Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, wish I did, just enjoy
writing about ‘em for free etc
Pairings: 1=2,3+4,5+R
Category: Duo POV, AU, drama
Warnings: Yaoi, lemon
Word count: 88,437
Spoilers: None
Notes: Duo Maxwell and Heero Yuy are
members of the highly specialised Project Team, dealing with those matters that
are too sensitive for normal political channels. But there was a time when they were something
very much more than that – until one particular mission went horribly wrong.
Duo is in retreat from this past when a visit from his
colleagues brings shocking news. They also bring him a most unwelcome visitor –
Heero Yuy. Now he’s forced to work with
Heero again, in a situation that’s both claustrophobic and highly
dangerous. He will have to reconsider
his perceptions, his loyalties – and his desires.
Feedback: If
you liked it, PLEASE let me know!
This fic
includes many a homage to friends and family who’ve helped me through the
writing.
It’s also as
shiny as it is today because of some brilliant beta-ing by link_worshiper. Thanks to you for your tireless, constructive
and entertaining enthusiasm – and your tactful weeding out of my British-isms! It was a joy to share it all with you.
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Day One 05:30
I watched the five of them stumbling up my path with
bags and boxes, but I didn’t go help them at first. In fact, I didn’t move from the doorway of my
trailer at all. I just leant against the
open aluminium door, cultivating the nonchalant look. The nonchalant, ‘I never
asked you here in the first place’ look.
Didn’t work, of course.
It was so early in the morning that the sun had that
pale white shine. The air was sharp and
a little damp; there was nothing around except a wheeling bird high above us.
I couldn’t mistake the twist of misery on Quatre’s face
– he was genuinely distressed. His soft,
blond hair looked like he’d run his hands through it a million times this
morning, and dark shadows sketched in under his blue eyes. His whole expression said ‘I’m confused. I’m pissed.
I’m out of my depth here.’ It hit
me like I felt it myself – and I had, of course, in other circumstances. He was a guy who’d always got under my
defences, and my hostility wavered.
Relena was beside him.
Her expression was less easy to read – nothing new there, then. But when she darted one of her glares at me,
I stirred myself down the couple of rickety steps and sauntered along the path
to take my share of the baggage. I took
a couple of boxes off of Quatre and his assistant, and I helped Relena balance
her radio on the top of some packaged books.
Then I also took some suit covers off her PA, Cissy, slinging them over
my shoulder. But I refused to help the
other visitor – I reckoned he was strong enough to take the whole damned lot
himself.
We all tottered through the narrow doorway, one by
one, and piled the stuff in the corner of my main room, wedging it between my
shaky, tubular steel couch and a standard lamp that only works when there’s a
storm brewing. It was the only free
space available. Our huffing and heaving
brought down a couple of the pictures I’d tacked up on the wall behind the
couch, but I didn’t make a fuss about it.
They were only cut out of magazines, after all.
Instead, I stared at the baggage invasion: boxes; a
couple of kit bags; a modest pile of clothing. The flap of a cardboard lid settled down
suddenly, expelling a small puff of dust.
A small enough collection of belongings, I guessed, for a single
person. The sum total
of a life, of twenty odd years.
It had all been packed pretty hurriedly, I could tell. Some of the boxes were charred slightly at
the corners; there was water damage on many of the book covers.
Looked pretty pathetic. I swallowed down a comment to that effect.
No one was talking, apart from the panting. Relena sank on to the couch with a tsking sound, which was probably her only concession to
admitting pain. She had a weak ankle;
this removal business wouldn’t have helped it.
She fell once on a mission, when she’d hurtled down two full floors from
an outside fire escape. But as I heard
it, she struggled on to the end, carrying an operative out of the building with
her, and only then admitting she’d snapped a bone in her ankle. Tough cookie.
Relena made some small gesture with her hand and Cissy
and Greg – Quatre’s assistant – backed off outside again, to stand near the
foot of the steps. They pulled the door
closed behind them, but not completely. I
breathed a little more steadily – it had been getting a tad crowded
indoors. Just the four of us left, now. Someone cleared a dry throat.
Quatre spoke first – he never could stand awkward
silences. “It’s not for long, Duo,
hopefully. But there’s nowhere else we
could find – no one else we dared ask.
You know that, don’t you?”
I caught Relena’s eye out of the corner of my own, and
shrugged. “Sure, I know that. After all, I’m not exactly Employee of the
Month, am I?”
Quatre scowled.
“That’s not what I mean, and you know it. He’s in extreme danger – we all are. The Board wants to involve as few people as
possible outside of the Department.
You’re one of the very few that has the highest clearance.” I glanced across and caught the full force of
his open emotion. “One
of the few that we can trust, dammit!”
I bit at my lip.
“Tea, anyone?
Beer?” I
resisted telling them there was no
beer. I gave it up a while back – I found
all sorts of maudlin feelings crept in when I allowed it around me.
No one answered my question, but neither did it stir
them into any other action. There were
glances being thrown around that excluded me by their very existence. It reminded me of when I’d last been part of
that clique. When I’d
been a damned critical part.
Quatre sighed.
“There’s a hell of a lot to be done before any of us can rest
again. Oh, and a tea – yes please. I’ll give you a hand with it. Then we can talk everything through together.
That OK with you, Duo?”
“Yeah,” I answered slowly, making sure my eyes stayed
on him. “Sure it’s OK.”
*
Quatre made his way out to the kitchen area ahead of
me, pushing aside the tacky bead curtain with barely a glance. I kind of liked it, though purple and black
wouldn’t have been my first colour choice.
I needed to get in there with him before he discovered just how few
creature comforts I actually had. I
reckoned I could remember where there were a few tea bags left in a cracked
pot; perhaps a couple of washed mugs.
It’s not like I’d wanted to
entertain, I thought fiercely. Didn’t say it to the blond guy with the tortured eyes, though.
“You haven’t called Trowa or me for a while,” he
said. His voice was low, and it didn’t
sound like he put his whole heart into the rebuke. Even so, I felt like a major asshole.
“Not a lot of news to share,” I replied, easily
enough.
He raised a cynical eyebrow. “Just so we know you’re OK. Don’t need CNN for that.”
I nodded; shrugged.
“OK. I’m OK. But your comment’s fair enough, I
guess.” I flipped on the kettle, knowing
we had a couple of minutes before Relena got impatient for us to return, and the
noise of the bubbling water would hide our voices. “So let’s have the truth here, Quatre. I’ve been out of it for almost three months
now. What the hell’s going on? Far as I know, there’s been nothing much
going on in the Department since Mission Dove concluded…”
“Far as you know?”
His eyebrow rose again.
“Right,” I sighed.
“OK, so I’m not on the Project Team circulation list nowadays. But I can find out what’s going on if I want
– y’know?”
Quatre’s eyes sparkled with the smallest grain of
amusement. “Yes, I imagine you can. You always did find access to all kinds of
places. But you’re right – we’ve been busy
with nothing more than housekeeping tasks and general support to the
Department. The Project Team hasn’t been
called up for any new missions.”
“So…” The kettle shrieked and rattled to a boiling
halt. The condensation dripped with
familiar glee down my wall cupboard. “So
what’s this sudden crisis?”
His eyes were clear, but it was obvious that it took
him an effort to appear calm. “I guess
it’s important to get you up to speed. We’ve
all been unwinding after Dove; maybe we’ve been too complacent. But most of us were just looking forward to
taking a break: we were all exhausted; still pretty tensed up from it. As you know…” He glanced at me, and I knew what he was
referring to. Not now, Quatre, I thought. Leave it.
Mission Dove had been the last major exercise I’d been
involved in, before I … left the
Department. It had been the greatest, too – not that the
Department could take any specific credit, working as it did behind the scenes.
‘Anonymous’ was the name of the secret game we played as its agents. But we all knew that the most significant
peace talks of the last forty years had been concluded without incident, and
that our highly specialised Project Team had been a major contributor to that
success. We’d protected the political delegates
and cleaned the conference sites; we’d had communication systems that’d shame
the flight deck of a jet, monitoring any potential hostility across a couple of
continents. It had been a damned fine
time – the best work we’d ever done.
Though I say so myself.
But like Quatre said, there’d been a lot of tension and
weariness in the aftermath. And the opportunity to let it take hold. I knew that better than all of them here
today.
“Duo?“ He was staring at me. “Work with me on this, will you? You were with us on that mission – you’ve
been with us all the way since the beginning of the Team. Look, I don’t know what happened when you
left – I don’t know the who or the why of it. But it’s important to talk about that time
and fully trust each other.“
“Sure.” My gaze
met his, steady as before, and he turned back to the matter in hand.
“Well, like I
said, things were calm. Then just a
month ago, the attacks started. No
warning at all – no formal threat – no obvious
connection with any other current political or military event. We were alerted of random sabotage at
locations where the peace talks had been held, although the whole event had always
been under top secret cover. Also attempted assassinations of members of its Joint Committee. The strikes have all been a little amateur –
but dangerous, nonetheless. There have
been no other reprisals – and at first we assumed the sole connection was with
Mission Dove.“
I frowned. “How’d
anyone know where to strike? And who? The whole
damned thing – the whole Mission Dove – was the most complex piece of
concealment and confidentiality I ever saw.”
Quatre put a hand on a mug as if he were concentrating
on making the tea. Both of us knew he
wasn’t. He didn’t seem to be able to
phrase a response to that.
“You mean a leak from the Project Team?” I
breathed. A traitor sounded way too melodramatic – but wasn’t that
what Quatre was implying? After all, who
else would have had access to all the information?
He grimaced. He
was rolling a teaspoon between his fingers – I reckoned he’d spooned six heaps
of sugar into his mug already, and I hadn’t even poured the tea yet. “No one knows enough about it yet to make any
assessment. Trowa…” His voice faltered, but he went on, the words
tumbling out more quickly. “Trowa was – is following the trail right now. He’s been monitoring every communication in
or out of the Team since Mission Dove was concluded; he’s been checking recent
logs and reissuing access protocols. If
there’s ever been any breach of security, he’ll find it. But it takes time.” I saw the flicker of something disturbed in
his eyes. “There must be another
explanation, Duo. No one wants to believe
that. We’re such a small team – we all
know each other so well.”
Or not, as
the case may be, I thought. There was a nasty little chill, nagging at
the base of my neck. I held his gaze and
saw the tendrils of panic in his expression.
“You said – ‘at first’ you thought it was to do with Dove. There’s been something more since then, hasn’t
there?”
“Yes, there has,” Quatre continued, rather miserably.
“Over the last couple of weeks the attacks have been extended to Project
operatives themselves. The Team members – and people who worked for us, who were under our
protection.”
“But who the hell would know –?”
He looked into my face, fiercely. Like I
was the one giving him this grief. “For
God’s sake, Duo, do you think we’re not trying to find out? There’s been barely any time to investigate how the enemy could have gained such
information, because we’ve been too busy trying to defend each and every one of
our people! Relena had brought most of
them out of cover to investigate the attacks on Dove locations and participants
– we never thought we’d be vulnerable ourselves!”
“Trowa…?”
Quatre glared at me – he often found it difficult to
keep things hidden from me. “He’s OK – I
think. I mean, he’s not been attacked
personally so far. But he’s been working
24-7 on the communication trail to and from the Department, and he’s out in the
field now.”
I frowned again, but more gently. Quatre wasn’t telling me everything. It was rare for Trowa Barton to work out of
the Department himself. “So where is he?”
“I don’t know,” said Quatre, and the note of
desolation in his voice was shocking. “I
… need to get back and try to track him down.
He hasn’t called in for over eight hours. He left just before the attack last night on
the Westbridge apartment block –“
“Heero’s apartment block,” I said, softly. “Yeah. Relena told me the basics on the ‘phone.”
Quatre flinched, and suddenly I felt the wave of
emotion from him as clearly as I might see a sudden jag in a sound wave
pattern. “The whole damned building
could have gone, Duo! It’s the most
significant offensive so far.” The blue
of his eyes darkened to pewter with his anger, and the spoon clattered noisily
back on to the counter. “So now they’re
both on the danger list – both on the run.
Wufei’s in the hospital under armed guard, with injuries so severe they
won’t let anyone but Relena in there at the moment. And Heero’s here…”
“So…” I was shaken, despite my pathetic attempt at not
caring. “Why me? I’ve not been a part of it since Dove. I don’t need protection or anything. You know that.”
“Whatever Relena may have said on the phone to
persuade you to do this, she meant it, Duo.
About us
needing you. You’re the only one in such a unique
position; no media exposure, very little public record, and the skill and
training to vanish if you want to – hell, you’ve proved it already. It took me four days and all the resources of
the Project to track you here!” He saw my startled look – saw it
deteriorating swiftly towards anger. “Yes,
Trowa and I found your location a month or so back. I had my orders, Duo! When the attacks first started, Relena wanted
every Team member located, including you.
Just in case.”
It wasn’t worth getting upset about – and I was kind
of disappointed it hadn’t taken longer, though I didn’t say so. I had been tracked by the best, after all.
“I respect your need to get away, Duo – but we need
you now. You’re the only one who can
understand what’s at stake – what’s required.
We just don’t have anywhere that we’re sure is totally secure any
more. This place – your place – has never been anywhere near the Department’s books;
it just doesn’t exist as far as we’re concerned. You’re the only one at the moment with a
genuinely safe house.”
“Trailer,” I said, pedantically.
He looked confused – then smiled slightly. “Sure.”
His eyes ranged over the lemon-painted walls; the slightly bulging
window frames. I don’t think he’d
registered much of my unusual décor. “Trailer. It’s good,
I’m sure.” He sighed, gently. “I know you and Heero have … issues…”
I carefully bit back the growl in my throat.
“You won’t talk about it, either of you – that’s your
right, I guess. But I have to force this
on you, regardless. Even Relena has been
targeted in the last week or so –“
“Relena as well?”
I asked, alarmed. “How
serious?”
He dismissed it with an impatient hand. “Not serious.
She won’t tell you about it, I suspect, and she’s OK. You can see that yourself. But we’re suddenly all in danger, with no
idea as to why, whether it’s an organised campaign or random acts of revenge of
some kind. We have to consolidate what
we know – support each other in the Team.
Find the weakness; seek the threat.
Deal with it.”
“Important stuff,” I said, just for the sake of something
to say. I poured the water onto the tea
bags with exaggerated care. “The Board
is involved to the highest level, right?”
Quatre was pale.
“This is the single most serious threat since we created the Project
Team, Duo. But no one must know –
there’s to be no official recognition of the problem. We have to clean up our own mess – without
knowing what it really is. And we need
you back on the Team, don’t you understand?
If this is a chance to bring you back on –“ He looked very earnest, and I bit back
that overwhelming desire to offer him whatever he needed – he had that effect
on people. I knew why Relena treasured
him so much. “Why are you hiding out
here, Duo? You should have stayed -- it
could all have been sorted out, I’m sure.
I never wanted you off the Team, you know that, don’t you?”
I nodded, but so slightly that he might not have
seen. It hadn’t been Quatre’s choice,
whatever the circumstances. I knew exactly who to blame for my spell of
exile, self-imposed or not. “It’s a
given. Pick up that spare mug, man. She needs some, too.”
He picked up his and Relena’s mug. Looked at the matching
flower garden scene on mine. Just the three mugs.
“What about Heero?”
“Didn’t ask for anything,” I said, sharply. Why did my words sound like nails over a
blackboard?
“You’ll want to talk to him about all this, of course
–“
“I won’t,” I said.
My reply snapped the bolts down tightly on Quatre’s tentative
suggestion. His eyes blinked, rather too
quickly.
“It’s not much to ask, Duo. You’ve always been a tolerant person –“
“That’s where you’re wrong,” I said. “That’s where your Team speech fails,
Quatre. Because, just
now and then, I’m fucking not. I’m doing this for reasons that stick in my
throat, although I’ll stand by my word.
But I don’t have to be tolerant
at all. And don’t you forget it.” I ignored the splash of brown liquid on the
counter and the burning handle against my thumb. I pushed through the bead curtain, and
emerged back into the bubble of tension that was crowding my meagre main room.
Which was now uncomfortably full of
people I’d thought I’d left behind me.
*
It was like one of those Mexican stand-offs. I was balanced against the wall by the
archway into the kitchen, paying about as much attention to my tea as I did to the
Alaskan weather reports. The fourth
inhabitant of the trailer – Heero – stood beside the couch, alongside the boxes
he’d delivered to my home in a strange, bitter little parody of
protection. His hands hung at his sides;
he didn’t meet my gaze. He looked like
he was frowning but I was pretty sure that was just the way his face had
settled; meanwhile, his mind would be busy on other things. Quatre sat beside Relena on the couch – it
only took two slim bodies, at the best of times – and stared at the two of us
in despair.
“We weren’t followed here – we’re pretty sure no one
knows about this place except for us.
But you must inform us at once of any strangers on the site.”
I snorted. I
saw most people as they came and went, but only 20% of the population stayed on
the park more than three days in a row.
That was the nature of this place, didn’t he know?
He continued, regardless. “Heero will have communication with us – I’ll
leave you with a cell phone for that exclusive use, and the Team members know
the number. But he mustn’t have any
other external interaction. He mustn’t
be seen; mustn’t leave here until we give clearance.”
“You want me to sit through basic training
again?” My voice was deceptively smooth;
but Quatre winced at the low tone.
“No, of course not. Don’t be so damned sensitive. I know you know your job. Just wanted to stress some
things.” He wriggled on the couch,
glancing over at the unnaturally still man standing beside him. So did I. Tall; a little slimmer than
I remembered; dark hair looking pretty unkempt. The shadow of a cut under
his chin. My gut shuddered a
little. I didn’t think it was because
I’d missed a couple of meals this week.
Quatre glanced back and caught sight of my scowl. He grimaced.
“Cut me some slack here, Duo!
We’re very disturbed by it all.
We need to work together – to support each other.” His voice was just the right side of
pleading; just the right side of appealing to my better nature. He negotiated well, but he’d met his match in
me. My better nature was snoozing in a
corner wrapped in a blanket, hibernating for the season. I think he could see that in my eyes. “Look, we’re not thinking as clearly as we
should, perhaps. You’ll need to discuss
your own arrangements with Heero – work out your own timetable. And you’ll need 24-7 contact between the pair
of you, of course, to monitor this –“
That’s when Heero’s head jerked up, when his eyes met
mine at last. The frown was in the
depths of his eyes, too. I felt a dryness in my mouth that was pretty unpleasant.
“24-7 contact,” I echoed, wryly. “I rather think
that’s the last thing I need. And though I’m the one you might expect to be kind of paranoid, I’m guessing
that your colleague feels much the
same way.”
Quatre stood, rather abruptly. He looked from me to Heero, and then back at
me. His eyes narrowed – guess he recognised
the daggers drawn in two sets of dark pupils.
I think I saw Relena’s hand stretch out slightly, as if to hold him
back. I did notice that he hadn’t drunk a whole lot of his tea.
His next words were spat out in that rare, but very
powerful way that demonstrates just how awesome Quatre Winner’s anger can be.
“OK, so maybe I wanted this to work just a little too much. But what the hell made me think that it would?”
I turned my head very slightly, losing eye contact
with all of them. I suppose I was trying
to tune him out – I suppose I’ve always tended towards that cowardice. Always wanted to believe
that my way is the only way – and the best. But I was in no mood today for Quatre, the
Project Team’s mediator and Logistics professional – the man who ‘gets things
done’. Couldn’t he see that?
But he didn’t let up.
“Dammit, Relena, look at them! Glaring like gladiators at each other. They’ll kill each other before any enemy has the time to track them down!”
And then Relena herself pitched in. The slender, dark blonde woman who was
currently sat on my couch and sipping at a tea that must have been more bitter
than my shrivelled emotions. A woman with
the fittest body I’d seen in a long time – and a sharp skill in all arts
martial that no one ever credited, until perhaps they were on the receiving end. The keenest brain that had
ever thrashed me at chess and given me orders that I’d been eager to follow.
The woman I’d listened to – been directed by – for a very long and very interesting time. The woman I’d been surprised to see here
today, in person! Guess that’s what made
me realise the whole damn farce was real.
Her voice was sharper – and it was aimed towards
me. Kid gloves off, OK? “Duo Maxwell, I don’t want to have to pull
rank, but I will if I have to! This is
for the good of the Team – not individuals, OK?
This directive is by order of the Board, and if you want any chance of
ever working in the field again – in any capacity!
– you’ll do your damnedest to cooperate and keep Heero
safe! Do you understand?”
There was a sudden, awkward pause. You could’ve heard the last drop of
condensation drip down in the kitchen on to the linoleum.
“OK,” I said, slowly.
“No problem. I understand all too
well. I’m not aware that you – of all
people – ever had any problems with plain speaking.” The insouciance was a ploy of mine, to play
for time; to retain my dignity. We both
knew that. I was actually quite shaken
by her vehemence. Relena’s management of
us had always been calm and reasonably voiced.
“But you are asking me to put
my home on the line, right? To come out
of my quiet, anonymous little world – to offer it back up to your organisation,
with all its devious little deceptions and its awesome dangers. You forget, perhaps, that I also know that rather too well.”
“You’re still officially an employee of the
Department,” she snapped.
“And still on suspension, right?” I fired back. “Still on much reduced pay and benefits, right?”
Her eyes narrowed; her cheeks flushed. “It was your choice, Maxwell. We could’ve discussed the financial
implications. But as far as I remember,
you told me to shove the benefits up my ass and twist them hard. Next I knew, your address was ‘gone away’. And yes, you’re still on suspension, though
that’s open to final review in a couple of weeks
time.” She caught my angry gaze and held
it fearlessly. There was the hint of
compassion in her eyes, too. “If you’d
given me a chance, I would have told you to stay and see it out, Duo. You just weren’t listening to me at the time. I know it was tough back then – but that’s
what you have to be, too. We can look at this is a partial return to
active duty, if that’s what you want, and we’ll review the salary issue. If you can work with us here –“
“You ain’t the one I’m sharing my personal space with,
here,” I grunted.
Then Quatre was close again, hand at my arm. It was sort of a shock, being touched like
that. He probably thought I’d missed it:
the friendship; the banter. The Team.
I was in no mood to debate that either way.
“Duo, it’s obvious this is difficult for you. But there is no other way! Wufei’s out of
circulation in the hospital, and we can’t trust any other Departmental
locations at the moment. Trowa is isolated, out in the field with no support,
and we must get to him to make sure he’s safe.
Relena has the Board baying for blood, and a bunch of junior agents with
a very justifiable fear of stepping outside their front doors. We must protect the ones we have left! The Project Team’s work must be
maintained.” I could feel the urgency in
his voice; hell, I once felt it as strongly as he did. “Duo, he has nothing left – nowhere to
go! Heero needs you, Duo.”
He’s gonna love that summary of his situation –
of his life, I thought, a
little hysterically. The warm pressure
from Quatre’s hand was very unnerving. He’ll love it like failure, death and a wet bed all rolled into one. You hear that, Heero? Apparently you have nothing left! Except this…
Except me.
And so I turned back to face my new
houseguest.
Heero Yuy. Man
with the boxes; man with the need for my home.
Heero Yuy. Man
I’d crossed state to avoid; man I felt nothing for except contempt; man I once said
I didn’t want to see again until hell proverbially froze over. Let alone offer a mug of tea to.
Heero…
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Day One –
06:30
The trailer park was still quiet with the early
morning. Well, quiet in that the only
background noise was a mixture of barking dog, shrieking spouse and the
melancholic turning over of a dead car battery.
The usual.
No one got up to work in the city from around here.
The guys left with the same care and secrecy that
they’d arrived with. Relena went to call
her assistants and Cissy came over quickly to guide her back to the car, a
dull-coloured vehicle with its plates artfully obscured which had been parked
round the back of the gravel heap.
That’s where most of the vehicles from the site were left, a close
jumble of vans and cars that often vanished or changed mysteriously overnight.
Greg was somewhere around by a nearby trailer and came
running over to help Cissy shield Relena with his body, the pair of them always
looking out for any threat. I almost
laughed aloud when a large Rotweiler poked its head around the trailer after him,
and snarled aggressively. The kid lost
several steps in his surprise; seemed to speed up a bit after that, too.
And so off they went, rolling quietly through the back
streets, returning to the Department with their Mission Nursemaid – or whatever they might call it in memos – well
and truly accomplished. Quatre had been
the last to leave me, but also the most eager – the look on his face might have
been described as mounting hysteria. He
was worrying about Trowa – I knew it. We
all knew it. Trowa would feel the same, if the situation were
reversed. It had been a bit of a joke
when I first joined the Team – the way that the two of ‘em seemed joined at the
hip. Not physiologically, you
understand, but in the way that they understood each other without a load of
hand signals, in the way that they cared for each other. They didn’t make much of an issue of it,
keeping anything they shared outside work pretty discreet – but they weren’t
making excuses for it, either.
When I got to know what genuine guys they were – and
after I had some experience of my own… well, it wasn’t such a joke then, was
it? I rather envied them, to tell you
the truth.
Heero had nodded to Relena as she left, but when I
turned back from seeing them off, I found he’d barely moved from his stance in
the corner of my room. A narrow shaft of
morning light sneaked through the broken blind, dissecting the shadow of his
body. For a few long, silent moments we
stared in tandem at some disturbed particles of dust that glittered within
it. When they settled at last on the cushions
of the couch, I cleared my throat. This
was my place, after all.
“No one’s going to steal any of your stuff,” I
said. “You can sit down at least. You make the place look untidier than it
already is.” My voice sounded very
brittle in the suddenly empty room. I’d
abandoned my tea mug a long time ago, it seemed. I couldn’t remember if I’d eaten anything
since last night’s supper. The call had
come from Relena less than three hours ago – it felt like weeks.
His sigh sounded like it was dragged out of him. He shifted on one foot, then the other, but
he still didn’t sit down. “I feel the
same way you do,” he said at last, his voice a ripple of something rich and
angry. “If that’s any
consolation to you. I tried to
find someone else – tried to convince them I’d be OK somewhere else. You know what Relena’s like, though.”
I didn’t answer that one. It was unnerving enough, listening to
him. Having to listen to him. The voice was just as I remembered. Just the same as the late-night dreams, the
mockery, snagging at my nerve endings.
Fuck. For the first time, I wished
the others would come back. I wondered
why basic training had never covered this
precious scenario.
He looked like he struggled with words, with talking
to me. Hadn’t that always been the
case? I felt the wave of frustration
from him as clearly as I read the clench of his fist. “Duo – we have to cope with this, right? Just for the bare minimum of time. I can’t go out yet – you have to keep a low
profile too. We’ll have to sort out some
compromise.”
Obviously ‘fuck off and leave me alone’ wasn’t
an option, I
thought. Then I despised myself for the
sudden, childish aggression. My social
skills were lapsing, rather. Perhaps I
was becoming the loud-mouthed boor that many have accused me of being in the
past.
Perhaps – just at that moment – I could care less.
*
He sat at last – even his iron-cast limbs couldn’t keep him up indefinitely. I drew the stool out from under the kitchen
counter and dragged it into the room in front of the couch. I sat myself down on it somewhat gracelessly;
he folded himself down on to the couch itself.
He moved a little gingerly.
I felt the familiar buzz inside me as I watched his
movements. Partly
because my job was to evaluate a person’s characteristics. Partly for other reasons. He was nursing an injury to his left leg,
probably the hamstring – he had some hearing restriction in his left ear. That was apart from the external cuts and
bruises. My appraisal of his condition
was swift and instinctive, even as I hated myself for bothering.
“So how bad was it?”
He looked up quizzically, and for a moment my breath
caught in my throat. It was the way that
his chin thrust up, in a familiar, defiant move, the way that his dark eyes
widened as they met my focus. He never
asked me what I was talking about – because he knew, of course. He was damned smart. “You want to know?”
“Asked, didn’t I?”
Christ, I thought, was this
how it was gonna be?
He continued regardless, his voice quiet. Almost a monotone. I knew it was his way of controlling his
emotions, but it could still grate on your ears. “It was bad. Happened last night – early
evening, about 19:25. It was pure
luck that we were on our way out to get some takeout and were almost out of the
building. Otherwise we’d have been
caught in the full blast of it…” He paused, swallowing a lump in his dry
throat. “As it is, the main structure of
the building was completely demolished.
They took out the ground and first floor; it must have been a ring of
connected detonators around a central charge, heavy duty explosives, staggered
timing. It’s a style that some
terrorists and saboteurs use.” I
wondered if he were cataloguing the materials used, considering the likely
suppliers. Appraising
the efficiency of the job. It was
his speciality, after all. “The police
are giving out the message it was some kind of gas explosion – they don’t want
anyone thinking it’s terrorism. But it was directed specifically at us, no
doubt of that. The charges had been set over a period of days – there’d
obviously been detailed surveillance of the site. They’d have seen enough comings and goings to
be able to establish who was at home and who wasn’t, and we don’t allow
civilian tenants there, you know?” It
was a rhetorical question – it was as if he were giving an official statement
all over again. “The other floors just
crumbled down on top. My – the apartment
was buried under the weight of the floors above; almost all the stuff has been
crushed or destroyed. It’ll be months
before it’s safe to go back, let alone consider rebuilding.”
I had to open my mouth, didn’t I? I felt pain; I felt aggrieved. I let the resentment and the shock tumble out
in ill-chosen words. “Guess it won’t be
such an issue now then, me forgetting to return your spare key –“
He shuddered.
“Cheap shot,” he said, in a very tight voice.
“Cheap? That’s
me all over!” I hissed. Comeback was
automatic. “As you
were so fucking keen to tell me!”
“It was the only fucking thing you wanted to hear, Duo!”
My eyes widened at his vehemence; my breath
shortened. I bit my lip, knowing I could
take him on – knowing I could escalate an argument beyond belief, in short,
stunning seconds.
I didn’t do it, though. I dragged my control back from the brink –
teased the nonchalance back into my voice.
“The Board will get you another place soon, I expect.“
His eyes narrowed.
With anger?
Suspicion at my sudden change of mood? “Sure they will,” he replied, his voice also
calm again – though I could hear in his tone what an effort that took. “They say they just need to evaluate a couple
of other potential properties; make the areas secure; investigate the previous
tenants and surrounding industry. Then I
can move on. They said that the apartment
at Westbridge was nothing special. That there are plenty of others. It was only a place to live, right?”
I stared at him.
“Right.”
He made a sudden noise of impatience that startled me,
his leg jerking against the small card table by the couch. Relena’s half empty mug rattled nervously on
it, the reflections from the overhead strip lighting shivering in the skin of
the cold tea. Heero righted the mug with
exaggerated care, but the scrape of the china on the plastic tabletop was still
too sharp for my ears. It seemed to
affect Heero just as badly. He lifted
his hands as if to bury his head in them, but then he paused, and let them fall
back to his lap. His voice hitched up a
couple of notches on the volume control.
“But it wasn’t just a place to
live, Duo! Was it? It was my home! So maybe I’ve had to move around in the last
year or so; learned to be ready to mobilise at a moments’ notice, never let my
roots go very deep. But that place –“
“Don’t.” I said
just the one word. I knew he’d know what
I meant. I knew he’d ignore me, too.
“Not just where I lived,” he persisted. “It was more than that.” His voice faded, and stopped. He looked damned pale. I suspected he was still in some kind of
shock.
I sighed. This
was my room, right? But it seemed an
alien place right then, an unfamiliar room, miles away, perching at the wrong
end of a telescope. There wasn’t much
else except the ratty furniture to distract me – I’d never been one to collect
trinkets of any kind. Even the pictures
had only been sheets of crass advertising colour that had just caught my
eye. There was nothing and no one but
Heero to draw my attention. It had been
a while since I’d heard him raise his voice like that. And for once, I agreed with everything he
said. “It was indeed, Heero. Much more than that. I liked it.
Good place.”
He looked up at me again then, the anger fading as
quickly as it had come. Maybe he
recognised something in my expression.
There was too much we could both have said – but not enough to ease the
moment.
“Were you badly hurt?”
I asked.
He shrugged.
His limbs looked weary. “I doubt
you need to ask. You can assess me as
well as I can myself.”
I winced inside.
He knew me well. But then – we’d
been trained well, too, hadn’t we? That
was my speciality – the evaluation
and measurement of people: their strengths; their vulnerabilities. The professional perception
of place and opportunity. Critical to any – and every – mission. “Maybe. But tell me how you think you are.”
“Just shock I think.
Some bruises.”
I nodded, knowing he was in pain, and knowing he knew I knew he was in pain, and that I knew – well, the hell any of that
mattered! “You want to sleep?” The moment of truth had come at last. I had submitted to the Department’s demands
and was resigned to offering what sparse hospitality I could. Hurrah for me. I braced myself for Heero’s scorn – for the
inevitable resistance and resumption of hostilities.
None of it came.
“Yes,” he replied quietly, and rare though it was, he
surprised me with his tone. Guess he was
definitely in shock. Or maybe I’d never seen him in such a
position before.
“I just want to lie down here and crash out for a few
hours,” he said, softly. “If you’ve got
a blanket, fine, but I’m not cold or anything.
If you need to work here or something, just say. If I’m in the way, I can go somewhere else.”
I was listening to his words, but not hearing. I was just watching his mouth, alert to his
body language. He was fucking unhappy, I
can tell you that. And
tired beyond exhaustion.
“It’s been a hell of a time, Duo. I reckon you’ll agree with me on that.”
We stared at each other then, for a few long, painful
seconds. His eyes were full of shock and
horror and sadness and anger. Hell,
maybe that’s what mine looked like, too!
I turned away from his gaze, in the end.
It was all just that little bit too uncomfortable.
“I’ll get a blanket,” I said, levering myself off the
stool with a smile that was more of a grimace.
“Damned couch is more like the back of a drunken camel – but I guess
that’s all there is on offer in a mansion like this. You’re welcome to it.”
Day One 21:00
In the end, he slept right through the day and on into
the night. The flatbed trucks screeched
over the gravel paths, the dogs barked and the kids shrieked in some homicidal
superhero game. Life at the trailer park
made no concessions to him. I mean, I
was used to it by then. But he must
either have been extraordinarily tired or medicated, because he didn’t stir.
I got on with my usual stuff – well, I cleared up and
read the paper and pottered about with some projects that I’d been dabbling
in. The details weren’t important to
anyone but me. There hadn’t been very
much else in my life for the last couple of months, not that I was
complaining. Well, OK, maybe I was. But it wasn’t like there was anything I was
prepared to do about it. Not at the
moment.
I walked around Heero a couple hundred times. Sometimes I stopped to watch him sleep, his
body stretched out as best he could on my miserable, second-hand couch. Head cushioned on his arm, dark hair caught
up against his cheek, legs half folded, hips shifting occasionally, seeking a
more comfortable position. But I tried
my hardest to resist that entertainment – it didn’t exactly give me any
peace. I napped for an hour or so
myself, though thanks to Relena and Quatre’s visit, I was a little less relaxed
than I might have been. When it grew
dark outside the trailer and things quietened down a bit, I ate a cheese sandwich,
drank some coffee and decided to spend my time in wondering what the hell was
going on.
When Relena set up the Project Team we all knew the
risks. She’d gone out on a limb with the
Board as it was – but she believed there was a need for a specialist team to
take on the more sensitive and challenging missions of the Department. She chose her own guys – ran it her own
way. She was a very fair boss, with an
unusually compassionate care for her staff – and that was for all of them,
right down to her devoted assistant Cissy and the drivers and clerical guys in
the office..
A couple of early successes and she was cautiously
settled in place. There’d been a foiled
assassination attempt of a Presidential candidate, then an expose of the
taxation frauds of an evangelical TV preacher.
We brought it all to book, quietly and effectively, and without the
glare of publicity. We had a unique
balance of skills, y’see.
I’ll run through the major players – kind of like the
cast list.
I was on infiltration – everything from surveillance
of a target to donning the old false beard and trying to sell ‘em bibles on the
doorstep. I’d had a fairly varied life,
and I had a knack of understanding what made people ‘tick’. Pretty good at encouraging it to go the way I
wanted, too. No client ever believed
that Duo Maxwell could be anything other than a loud, vulgar extrovert, but
that was before I blended into their particular crowd for a couple of hours of
harmless play. They never noticed me as the guy who sold them
their groceries or the kid who played baseball on the pitch at the end of their
block. Or the guy who
was fixing the elevator on their floor.
Or the man who took their wife’s elbow at a cocktail party and left her
with no memory of individual features except for the waft of an
expensive cologne, an offering of an overly dry martini, and a smiling
insolence that could bring a shocked blush to her cheeks.
Never noticed until I told ‘em, that
was. I’d been
described as a chameleon, and I didn’t dislike the comparison. I liked surprising people. A personal character that’s ‘in-your-face’
can be as much a sleight of hand as a nondescript mouse of a man, right?
Trowa Barton came from an army background, so they
said. He was a guy
who didn’t waste words, and he’d never mentioned anything more prestigious than
a decorated grandparent or two, but there was definitely more to it than
that. Few months back, I was around when
the Department was visited by senior military personnel. There was a classic moment when the general
in charge saw Trowa – did a double take – and then looked deeply confused, like
he was seeing someone familiar but out of context. Not just that, but I saw him snatch back an
instinctive salute, hoping none of us had noticed the faux pas. There was stuff to Trowa that went way back,
and whatever it was struck a certain amount of fear and respect into the
institutional heart. He was an expert on
communications of all kinds, including an unhealthily deep knowledge of the
Quatre – well, the earnest, spectacularly efficient
Quatre Winner had analysis skills to match my own, but he’d used them for
slightly less legal purposes in his past life.
He came to us from a minor correctional facility where he was serving a
short-term sentence for a rather sophisticated computer fraud. They’d been sorry to let him go – not because
they didn’t want him to go ‘straight’, or because they were worried about
issues of national security, but because he was the only one who’d proved up to
the task of redeveloping their transport facilities. He’d also motivated the whole damned place
into a new workflow pattern that had increased efficiency by 25% over the year,
and his revolutionary new training plan had reduced the rate of re-offending by
40% over the same period. Damned guy
should have been running the country.
Rumour had it that there were
talks with one of the political parties at one time… but maybe that was yet
another urban myth.
Wufei Chang was the other main player – he was of
Chinese extraction, built like a brick wall but with considerably better muscle
definition, and with a steely self-discipline that could chill a normal guy’s
blood. He brought the most incredible knowledge
of combat into the group; no fighting style had been invented that he hadn’t
heard of – and probably mastered. He was
a ruthless and extremely effective teacher – hell, he’d taught me a few styles and I’d hated him
passionately for every damned second of it!
So I’m not the most amenable pupil at the best of times, but Wufei was a
walking block of relentlessness, and never flinched from criticising me for all
the things I -- apparently just to infuriate him -- persisted in doing
wrong. I assumed his other pupils felt
the same way about him, and yet they were all devoted to him at the end of
training like they’d follow him over the cliff edge in battle like
lemmings. He advised Relena on matters
of strategy in any conflict – as did the others. He was the only guy who could match her in
martial arts. And that’s all I care to
say about him at the moment.
And there was Heero Yuy, of course…
Hey, so he was critical too, right? I hadn’t forgotten. He’d appeared from some unknown background,
with knowledge of both hand-to-hand weaponry and tools of mass destruction like
you couldn’t imagine outside of a sci-fi film.
He knew it all – had, apparently, lived
it all, read the book, worn the tee shirt, you name it. Never talked about it much – but it permeated
everything he was, like a simmering
gas that sometimes seeped from within him, especially on a mission. I sensed a predatory violence coiled inside
him like a sleeping snake, only bursting out then. And when he did release the aggression, it would
be both tightly controlled and hideously effective – he rarely killed unless
there was no other choice, or so it appeared to me. Of course, I may have been a little naïve
there.
He, also, was an excellent trainer, and exemplary
leader of his team. Fit – strong – quiet
in company, unassuming as far as general chatter went. He just absorbed a mission and carried it
out. There was a rumour around the
Department that it had been his intervention alone that had disarmed a serious
assassination threat to someone fairly high up in the Pentagon, last year. He’d discovered the plot and infiltrated the
group of ringleaders: within 36 hours, all hostile weapons had been removed and
the principals had been persuaded to re-group elsewhere – an ‘elsewhere’ that
was under close police supervision -- and the danger had passed.
He was a powerful and dangerous guy, was all. That’s all I was saying.
Day One 23:45
It was coming on for midnight. I stretched rather awkwardly on the floor,
perched on some cushions and flicking through a catalogue of various ‘might be
useful if I ever got back to active duty’ goods. God knows what the other guys on the trailer
park thought I was up to when they saw me rummaging in the waste site next
door, collecting up a wide selection of discarded, dog-eared publications. Stage Makeup and Costumes for Halloween; ‘Be
Seen in the Scene’ -- this season’s
ladies’ fashions; How To Build Scale Models; Amateur Film-Making Techniques;
Calligraphy for Beginners; ‘When Sports Stars Misbehave’ – you name it, it was
likely it’d have use for me at some stage.
Heero expelled a breath, shifting a little
uncomfortably on the couch. I assumed
he’d sleep through until morning now. I
wondered what I had to offer for breakfast, but then he never ate much in the
morning, I knew. Some memory tugged at
me, a flare of anger stabbed through me.
Damned Department, still hounding me, landing this particular bombshell on my front steps…
I punched viciously at a cushion, and settled myself
again.
So was this threat to the Team really to do with
Mission Dove – with the intercontinental peace talks? From what Quatre had said, there’d been
attacks on enough places and people connected with it to substantiate the
theory. There were always a few people
who didn’t want success – who didn’t want peace, for whatever warped reason
they personally thought justifiable. I
thought we’d weeded most of those out – neutralised ‘em, one way or another. Guess a couple may have escaped our
clutches. I’d left the tidying up at the
end of the mission to Relena Peacecraft, our boss.
Relena had been the favoured daughter of a famous
political family. An
independently rich family, too.
It had been expected that she’d marry a high profile governor, or
equally disgustingly rich industrialist, or perhaps even a member of a minor
royal family…
Instead, she’d shown the lot of them the virtual
finger, and gone her own way. Used her
family’s influence to get accepted into the Department, then
cut a swathe through it so that she was in a senior position after eighteen
months. I wasn’t there then, but the
stories still rattled through the canteen of how she’d become the first woman
on the Board; of how her innovative approach to budgeting changed the whole way
of resourcing missions; of how her arbitration skills
saved more than a couple of the Department’s missions from disaster. Oh, and she kicked ass, too, had I mentioned
that? People still talked in whispers
about the disgraced Director who made a crass pass at her, and how he still
found it difficult, one, to get a job elsewhere, and, two, to make a proper
fist of his crushed right hand.
So we moved in dangerous waters, as a matter of
course. But then why had the target
suddenly changed to include members of the Project Team themselves? To me, that was of more concern. The members of the Team had never been
high-profile – even some of the Board members didn’t know us individually --
and we worked damned hard to maintain that anonymity. Otherwise we’d never have been able to do the
things we did, reach the people we did, or involve ourselves in the
organisations that we did. OK, so we
couldn’t all hide away in some
So where had the security been for Heero’s home?
Heero’s
home…
I felt the return of familiar nausea. He might have been killed. It had been a matter of luck that he
wasn’t. I hadn’t seen him for three
months, and when I did, he was stumbling free of the jaws of a crumbling, crushing
death.
No point being coy about this, of course. You need to understand things that maybe I’ve
only hinted at so far. You need to know
the context of this whole mess. I’m not
trying to justify anything – not begging for sympathy or anything. But Heero and I had history. You know how it
is? Like, we weren’t born glaring at each other the way we
did today. No, we’d been excellent
colleagues and fellow operatives: mature young men with a commitment to the
Department and the Project Team. We’d
been bright and appropriately aggressive and everyone had rated us well.
At least, that was in our professional life.
I couldn’t stop my thoughts returning to the
accident. Relena had told me sparse
details, but Heero had confirmed that his apartment was completely gone, now --
it presumably lay in a mess of brick and exploded mortar in a city that was a
state boundary away from here. I’ll tell
you now -- the thought of that wreckage stung me almost as much as it had distressed him. Even leaving aside the
injury to Heero and others in the building, there’d been things in that
apartment that were now destroyed for ever – things that I’d known.
No, not just that.
Things that had been mine, or at the very least shared between us. Things that were treasured for memory alone –
for a sentiment that nowadays I tried fucking hard to despise. Things from a time that I
tried even harder to forget.
For many months, you see, I’d spent more time there
than at my own apartment. There was a
time when we virtually lived there together: ate together; did laundry
together; watched TV; played chess; rehearsed our parts in upcoming missions,
and rested after the frenzy of completed ones.
Lived, washed, cooked, breathed, laughed together.
Went to bed together; or the couch; or whatever square
metre of floor we reached first.
Yeah. You get the picture.
A time when we were lovers.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Day Two 00:15
Heero slept: I brooded.
It was late, and I was tetchy and disturbed. No excuse, really, for allowing the memories
to clutch long, strong fingers around my neck and choke the emotions back out
of me. But they did. Humour me while I recall how I met him in the
first place. How it all sprang from
there.
It was almost a year ago; I’d been working in the
Department for a couple of months.
Initially, I just sort of drifted there.
I’d been doing contract work for some guys -- you don’t need to know
where or how I met them -- and I’d just completed a couple of creative and (it
subsequently transpired) rather dangerous projects for a major financial
institution. Call me naïve, but I hadn’t
realised the rather sketchy legality of some of the tasks, nor the dubious
nature of the organisation behind it, until I was approached by a
representative of this hitherto unknown ‘Board’, suggesting that I looked at it
again from their point of view. I soon saw things in a rather different
light, and swiftly cut the ties with those guys
I mentioned earlier. I thought the least
I could do in recompense was to help the Department mop up the mess, and that
went rather well.
So it was a pleasant surprise when they asked me to
consider doing what I enjoyed so much – becoming someone else for a while,
working my way into places I hadn’t previously been invited etc -- for a
living. For them. It was damned good fun! And I thrived there, though I say so
myself. The team was good -- I soon
hooked up with Trowa and Quatre and Wufei as friends, and I had a healthy
respect for Relena Peacecraft as a boss. At the very least, there was plenty going on
to keep me out of trouble.
I worked with most of the other staff guys on various projects, but in those first few months I never bumped heads with Heero Yuy. I think I’d seen his name on internal briefing papers. I knew he was on weapons and suchlike; Wufei had worked with him on and off, as it was his area, too. Much of my work was involved in the preparation of missions: the evaluation of the principals concerned; the development of the right, most effective team; the ‘hook’ as I liked to call it. I monitored the progress of a mission, but I was rarely there at shoot-out time, assuming there was such a thing. I could defend myself along with the best of them, but I didn’t actively seek it. So I’d never met him, knew nothing of him except for an exemplary reputation and a certain amount of nervous admiration on the part of his workmates.
He came most highly recommended -- or so Relena said,
when she first introduced us. It was a
Tuesday night, about 21:00, and she’d been on her way out of the building. I reckon everyone else had already left. I was working late again and she came around
to the office I was using, probably seeing it was one of the few lights still
on. I tended to work until I fell asleep
or got tired of whatever stuff I was concentrating on -- which often wasn’t
until the small hours of the morning.
Heero had appeared at her shoulder, and he carried a
jacket over one arm. She introduced us, then looked between us, her eyes flickering. “Be nice to Heero, Duo,” she said. “He’s been with us for a while now. The best weapons expert we’ve ever had -- and
a strategic brain to match. He’s on the
same mission as you, this time -- though he’s involved in exit strategy, not
infiltration. You can take him through
some of the preliminary plans tomorrow, perhaps. He’ll need to know what operatives you’re putting
in, the hierarchy of the organisation that is our target. Keep it as simple as you can, OK?” She’d smiled confidently. “That strategy’s always worked for us in the
past.”
I’d nodded; I don’t think I was giving her my full
attention and she coughed deliberately to get me to look up. “Make sure you put the time aside for a
briefing, Duo,” she’d insisted. “I know
you’re possessive of your plans, and sometimes deliberately elusive. So I daresay he’ll get in your way as much as
all of us do -- but you’ll live with it.”
She’d pursed her lips in a half-smile, and her gaze reviewed my habitual
lack of office uniform. That night I was
in faded jeans and a casual short-sleeved shirt, my long hair twisted into a
braid down my back. I think I probably
had a chewed pencil in my mouth and my feet up on the desk. It was my usual pose when thinking through a
mission. Someone in the past had dared
to suggest that my dress and attitude weren’t particularly good for the Department’s
image – but Relena had always been willing to show a little tolerance, if the
job were done properly. Anyway, there’d
been no complaints for a while.
That evening, she’d been a little distracted, passing
up on the chance to scold me. Instead,
she’d turned back to her companion. “And
I suggest you watch Duo in return, Heero.
He lives life on a loud, impatient and unpredictable edge -- and talks
to anyone who’ll listen about it, too.
But if he doesn’t exhaust you first, you’ll find his contribution to the
missions invaluable.”
I was just that little bit disarmed by her description
of me. Hey, I wasn’t sure it was selling
my good points for all they were worth!
“And I’d always thought you such an excellent judge of character!” I
quipped. We smiled at each other, and
she gathered up her bag, ready to move on out of the building. I waved to the new guy in a casual, friendly
way and settled back to the task in hand.
I wasn’t so bothered about this Heero Yuy on the team
– to be honest, I didn’t really have time to give it
any more thought. I was in the middle of
planning a major infiltration of a high-tech IT corporation
and I had a pile of files in front of me detailing Department operatives who’d
apparently been assigned to the mission.
I was meant to build my team from it, like the proverbial silk purse
from a sow’s ear. What I actually had were guys who looked more
like they should be modelling CK briefs than passing themselves off as
technicians; I had kids who’d struggled with programming in their basic
training and had never really progressed past Gameboy,
and I had agents who’d shown as much aptitude for blending into their
environment as an elephant in custard.
So I was weeding out the potential from the useless and developing new
identities for these people, knowing all the time that I’d probably keep them
as cleaners or something and go into the Service Department myself. Couldn’t trust ‘em to know their byte from
their butt, right?
“There are other
resources,” said Heero’s voice. He’d
appeared suddenly at the door as I cursed colourfully at the multi-coloured
files scattered across my desk. “You
don’t have to accept any of these if they’re no good for this specific
mission.”
I looked across at him, startled. I was used to working on my own most of the
time, and I’d assumed he’d left in Relena’s wake. It gave me a chance to look him over
properly, for the first time. He was
wearing well-cut linen pants and a long-sleeved dark blue shirt. Very
suitable attire for the office, I smiled to myself. Broad shoulders, slim neck,
darker skin than mine. Thick, short dark hair that reflected a purple sheen in the dim
fluorescent lights of the office and looked damned attractive against the blue
shirt. A
straight nose and a generous mouth, with the hint of sharp white teeth behind
the lips. A very good-looking man,
I appraised, but with a serious expression – obviously a man who wouldn’t get caught with his feet up on the desk,
I thought. Dark eyes –
deep blue eyes. I got caught
looking into those very eyes, and that’s where my gaze stayed. “So is that what you’d do, Heero Yuy?”
He frowned a little, put his jacket over a chair and
he walked over to me. Quite close,
really – he came around to the back of the desk and stood at my side, his eyes
seeking out the offending files. He had
a very pleasant smell -- must have been his soap or his shampoo. He glanced over my shoulder at some of my
notes – hell of a lot of exclamation marks, as usual – and put a hand down to
steady one of the papers. It was a
strong hand – it looked well kept and graceful, but definitely strong.
I stared at it, God knows why, and at how close it was to my own
long-fingered hand lying beside it, half-curled round a pencil. I glanced up at his face and suddenly, he smiled,
like he’d been pleased by something, perhaps by surprise. It was only a slight smile, but it seemed
more of a contrast on his serious face than my habitual grin.
It was one of those moments that I thought only
happened in fiction, but I remember -- very clearly -- the feelings that his
smile provoked, because I’d never known anything like it before. I felt a warmth all
through my veins, like some kind of real-time embalming. There was a weakness in my gut like nausea,
although I knew I had an iron stomach as far as eating was concerned. At the time, I’d laughed at myself -- I tried
to blame my reactions on the air conditioning, on the need for supper, on the weather, God dammit.
Ridiculous!
This guy stands peering over my shoulder and I felt like I melted into
sap.
But it took me a while to realise – and admit -- that
I fell for him, immediately, and in that very instant. I fell heavily and hard, for Heero Yuy.
*
I covered my disturbance well, I reckoned, and he
never told me any different. “I see your
problem,” he replied. His voice was low
and calm. Very
careful. “It’s a rather mixed
bunch, right? But I admit I don’t have
the same dilemmas that you do. I get
offered people with established technical qualifications. After all, I just need guys who’ll load a
weapon and be prepared to use it, according to my orders. Who’ll set a fuse as I tell them, then stand well back.”
“Yeah,” I grinned.
I felt light-headed. “Sounds a
lot like my job description, too.”
He didn’t exactly laugh -- but his eyes flickered up
to mine and they looked warmer. They
looked interested. Shit, I nearly hopped like an Easter
bunny! “Thanks for the input, anyway,” I
said. “Guess I just like to do things my
own way. You heard Relena – I like to
work on my own at this preparatory stage, that’s all.”
“Others can’t keep up?” he smiled.
“No,” I smiled back, flushing very slightly. “Just too much of a
maverick.”
Dammit, it was like his eyes followed the words as
they spilled out of me! They were
arrogant, facile words, that I’m known for producing with alarming regularity. But he still looked amused by them. Or maybe he was looking at my mouth -- at my
lips. It was a very sensual action – I
don’t know if he was aware of it like that.
My cock reacted shamelessly to it, right there and then; my groin felt a
strange, sticky tingle. At that moment,
he could’ve looked at anything of mine if he’d wanted, and I wouldn’t have
cared -- my worn socks; my ancient set of bound encyclopaedias; my kindergarten
report card. Come to think of it, that
last one might have given him a good idea of what I was like -- as good as any
recent appraisal on file.
I shifted my legs carefully, trying to get my
comfortable position back. He was
nodding gently at my words, but his eyes followed my movement. “A maverick,” he said, softly. “Not always a bad thing.” He glanced at his watch and looked surprised
at the time. “You want to grab some late
supper and talk some more about it?”
Did
I? I tried out that insouciant look and
probably just looked sour. I’d checked
his hand -- no ring. Checked the way he
related to Relena, because she was damned hot
-- but he’d been nothing but professional.
I nodded agreement to the supper.
I nodded -- and I prayed.
*
We walked to the small Italian restaurant a few doors
down because they knew the staff from the Department there and because the food
was always good. As far as they were
concerned, we were just plain office workers.
I nodded to a couple of familiar waiters, but the rest of the time my
eyes were glued to my companion. The way
he shrugged off his jacket; the way he folded his long legs under his
seat. The polite smile he gave to the
wine waiter -- the approving nod he gave as he looked round the décor. The menu arrived under my nose and I looked
right through it like I had Superman’s X-ray vision. God knows what I ordered! I like my food, y’know? But I could’ve asked for Table Napkins Carbonara and I wouldn’t have cared.
But we both chose a rich red wine -- and the same
thick, creamy pasta. And when it
arrived, instead of eating and drinking it gratefully, we started to talk.
He obviously knew I was cleared to the same security
level, because he mentioned his involvement in a few of the bigger, higher
profile missions. Not boasting, y’know --
I’ll give him that. Mind you, he didn’t
need to -- his reputation was already established, from what I could
gather. In fact, one of the missions he
mentioned was the very job where Relena had earned her last promotion. Despite myself, I was impressed.
“She thinks a lot of you, right? Calls you in on the strategy meetings?”
“Hardly! It’s only Quatre Winner who’s included
there. But I get on very well with
her. She’s fair -- she’s a great
boss.” He was watching me with honest
bemusement, as if wondering how I could think him one of her bureaucrats. It was true -- I could imagine him with his
guns and his bombs, but I couldn’t imagine
him in a suit and tie, office-bound. He
would manage staff well -- he would have a crystal clear view of the overall
objectives -- but he was a field man, through and through. I guessed that Heero Yuy lived his reputation.
I liked that thought a lot. I didn’t have much time for bureaucracy
myself, either.
“You like Quatre?” I asked, a little
mischievously. I did, of course -- he was a valuable colleague and he’d become a
good friend. Nothing more, though – we
didn’t find that attraction in each other, not that either of us minded. He did get included in all the high level
meetings, and sometimes I thought he must know as much as Relena about the
mission plans; and probably more when
it came to knowing how the hell they were going to be put into practice. But I’d never known him to pull rank on
us.
Heero caught my look and raised an eyebrow. “Sure,” he said. “He’s a good friend.” And then he grinned, as if he’d seen right
through my clumsy prying. “Seems to me that Trowa Barton likes him, too. Am I right?”
We laughed together, then. It was relaxed. It was good!
*
“So did Relena talk to you about the new team? The ‘Project Team’, as she calls it?” It was about that time that the Team was
first coming together -- she’d had sanction from the Board, and there was the
ripple of excited anticipation throughout the Department.
He nodded. Caught my eye. Think
we both flushed – we grinned ruefully at each other, anyway. She’d obviously asked for us both to be in
it. I felt ridiculously excited.
“It sounds good, Heero – something much more
challenging. And I know most of the
other guys she’s chosen for the top team – they’re the best to work with.”
“I’m looking forward to that,” said Heero. “Working with you.”
Hell, was everything
he said going to sound saturated with my growing desire? I felt a terrible ache inside; all I could
taste in the salad I was eating was the sharp flavour of need. Had it been that long since I dated? Since I touched anyone? Since I had some rich, wet, sticky satisfaction?
It wasn’t just that, of course. It was all about him.
Meanwhile, he talked some more about the new materials
he was testing – the chance he now had to work with some of the finest
equipment in the industry. Some high-speed, low-weight models that had been imported from
He was also intrigued to know more about my role
which, let’s face it, doesn’t lend itself to a normal job title. “I work with the people,” I explained. “Ours – and the target’s. I find out what we have to deal with – what
we need to be able to blend in with them without drawing attention. I suggest the best ways to approach people
whom we need to manipulate – what their motivations may be, what their triggers
are. I coach our people in developing
alternate personalities – how to cope with undercover work. I arrange the documents they need, the
clothes, the look, the mannerisms. Then
it’s up to them to carry out the rest of whatever the mission needs.”
His eyes caught mine – that had been happening a lot,
all through the meal. “Like a
chameleon,” he said, and it didn’t sound sarcastic, or like he’d been listening
to canteen gossip about me. “That’s
quite a talent.”
Fuck, I hoped I didn’t blush! “It’s just part of the process,” I
shrugged. “Not as glamorous as blowing
up strongboxes, or like guys in sunglasses providing security for international
celebrities, or charging into riot situations, guns blazing --”
When I looked back at him, his eyes had clouded over a
little. I could have kicked myself. I’d been facetious, just like I always was,
but I’d been talking about someone else’s work, not my own. I was out of line, and I knew it. He might be really pissed with me, might
think I was laughing at his role in the Department –
“Sorry,” I blurted.
“That didn’t come out like I meant.”
I reached for my glass, to cover the embarrassment with a drink. He reached for something at the same
time. Our hands nudged knuckles.
My body went white hot.
“It’s OK,” he said, and he sounded like he meant
it. He didn’t move his hand and mine
was, quite frankly, frozen to the cloth.
Our fingers brushed against each other’s.
“Good,” I replied.
My throat was too tight to manage anything more articulate. There seemed to be a lack of blood flowing to
my heart – and a lack of breath to my constricted chest.
The waiter had been hovering for some time at the edge
of the room. By then, we were the last
ones in the restaurant – we’d definitely taken longer over a couple of plates
of salad and pasta than anyone really had the right to. We were still smiling at each other – mine
must have looked more like a grimace – when the poor guy snatched his chance
and waved the menu between us.
“Coffee, sirs?”
Heero looked at me.
It was a look of such astonishing intensity that I felt almost
breathless. His eyes were so deep that I
felt momentarily dizzy; I felt as if the floor shifted under me. I tried to put my fork down carefully and
succeeded in dropping it off the table altogether. “Coffee, Duo?” he asked, softly. How could someone put so much communication
into two such banal words?
I gazed back.
“Not here,” I replied. Hoped to
God my voice wasn’t shaking as much as my heartbeat. “Got some at home. I live just round the block.”
“I’ll get my jacket,” he said.
*
I mean, I’ve had more than my fair share of dating –
had a couple of other guys’ shares, probably.
But it had been a while since anything regular, and nothing had ever
really lasted. No one had ever kept my
attention longer than a shared summer, or finding winter warmth in bed, or just
a few weeks unencumbered fun. It had
been several months since I’d even felt the lack of such company. And I’d definitely never felt so drawn to someone that I couldn’t hold my hands at my
sides – that I couldn’t tear my eyes away from that person, or stop thinking
about what it would be like to kiss …
But that’s how it was with Heero.
He was beside me as we walked around the block, just
kind of normal, two guys wandering along.
He had his hands in the pockets of his light-coloured pants for a while,
and he’d slipped his jacket back on as the evening was cool. His shirt was a thin fabric, and I’d seen the
line of his muscles underneath it during supper. I do remember thinking – again -- how that
shade of blue really suited his colouring.
I felt shabby with my jeans and my patterned shirt – but then when I’d
stumbled into my clothes that morning, I’d not envisaged the evening ending up
like this. I felt all sorts of strange new things, to
tell you the truth. Most of all, I felt
every inch of him along the shared side of my body; I was conscious of every
breath he expelled into the cool night air.
It had never been such a long and charged
journey back to my apartment.
I’d been living there since I joined the Department,
though Relena was looking into something more secure for the Project Team
members, so I’d probably be moving again in the near future. I’d always moved fairly regularly -- you
might call me a restless soul. So I kept
a lot of my stuff in boxes and trunks – didn’t have much time for formal
furniture. Just needed a reasonable
kitchen, a comfortable bedroom and a top-notch bathroom with power shower, and
I was happy enough. Didn’t watch TV,
though I listened to music quite a lot; I had my system fixed up to turn a CD
on the minute I opened the front door, just to greet me with something
good. And yes you may well think, why am
I rambling on about my household habits?
Guess it’s because that’s how nervous I felt that night – nervous about
what he’d think of my place; nervous of inviting him back there, like I
couldn’t remember if I’d washed up after breakfast, or left yesterday’s jeans
out on the couch…
Wasn’t really an issue, though.
I fumbled with the key of the building to get in, and
when the lock first clicked open, even before we’d taken a step through the
doorway -- that was the first time he touched me properly. Suddenly there was one of his strong, steady
hands on my shoulder, turning me to face him, then the other one running slowly
around the line of my jaw. I stared into
his eyes – they looked darker than ever.
Maybe wary.
My own eyelids felt heavy with seductive delight; my lips parted very
slowly as if to release a silent groan.
Swear to God I nuzzled up against his palm like some needy cat.
His voice whispered very gently into my ear; I could
feel the brush of his dark hair against my cheek as he leaned into me. “Tell me now, Duo, if you’d rather I didn’t
come in. I don’t know you well enough --
I don’t know if this is OK -- shit, I
don’t know anything, really --“
I didn’t answer with such mundane things as
words. Couldn’t even
be bothered with a nod. Just let
my chin tilt up so that our lips were millimetres away, and I could breathe in
the warmth of his tentative whisper.
Then I opened my mouth and took in his darting tongue.
We bumped heads that
night, for sure.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A cool breeze on the street and a good meal nudging my
stomach; those were some of the memories of that evening, all those months
ago.
But the clearest memory of that precious moment was
how fantastic Heero tasted!
I’d been in some kind of sensual heaven.
He kissed like a demon – but a very sweet, very sincere demon! His tongue was hot and fast and fucking gorgeous. He tasted of the wine, and the mints that had
come with the bill. He was pressed very
fiercely against me, like he’d been holding himself back for the last hour or
so but was now released from whatever inhibitions he’d had, and his hands
twisted sharply into my hair at the back of my neck. I could feel strands of my braid working
loose – I could feel his fingertips pressing on the thin skin at the nape. However, I couldn’t help but notice that his
eyes were open, watching my reactions, and his hands never strayed past my
shoulders. He was waiting, I think, to
double check that I was OK with it all.
No one has ever accused me of hiding my emotions, of
being difficult to read, OK? Nor was I
then. I slid both my arms round his
waist and pulled him in even closer, tight against my body. My lips pressed back hard against his, and I
gasped my willingness into his mouth. I
felt his body relax and the muscles slide against my own, all the way from
torso to knee. The door eased open
behind us and we half-fell into the hallway, laughing, groaning, still nipping at each other’s lips.
“Which floor?” he gasped.
“Fifth.” I’d never cursed the broken elevator so soundly as that night.
We stumbled up all five flights, knocking our bones on the banister,
scuffing our shoes against the wall. We
were like a single, melded body with two sets of limbs, for all we clung to each
other. I nudged him round each corner,
taking every chance to run my hands inside his jacket and down along his sides,
his ribs tight and tantalising underneath the thin material of his shirt. On his part, he seemed to be the only thing
holding me upright as I groped for the keys to my apartment, clutching my
shoulders and gasping into my neck, his fingertips tracing the pulse in my
throat, caressing my skin with the damp heat of his palms.
We tumbled again though a doorway, panting from our
exertions and from a barely contained passion.
But this time when I kicked the door closed behind us, I knew it was
just us now – just the two of us, and blessed privacy, and a mounting
excitement that had consumed any shred of sense left in my brain.
The music playing? It was pure soul… a low, slow beat and a
voice rich with sensuous humour in every syllable and tone. I barely registered, except to feel the
comfort of it around me. Kind of my favourite music.
And all those worries I had about the state of my place? Thankfully, we never went anywhere near the kitchen
to check up on my housekeeping abilities – we also bypassed the lounge where,
in fact, there were several piles of my laundry on the couch, some clean and
some embarrassingly crumpled. As we
bounced against the walls of my narrow hallway, he shrugged off his jacket, and
I dropped my keys someplace I didn’t see and, frankly, didn’t care. I toed off my boots and socks in a trail of
laughter and hot breath along the corridor.
When I mumbled something about the coffee I’d promised him, he laughed
directly into my face and kissed me so soundly that my eyes closed against his
forehead and I felt his taste seep into my very veins. I felt him kicking off his own shoes and
fumbling at the collar of my shirt. I’d
wanted to take some time, to savour the suspense of peeling his clothes off of
him – to tease him, perhaps, with my own unwrapping. Then his hands came up underneath the cool
fabric of my shirt and ran their fingertips across my exposed nipples, and
suddenly instantaneous nakedness would have been way too slow for me!
The bedroom wasn’t hard to find, mainly because I
pushed him bodily through the door, and we fell on to the bed, still entwined
as that four-limbed beast. By now, my
shirt was hanging from my body by nothing more than a single sleeve, but in
return I’d managed to open his without ripping off any buttons in my
impatience, and also tug down the zip of his pants. He was palming at my groin, moulding his hand
round the swollen excitement under my jeans, but I had a hand inside the cloth of his underwear and I had a hold of
flesh – damp, hot, tangled in amongst curls of hair already sticky with
excitement – and I was making him groan aloud in a very satisfying way.
He felt exquisite.
Precious.
I couldn’t understand my reverence, but there was no mistaking it. I’d never felt like that before – nor since,
for that matter.
I took the advantage then. I rolled myself round and up to kneel beside
him, and I tugged at the fabric of his pants, pulling them down from his
hips. His briefs were soft black jersey
against his dark, flushed skin, and they peeled off just as easily under my
determined touch. I wanted him naked,
and I wanted it now!
He lay underneath me, with none of that coyness that
some guys have when you strip them without so much as
a by-your-leave. No, he lay there with
his shirt wide open and his chest heaving, his long, bare legs stretched out
along the length of my bed. He looked
both confident and comfortable, like a wet dream come to reality. His eager eyes glittered like flints -- and
they were locked on me. His arms lay by his side, and I could see his
fist clenching gently; then he reached up for my hand and drew it down to his
mouth. I watched, fascinated, as his
tongue slipped out and licked the valleys between my fingers.
“Duo,” he sighed.
It was just a breath – just a murmur.
No instruction; no demand.
I just gazed at him, drinking in the sight of him,
laid out on my bed, the sheet creased up under his hip, shadowing the clench of
muscle at his slim ass. The front of his
thighs curved sweetly, the soft hairs on his skin running up into the soft,
dark curls around his groin. He sucked
softly on my fingers, and he shifted a little, getting more comfortable. What can I say? It made his thick, swollen cock bob gently
against his belly; it made the skin of his balls crinkle and the globes inside
roll against the base of it. I had
always thought unadulterated joy an unattainable urban myth, but I felt it then. I leaned down further and pressed my mouth to
his, trying to regain the taste of hot need in him – and succeeding. He was saturated with it; his kiss in return
was even greedier than mine.
My hands slid down his body, his hips straining up
into my hands as I took his cock back into my grip and I continued to stroke
him. I rolled both hands around him, up
and down, spreading the warm pre-cum around his width. He gasped and bit at my lip so that I pulled
my kiss away, laughing softly. And still
I caressed him. He cursed a few times,
like he couldn’t find the right words.
Once, his hand crawled up to his own hair, gripping it like some kind of
anchor to reality. I’d never enjoyed
pumping a guy so much in all my life – he was like quicksilver in my hands; I
felt his desire flooding up through my fingertips and into my own body.
I was grinning like a fool by this time, and wriggling
out of my own loosened jeans until I was naked, too. My hands were trying to keep the contact with
his arousal, his seed leaking out on to my palms, glistening and making me
slippery. I felt the shiver of
disappointment in his body every time I had to loosen my grip. His eyes were fixed on mine; they widened
with every stroke. His face was very
flushed – his chest was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and he was
panting. Seems he was trying to tell me
something; ask for something,
maybe. I thought I could guess what it
was. I was pretty smug by then.
I licked my lips.
“Heero,” I said, trying out the sound of his voice in the acoustics of
my bedroom. Music had never sounded so
good, and I grinned from pure pleasure. “So what now?”
His pupils were dangerously dilated, but he smiled
back, as if he was savouring the anticipation as deeply as me. “Whatever you want, Duo…” he groaned,
huskily. “It’s your place – your
room. Your call. I just want you.” And with that deeply
sensual sound in my ears I nearly lost it.
Any bantering reply I had in my throat turned tail and ran, and I leant
down over his hips instead and took him into my mouth. I knew what I wanted – I wanted to taste him, to possess him, to draw him into me wherever and however I could. He cried out loudly, and his hand snatched
fiercely at my hair. I didn’t care. I licked and sucked and his cock nudged at
the back of my mouth with barely controlled passion, and it was better than any
damned meal I could ever have ordered.
*
I think he was close to climax when he pushed me
off. I didn’t take it as any kind of a
rejection, just that he wanted it to last longer. He still grasped at me – I could still feel
the harsh panting inside his chest, and hear the soft whimpers of need in the
back of his throat. His hands stroked at
my flesh, rolling my erect nipples between his fingertips. Then he shucked off his shirt and shifted his
body so that he lay beside me, but with his head now at my hips and his groin
achingly close to my chin. I had saliva
glands at full productivity and a tongue caressed by trails of his pre-cum, so
I was more than happy to go back down on him.
But I didn’t complain when he returned the favour.
His tongue was soft at the tip, with a pleasing
roughness along its length – it swiped hungrily along my shaft and I gasped
with delight. It was a shock when he
took almost all of me into his mouth – I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m not
boasting, but I’ve been told in the past that I’m not small. But his nose nudged at my groin, and my balls
swung helplessly at his bared throat.
I started to slide down that slippery slope of ecstasy
right about then, and -- fuck -- I
was loath to resist it.
I tried to hold back; I tried to keep my mind on
pleasing him, and I was thrilled when
I felt the familiar throb of his cock against my lips and the strangled sob
from his throat that meant – in my
experience – that surrender was imminent.
“Duo –“ He pulled his own
mouth back up to the tip of my cock, gasping for breath, struggling for
words. I didn’t know why he bothered – I
wanted to throw myself off that damned slope and let the tidal wave of orgasm
wash over me as well. But what did I know of him and his thoughts,
back then?
“Is it –? I’m going to…” Yes,
yes, get on with it -- I thought, impatiently. “Duo –” he groaned. “In your mouth --?”
He wanted to know if I swallowed or spat, I realised. If I wanted him fully – if
I’d be disgusted or nervous of it.
I couldn’t remember the last guy who’d bothered to ask – not that I
wouldn’t have made my own preferences clear enough if things were going the
wrong way. But I was intrigued, despite myself. Even if I hadn’t needed any more evidence
that Heero Yuy was a different kind of guy – which, had I been honest, I didn’t
– his attention to me, even as he shuddered with a climax approaching in the
fast lane of his nervous system, was very revealing.
I shook my head gently and tensed my lips around his
cock to emphasise my eagerness. He
groaned then – no more words available – and I was filled with the sudden burst
of warm, sticky liquid from its tip. An eager burst – then another. Hot, thick flesh, shooting
its delicious load, shuddering on my tongue. I licked and swallowed, gratefully. His thighs crushed up against my chin, his
muscles clenched and strained, and I smelled the sweat and passion that
suffused his skin. It was all I needed
to take me there, too. I lifted my head
from his groin, and bared my neck, eyes sliding half-closed – then I grabbed at
whatever part of his shoulders I could reach, and pressed his head down
securely on my own arousal. Two more
thrusts of my hips and I gasped aloud with my climax, assuming he’d be OK with
me staying in the warmest, tightest, softest place it had been for a hell of a
long time. Seemed he was; his mouth
tightened round me, like mine had round him, and I swear I felt the vibration
of a laugh run the length of my shaft. I
don’t know for sure – I was rather occupied at the time with keeping my body on
the planet and my voice below mega-decibels.
I came like the walls of
*
That was never going to be enough.
Like I said before, don’t get me wrong – I don’t fuck
on a first ‘date’ as a matter of habit.
Credit me with some
discrimination, won’t you? But as he
shifted back up on the bed to come face to face with me, my whole body still
shook with desire. I was like the string
of a guitar, pulled tight and then released, but still thrumming with the
note. I turned unfocussed eyes on to his
dark, laughing gaze, and my mouth just opened for his tongue, all over again.
“I want you,” he murmured, thickly, deep into my
mouth. I think he’d said it a few times
already – or maybe I heard it echoing in my head, which was far from
clear. I was hardening again at the mere
sound of his voice. From the harsh
nudging against my hip, it seemed he was as eager himself.
We rolled almost instinctively into a position where I
was to be bottom. Guess I didn’t care –
and I can do both, of course, with almost equal enthusiasm. His hands were very sure, parting my legs,
stroking at my belly. Looking down at me
with those midnight eyes, smiling that ridiculously fascinating smile…
There were condoms and lube in my bedside drawer,
though I admit I had to search under a pile of books and receipts and various
coins to find them. It had been a while
since I’d found anyone that attracted me that much. He leant against me as I fumbled around,
murmuring nonsense into my shoulder, running his tongue along the line of my
muscle, deep into the armpit and down along the sinews on the inside of my arm. It all reduced me to a mess of needy, nauseous
hunger. When his cock finally nudged up between my
legs, pressing tentatively at an opening that hadn’t seen much action for a
while, I stretched myself up to stroke my body against his, and pulled his head
back down to nip at his lips. My thighs tightened
round his hips, and my ass lifted slightly from the bed, rubbing back at him
with my own eagerness.
He sank into me steadily – carefully -- deeply.
I know I groaned; daresay I cursed. I’m not the quietest of guys in my bedtime
talk. But before he could think he’d
hurt me, or that I was reluctant in any way, I slid my hands around his body,
under tight, lean buttocks, and I gripped him to me. He thrust suddenly, greedily, as if the
desperation overcame him – I heard his low groan in reply to mine. We rocked together, skin slick with sweat,
muscles young and strong and clenching on to each other like we were afraid to
let go. We both scrabbled for my cock,
crushed as it was between our bodies, rubbing it mercilessly against my
belly. He pushed away my flailing hand,
and it didn’t take much to tip me over the edge again – a few strokes from
Heero’s broad hand, and I was moaning his name along with a lot of other stuff
that didn’t make any coherent sense.
Suddenly my back arched and my head swam, and then the flesh between us
was damp with my sticky seed, bursting free as we thrust together. I felt its warmth as it pooled in my navel
and then trickled down on to the sheets beneath us.
Guess it was my night for embarrassingly quick
comings.
I could feel Heero’s own climax approaching – could
feel the swelling inside me, and the tightening of his hand on my hip. I wanted to savour it as much as my own – I
wanted to give him that same ecstasy! I
hissed encouragement and I clutched him close to me; I tried to meld my body up
against his as he leant into me and heaved out every gasping breath. I felt as if he were an extension of me; I
felt like we consumed each other. Hell,
I couldn’t have described the feeling aloud, but the satisfaction and the
desire coiled deep in my groin and started to flood thickly through my
limbs. It saturated me.
When he came, my ears rang and my head swam – again --
as if I were suffering it myself. I
could feel the sharpness of his hips slamming against my body and the cry of
shocked delight, as if he hadn’t enjoyed such a thing for a long, long
time. I didn’t know if he always sounded
like that, or if it were something to treasure.
I didn’t care, really – I was just too thrilled for sensible thought.
Didn’t I say it earlier? I’d never felt like that before in my life.
*
We’d amused ourselves for quite some hours after that
first time -- couldn’t get enough. I
can’t remember anything we might have talked about – just the thrill of
anticipation along my nerves every time he laughed, or moved his limbs in that way, or kissed me again – every
time our lustful desires were reawakened.
Every touch made me catch my breath; every outrageous, tingling,
thrilling climax brought amazement. In the
end we were defeated by our own stamina -- or lack of it, and we collapsed,
still laughing, from pure exhaustion and aching muscles. The bed had creaked happily under our
combined weight – the mattress dipped with relief as we relaxed.
We untangled our limbs and wiped off some of the more
obvious mess. Then I fetched some
chilled water and the pair of us drank it slowly. We listened to the music, without really
listening – you know? The last I
remembered was the soundtrack of an anime movie… a particularly angsty one. I have
wide tastes, you see, and I don’t apologise for it. Then, when the CD faded to nothing, we sighed
into the silence – companionably -- and I turned it off. I didn’t need any other company at that
moment. He turned to kiss me and we both
felt our bodies stirring with the memory of recent, renewed lust – but then he
yawned, and laughed, and I laughed along with him. Enough, already! He wriggled down on the bed instead, his arm
still over my chest, and he’d fallen asleep soon after.
I stayed awake for a longer time, watching him.
Jeez,
I thought to myself, I was like some kind
of lovesick teenager! But he looked
so good I felt I could have feasted on him for a couple of days and never felt
the need for anything else. He slept
totally unselfconsciously, sheets crumpled round his ankles, his limbs
spread-eagled across my mattress like he slept there every night.
It was all so corny! At any other time, it would’ve made my teeth
clench. The whole romance thing was
anathema to me, you see. I liked dating
– I liked company. But it was usually a
much more pragmatic approach for me. A
couple of beers; a shared sense of humour; a measured glance down a body to see
if the other guy felt the same physical interest – and then it was just a
matter of whose apartment was nearer.
But this had been something very different, right from the start.
And now he was asleep in my bed, apparently staying
the night.
I gave him
every chance, didn’t I? I thought. To leave when we were done.
I’d waited for him to smile and say ‘thanks’ – to climb back into his
clothes, and ask if I had a local cab number.
I knew where every item of his clothing was, so he wouldn’t be
embarrassed when he couldn’t find anything.
I would have offered him a drink – a sandwich, maybe. Dammit, I’d have clambered back into my own
wrinkled jeans and driven him home myself.
Anything to have kept that delicious, sated, sensual
feeling between us. Anything to have stood a chance of seeing him again. And I didn’t mean at the office.
I hadn’t needed any of my plans, though; he’d seemed
happy enough to stay with me regardless.
I held my breath for a full minute, I reckon, in case I woke him and he
got up to leave after all.
But he didn’t.
And finally I slept myself.
*
After the passion comes the reckoning. Whatever. That’s always been the way for me; that’s
always been my expectation. Maybe not
straight away – but the payback is always waiting in the wings. Isn’t it?
I slept deeply after that first ‘date’ with Heero –
after showing him everything I’d got, and a couple more things I thought I’d
mislaid someplace along the rocky romantic way.
I’d slept very deeply, but
also very comfortably, and right through my insistent alarm. When I finally woke with heavy lids and limbs
full of lassitude, I stared stupidly at the clock for some time, trying to
reorient myself. 08:17. I was going to be late for work.
That morning after – everyone has to face it,
right?
The bed beside me was creased, but empty. I tried to gather my thoughts, bemused by the
remnants of sleep. Hadn’t I --? Hadn’t we --? Fuck!
The rattle of cups in the kitchen startled me. I sat upright under the crumpled sheet and
held my breath until Heero appeared in the open doorway of my room, dressed in
nothing but his pants and carrying two mugs of steaming coffee. He looked in, saw that I was awake, and just paused there. His bare feet looked a little cold on the
boards of my hallway.
“Coffee,” he said, a little awkwardly. “I guessed you’d want some. I make it rather strong, but hopefully that’s
OK with you.”
I coughed, and found a dribble of my voice still
obeying me. “It’s fine.”
“I called in.
To the Department,” he said. I
was still staring at him – didn’t reply.
“To tell them we were working from home today.” His eyes widened suddenly as he realised what
he’d said. “I mean -- I was working from my home, and you were working from -- hell --“
I was still staring.
If my eyes had got any wider, they’d have rolled out of my head
altogether. He stood there in my doorway
and he looked spectacular: rumpled hair, flushed skin, eyes darting around with
uncertainty. Nervous,
perhaps. But spectacular!
“Look, I’m sorry about last night,” he started. Perhaps he saw me wince, because he hastened
to clarify. “No – hell
– not that! I mean – I fell asleep in your bed, in your apartment, without asking if you’d
mind. I was too tired – I was exhausted,
actually. It’s been a hard week at the
Department. And last night, on top of
that –“ Was
that a blush I saw? Fuck, it was cute on him.
“You should have woken me, Duo – bundled me out. I had no right to assume that was OK – “
“But it was,” I interrupted. I looked at the two mugs in his hands, but I
wasn’t focussing on them – I couldn’t have told you what colour they were, or
what stupid logo they might have been emblazoned with. I think I had an inane grin on my face
again. “It was fine. I wanted you there.”
He stood in the doorway a little too long for comfort,
as if he were trying to decide if I was serious. I could see the hot mugs were starting to
burn his thumbs. “Put them down,” I
said, slowly. I shucked off the sheet
and rolled my body round until I was kneeling on the bed facing him. Then I wriggled a couple of feet towards
him. I was still totally naked. My skin shivered in the early morning air,
but it wasn’t just from the cold snap -- and there was a deep,
heavy warmth bobbing between my legs that was most distracting. “Put them down,” I repeated. “And lose those pants. Get back over here. I’m not thirsty for coffee. I want to fuck again.”
His eyes flared some bright message – something vivid
and sensual. It sparked an answering
shiver across my skin. I could see his
breath hitching in his bare chest, and his mouth twisted in a slow smile. “That’s good,” he replied, placing the mugs
on the floor by the bedroom door, with exaggerated care. “Because I wasn’t sure if
you would. It was all rather
fast, wasn’t it?”
“That suits me fine,” I purred. I was only half joking. I couldn’t have held myself back from him if
my limbs had been strapped to the proverbial wild horses. Yeah, it had been damned fast – I only met the guy three hours before we ended up in
bed! I had no regrets at all – but I
knew I ought to appreciate any that he
had. “You sorry,
Heero? You want to draw breath –
take it slower? I understand…”
“No,” he said, abruptly. “I don’t want
to. But I don’t know if I should.
Hell…I don’t do this a lot, Duo.
That’s all I can say. It’s just –
last night, being with you -- it was almost like I couldn’t help myself – “
“I know,” I said, grinning. He looked even cuter, struggling with the
words. I’d crawled to the edge of the
bed by now and reached over for him; I was plucking at the half-undone belt of
his pants. “It’s the same for me. It happened – it was magnificent. I want some more. End of soul baring for today, OK?”
He gazed at me, and that beautifully understated smile
crept over his face again.
I felt the blood rush through me like the tide coming
in. My mouth grew dry – my morning
arousal wept shamelessly for his touch.
I fell back on the bed, ignoring his protests as his falling pants
snagged on his hips; as he toppled over after me; as he caught himself on
shaking arms, leaning over me, releasing a hand to push the bedraggled hair
back off my face to gaze at me, and laugh with me, and sink down to kiss me…
I knew even then that he was probably the best thing
I’d ever seen. The best thing I could
ever have imagined. The
man who could quite possibly give me the best time of my life.
It was only the first time I’d met him properly – yet
it was the first time we came together.
There was no doubt it was right – there was never any doubt at all,
though I knew very little of him then.
*
The best time of my life? Oh yeah, it was!
After that night, we wanted to see each other again –
and then again. We wanted each other’s company like a drug –
we were hungry for each other like nothing else we’d ever known. I don’t know when – or if – the other guys
learned we were seeing each other, because at first we were fairly circumspect
at work. But outside of work matters, we
drew together like moths to each other’s flame.
We drank together, ate together, watched movies, played music. All that stuff. And we fucked as if it were permanently on
sale.
Glorious times.
Most of the time.
We were very different, of course. From the very beginning. For me, that was the excitement – that was
the whole stimulation. I didn’t think it
mattered that we communicated in different ways, too. Hell, I could manage on very little, I
thought. That,
and the fantastic sex.
It was never really easy, being together. We had the work business, for a start. We weren’t always on the same jobs – the
hours weren’t exactly your nine-to-five routine. And over the course of the next six months or
so, the Project Team began to establish itself.
It asked even more of us, then.
Relena drew about a dozen of us together, including the guys I’ve
already described, including Heero and me.
We were still under the Department, but were a separate Project Team,
answerable to her. There was no brief,
no job description – just an amazingly wide collection of skills and
enthusiasms and a bunch of people who itched restlessly to use them. The idea seemed to be that we’d take on the
more sensitive missions – the more complex ones. Anything requiring our specialised skills;
anything with a high profile involvement; anything other departments had turned
down as too much for them to handle: confidential celebrity security issues;
assassination threats; investigation of industrial sabotage; political sleaze,
either the investigation of it or the proof of its absence. You name it!
Seemed the variety and the risks suited us all just
fine – we bounced ideas and results off each other and developed a way of
working well, whatever the combination of team members. I never felt so good as when I was in that
Team – when I was with the guys, using the talents we had, working always at
top speed, at top awareness. We had a
banter going between us that was exhilarating – we
were young and fit and full of confidence, and working like dogs.
In some ways I thought it’d be better for me and
Heero, too, in that we worked together, that we shared the tension and the
excitement and the long days planning and scheming and directing. So OK, we had little leisure time, and
weren’t always on the same missions, but all the same we’d find places to be
together when we needed to. We laughed
at ourselves, sneaking around like school kids, but I guess our passion was
heightened by the adrenalin rush and the half-secrecy with which we shrouded
our early relationship. Yeah, I got fucked in the janitor’
closet! Jeez, I had trouble looking
seriously at the cleaners for weeks after.
I’d recall the image of my foot stuck in a metal bucket, my pants round
my ankles and my head twisted so awkwardly in the confined space that a mop
head got tangled in with my braid. The
mop jerked alongside me as I climaxed into Heero’s mouth, in a weird
pseudo-sexual dance of its own; Heero laughed so much that my
cum dribbled out of his mouth and all down his shirt.
There were more anecdotes than could fit in one of the
more lurid men’s magazines. Late one
evening, we christened one of the minor Board tables, my face pushed flat down
on the expensive wood, the skin of my belly squeaking alarmingly against the
highly polished surface, and my fingers gripping the bevelled edges for dear
life. Oh, and
there was one particular stall in the executive toilets on the third floor of
the Department’s head office that had Heero’s fingernail tracks as a permanent
feature of the Italian tiling…
We even did it once on the back seat of Relena’s
car. She’d been driving us to a Team
briefing out of town, then she was called in to an
impromptu meeting with the Board, reporting on our latest success. Left us to amuse ourselves
for a while. We flipped the
windows up and down and played with her video telephone like naughty kids, and
then Heero pushed me on to my back on the broad leather seat and wriggled his
hand down the front of my pants. Two
minutes later, my pants were round my ankles, my head was twisted awkwardly
against the door panel, and my legs were wrapped tightly round Heero’s bare
hips as he pushed into me. Mercifully,
the windows steamed up quickly, and the expensive suspension proved more than
equal to the challenge.
He had to press his hand over my mouth when I came, to
shut me up. It was fast and funny and
poignant, like the way tears squeeze out during a laughing fit. No one had ever made me enjoy it so much.
Don’t think Relena ever guessed what we got up to; we
were easily decent by the time she returned, though there was rather a rich
aroma inside the car. Anyhow, we never
risked it twice! Had
to find alternative, less potentially dangerous places to satisfy ourselves.
It was brilliant.
He was brilliant. That’s how it all seemed to me. But those are other tales that I’m not
dwelling on here. Not today.
Maybe never.
*
I suppose we never gave much time to thinking it
through – to where we might go with it, what we both wanted from it all. It was too damned heady at the time – neither
of us could think straight, it seemed, except through our dicks. He seemed happy enough with it all – happy
enough with me. Or so it seemed. I didn’t always have a lot to go on.
You see, he was the brightest, smartest man I’d ever
met but he didn’t much do the ‘talking’ thing.
I discovered that pretty early on.
Oh, he was damned articulate, and he could talk plenty about work and
weapons and the world, and I never knew him to be rude. But he rarely wanted to talk to me about the
sex and how we were together – despite my hungry need to praise it and pimp it
and just generally pet it all, every
damned feeling I had from the fiercest orgasm to the strange ache that I felt
across every inch of my body every time he ran a hand through his hair. But when he did talk, it silenced me; it enchanted me. Once, he said he was stunned from the moment
he saw me, that first evening – he’d never felt like that about anyone in his
life. Even before he knew me – before
he’d spoken to me. Just looked at me and
wanted to know me. In every sense of the word.
Yeah, he could be damned
good with the words when he chose to.
It wasn’t long before I was spending more time at his
place than my own, and we were effectively living together. Time was snatched and precious – so no one
wanted to spend it in a game of musical beds, dashing across town to meet for
an hour or so when we were both free, eating in one apartment, arranging to
meet later in the other, duplicating most things we owned so that we never got
caught without toothbrush or spare socks.
Heero had an apartment in the Westbridge block, in a
residential area north of town. It was
one of the places that Relena had cleared for security purposes – it was
critical that her Team worked secretly and anonymously, and yet
comfortably. Somehow she hadn’t got
round to re-housing me as well; I’d been wondering whether to take her neglect
personally. However, his place was a
damned sight smarter than my downtown apartment, so I enjoyed my time
there. We went our separate ways out in
the field, but then we came back together – back to washing up, reading the paper
at night, yawning our way round supermarkets, playing interminable games of
chess, waking up with sheets tangled round us and pillows kicked off on the
floor. All that stuff about living
together.
We just did it because it felt good. Well, it did to me.
*
I had visions of us being as much friends as lovers –
supporting each other through the missions.
Fuck knows, we needed it.
Heero came home sometimes dirty and tired, ears
ringing from explosions that had been too fucking close – sometimes there’d
been killings that they hadn’t anticipated.
He’d sit in his room, and he’d strip and clean his personal guns as if
it burned his hands to hold them any longer than necessary. He’d tell me about some of the missions – and
others he wouldn’t, even if I asked.
Tighter than a clam, his control over his expressed
emotions. So different from me, who
ranted and raved about the way things had gone – the successes – the
setbacks. The damned stupid way the
world ran. The arguments I had with
Relena – the delays in supply, the calibre of personnel, the
fucking rain when I was on outdoor surveillance in the park. I like to talk – it’s not a crime, is it?
But he so rarely reacted. Sometimes it even looked like he was
bored. That’s too painful to remember,
of course.
I felt sure that he must feel the same stuff as
me. Once, after he’d been away on a
week-long, solitary mission, I heard him cry.
Quietly, in the bathroom during his shower. With the door closed so he thought I wouldn’t
see or hear. Maybe he forgot I could
attune myself to a lot more than sight and sound.
But when he came out, he looked fine, and he never
volunteered a single fucking word about it.
I was confused; I was angry; guess I was upset, too, that he didn’t need
me for that kind of support. Then he
turned those deep, hungry eyes on me and in the middle of the tumble of towels
to the lounge floor, I forgot to argue the point.
*
Was it just the sex?
Is that all we had?
It continued to be as hot and as fulfilling as it had
ever been. We’d be apart for a while –
then we’d be back in the same apartment like newly married, yet familiar
partners. At first there’d be a thick
cloak of tension, clutching round us like a straitjacket, then we’d argue over
something or nothing, or so it seemed to me, like we needed to let off steam
before we could touch. And then we’d
clamber over each other’s bodies to get to the soft, sensitive bits, and we’d
fuck like starved bunnies.
After all, it had been his body I wanted, right from
the first time I saw him. It was the
rush of thick, ecstatic delight that suffused me every time I saw him – that
was all I needed to keep me riding the crest of a wave. I didn’t have the appetite for investigating
it any further, did I? Or so I told
myself. Dammit, I spent my whole time at
work empathising with people, and analysing their motives and behaviour – I
reckoned I wasn’t keen to do a whole lot of it between the sheets as well. And that seemed to suit Heero just fine. He suffered the same pressure, after all – we
both knew how the work was, how significant it was to us, and what it
represented in our lives. Anything else
was just a diversion – just entertainment.
I ought to have known that was the way he wanted to play it.
But I wasn’t being particularly honest. I knew how I felt about him. Not just his body, fit and lean and strong
and flexible and imaginative as that
was. No, how I felt about all of him:
how he dressed; how he laughed; how he puzzled; how he wrote; how he smiled…
yeah, all of him. But he rarely gave me
any encouragement to tell him so.
And I wasn’t likely to humiliate myself voluntarily,
was I?
*
It was the tension, of course. Guess neither of us had realised that the
Team work would be its own kind of trial, as well as an unbelievably exciting
challenge. There were ridiculously long
hours – reams of paperwork – the need to have a portion of your brain
concentrated on every other Team mate at all times -- and throughout it all, a constant exposure to
people whose motivation would probably remain incomprehensible for the whole of
your conscious life, and whose lack of humanity was staggering. I gabbled about it a lot, and went clubbing,
and played louder music, and – well, that was how I dealt with it.
Heero didn’t often come out with me. His reaction was the opposite.
His quietness annoyed me! Sometimes it felt like he ignored me – and
that was a cut that went too damned deep.
So I’d push him to open up. I’d
challenge him – I’d provoke him. That’s
when I realised he was damned good with the words in other capacities, too –
when I pushed him to argue. Hell, I
never thought of myself as aggressive in that way – provocative, maybe. But it seemed like that was the only time I
got some positive reaction from him -- that
was when I got a decent response. So I
let the temptation have its way, probably far too often. Once he crossed that line, he entered into
the whole damned thing as enthusiastically as I -- his counter-attacks were
rich and fierce, and usually left us both panting with spent energy and sore
throats.
It was stimulating, all right. But probably not in any of
the right ways.
It was early days with the Project Team; the demands
on us – and the expectations of the Department -- were pretty high. I wasn’t used to being so screwed up all the
time, so tired, so tense. For a while, the arguments were kept to the apartment
– kept to our leisure time. They were
fierce and fast, and often finished up with grabbing hands and clothes torn
off. I reckoned I had control over it
all, that there was a foundation underneath us that made it nothing more than a
lively sex play.
It was a new, unfamiliar time for everyone,
right? For us – well, we were always
either dog-tired, or screwed up with anticipation. Or fucking.
Perhaps the depth of what I felt was all too
soon. Perhaps it was all too much.
It was what I wanted, though. He
was what I wanted.
It was usually really good, OK? But I guess, looking back, I was never sure
for how long.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Day Two 08:30
The trailer creaked as I turned on my bed and bumped
carelessly against the outside wall.
I groaned.
The morning light sneaked in through the blinds
sheltering my small bedroom and threw zigzags across my covers. I peeled a grudging eye open to it and let
consciousness creep back in. I lay on the
top of the bed, fully dressed, spending a couple of minutes trying to re-orientate
myself. I remembered dozing off on the
floor of the lounge in the small hours of the morning, before finally dragging
myself in here to try to get some proper sleep.
I remembered nightmares about exploding buildings and barking dogs. And sundry bedtime memories
that had blessed me with an aching, not-so-good-morning hard-on. I considered the specific characteristics of
a cold shower with vindictive thoroughness until my body calmed down again.
Then I remembered who else was at home.
I thought if I got up swiftly, I might avoid my new
houseguest for a bit longer. Like I
always rose early! I stumbled in and out
of the tepid shower as best I could without making a hell of a racket, and
dragged on some soft grey-fabric sweat pants and a tee shirt that had missed
this week’s ironing duties. But by the
time I got to the kettle – my particular Holy Grail -- he was there before
me. I’d obviously missed him rising from
the couch. The blanket was folded neatly
on the cushion; the coffeepot was warmed already. There was the smell of toast in the small,
ill-ventilated room, to say nothing of the smell of freshly-washed,
clean-clothed Heero Yuy. Despite his
whole life having been demolished within the last 48 hours, he had clean jeans
and tee shirt on, and was still managing to look as fresh as a chain of
daisies.
“Unhh,” I managed. Thought I ought at least to be civil, though
I felt nothing like it. He looked way
too good for the time of day – the tee shirt was attractively tight across his muscled
torso, and slightly caught up at one side; there was a sliver of dark skin
showing above the low waist of his jeans.
I tugged at the sweats that hung casually round my hips, feeling less
than sparkling in return. I’d lost
weight since I moved in here – nothing seemed to fit quite the way it used
to.
He put the mug of coffee into my hand, and I blanched
at the suddenly familiar gesture.
“I put two sugars in,” he said. He sounded defensive – like I’d accuse him of
poisoning me otherwise. “It’s strong.”
“Fine,” I growled.
I knew how he made coffee, didn’t I?
I’d had a bad night; I’d had a lot to think about – I was tetchy. I looked at this man in my kitchen, tall and
dark-eyed and too fucking close for any kind of comfort, and I felt a nausea
that almost scared me. His mouth was
pursed, like he gritted his teeth. I
wondered at what hour he’d got up in
order to avoid me! Any other time, I’d have laughed at the
situation we found ourselves in.
“I made some breakfast -- I was hungry, I’m afraid.” His eyes didn’t exactly reflect the apology,
but never mind. “I didn’t realise that
was the end of the bread, though.”
I shrugged.
“You slept through a couple of meals, I guess. Pity they didn’t bring you with a packed
lunchbox. I can’t exactly pop out to the
store at the moment.” I knew I sounded
abrasive, but I didn’t seem to be able to get the right tone.
“Look, Duo, I don’t like this any better than you do,”
he said, quickly. He frowned. “How many times do I need to say it? But I don’t have a choice. Some bastard tried to kill both me and Wufei,
and I’m not keen on him taking another shot.
At least, not until I get a chance to organise some kind of
counter-attack. So let’s just grin and
bear it, right? The sooner we find the
troublemakers and eliminate them, the sooner I’m out of here.”
“Suits me,” I said.
I went to leave the kitchen, but he’d moved around slightly while he
spoke, and his body was halfway across the narrow opening. I paused before moving forward -- only for a
fraction of a second -- assuming he’d shift out of the way. He didn’t.
I twisted sharply to avoid him, but our hips almost grazed. And as he turned his head away from me, his
breath brushed across my neck, my skin still damp from the shower.
Fuck.
I caught my shoulder on the doorframe, biting back a
curse, and then I strode back into my lounge.
I really didn’t know how this was gonna work out, I
really didn’t. There was just too much
going on – petty stuff like the lack of bread for breakfast toast, then big
stuff like the attacks; the worry about the other guys; the disturbance of my
sanctuary; the tension between me and Heero; the soft, earthy smell of his body
up close and personal --
I’d missed a hell of a lot more than the Team – than
good friendships. And it all
concentrated round this man. The memory
of my morning erection threatened to become a reality again, and I hoped he
hadn’t seen my shiver as I passed.
I’d felt it through every damned nerve I possessed.
*
“So what’s on your agenda for today?” I sat down heavily on the couch, nursing the
coffee which was – as always – just as I liked it. That
hadn’t changed. “I’ve got a couple of
satellite channels – not many books, I’m afraid. Radio works a bit fitfully – music system is
shot to pieces from the move, and I never got time to get it fixed…”
He frowned at that.
“Funny to think of you without your music.”
I shrugged. Felt warm, like I was blushing. “Wasn’t sure how long I’d be staying
here. Might have been
moving on. You know.”
He stared at me like it was the last thing he’d know. “It’s
up to you, of course.”
You said it.
I didn’t like
him staring at me like that. The
familiar couch felt awkward underneath me, and I fought an urge to wriggle with
irritation.
He stepped across the lounge and his gaze darted over
to his boxes. “Anyway, I’m not after
that sort of entertainment -- I have to get to work. There are some papers that Relena found for
me, some transcripts of the last communications that Trowa intercepted just
before the attack on the apartment. He
apparently had some idea of where the threat was coming from.”
“But --?” I prompted.
“Quatre said he was out in the field.”
“Yes,” Heero replied.
He frowned, looking disturbed.
“Ever since the first attack, Trowa’s been monitoring some unusual
satellite signals – some coded messages that were underlying the Department’s
routine communications. They alerted him
somehow. You know how he has a sixth
sense for that. Then a few hours before
the explosion at Westbridge –“ He was swallowing a
grimace -- I could see it, though to other people he’d have seemed perfectly
calm. “Just before that happened, apparently he discovered something fairly
urgent. None of us were around, so he
left a secure mail for Relena and went out after the source himself.”
“They let him go, without backup –“
Heero shook his head with annoyance. “Duo, the Department has been in a state of
barely controlled panic ever since the attacks started. A lot of the standard procedures have moved
down the priority list. Relena had most
of the guys out in the field, or in deep cover – even the junior ones. Yes, Trowa shouldn’t have gone without either
seeking her sanction or taking one of us with him. But then you weren’t around –“
I grunted, crossly.
“And Wufei and I were working on the toxin report
after the attempt on Relena’s life –“ Now my brow furrowed in shock, but he
continued as if he hadn’t noticed. “And
although Quatre should have been around, everything spiralled out of control
within the next hour or so, and he was pretty fully occupied then, as you can
imagine –“
Pulling
you out of the wreckage. Right. I felt mean, but I didn’t feel up to
admitting it.
“I have the message records and Trowa’s notes here
with me. Relena had them couriered over
from the Department – I insisted I wanted to look through them as soon as
possible. Perhaps I can find some clues
there, find out how they traced us, what their plans are. Who and where the hell they are! Quatre’s also working on it, but
from within the Department with the resources he has there.”
“Has he been targeted too?” I asked, tightly.
Heero grimaced slightly, but not because of me; his
mind was scanning other thoughts. I knew the look. “No, he seems to have been safe so far; no
threats against him specifically, so it seems safe enough for him to remain in
place. But any of us who’ve been hit
already – well, we’re either under police guard or in hiding, as you’ve
gathered. I preferred the option of
remaining on the case, so they had to find me somewhere to go.” He looked uncomfortable again -- must have
been galling, the thought of staying with me! I bristled, but he didn’t seem to see any
change in my response – didn’t take the bait.
“So where’s your table, Duo? I
need to spread out the printouts.” His
eyes flickered over the small card table beside the couch. “Don’t tell me that’s the only work surface
you have available?”
I sighed under my breath. Heero was a guy who rarely relaxed like the
rest of us. Well – like me. He
did everything with intensity, and at times like this, he lived for his
work. He saw it as his responsibility to
equip us all for either offence or defence – to protect us all. We relied on his analysis of the enemy’s
military strengths and his plans to neutralise the threat. Nuke ‘em before they nuke us, I used to
joke. Went down like a lead balloon,
humour like that. I’d forgotten what it
was like to be around him when he was in mission mode.
Tiring, I thought, sceptically. Consuming. Selfish.
Lonely…
*
He was looking back at me. There was an odd look in his eye, and it had
been there ever since I rushed out of the kitchen. This whole thing was damned awkward for him,
and I could sympathise with that – last time we’d been together, we’d thrown a
lot of flak at each other, and he’d said a few things about me being off the
Christmas card list forever. Or words to that effect.
But this was even worse, of course.
Heero Yuy had been injured in the line of duty – with no fucking idea of
whom to blame. That was eating him up,
I’d imagine.
His eyes kept flickering over my body; he looked like
he’d swallowed a couple of lemons and then bitten into the peel. It’s not that I hadn’t seen that look before,
y’know? Just not for a while.
And it still hurt.
“What do you do here all day, Duo?” His voice was calm but I knew its
deception. Heero always seemed calm and
controlled – until he got pushed over the line.
I’d been a past master at that, of course. Why did you run away to a pit like this? he
was really saying, I’m sure. Why are you such a loser? Why am I trapped here with you when I’d
rather be anywhere else?
Hell, it wasn’t like I didn’t agree with him. I snapped back without thinking – or else I
might have kept my mouth shut. “That’s
none of your business, man. Hasn’t been for a long time.
That’s how we both wanted it – that’s how it is. You can spread the papers out on the couch,
right? I’ll move off and we can have a
look at it.”
“We?”
“Dammit, it’s not like all the Secret Spy stuff is
your specialised subject, is it? I have
more experience than you in the Nancy-Drew-invisible-ink business – hell, it’ll
take you a couple of hours to decode Trowa’s handwriting, let alone the message
underneath.” And you’ve been hurt, I wanted to say, and nearly bit my tongue off
to stop myself. Someone tried to blow you up.
Your brains are gonna be like scrambled eggs for a while. The mix of
emotions that thought raised in me was disturbing.
Then it was a clumsy scrabble by the both of us to
clear a space. Heero flipped open a
couple of boxes, sending dust and the waft of damp cardboard across the room,
and I started sweeping the cushions back and clearing the coffee mugs back off
to the kitchen. He scowled; I
scowled. But we got on with it. When I came back into the room, he had the
files he wanted, though he was still clutching them to him like precious family
heirlooms. I swore and tried to snatch
at them – did he expect me to have X-ray vision? – and
he growled and started to protest his irritation. A file got caught in the middle, and its edge
tore open with a loud complaint -- a sheaf of paper tumbled out on to the
floor.
Neither of us moved to pick it up. We stood paralysed, facing each other, breath panting, eyes wide with shock. We’d both reached for the slipping file
together, and both missed it. But our
hands had caught at the nearest alternative – each other’s palm.
*
I couldn’t move for a few seconds. Every sense was elsewhere.
His skin was cool – rough on the pads under his
fingers, smooth along the life lines.
Skin against skin – it was something I’d not had for a while. And certainly not his. Memories slid cruelly under my defences – my
eyesight blurred; my heart raced.
Then I thought I saw Heero suppress a shudder. I snatched my hand out of his death grip, if
only to save him his coronary and me my pride.
We both still stood there, at a loss what to do next.
“Been a while, eh, Heero?” I was baiting him, I knew. I hadn’t had any communication with him, let
alone seen him, for months now. The
others had tried to keep in touch – to support me, despite my own desire for
exile. But Heero and I hadn’t spoken
since the day I left. And
for a while before that.
Baiting him
and tormenting myself. Ridiculous. What made me think I could joke about it?
He took a tight breath, and his hand fell back to his
side. He took a step back – I’d like to
think it was a little uncertain. “Don’t
be so facetious, Duo. You made your
choice. We both got the same suspension
period. You just chose…” He paused. Bit at his lip. Christ, he hated it when I provoked him to speak without planning it all out
first!
“Yeah?”
“You chose to take your suspension away from the
Team. You hid yourself here – you abandoned it all.” His eyes
caught mine, glaring suddenly. Of
course, he was totally loyal to the Department; he had no sympathy for my
defection.
I didn’t know why I thought I saw pain in his eyes as
well as fury.
*
Heero had moved back, a decent distance away from me;
he was trying to relax the tension in his body.
I picked up some papers and laid them on the
couch. They may have been upside down --
I still wasn’t focussing too well. I
scowled. “If that’s how you see it,
that’s fine with me. I don’t have to
explain anything to you. You stayed, of course.
Hanging around the Department, working out your
after-class detention. Committed to the cause to the bitter end.” Guess you had other things to stay for,
though. ”So you’ve been back at work
for a while?”
He didn’t answer directly. He leant back against the wall – there
weren’t a hell of a lot of other places to rest while still keeping a safe
distance from my contagion. “It’s you
who talks like a kid, Duo. I haven’t had
any special treatment, if that’s what you mean. I’m still in the last stage of my suspension,
same as you. But I’ve been in touch with
Relena all along. Like you say, I’ve
been hanging around the Department,
in case I was needed. When the attacks
started, she called me in. For a while,
we thought I might have a clue as to the motive behind it all, and I could add
my knowledge to the investigation.” He
sighed, as if annoyed that the words were being dragged out of him. Justification for his
behaviour. He’d rarely seen any
reason for it before. “Everyone in the
Team has a role to play, Duo. We’re all
needed, especially at this time. That’s
more important than any internal disciplinary matters.”
“Yeah,” I said, dryly.
Maybe his dressing down hadn’t been so humiliating; maybe his session
with the Board hadn’t been so heated.
Maybe, at that particular time, his mind hadn’t been quite as white with
fury as mine. “Guess when you told
Relena just what a shit I’d been, the sympathy vote was with you, anyway –“
“I never told her anything,” he said, sharply. I raised an eyebrow – and the bitter words
fizzled out in my throat.
He stared at me, challenging me. “She just saw the fight and disciplined us
accordingly. I never told her anything
about the reasons it started – nothing of what was said between us. It wasn’t relevant to the mission – it wasn’t
for her to know.”
It was private, I thought. Yes, I thought so myself. Well, well, well. Perhaps I’d misjudged him. Mind you, the mood I was in then, I’d have
misjudged the
“OK,” I said.
‘Sorry’ kind of stuck in my throat.
“We were – dammit!
-- we behaved appallingly, you must have realised that!” Heero’s expression was grim. “We were unprofessional. We jeopardised the surveillance, however
routine a mission. They couldn’t let it
go unmarked. But it’s all over, now.”
I saw him grimace, even as that superbly pragmatic
remark slipped out from his mouth, even as he realised how his words -- all over now -- could be taken on
several levels. His eyes flashed a shade
of dark that I could have drowned in. He
was angry with himself. Angry with me, too.
“Sure is,” I said, smoothly. “All over. Wipe the slate clean
of it all, right?”
“Don’t be such a brat,
Duo,” he snapped in reply. “Running off
like a scolded child … did you expect someone to come begging you back?”
“Shit!” I
growled back, though I knew it was what I deserved. “I had to get away – you’d know that, if you
had any idea about me at all!”
“Which I thought I did!” he said. His face was flushed now. “I could say the same about you, too. Imagining how I felt. You think I’m not
ashamed of the whole thing?”
“Ashamed?” I fired back.
“Of the fight!”
His eyes were cold. “We’ve hammered
anything else to death, I’d say, and I don’t need any extra helpings of death
wish right now.”
“That’s why I left!”
I groaned. “Like I don’t need the
trouble myself – the abuse – the misery –“
“That’s what it all was, then?” Heero’s eyes were like flint. “Trouble? Misery? You give up that easily?”
“Yeah! Maybe so.” I was warming up now. My heart was thudding; my flesh felt
hot. My fingers itched to grab hold of
something. “Far as I can see, I’m out on my ass, and a disappointment all around, and
now I can’t even hide in my seedy little sanctuary without being hounded down
–“
“For God’s sake, Duo, I knew where you were all the
time!” he snapped. “I tracked you down
pretty quickly.” He must have seen my
wide-eyed outrage. “Duo, I didn’t mean
it like that –“
“Like what?”
Like he was a stalker? Like he
wanted to prove something? Like he cared?
“I mean that it was a security issue. In case – anyone needed to find you.”
“Security issue. Right. So why did Quatre and Trowa bother tracing me
as well? Could’ve just come to you –“
“I didn’t tell anyone,” he said, too quickly. The anger still bubbled in his
expression. “I assumed you’d run here to
be alone – it was up to you what you did then.”
I was trying to read any underlying feelings in his
tone, in his eyes, in his body language, but he was a sharp guy. Fuck all to go on at the best of times. Of course, it could just have been
indifference.
The absence of care.
Heero was shaking his head again, forehead creasing
with irritation. “Oh,
the hell with it!” He looked
disgusted that I’d wrung the emotion out of him. Bemused. Pained. “What’s the point of all this digging over
the past, Duo?”
I stared at him, my anger leeching away like water
through a sieve. He’d been near death –
his ordered life had been thrown up in the air like a handful of confetti, and
he was standing amongst the drifting pieces.
He didn’t need my arguments.
What was my
point?
*
He’d mentioned the fight – and I guess you need to
know what that was all about. Or maybe just that it happened. Heero and I had a falling out – like a rather
major one. In the
middle of a mission. We fought,
physically – and I’ll have you know I put up a creditable defence – but the
Board took a dim view of it, at work and all.
Damned bureaucrats, right? We
were both hauled over the coals and suspended for three months.
There you are. My fall from grace in a nutshell. Not only that, but the end of my affair – the
end of Heero and me. With
not a whimper, but a rather impressive right hook. His.
So what did it matter now whether I’d been humiliated
or angered or hurt? It was past
history. Neither of us was going back
there. What did it matter whether Heero
knew where I was all along? Had I wanted him to -- or
not? What he thought and what he
knew – well, that was all his problem
now, wasn’t it? And what he knew about what I knew -- shit, here I was again, going around in that spiralling
way that leads to plenty of sleepless nights.
That’s what it’s like at the end of a relationship, after all – no new
revelations there. It’s the loss of
everything, including the right to know anything about your ex – to share
anything with them – to have anything but a supporting role in their future
life.
Heero obviously had it sorted out well. It was me
who was behaving badly.
There was silence for a while. Oh, lots
of other little questions popped into mind!
His, as well as mine. I could see the slight shock in his eyes, that I’d drawn him out so quickly; I could see his
mouth form words, then clamp shut without releasing them.
“Why did you get drawn back into it all, Heero?” I was curious, despite myself. “Couldn’t they manage the investigation
without your inimitable help?” Maybe if
he’d kept withdrawn like me – kept out of the line of fire while he did his time – well, maybe he’d never
have been targeted in the first place.
What sort of masochist was
he?
He bit at his lip again. I watched the plump flesh ease out from under
his even, white teeth. “I don’t know why
you want to know, Duo. You’ve made it
clear you want to be kept out of it all.”
He took a deep breath. “But I
guess it’s now important that you do know. The Board should have contained the situation
after the first attack – it was at one of the supposedly secret locations used
for the peace talks, a minor act of sabotage.
There were plenty of personnel available to cover the problem – there
was plenty of opportunity to identify the culprit. Personally, I think they underestimated the
threat – they thought it was an isolated event.
The work of an amateur. Then when the next attack came in, and the
next after that, all in such quick succession, there was too little time to
regroup. So Relena herself pitched in,
suggesting she revisited some past notes and mission files to see if there were
any connections – any reason for a specific vendetta against the
Department. To see if there was anyone
who might have threatened the Team or its members in the past I was only called back into active duty
because I could identify someone who fit that criteria –“
“Shit, Yuy,” I snapped. “I’m not bothered that you were Mr. Popular
while I languished out here! Don’t
bother about trying to massage my ego, because to be honest, I don’t have a
hell of a lot of time for one nowadays –“
“Dammit, I wasn’t!” he snarled back.
I swallowed back a retort, and then engaged my brain
instead of my tongue. “Wait a sec. The guy you could identify – the threat
against a Team member -- you don’t mean it was that kid who stabbed you?”
Heero’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Yes.”
I cursed myself.
That time had been one of the most distressing … for us both, despite whatever arguments we may have had
subsequently. Hi, Duo, I mocked myself. Meet
Mr. Foot-in-Mouth. I steadied my
voice. If he could talk about it so
coolly, well, so could I. “So – does she
think it’s not political at all, but a personal attack? On the Team – all of us? Or just you?”
He shrugged. He
was looking weary again. Despite that
exhaustive sleep, he still bore the scars of his ordeal. “I don’t know – I really don’t know. I checked out the boy and he’s still in the
youth detention centre. It couldn’t have
been him.”
“Other family members? Associates? The guy who ran the club
where we found him --?”
“I don’t fucking know!” I flinched back a bit from his anger. Whoa, when Heero let loose, he let
loose! He growled with frustration,
trying to rein it back in. “No, there
was nothing else on that particular exercise to give us a lead. But Relena has other cases to examine, other
people we’ve brought down or exposed or just generally pissed off – and anyway,
that may not be a motive at all. Shit, I
don’t know where to go from here…”
I looked at the papers on the floor and the
couch. “Make some sense of this discarded
rain forest and we’ll see if it gets us any further. OK?”
And then the cell phone rang. The one that Relena had
left behind for us. For him.
His eyes flashed to mine, and I stared back. Then he grabbed it from a back pocket and
flipped it open. We stood there,
paralysed like some kind of living tableau, as he listened to whatever greeting
it was. His eyes came back to mine, and
there was a strange kind of wildness in them.
“It’s Wufei,” he said, rather woodenly. He might have been reading the weather
forecast on the news for all the emotion he showed in his voice. But I read him far better than that. “From the hospital – they’re going to operate
tomorrow.”
It was a shock – and I found myself wanting to snap
back at him again. What was he, some
kind of cold fish? How serious was it
for God’s sake? What hospital? What operation? And then it occurred to me that he might have
been holding back on the concern for my
benefit. Hospitals were a difficult
thing with me. Not that I’d spent much time
myself in them – I’d rarely had a broken bone or serious illness in my
life. But Heero had.
You see, six months ago, I’d nearly got him
killed.
*
OK, so I guess I knew it wouldn’t be enough just to
skate over the story of our prize fight as some kind of lovers’ quarrel! It was actually at the end of a time of
great stress – a culmination of a strange, painful, slowly tightening spiral of
misunderstanding and hurt and bitter disappointment. It had been threatening for months.
Things were tangling up between us personally,
unpleasant and unsettling. Things were
coming to a head, all throughout the last mission, Mission Dove. And that’s where Heero’s stabbing was also
woven into the mix, the time he’d just mentioned.
I’m getting ahead of myself, of course.
The preliminary work for the Mission Dove peace talks
started a long time before the actual event; we spent months preparing the
locations and protecting those chosen to take part. That had led to the discovery that one of the
more prominent politicians was spending his Saturday nights in a downtown gentlemen’s club. Nothing new, you might say, being as cynical
as myself. I mean, that in itself that
wouldn’t have merited the attention of the Project Team, except that it turned
out the pimp offered access to a special suite of rooms full of kids -- children who were way too young
and way too unwilling for anyone to let it pass. The Department was called in, and because of
the sensitivity of the politician concerned, so was Relena.
Heero and I had been together for a few months by
then, more or less living together, wrapped up in each other’s bodies and very
much an item. At first, this early work
only involved him and Wufei, with Quatre on support. It didn’t take them long to round up the
politician, send him discreetly home, and close down the club. They’d already alerted the police to mop up
the remains of the staff, and to take the pimp into custody. But then I got a call from Quatre, asking me
to come and join them – he was worried that the kids would need some emotional
support, to help them trust the Department.
I think he was just a little overwhelmed with it all, to tell you the
truth.
And so I need to be honest with myself, now. You see, I seriously misread the situation. I had some poor, misguided idea that the kids
would be grateful for their release; that they’d be innocent and weak and ready
to follow our lead, that they’d be glad to leave
behind the life of beatings and abuse and twisted, emotional torture in their
current home. It was just a matter of
reassuring them and offering lollipops, or something like that. I’d had plenty of experience with adults – I
had a talent for judging many a sticky situation.
But I was frighteningly unprepared for what was
there. I’d not worked with kids before –
and not in the sex industry. There were
all sorts of shocks in store for me. I
had no idea there’d be boys as well as girls; no idea of the youth of some of
them. Naïve, eh? So sue me.
As the emergency services did their work, and Heero and Wufei were off
doing whatever they did, I stood like an island in the middle of a sea of
scum. The room was still scattered with
the tools of their trade: the sex toys; the bondage gear; the copious supplies
of needles. All mixed in with brightly
coloured blankets and stuffed toys and boxes of jumbled, tattered old
children’s puzzle books.
My heart went out to them – without realising that
they’d not know what to do with it. I
had no idea how harsh some of them were – how broken their minds were – how
hostile they were towards us. I swallowed the bile in my throat and tried to
acclimatise to the distorted little faces around me – but it was an alien
experience. Some lay crying for their
moms; some spat in my face, shouting that they hoped I got hideous, fatal
diseases from it; and some just stared.
There was a blankness there, and little sense of reality. I wondered who would be able to peel those
children’s souls back out into a worthwhile life, because I knew I sure as hell
wouldn’t be the one.
Well, I did my best.
I saw some of the kids out to social workers and aid helpers – I
directed many more to see doctors. I
felt I was on top of it, though the room was still full of unpleasant bodily
odours and sobbing kids, and I guess I was still a bit shocked. Whatever the reason, I lost my connection
with the ones still left for a few critical moments.
And that was long enough for one of them – one of the
older boys – to decide we were another version of the common enemy. He started crying – he pushed at my helping
hands, slapping me away, swearing at me.
He yelled at Heero and Wufei, refusing to be taken out of the building,
accusing us of kidnapping him, threatening him, bullying him – all sorts of
stuff. I was conscious of Heero turning
from the other side of the room and hurrying over towards me. The boy was thin and blond and scrawny –
although he was obviously a teenager, he didn’t look like he could lift his own
body weight, let alone take me on. But
he was very distracting, very loud, and very aggressive. He was moaning, too,
about his older brother, demanding to know where he was, shouting that he should be there with them, he wouldn’t let us take the kids away, he always looked after them all –!
Next minute he’d pushed past me with an astonishing
strength, there was a knife in his hand and he’d sliced it upwards with all his
strength into Heero’s side.
Heero turned to me just as he fell. There was a look of pained shock on his face,
as if he’d expected me to know it was about to happen. As if I should have anticipated the kids were
under the influence of something more pernicious than distress – that they
might be armed, as well. As if I should have been watching out for him.
Guess I should have been, of course.
Then he sank to his knees, hand clutched to his
side. He coughed; blood seeped out
between his fingers. His face went
deathly pale.
I thought I’d lost him.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Day Two
09:00
Heero stood there in my lounge area, clutching a cell
phone like an anchor to reality. I knew
he was remembering the same things I was.
I knew it.
“Duo,” he said.
The emotion in his voice was something I couldn’t read any longer. “That was a long time ago. It’s Wufei we’re talking about.”
Long time ago. Right.
After the stabbing, the kid had been hauled away --
Kes, he was called. We never found out
if his brother was around, or what
the fuck was going on. Judging from the
amount of drugs in that place, I had to assume he’d been hallucinating at the
time. He was too young for prison, but
the authorities judged him way too mentally disturbed to face reality
alone. He ended up in a secure facility
somewhere, as Heero had confirmed to me earlier, still working the damage
through and out of his young, scrambled brain.
Far as I knew, he’d had no family claim him, nor any visits from a
brother – or anyone.
It had been my fault – of course it had. It was all due to my carelessness. I was complacent – slapdash. I’d done no research on the job before I
blundered in; just assumed it was a social issue, that the danger was nothing
more than kids’ tears and bruises. I had
an affinity with other people, sure – but I’d never come across the naked
aggression of a young, addled mind turned to fear and anger. Never thought to check for
weapons, or for unbalanced psychosis.
And that, of course, was no kind of excuse at all.
They rushed Heero into surgery, with me following in a
state of shock, but they stopped me at the door of the operating theatre. I wasn’t thinking too straight then. I had to be taken forcibly from the hospital,
yelling that I had to be with him, whatever the fuck Relena said! Didn’t help my case much.
Relena did me the courtesy of holding back on actual handcuffs, but two
of her sturdier guys stood either side of me and brought me back to base – with
two pairs of very firm hands -- to face the immediate internal inquiry. So I never saw Heero when he came out of the
long hours in theatre; I never saw him with the tubes and the mask and the bags
of blood and plasma slowly dripping into his body. The inquiry went on for days, and my ass got
well and truly kicked while they unravelled exactly what had happened. What protocols I’d breached. What standards
I’d compromised. What – and who -- had gone wrong.
They let me in to see him in the end. He was in a private room by then, still weak,
still under the hospital care. And when
I got there, ready to sit with him, to care for him, to do all those goddamned
things that lovers do for each other – Wufei Chang was already there. And had been, every night
since the debacle.
Well, there we have it. Wufei Chang.
I mentioned him before, didn’t I?
As far as work went, he’d always been the one to spend
the most time with Heero, which was kind of obvious. They both dealt with the militaristic side of
things, the battle plans. They’d both
been in the services at some stage; they actually knew a couple of mutual
acquaintances, even before they’d joined the Project. It was obvious that they’d be thrown together
and find that easy enough. Hell, we all admired Wufei – he was a great
guy to have on your team, and had always impressed me. He was kind of fierce,
though, and he liked to play on that, I’m sure.
He wasn’t a guy you warmed to until you knew him better.
I guess, over the months, Heero had got to know him a
hell of a sight better than me.
*
The inquiry dragged out its conclusion a few weeks
later. I was cleared of all blame –
yeah, I’d been under-prepared, and I should have allowed Quatre to brief me
more thoroughly, and I should have remembered that every situation has to be treated with the utmost caution. Blah, blah, blah. I was scheduled for some juvenile training
and some outreach work with local youth groups, and then Relena assured me the
matter was concluded. OK, so I knew
where I’d gone wrong, and no one beat me up more
viciously than I did myself – she was smart enough to see that in every one of
my scowls. But I hadn’t been responsible
for Heero getting a blade in his gut.
Not officially, that is.
Sure didn’t feel that way.
And that’s also when things started to change between
us. Seemed like every time I found time
to be with Heero, so was Wufei. He
arranged for Heero to be taken home; he arranged the proper post-operative
care. I discovered that everyone thought
this was an excellent idea. Relena
praised him; Quatre admired his efficiency; Trowa was impressed with his
knowledge of medical matters.
Seemed churlish to complain.
They must all have looked at me and thought, “What the
fuck?” I’m sure they did. I know how
they all saw me – to them, I was an easy-going guy, plenty of infiltration and
interpersonal skills. But
nothing more pragmatic than that.
Damn all else in the line of battle, where it counted. And, wait a second – hadn’t it been my fuck-up that had put Heero in the
hospital in the first place?
OK, so no one ever said it. But no one denied it, either. And when Heero turned those deep, dark, weary eyes on to his Chinese colleague
and ‘thanked’ him for his help…
It all stuck in my throat like I’d swallowed a
grenade.
I knew things were on the slope, sliding relentlessly
down and away from me without knowing what the hell to do about it. I felt like I’d lost his attention – I’d lost
his care. His respect. He never said anything that specific, of
course; he never argued with me about it.
And hey, I never caught him and Wufei doing anything other than hugging --
and let’s face it, we were all fond of that, as support and comfort and a
gesture of solidarity –
But it seemed to me that he withdrew his respect from
me and bestowed it elsewhere. That can
be a betrayal, even without fucking – can’t it?
*
I was still living with him. When the heavy nursing stuff faded into
general daily care, it was entrusted to me; obviously they thought I could cope
with the occasional change of dressing and some mild physiotherapy exercises on
his shoulder. Whoop-di-doo. But
whatever -- it was a relief to push aside the spotlight that had been glaring
on us. Heero told me how pleased he was
that the inquiry had concluded in my favour; he told me he wanted to put it all
behind him. He rarely spoke of it again.
In fact, he was as damned quiet as always. And maybe more so.
We still ate and drank and slept together -- still
fucked like bunnies – though pretty gingerly at first. We were as drawn to each other as always –
but wary. He’d lost a lot of blood, and
there was still an impressive scar along his torso, angrily red and shining
with fresh new skin as it started to heal.
One night, lying naked and lightly sweating in his bed, I followed the
impulse to kiss along it. He winced, and
it felt like he flinched away from me.
In my heart, I knew it wasn’t from any kind of pain.
Despite the illusion of returning to normal life,
things felt bad. I felt as if we couldn’t be closer,
physically – but we couldn’t be further apart.
He was withdrawn; he moved around the apartment as if he were the only
one there. Damned disorientating -- and
I had no idea what to do about it except get angry. I’d thought I’d be OK once the inquiry found
me innocent – I thought I had my lover and my friends behind me. But it seemed I was a little more shaken than
I thought I’d been; I felt more vulnerable than I’d ever been before. And with no support of my
own, no one to tell my troubles to.
The guys were sympathetic, I must give ‘em their
due. But I needed Heero. Badly. I needed him
to have forgiven me, to have understood, to help us move on, to reaffirm the
fact that I was living with him and he was damned happy about it all. OK, so it wasn’t a conversation I expected to
have without some serious prompting. And
I had no taste for that. I lay beside him at night as he slept and
felt like we were in separate rooms. His
naked body was only inches away from me – and if I touched it, he’d roll over
to me with an exhalation of hot breath on my skin that sent goose bumps down to
my toes. But even the sex was shadowed
with a hint of desperation – as if neither of us was sure what it was all about
any more. As if this was only a lull
before the storm. As if it were only a matter of time…
Before it turned sour. Yeah, I’m good with the pithy analogies.
*
That physical break, while he was in the hospital and
I was facing a panel of suited and booted Departmental executives -- it
sundered far more than our domestic routine.
Heero bore the scar, and I bore the guilt. It was like he knew it, like he found it a
struggle to be with me. He swung between
being frustrated by me and being angry with me.
We couldn’t get over it. Relena
refused to put us on a mission together, though Heero was recuperating
anyway.
And didn’t it just seem like every time I arrived
home, Wufei was there already? Calling in with plans and briefings for future missions, bringing
Heero some interesting articles on modern weaponry. Could have been swapping GI Joe outfits for
all I knew. He even answered the phone a
couple of times when it rang and neither of us could reach it immediately. What sort of familiarity was that in a guy’s
own home?
But that was the point – it no longer felt like my
home. It felt like Heero’s – like it was, of course. He invited whoever he liked – I was just a
guest who happened to have a key. He
never told me anything else. I was
restless; I went out a lot. Couple times
Relena couldn’t get hold of me when she wanted to, and there were mutterings
about me being unreliable. Whereas Wufei
Chang gave the job the kind of single-minded commitment that I just didn’t have
the time for – and damn me if I didn’t hear that comparison more than once.
Though not from Heero. He never harked back to the attack; he never called
me unprofessional or useless or careless.
I heard it only in his silence – in his lack of defence on my
behalf. And his
preference for someone else’s company over mine.
He just wasn’t there for me any more. His eyes were hot over me in the day, and at
night his hands were as amazing and possessive as always. But he didn’t smile so much; he scowled at me
a hell of a lot more. My attitude was
irritating to him; my lack of paperwork suddenly seemed a crime against the
state. So I went out a lot more –
sometimes I didn’t come home. Well, not
to his.
It sounds pathetic now, just cataloguing those months
after the attack like that. Was it
fair? Was I fair? Like I said, it felt
to me like a betrayal – that he had no more respect for me than to think I’d
put him in danger; to think that I couldn’t work as well as he did, as
thoroughly as he did, as successfully
as he did. Everyone had been angry with
me – and suddenly he was angry
too. And it felt a fuck of a sight worse
than any Departmental inquiry.
But however much he blamed me, or hated me, or
despised me – and fuck, I didn’t know
what he might have been thinking – that was no reason to turn to someone else.
He’d nearly been killed. I tried to bite my tongue. The important thing was to get him fit again, and back on active service. Mission Dove was progressing on its way,
despite the personal tribulations of the Project Team, and we all had to be
ready for whatever was required. Perhaps I thought that when he was physically
OK again, things would settle back down.
Perhaps I was a fool.
Basically, we were a time bomb, fuse set and ready to
blow.
*
Back in my rocky, mean little trailer, I heard the
snap of the cell phone closing. I waited
for a minute or so, but Heero didn’t speak again.
I focussed back on him. He looked pale -- really ill. He stood still as a rock, his eyes staring at
me but his mind elsewhere. I wondered if
he had delayed shock, and I was startled by the ripple of distress in my own
body. Then he stirred gently and seemed
to become aware of me again. “Wufei’s
still critical – it’s an emergency operation. It’s his leg -- they’re not sure
about his leg. One of the main struts of
the building fell on him.”
“Shit.” I felt
sick. Guy didn’t deserve that. “And a bit of a bummer, being stuck here,
eh? You can’t go visit him. Take grapes and flowers; hold his hand.” Hold
whatever…
I could feel Heero scowling, though I’d dropped my
eyes like I had plenty of better places to look. “Don’t be pathetic, Duo. I know what road you’re driving down, and I
can tell you, it’s no more fun now than it was before. I’ll say it just once more -- we’re not
together. Wufei and I are not seeing each other.”
I suppose I could have said I was sorry they’d broken
up. But then – I wasn’t. And Heero would’ve known the lie for what it
was. He couldn’t have spent all that
time with me without learning just a couple of my little ways, could he?
“Um… OK. What
was the trouble then? Too
many long nights out in the field, while you sat at home collating his notes? My
partner doesn’t understand me --?”
“Don’t you ever fucking listen, you idiot?” He
stood, abruptly, and his voice was raised now.
Guess I’d got the response I wanted.
“We’re not together – we never were
--“
“So how come he was at the apartment with you when it
was blown up? Kind of
late to be working on Department business, eh? Just what
kind of business were the pair of you working on?”
“I told you! We
were investigating the attack on Relena.
The day before, someone had sent her a package impregnated with some
kind of poison – a fairly unsophisticated device, but that was partly why no
one thought to check it out thoroughly.
It blew up in her face, and it was only Cissy’s
quick thinking that got her into the medical room in time to clean it
off.” He dismissed the shock on my face
with an impatient wave of his hand. “And
everyone knew what we were working on – Relena did, Quatre did. It was an official Departmental
directive. We had security – we were in
contact with the office. Hell, Quatre
even had one of his guys with us for a couple of hours, earlier on -- that kid
who dropped me off yesterday. What
category of hot date does that fit
into?”
My anger was still simmering. “Far as I remember,
you’ve never needed hearts and flowers to enjoy a good fuck –“
“Duo!” He was yelling now. Only a foot away from me, fists clenched at
his side. Just like the old days. “You are so damned childish!”
“Shit, and you’re so
damned smug!” I yelled back, and from
the shock in his eyes, I knew I’d hit home.
“Leave it, Duo – now!”
he warned. “You never could hold your
tongue.”
“And maybe you
couldn’t resist holding something a whole lot more intimate, right?” I breathed
pure venom. Things were escalating. “Maybe something attached to some other guy’s
groin!”
For just one, shocking second, I thought he might hit
me. The fists flexed – but his arms
stayed by his side.
“So maybe I was tempted!” His face was very flushed now. “Maybe I found it rewarding, being with someone
who wasn’t out partying all the time, someone who was there more often than not –“
“So maybe the
welcome was a little less frosty for him!”
I was incensed now, almost beside myself. “Maybe you opened up a hell of a lot more to
him – after all, there’s so much more
to share between the pair of you. How was the pillow talk? Full of boyish dreams of guns and bombs?
Gives a whole new meaning to Wham!Bam
thank you ma’am! And so much more rewarding than my sorry little disaster
stories --”
Heero’s voice was a hiss -- had I forgotten that he
was easily a match for me when it came to a verbal fight? “And maybe, yes, it was more rewarding than
your pointless jealousy, and your ridiculous melodrama, and –“
His voice caught in his throat; it was convulsing with fury. ”You stupid bastard! You stupid, stupid –“
We were struck dumb almost at the same moment, as the
same thought obviously crossed our minds.
Our stupid, selfish minds, obsessing over old ground, old wounds – self,
self, self! And I was the worst culprit of all – I and my
vicious, hyperactive, destructive temper.
My fucking, fucking temper…
I looked at Heero, stricken. Wufei had been my friend – friend to all of
us. Still was, dammit! And he was
lying in a hospital bed, maybe losing a limb, maybe never coming back to us as
anything like his strong, single-minded, high-principled, unpretentious
self. And both he – and the man in front
of me – had barely escaped with their lives.
“Duo –“
“I’m sorry,” I blurted, speaking at the same time as
his strangled groan.
And I was.
For so much, I couldn’t have listed it in a day.
*
God knows what we might have said and done then, but
events overtook us anyway. In the frozen
silence following our outburst, Heero tilted his head away from me, and his
eyes hardened.
“Did you hear that?” he murmured.
I bit back the ‘Hear what?’ response that I’d normally
have quipped, because a comment like that from him merited my full
attention. He had the same background
and training as I did, after all. I
listened, carefully. Nothing specific,
but what I did notice was the absence of
noise – the trailer park seemed unusually quiet for an emerging morning, even
if most of the inhabitants were normally out and about by now, on whatever
nefarious occupation they chose.
And now I came to think about it, I’d not heard the
dogs barking since I woke.
I caught Heero’s calculating eyes and I nodded. Our arguments were forgotten, kicked to the
side like a used candy wrapper. He
started to move slowly around the room, working towards the outside door of the
trailer, dodging round the window as he passed.
“Duo,” he whispered. “Where’s your weapon?”
“I’m on suspension –“ I
started to shrug.
“Fuck that,” he hissed. “You had a private licence anyway.”
I smiled, a little grimly. Guess he knew me better than to think I’d
live out here without adequate protection.
My hand dropped to a pile of magazines beside the couch and peeled out a
rather useful little handgun from underneath ‘Heavy Metal Monthly -- February’. He grimaced at my less-than-sophisticated
security precautions, but I saw an equivalent weapon in his own palm. I didn’t know which Department file that had been hidden in.
He stood to the hinged side of the door and put his
hand flat on the thin metal sheeting.
“Um…” I thought I ought to try one last whispered
attempt to save him from himself. “We should call the Department, Heero. Quatre said no external interaction,
remember.”
And then the smallest, weariest smile teased at the
corner of his mouth. My heart lurched at
the memory of it, in different circumstances.
“I’m with you, Duo
Maxwell. Since when
were you external interaction?”
So what was I to make of that?
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Day Two 09:35
I stood there, bracing myself on the other side of the
door. The stale smells of cheap fried
breakfast crept across the trailer park and in through the gaps under the sill,
teasing at my nostrils; the roar of the traffic on the highway five miles or so
away growled in my ears. Nothing else
sounded amiss. And yet every hair on the
back of my neck stood to attention; my mind had already snapped more alert than
it had been for months. I had a sudden,
very vivid memory of how we’d often been, Heero and I, facing things together,
high on adrenalin and arrogance and the pure enjoyment of each other’s
company. How it once had been --
Not as the reluctant companions of today.
Heero hissed rather loudly, trying to get my attention
– he scowled at me from his stance on the other side of the doorway. Ever the stern taskmaster,
ever the perfectionist. “You with us on this planet, Maxwell?”
“You care if I am or not?” I hissed back. Kind of difficult to get the full force of
contempt behind a whisper, but I guess we both managed it.
“No dogs…” His eyebrow raised in question.
I nodded. Smart
guy had registered the change outside as well as I. “I know ‘em,” I murmured back. “They bark throughout the day and night, on
and off. They’re our early warning
system, our protection.”
He raised an eyebrow again, maybe at my familiarity
with life here. Maybe
at other stuff. “Any other doors?”
I shook my head.
“OK. I’ll take
the high shot, you cover the low. On five, on my count.
You good for that?”
I winced. “You
think now’s the time to doubt it?”
He grimaced. It
looked like he bit back another hiss.
“OK, right. Guess I should know
you better than that.”
I looked straight at him then, and God knows what
emotion showed in my eyes. Guess you should, I thought. But you
don’t, anymore. You don’t know me at
all, Yuy.
I startled even myself with the depth of bitterness in
my heart. I wondered just how long I’d
been carrying it so deep – and for how much longer it might stay embedded
there.
*
The slamming of my trailer door as Heero flung it open
wrenched me back from my thoughts. It
was a shock, but I was quick enough on his heels. I dropped to a crouch, gun held with both
hands, forced out in a full stretch. My
eyes peered into the sharp morning light, a little hazy over the rooftops of
the other trailers. I took most of it in
within seconds. Zac’s
trailer, which he shared with a wide range of pets, always adding to them every
time he went into town. I’d seen
everything from raucous, green-plumed parakeets to somnolent snakes that I
suspected had never had an official visa out of their own country. The smaller, neater trailer owned by his
neighbour, Ruthie, a grandmother of twelve, with kids who were equally divided
between loving and loathing the menagerie next door. A car’s hood was still braced open at the
trailer beyond that, where I knew Phil ran his ‘rare parts’ business. There was an empty dog bowl, rolling gently
on its rim outside Junk’s pimped-up place.
The space underneath that trailer was dark and hidden; there were the
old tracks of dusty footprints all over the place.
Business as usual – but no
caretakers. It was
as if everyone had been chased away. By what?
Heero was also evaluating the scene, measuring up the
risk. “Nothing,” he murmured. “It’s gone, whatever – or whoever it
was.” He shook his head slightly, as if
he were responding to voices in his head.
I once accused him of using witchcraft to tune in to potential danger,
as he had such an uncanny ability to judge the peril of a situation. He never denied it – the witchcraft thing,
that is. Maybe he never appreciated the
humour.
My eyes still smarted as I stared around the
park. Felt a bit damn stupid with the
gun out in the open, so I let it slip gently down to my side. But I didn’t put it away. “Maybe it’s nothing, like you say. I’ll go check.”
I started down the shaky trailer steps. He looked at me, as if startled. “We’ll go together –“
“No we won’t!” I snapped. “You’re not even here, Yuy, remember? You’re invisible – you’re in hiding.”
He snorted.
“What the fuck does that matter –“
“No,” I said again, firmly. Something in my tone made him stop his
descent down the steps after me. “This
is my place. I’ll do it.”
He stared for a while longer, and then he nodded
acceptance. He turned to go back into
the trailer -- a little angry maybe – and his foot slipped slightly on a
cracked rim at the top. Whatever the
reason, he fell awkwardly to one side, just for a second, and he leant back
against me. Hell, it was far from
deliberate! But his body bumped mine,
and his hand reached out instinctively to right himself against my shoulder,
and he held me.
First time for three months.
I heard my gasp as if it came from someone else. A ‘someone else’ who lifted
his hand and pressed it quickly over his,
holding it tight as if to stop it being snatched away. A someone else who felt his eyelids droop
with desire and his fingers tingle with the need to slide their way down the
smooth skin of his upper arm and slide a possessive hold around the taut,
muscular waist…
It was so much more shocking than the earlier touch of
hands -- the desperate reaction of my body was astonishing. It must be like reliving your hidden traumas
under therapy -- not that I’ve ever had the time or inclination to try that out
for myself. Doorways
opening; memories flooding back; the sensory overload of things that had once
been familiar and fascinating.
Except that these memories hit low and hard and cruel, and the flame of remembrance seared through every nerve end
that connected with him.
Memories – they suck, don’t they? And they don’t let you go easy.
*
We’d held it all together right until the end of Mission
Dove.
Damned thing had taken nearly three months, while
Heero was working his way gradually out of his convalescence. Relena let him back on duty after most of the
main peace talks were being drawn to a close, and many of the delegates had
already returned to their political day jobs.
He complained that he didn’t have a lot to do, but he knew he wasn’t as
fit as before, though he’d healed a damned sight faster than anyone I’d ever
known.
I caught him doing push-ups late on a Sunday
night. I’d been out for the weekend and
come back to his apartment to freshen up for my own shift at work. He must have heard me come in, but he didn’t
acknowledge me. I stood in the shadows
of the bedroom doorway and watched him work, stretched out on the wooden floor. The muscles tensed across his bare torso,
again and again, as he lifted his body.
He was dressed only in his shorts; the light of the bedside lamp
glinting in the smallest trail of sweat down between his shoulder blades. He gave the slightest grunt as he moved,
maybe with the effort, maybe counting the presses.
I found I was holding my breath. I hadn’t called him for the last three
days. Hadn’t been in
touch in any way. As he
straightened his body and climbed back to his feet, I looked at the graceful
way he moved, and I ached all over for him.
Not just for the easy, vibrant sexuality of him. Not just for the lust that had always been
our constant friend. The maelstrom of
emotions was deep and uncomfortable and confusing to me. I couldn’t remember what I’d been doing all
weekend, and wondered what the hell I was trying to prove to myself.
He stood in front of me, regaining his breath. He pushed sweaty locks of hair off his
forehead, rather impatiently, and his dark eyes challenged me. “Are you staying?”
Hell of a question.
Maybe he wanted to know if I’d make a late supper, or if I wanted the
bathroom before him. Something
mildly domestic like that. Or
maybe it was something far more significant.
Scared of the latter option, I took the first. “Sure,” I said. I couldn’t stop my eyes from raking his body;
my nostrils flared gently from the smell of his sweat. “Need an early night; it’s a 5am start
tomorrow. A surveillance job on the
warehouse near the conference centre where they’re clearing out the final
equipment…”
“Me too,” he interrupted. “We’re covering it together, Relena says.”
I was startled, I admit it. We’d not worked directly together since the
attack. I saw a shiver in his storm-blue
irises that must have been similar to my own expression. “Good,” I said. I took a step towards him. I think I moistened my lips.
“Early night, you said.” His voice was very brusque. “Must have been a hard
weekend for you.” His gaze never
wavered, though I could see the shadow of arousal under his loose shorts. “I’ve set the alarm for 4 am.” Then he walked past me as calmly as if I were
nothing but part of the furniture. When
my hand reached to touch at him, he bent away from me – so slightly that I
might have imagined it. But I didn’t. He had never refused me before, never turned
so deliberately away from what we both wanted.
Never denied it.
When he came out of the shower half an hour later,
walking into his bedroom and turning out the light, I was still standing in the
hallway, shocked. He never said another
word to me.
*
Fuck it. Whatever. Memories –
glances backwards, whatever -- almost always suck.
The surveillance job was a minor task, but we were
both there on time the next morning. It
had been a long night and I’d been damned uncomfortable on the couch. We growled at each other over coffee – we sat
as far apart in the hired transport as possible. We were on our own in that the other guys
were on duty elsewhere on the site, but then neither of us needed our hands
held.
We’d always worked well together in the past. Hell, we’d enjoyed it. A job like this might have been a bit of fun,
too. No real danger, therefore no
prospect of distraction for a few hours.
I often wondered later on whether things would’ve been different if we’d
chosen to spend some of the time fucking instead of fighting. In the early days of our relationship, we
wouldn’t even have needed to think about making a choice.
I think we initially tried to be civil. But the long hours of boredom took their
toll. The agents we took over from were
yawning after their night shift, and after a while on our own we weren’t much
better. The whole exercise was a final
check by the Department, just in case some of the external contractors turned
out to be less discreet than we hoped about the location of the talks, now that
the work was over. We had bugs in all
the relevant places, including their own warehouses and offices, picking up
their conversations. That morning,
though, it seemed that most of the heavy work had already been done, and any
activity at the warehouse was nothing more than the shouts and laughs of
workmen. Occasionally we heard the
creaking of old office furniture being dismantled. We sat in a seedy upstairs room in an
abandoned unit across the industrial estate with nothing to entertain us but a
portable radio link between the bugs and the Department, and we nursed our
resentment. Well, that’s what I did.
The tension wasn’t gonna die down any time soon. It had been a miserable night, and now we sat
for hours in the early morning, waiting for something or nothing to
happen. The place was cold and damp, and
the filth around us implied that it had been empty for months. We were both tired, and I soon got cramp in
my left calf. The coffee was drunk far
too soon -- Heero took the last cup – and there was no food left for a guy like
me who’d skipped breakfast. Seemed the
final straw was when my numbed fingers dropped the radio for the third time;
after that, the reception was so bad it sounded like Trowa was talking through
cornflakes.
Up until then, Heero’s only conversation had been to
do with the damp and the dust around us, but now he suddenly seemed to
snap.
“If you kept your mind on the job in hand –“ he started to complain.
“Not professional enough for you?” I fired back. “See me as some kind of an amateur compared
to you?”
He’d stared at me, dark eyes angry. “What the hell do you care what I see?”
In all honesty, I think the aggression between us was
mainly to do with the miserable situation we were in, but to me, at that
precise moment, he was dredging up the horror of the attack all over again –
and my less than glorious part in it all.
“That’s crap,” I bit back. “I’m not getting drawn into
this, just so’s you can go another round against me,
you and the Department and their fucking dog!“
“Feeling a touch of paranoia, Duo? That’s nonsense, and you know it.”
“Nonsense?” I bristled.
“Sums me up, eh? Careless, flippant, practically worthless –“
He was shaking his head, just as angry. “I just think you let yourself down
sometimes, but you won’t listen to what I
think. It’s easier for you to go for
the cheap shot – you’re always speaking for me, as if you reckon you know what
I really think --“
“Gotta do that,” I ground out. We were both half out of our uncomfortable
seats by now, the surveillance and the radio all but forgotten. “Because you eke out so
fucking little for me to go on!”
“I’m not like you, Duo, I
don’t feel the need to validate everything with endless words. And anyway, why the hell should I need to?
I tell you what needs to be told –“
“So now you’re speaking
for me, eh?” I was perilously close to a yell by this
time. “Keep Maxwell on a need to know basis, right? He’s only another colleague, and one you
think is less than fully reliable –“
He hissed back at me.
“You’re not around long enough nowadays for me to know one way or the
other! Look at how you just slid back in
last night, not a word for days, no sign of you at all. If you don’t see any need to keep me in the
loop, that’s fine. Life seems to be one
long party to you.”
“Now who’s the paranoid one?” I protested. “I’m not
around because I don’t enjoy seeing the look on your face when I am.”
“You’re not around long enough to see anything!” He was really incensed, but I couldn’t see
past my own fury and distress. “Don’t
accuse me of the very thing you’re doing yourself! You pride yourself on your honesty and
openness – but it’s pretty damned convenient that it seems to exclude your own
behaviour!”
We glared at each other for a split second, as if we’d
suddenly reached the exact same level of anger and hurt and confusion. And then – even as I watched it happen, with
horror and some amazement that I could lose control quite so spectacularly – I
laid right into him.
I wasn’t thinking straight by then; I had a huge pile
of umbrage smouldering in my heaving breast and it was itching to get out and
be heard. I’d never
thought I was so wild – I’d always thought I could rein myself in, if need
be. Perhaps I didn’t see the necessity
anymore; perhaps I’d just had enough.
Perhaps I was – just for that brief moment – completely insane. I told him it was wearing me down, his lack
of empathy and tolerance, and his inability to communicate in ways that were
familiar to the rest of the human race -- hell, I
think I suggested he’d been some kind of alien changeling since birth. It was a pity he’d had to lose a chunk of
skin before he realised it, but it was obvious that I was nothing but a raw edge
in his smooth life, and if he couldn’t get over that and accept me as I was,
there was fuck all point in going on together.
I said that, basically, if I didn’t see him again this side of the next
millennium, it’d be too soon for me.
He was feeling very much the same way, he growled.
So OK, I said, but if he wanted other company, at
least be honest about it, if honesty was so fucking important to him.
He’d stared at me then, eyes wide and accusing, and –
though I didn’t want to see it right then – hurt.
And then I really
lost it and accused him of fucking Wufei on the side.
*
The argument had begun with words; it escalated
swiftly to fists. Shit, the guy could land a punch!
The crack to my jaw sent me sprawling, the first time. Every tooth rattled in my head -- my eyes
couldn’t focus. But I was so fucking
angry that he’d hit me that I got straight back up and pitched in my defending
blow. I caught him kind of unawares,
too, and I was ridiculously pleased to see his head snap back from my own fist
connecting!
We stalked round each other, eyes blazing, breath rasping in our chests as we struggled to balance
angry words with even angrier, uncontrollable actions. And I kept bouncing back, kept ploughing in
with my own efforts, despite the increasingly fierce knocks and the pain of the
cracked bone in my jaw. I was not going to go down again, of that I
was sure -- and I think I was yelling it too, most of the time.
Like anyone was going to let the situation continue
like that.
It all ended with Wufei hammering down the door and
racing in to break us up – he’d been called in from the conference centre
itself, and I believe he ran all the way.
In the background, we had Trowa screaming at us to break radio contact
because every word was being broadcast -- albeit through crackly cereal – both
to the Department and to the warehouse we were meant to be watching. But still we fought. It took a couple of Wufei’s ninja-type
minions to hold me back, while he personally pinned Heero to the opposite wall,
shouting orders into his face to pull himself together. Someone smashed the malfunctioning radio, and
all the voices in the room were silenced.
Then all we could do was pant painfully and glare and spit at each other
like a couple of alley cats.
I don’t remember much else of that time. There were other agents appearing in and out
of the room, pale, shocked, inquisitive faces staring through the doorway,
muttered sounds on another of the radios.
Eventually Relena appeared like the Wrath of God herself, bearing the
divine twin gifts of her anger and disgust -- and immediate suspension from the
Project Team.
*
It had felt like I left the Team as much a stranger to
Heero Yuy as I’d been his companion.
Damned odd, how things go. Close
together like Siamese twins – then as distant as prince and pauper. But I was still mad -- I was still
hurting. And after the fight, I had a
whole pile of bureaucratic shit to plough through, too.
The last thing I wanted was to face more shit from –
or because of -- him.
We both went through the disciplinary procedure; we
were treated just the same. Partners in
crime, you might have thought. But
instead it was the final dissolution of our partnership. We never spoke to each other during the
proceedings. We were never left alone together, saw nothing of each other at the Department except
at a glaring distance. Outside of work,
we stayed each in our own apartments.
And so we never spoke again at all,
even when I left the city.
Facing the Board had been one of the grimmest times of
my life -- dammit, my work was one of the few things in my life that I was
truly proud of! -- but they made me feel like a
troublesome school kid who’d disappointed his parents and put his friends in
the direst danger. Took
several days, too, to grind salt into that wound. Fuck
‘em! I’d thought. Do I really need this? Of course, I never answered myself. Nor did I wonder if Heero had been subjected
to the same trial. Nor care.
When the internal investigation was over, all I did was hammer back to
the apartment and pick up the minimum that I needed to exist. I would run for cover -- it’s what I’d done
in the past, though not since I’d joined the Department. Sure, Heero had a key to my place, but I
didn’t care about that -- he was welcome to it.
I had other places I could go; I always did. Places that no one else knew. Not even Heero.
It was my second investigation in six months, of
course. Odds were looking bad for me all
around. I reckoned it was the best thing
I could do, to make an escape while I still could.
It still took me a long, lonely hour to pluck up the
courage to leave.
I’d stood there in my cold hallway for the first half
an hour, staring at a jacket he used to like, which was hanging on my
wall. But I couldn’t feel anything of
him there: no ambience; no vibrations at all.
Despite a smattering of his stuff in every one of my rooms, it was as if
that final fight had erased the whole of our relationship. I was too tired and too dispirited to
remember anything other than misery and anger between us. I spent the last thirty minutes piling as
many of his belongings as I could find into a couple of bags, and I left them
in the hallway for collection. Or not. To be honest,
I didn’t care what he did with it all -- or if he threw the equivalent of my
belongings at his apartment right out
of the window. Perhaps he was already
planning to move on -- had duplicated his toothbrush and flannel elsewhere, at
some other guy’s place. Or so I tortured
myself, with a warped kind of masochism.
There’d been several messages blinking on my phone,
probably from the other guys. Whether
they wanted to help or to scold, I didn’t care at that time. I decided that I’d contact them when I was
good and ready -- at my choice.
So I escaped to my anonymous trailer and I stayed
there. Comforted only
by my own self-pity and the false warmth of my arrogance. In hiding. Licking wounds. Grieving. Whatever.
It fucking hurt, whatever it was.
Thinking back on the fight, I realised that it was
destined to have happened at some time or another. It had been brewing since the attack on Heero
– and maybe from before that. It was
difficult to remember when we hadn’t
been at each other’s throats. And whose
fault had it all been?
I hated to admit it but I had to, deep in my dreams, late at night in my solitude. Whatever Heero might or might not have done,
however much he’d betrayed me, or dismissed me, or hurt me – hey, despite all
that, I’d royally fucked up.
And lost the whole damned lot.
*
Everything fucked up.
Everything finished.
He never denied it, you know? Never told me to go to hell, he’d never
fucked Chang, I was talking out of my ass. He never said anything like that. But he could have done, couldn’t he? It’s what I
would have said. So what was a guy to
think?
Fuck it.
*
Something was calling my thoughts back to the
present…something insistent.
Heero’s fist on my jaw. Heero’s angry voice in my
head.
Heero Yuy in my bed. Curled against my body. The rhythm of his breathing
in my head. Heero
inside me.
Heero, on the steps of my trailer,
murmuring something under his breath, something that sounded angry. His body next to mine again, my hand on his
arm, my head leant slowly in towards him…
I felt the sweat spring up on my forehead, and I
wrenched myself away from him. He
started – his body swayed slightly as he regained his step. I thanked God my senses had returned quickly
to the present time before he’d seen the look in my eyes, or guessed the thoughts
in my head.
“Get back inside!” I hissed, my anger far too fierce
for the situation, but I wasn’t going to be justifying that to him.
“Get back!”
He paused in the doorway, his head tilted just
slightly to the side, his eyes temporarily distracted from glaring at me. He looked a little flushed. “There was a movement, Duo. Behind the black trailer –“
“I know,” I said, curtly. It was Junk’s trailer. Big beast of a thing, with
exotic graffiti scrawled across the sides, and bars across the smoked windows. A huge thing that looked like it’d never
travel, even if he’d wanted it to; a home usually filled with various relatives
of all ages, from babes in arms to impossibly grizzled old ladies, and all
protected by his dogs. The fiercest,
wildest dogs on the whole site. The noisiest dogs on the
site. The ones
that seemed to have gone astray this morning. I’d seen the shiver of movement behind the
trailer, too. I’d heard the faintest
echo of a human body on the morning air.
“I know Junk.
This is for me to sort out. Leave
it to me, for God’s sake.” This time, I was thinking. This
time, trust me to do it properly.
Heero moved back into the trailer, obviously reluctant
to be left out of the action scenes, and the door closed behind him, softly. I was reminded of the metal that was warped
at the bottom of the sill and the hinges that groaned in the spring weather –
but Heero managed to close it softly.
Right. I sighed to myself.
I slowly turned back round, mentally shaking myself
back to full attention. The impact of
that stupid, stupid touch had been so
vivid that I still felt the trail of memory like goose bumps on my goose bumps.
But now he was out of sight, if not out of mind. Now I could concentrate on the matter in
hand.
Couldn’t I?
*
A pigeon called mournfully from one of the trees on
the outskirts of the trailer park. A
discarded page from a newspaper rustled around the wheels of one of the silent
homes.
I stepped carefully across the trailer park floor, my
boots brushing up the grit and dried oil.
There were people moving in the distance, where the perimeter of the
park ran into the surrounding neighbourhood, and where more regular folks drove
their cars to work and bussed their kids to
school. But everywhere around my own
place was deserted. No shouts from the
kitchens, no shrieking of children’s battles.
No cigarette smoke, no revving of bikes’ engines.
The black trailer loomed large in front of me, and I
stopped a little way away so that I could see the track around both sides. There was no further movement, but awareness
still thrummed on the fringes of my mind. My gun felt strangely sticky in my
sweaty palm. I knew that something was
wrong – of course I did. This was the
first time I’d called on my training in three months. But you didn’t forget those sorts of things.
I just wished I could get the memories of ‘old’ Heero
out of my mind. It was all too damned
distracting. We’d parted in the most
final of ways, and there wasn’t much that could be salvaged from that. I thought I was still angry with him – I knew it still hurt to have him
around. But he was only here for a day
or so, surely. Would soon be on his way
again – would soon take his scowling face out of my home and leave me to get on
with my exile in peace.
I wished that were true. With all of my heart.
*
The wind round the trailer park hissed in my ears and
teased the loose hairs at my neck. I
peered carefully at the dark chasm under Junk’s trailer, which was the only
hiding place I could imagine, though you’d have to be pretty small, and with a
damned strong stomach to crawl about under there…
When the noise finally came, I admit that I was
unprepared for it. I was prowling round
like some kind of macho hero, but in all honesty, my mind was far away, months
ago, seduced by the memory of so many things.
Aromas of cooking food in Heero’s kitchen; the rustle of clean sheets in
the bathroom cupboard; the muted sound of the evening traffic outside the
Westbridge block. The soothing pictures
he once had on his wall, black and white sketches of a place he used to live,
long before his time with the Department.
The feel of his thick, soft hair, snagging between my fingers as I ran a
hand through it to pull his head towards me…
I remembered so much more of that apartment than just
the bricks and mortar. The same bricks and mortar that were now a pile of scalded rubble.
I let my attention drift for a few vital seconds, just
as a dog finally started barking somewhere beyond Junk’s trailer. I saw the sudden burst of movement from
behind it, and I turned to cover it, but maybe I was just a little too slow;
maybe I was just a little blinded by the angle of the early sun reflected on
the polished roofing.
Whatever the reason, I never saw any gun, or any
sniper. I heard a low whistle and that
strange whine you sometimes get from a gun that hasn’t been oiled for a
while. There was a breath of new wind by
my left ear, and a distracting flash of brightness.
Then the shot hit me and I went down on my knees.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Day Two 10:56
I remember thinking what a fucking moron I was, not to
have sensed the danger. I remember
wondering whether Junk was OK, and – even more stupidly – whether the dogs were. I remember thinking that people made a hell
of a fuss about gunshots, because surely it didn’t really hurt much at all --
just a scrape across my flesh and a tearing of my shirt…