prickle, a chill like the one the day before when the tones went off that third time racing down his spine. The box in Yuy's arms hit the porch with a soft thud, almost lost in the sound of Heero's foot as it hit the open door and forced it fully open. As Wufei slipped through the doorway in Heero's wake, he drew his service pistol, thankful that the city had seen fit to issue its Arson Investigators weapons. He heard the others file in warily behind him, and only then noticed that a similar pistol had magically appeared in Heero's hands. Not only that, but from the confident way he was clearing each area as he passed it, he was apparently competent in its use and ready, more than ready, to pull the trigger.
With a nod, Heero indicated that Wufei should check down the hallway past the living room, while he himself went on to the kitchen to clear it. Silently, Wufei slipped down the hall, carefully clearing each room as he got to it, until he reached the empty master bedroom, bath, and walk in closet it contained. He returned to the living room where the others were waiting, hands itching for guns that none of them were carrying at that moment. Quatre stiffened suddenly, clutching at his heart and moaning softly. With a feeling of dread, Wufei continued on to the kitchen where Heero had gone. As he rounded the doorway, Wufei stopped dead in his tracks.
Heero stood, gun hanging limply at his side and shoulders slumped in utter defeat, in the center of the kitchen amidst a scattering of shards of porcelain and glass. The dish strainer was on the floor, and it appeared that it had been full of dishes when it had been pulled or flung to the floor. A couple of cabinets were open, one with its door pulled half off the hinges, and there was a large kitchen knife lying near the doorway with a splash of blood on it. In the center of the floor was a small pool of blood and the shredded remains of the bandage Wufei had remembered seeing on Duo's head the night before. Clutched in Heero's hand was a crushed Tiger Lilly, just like the ones Wufei knew that Duo grew in his front flower beds.
Of Duo, however, there was still no sign.
"I told him to be careful," Heero whispered brokenly. "I - I should have told him..."
"Yuy?" Wufei called softly, some inner sense prompting him not to step any closer to the Japanese firefighter.
As if Wufei's voice had thrown a switch within him, Heero instantly shifted. There was nothing of defeat in that body anymore, only surety, and suddenly Wufei knew that there would be blood on those hands by the setting of the sun. One moment, Heero Yuy, firefighter, friend, and human was gone, replaced by what Wufei could only describe as... as a machine. And from the expression on his face, that machine's only purpose was destruction. The eyes Yuy turned on Wufei held nothing, no emotion, no expression, not even a spark of the budding personality Wufei had seen maturing there over the last few weeks. Now they held only the promise of swift and painful death. For who or what, Wufei could not be sure of, but there was murder written in those endless blue eyes. Such a stillness descended upon Yuy that if Wufei had not known better, he would have said that Yuy wasn't even breathing any more. It was almost as if Heero had been a robot or an android only pretending at life until that moment, but now the moment was over, and it was back to being a soulless thing once more. Even from the moment Wufei had first met Heero, even when Heero had been at his most determined not to let the world affect him, stoic and isolated, he had still been human. He'd still seemed human. Those days were long gone, and whatever it was that Yuy was now... wasn't entirely sane.
He felt himself falling back a step or two, and from the stunned gasps behind him, he knew the others had as well.
"What's going on, Yuy?" he demanded, hand tightening on his gun though he knew that if Yuy took it into his head to eliminate Wufei, that not even having the gun trained on him point blank would have made a difference in the outcome. The feel of the warm steel digging into his clenched hand made Wufei feel better, though. Good enough that his voice didn't crack as he continued pressing for answers. Wufei suddenly had an image of himself poking at a very large, very angry rabid wolf, wondering how many times he could get away with pestering it before it finally snapped and turned on him. "Where's Maxwell, Yuy?"
"He's still alive. They won't bother killing him until I'm there to see it," Yuy replied matter of factly. The ocean is wet. Fire burns. They'll kill Duo, but not just yet. His hand tightened around the crushed flower, broken petals dropping to the floor.
Wufei shuddered; he could almost see, almost feel the ice filling Yuy's soul. Before he could say anything, Yuy's eyes seemed to actually focus on him, and there, deep, almost subsumed in the cold fury was a flicker of the Heero he'd been getting to know. He was furious. He was terrified. He was alive. And something, or someone, shortly would not be.
"Find the arsonist," Heero ordered quietly. "This is my fight."
"We should-" Hilde started to say before Yuy turned that dark glare on her. Heero was gone again, leaving nothing but the killer behind.
"If I lose him... I won't be back. Don't bother looking."
Before anyone could respond to that, he'd pushed past them all and had vanished out the door. Mere seconds later, they all heard the tortured scream of his motorcycle as it started up and was revved cold. By the time they reached the door, Yuy had already jumped the big bike to the pavement, not bothering with ramp and having paused only long enough to cut the expensive straps holding the bike in place with a switchblade. Steel and fiberglass ground on the pavement as 600+ pounds of street racing motorcycle hit the driveway from an almost three foot drop. The smoke that big rear tire kicked up obscured everyone's vision long enough for Yuy to vanish down the block, engine wailing into the afternoon.
End Part 27
Notes:
[1] Vibrating SCBA Masks - Depending on the make and model of SCBA,
there are a variety of Low Air Pressure alarms. I am assuming that these
guys are using the standard Scott SCBA with in line PASS Device, just
like the ones I am familiar with. When the air pressure drops down to the
point where you have generally five to ten minutes of air left, the
regulator will begin to vibrate loudly. That way you can both hear, and
feel, the Low Air alarm. When that alarm goes off, you should immediately
begin exiting the structure, if you have not already begun to do so. It
is important to keep track of how much air you have at all times; if it
took you twenty minutes to crawl to the point you are at when your mask
starts to go off, you're never going to make it out before your air
runs out. The further in you go, the more imperative it is that you keep
track of how much air you have left, so that you always have enough to
get out.
[2] Air Burning and Flashing Over - Smoke is not harmless. Smoke is a mixture of heated partially combusted material, gaseous fuel, and air. Rather than thinking of smoke as "smoke", think of smoke as a mixture of highly combustible gasses - a lot like gasoline vapor or natural gas, just waiting for the proper conditions to burst back into flame. The Flashover is a real fire condition. This is the point at which the temperature of the air and those combustible gasses present in the room has gotten so hot, that they will spontaneously ignite, all at once. EVERYTHING combustible will ignite, all at once, at that time. And yes, firefighter bunker gear *does* burn... it just takes a lot of heat and fire to make it do so. In a flashover, everything goes from pitch black to frigging hellfire in about half a second. Flashovers are generally non-survivable environments, even for fully geared firefighters.
RavynFyre