I-Spy
by FancyFigures
He'd been trying to
keep his coughing quiet, but the hacking sound was sharp enough to turn my
head. "Are you all right?"
He grunted. "For God's sake, Yuy, I'm fine. Don't fuss."
I frowned, though I doubt he saw it in the semi-darkness. There
was no way that fussing had ever been a behavioural trait of mine --
whatever the context -- but I didn't challenge him on it. Instead, I looked up
at the small slivers of indigo light that sneaked in through the gaps in the
ceiling and estimated that it must be around 2.20am. I stretched my legs as
best I could without drawing attention to the manoeuvre: I dismissed the pain
above my knee likewise.
"I thought you were getting some sleep?" His voice was a
low grumble.
"I don't need the sleep, Maxwell. I told you I was fine to
take this watch."
This time, his cough sputtered out because he tried to laugh at
the same time. "Hell, thanks for the cover-up, but it's pretty obvious
that you're taking every watch at the moment. Though not even you
can keep that up 24-7."
"I'm fine," I repeated. A small puff of steam appeared
in front of my mouth. The temperature was dropping more swiftly than I'd
calculated, and I swallowed down a fresh burst of concern.
He shook his head. I could feel the vibration in the air beside
me; hear his matted hair brushing against his stiff uniform collar. "No,
you're not fine. Eventually you'll crash like any other member of the human
race would. You'll crash and burn like the other guys who didn't make it this
far." There was a small silence -- a rasping breath as he obviously
struggled to go on. "You're human too, Yuy, however much you scorn
belonging to that particular club, however much you feel you have to prove
there's not the slightest stink of human weakness clinging to you
--"
"That's enough!" It sounded a lot sharper than I'd
intended it to. "Pull yourself together -- you're rambling. We're of
equivalent rank, so I expect you to match me. If and when I crash, I'll
pass the watch over to you. Does that satisfy you?"
He coughed again, and there was a weak thread of laughter in his
voice. "Sure. Guess that got a response at last." He shifted,
awkwardly. "I'll be ready for that, raring to go, OK?"
I sighed and didn't dignify that with a reply. I leant my head
back against the cold wall, feeling a trickle of rusty water drop on to my
shoulder. My head itched from the dust that lodged in my hair: there was a
dark, irregular silhouette in the corner of the room, the rubble from where one
of the walls had broken in the last blast. It was difficult to find any
position that was comfortable for very long, and I calculated that we had
already been here for a substantial length of time. My limbs were starting to
cramp with the cold. I'd tugged my jacket around me as closely as possible for
protection, but neither of us had expected to end up here -- we weren't
adequately prepared. The mission had been a failure almost before it started.
We'd been both outnumbered and outmanoeuvred -- they'd known our positions
within seconds and the whole team had been trapped like a lamb to slaughter. I
felt a surge of anger and frustration rush through me.
"Yuy?"
I grunted. Maxwell's incessant conversation was tolerable in
daylight hours, diluted by the babble of others around us, but surely
inappropriate now. And yet I hung on his every word. That was very disturbing
on many levels.
"Yuy, there's been no sound up above for a while. That last
explosion probably scared the last of 'em off. They won't keep searching if
there's a risk of losing their own fucking lives under a ton of rubble. You
could make a break for the outside now."
I bit my lip. "That last explosion brought the whole damned
building down on top of us and trapped us down here. We don't know what the
status is up above."
"Heero... but you gotta get a message back to base. Some
serious shit went down here. You listening to me?"
I sighed: what other choice did I have, but to listen? Duo Maxwell
was nothing if not persistent. It was an irritating characteristic of his,
albeit it had its advantages in the field. "It's too risky, Duo. I
shouldn't need to remind you that the only reason we've avoided capture so far
is because this basement doesn't appear in any of the building plans. If we
break cover, we'll lose that last advantage."
He grumbled, shaking his head again. "Shit, if this were any
other time, I might believe that strategic crap of yours."
I turned to face him -- his eyes were glinting fiercely back at me
in the dimness. "Maxwell, I don't lie."
"No. I guess you don't." His agreement was grudging.
"But there've been no footsteps; no voices. No more explosions. Seriously
doubt there's any of the bad guys left now. But it could be hours before anyone
from the good guys comes to find us. Besides, you stand the best chance
on your --"
"Enough." I cut off his rambling again.
His curse was muffled. "It's your call, I guess."
"Yes," I said. "It is."
He coughed, a shallow sound this time. "So in the meantime,
you wanna play I-Spy?"
For a moment, I wondered whether I was hallucinating. It can
happen, in times of great physical duress. "I'm sorry, was that a genuine
question?"
He growled. "Don't shake your head like that, Yuy. Indulge
me. If, as you say, there's nothing to do but wait, I sure as hell don't wanna
do that in cold, damp silence. Besides, some mental exercise will keep us more
alert, won't it?" He gave a sigh that rattled in the back of his throat.
He sounded amused. "Kind of remember a training module that touched on
that..."
I grimaced, for I also remembered that training module. I had been
the tutor. It asserted the need to keep the brain active and the attention
focussed whatever the external hardships. It was part of my 'Motivation and
Effectiveness in the Field' series. It had received good feedback from most
departments, though not everyone had absorbed its full benefit. Obviously.
"I kind of remember you fell asleep in the second hour
of the lecture," I said, wryly.
He coughed again. The laughter was still underlying it, but the
thread seemed weary by now. "Resting my eyes, that's all. Got bored,
staring at you for half a day, barking out your orders. Hell, give a guy
a tutor's badge and a pointed stick and he develops some kind of God
complex..."
"I doubt that has ever impressed you," I said,
and despite the situation, I smiled.
"Hey, Yuy, you're a witty one, aren't you?" He was
grinning back, I could see the white flash of teeth. "Of course, I could
tell you that yours was the only lecture I ever stayed awake in for that
long, but I'd hate you to get a swelled head."
I frowned. "Arrogance is a two-way street, Maxwell. I may
make that the subject of my next tutorial."
He laughed aloud then, and it was a strong, fine sound, a reminder
of how he really was, of how he'd been before today, before...
I felt the concern bubble inside me again. It was a strange and
sudden epiphany for me -- hunched there on the chilled floor, tensed up against
potential danger, and arguing as always with my partner -- but I knew now why
his laugh affected me: I knew why he affected me. It was something I
hadn't admitted to myself before -- something I didn't know how to express
aloud.
"So how were you proposing to play this mental game?" My
voice was harsh, even to my own ears. He didn't answer and I repeated myself, a
little more forcibly. "Duo?"
"Huh?"
"It's important to concentrate the mind on a positive
image," I said. My words sounded stilted in the chill air. My anxiety was
hidden.
"Oh, but I am," he replied. His concentration rallied,
and his eyes flickered up to mine. Now I could see a spark of mischief in them.
"I was thinking particularly of you, Heero Yuy. The possible
rewards of staring at you for half a day -- or more. Preferably in the communal
showers..."
The back of my neck suddenly felt too warm, considering the chill,
damp conditions. "This is no time for humour like that, Maxwell." I
glanced over at him, catching a swift grimace that he tried to hide.
"Duo?"
"I'm fine," he said, though his voice had dropped
volume. "Just a joke. Right." He sighed and his body shifted again,
rather sluggishly.
"I meant a positive image, such as the exit route," I
continued, firmly. "You're correct in saying that the mind should be
stretched; challenged. Especially when, for whatever reason, there may be
restrictions on physical freed--" I let the sentence trail off.
"Right," he repeated, his voice too even to be natural.
"And we've got those, of course. A shitload of 'em."
I cursed myself, silently. I also was cold and exhausted, but that
didn't excuse such verbal clumsiness. I flexed the fingers of my hand on the
side that was hidden from him. My knuckles creaked gently; the flesh was icy.
No need to share the deteriorating conditions report, though. "So who will
start off this game?"
He didn't reply. I peered at him, trying to gauge his status. He
looked distracted, and my heart beat more insistently. "You suggested
I-Spy. It'll be a short exercise, Maxwell. I fail to see what choices we have
beyond these stone walls."
"Imagination," he muttered. "You have to use
imagination. You build that into your lesson plans?"
"Maybe I do," I snapped back. Maybe my mind is
imagining things far removed from a juvenile game... "If it bothers
you, I suggest you review next term's curriculum when we get back."
"Does it involve the showers?" His banter was weak but I
could appreciate the effort it took to maintain it.
"No," I said, firmly.
"Shame," he said, softly. "But then, you already
know my feelings on that subject. After all, I'm stupid enough to tell you,
every time I get drunk and can brave that sour-lemon look on your face. I tell
you to take a break from that strait-laced corporate persona of yours, and then
I volunteer to be the one to help you loosen up. I tell you I'd like to touch
you beyond the clipboard and the oh-so-tightly buttoned uniform, and then I
make some clumsy grope..."
"Maxwell," I admonished. "Don't let's go through
this again." Some emotion tugged painfully in my chest. Hadn't I already
been reminded of his persistence?
He sighed, and his head was turned away from me so that I couldn't
see his expression. There was a soft hiss of brick dust as another patch of
stone settled over by the door.
"S," he said abruptly. "I-Spy with my little eye,
something beginning with S." The sing-song tone to his voice was nothing
if not bizarre in the brutal surroundings. "Come on, Yuy. My turn first:
it was my idea."
"Stone," I said, hesitantly, feeling foolish.
He knew I did, and he laughed softly. "Nope. Give me some
credit for originality. Guess again, but you only get three attempts. It's a...
refinement... of the rules, a special case, just for today."
Just for today... "Socks."
He shook his head, but didn't answer. The pre-dawn light was
filtering through, allowing me to see his face now. His lips stretched like a
cadaver's mockery of a true smile. The shock gripped at my gut and twisted
harshly. I watched the way his head was lolling forward slightly; I followed
his gaze, seeping out through his lowered eyelids.
"Stain," I guessed. I had never wished so fiercely to be
wrong. Against my will, my gaze ran down the bare walls, across to the rusted
hinges on the thick wooden door. It was wedged shut, directly in front of us.
On the stone floor at its base were dark, haphazard stains. They were dry, but
they still held the shape of the liquid splashes that had caused them, maybe
spilt over the course of years -- maybe more recently. We both knew that it was
blood. I looked across at him and saw his head lift again. His eyes were
glinting at me, and I knew that his thoughts were the same as mine. Despite our
very different personalities, I realised how often that was the case. I
treasured that; it supported me. Why the hell had I never realised just how
much?
"Duo..." I wanted to tell him I was sorry, but for what,
I wasn't sure. For guessing a stupid question right? Or for never telling him
that I respected his intelligence, his courage, his determination? In fact,
there were so many things about him to respect, even though everyone was fooled
by that sharp, flippant wit.
"Lucky guess," he said, interrupting my thoughts. He
tried to laugh, but the sound broke apart in his throat. "Stupid thing to
think of, too. You're a bright guy -- it was too obvious. Hell, it's almost as
if I can smell the damned stuff..."
"Maxwell?" I listened to his swallow, deep and painful.
"Are you going to be sick?"
He shook his head, denying it. "I'm good."
"Yes," I replied, though it was patently obvious that he
wasn't. I wanted my reply to reflect my determination. "You
are."
His eyes closed briefly, then dragged open again. "Your
knee," he said. He seemed to be struggling now to complete whole
sentences. "Bad? 'S that why you don't feel up to making a run for
it?"
"I told you why," I said, but gently. "Not yet. It
would be a bad strategic move."
He still seemed distracted, his words slurring slightly. His eyes
had moved from my legs up to my lap, but I couldn't tell if he was focussing
properly. His gaze made me feel even more uncomfortable, though in a very
different context. My back ached: I resisted the urge to massage the cramping
muscle in my leg. Instead, I shifted around, moving our bodies closer together,
trying to make it look accidental.
"You always were the best in the physical tests, Yuy."
He wasn't looking at me now: he sounded wistful. "Run well. Watched you.
Damned fine physique -- good looking guy all round. Probably told you that a
couple of hundred times. Did I mention the communal showers?"
This time, I smiled. "Yes, you did. I'm beginning to think
you have the place on surveillance."
"Damned good idea. Put it to the techies when I get back.
Have my own personal movie of you at your best." The coughing returned,
and his body shuddered each time. I wanted to move even nearer, to gather him
to me. Then his gaze snapped back up and he must have caught the concern in my
expression because he frowned. "Only you, Heero. Only interested in you.
I'm not, like, aiming to start up some kind of casting couch scenario..."
"I know," I said.
"Pathetic of me, of course." He looked up to the ceiling.
"Chasing's all I do, but you don't want to be caught. Keeps me out of
mischief, though, eh? Reporting me to HR for harassment... no need. Doubt I'll
be doing it again after today."
I was startled. "Duo, don't be ridiculous. I won't be
reporting you for anything."
He grunted. "No matter."
"It does matter," I said. The words seemed to stick to
the roof of my mouth; my tongue seemed to obstruct them, swollen against my dry
palate. How to tell him what did matter to me? "I appreciate your
attention. I may not have said it before, but I'm... flattered."
"Flattered?" He stared at me. "Right. Glad to be of
service to your ego, Yuy."
I hadn't meant my comment to sound the way it did, and I'm sure he
knew it. Despite that, the bitterness of his tone stung me as physically as the
pain in my leg had -- at first, at least. "You expect everyone to be as
expressive as you are, Maxwell. Maybe some people don't find it as easy to talk
about themselves."
"So maybe you can use the pointed stick," he said
with heavy sarcasm. "When you get out of here."
"When we both get out of here," I echoed. He fell
silent. I listened carefully but there was no sound from the floors above. He
was probably right -- the enemy had completed their search and left, leaving no
survivors. None that they found, anyway. "We'll give it another hour, then
whether the rest of the team have arrived to rescue us or not, we'll make our
way out of here."
"Idea's full of crap." His voice was hoarse. "Doubt
I'll make it that long. I reckon I've got several broken ribs and the risk of a
puncture somewhere. Feeling like a stuck pig. Breathing's tough at the best of
times. Best I just sit here and play some kind of endless I-Spy by myself
until..." he coughed again. "Well, until the end."
I sucked in a breath. A small sound escaped me and he glared at
me.
"Heero, don't do that
frowning-down-your-oh-so-straight-nose-thing, where a guy's meant to feel like
a lower form of pond life. You think I've got some kind of death wish? No way.
Not looking to die here... just can't go playing the intrepid agent right now,
scrambling over broken walls, pushing fallen girders aside..." His voice
caught up on a wheeze and he frowned, more at himself than at me. "No,
you're the one to go shake up the guys -- bring 'em back over here. I'll still
be around, though kinda beaten up --"
"I won't go alone," I said. "I'm staying
here."
He shook his head. There was a wary look on his face. "Can't
make you out, Yuy. What do your precious tutorials say about procedures for
bombed sites?"
"Secure the immediate area. Investigate the clearance and
viability of exits. Evaluate strength of enemy threat. Assess the physical
status of colleagues to prioritise exit strategy." I sounded like a damned
manual.
"Three outta four ain't bad," he sighed. "But this
colleague can't make it. Doesn't stop you from getting out on your own."
"No," I said sharply. The bricks by the door shifted
again; a flagstone creaked under my legs. The ensuing silence was as thick and
suffocating as autumn fog. "Maxwell! Answer me!"
I heard him then, growling in the back of his throat. "OK,
OK, just chill. I'm here, I'm good. So, it's back to the game, then? Your turn,
I reckon."
I shook my head. What the hell did he think was going on?
"Duo, we'd do better to use our time in conserving strength and
considering a more strategic move --"
"Heero!" His voice was sharp now, startling me. For the
first time I saw the naked ache of pain in his eyes -- they were wide open with
it, the pupils dilated, the lids stretched up as if he were straining to focus
on something. "You're the one who's apparently too chicken to climb your
way out without my help, right? So I think you should drop the control freak
persona for one goddamned minute and fool about with my game instead. Despite
what you think of me personally."
I swallowed carefully, loosening my dry throat. "What I think
of you isn't an issue."
"Yeah," he said. His voice had been firm and clear, but
his eyes still looked wild; his lips were pulled thin and tight. "'Course
not. Never is. Let's not go there, though. My capacity for masochism is kind of
tired at the moment."
"You misunderstand," I said. I shook my head again,
suddenly determined to make my point. "What I think of you isn't bad, by
any means. I don't know why you always assume the worst."
He laughed, but the sound wasn't warm any more. "Could be the
grimace on your face when our names get drawn together on a mission. Could be
the sneer when anyone mentions my pretty unfruitful love life. Could be the
shudder when I put my arm around your shoulders..."
I felt a nausea that had nothing to do with injuries. "You've
never said anything about this before."
He shrugged, though gingerly. His gaze dropped back to the floor.
"Like I said, a guy can only take so much humiliation. I guessed I should
take the hint."
"Is your I-Spy guessing as poor as your guessing of me?"
I kept the words very calm, very clipped. Very cold.
His shoulders tensed. "Huh?"
"Your evaluation is far from correct." I felt a rush of
emotion in my chest that was as liberating as it was hurtful. "I struggle
being with you because of my delight, not because of disgust."
He gave a slight hiss but then fell silent again. I didn't dare
meet his eyes. The floor felt colder than ever; the numbness in my legs was
becoming restrictive. The light of the outside world was nothing but a pale
sliver across the wall behind his huddled body. My words left an echo in the
bare room as tangible as mist, yet I had to speak again. "Duo?"
"You're a bastard, Yuy," he snapped back, startling me.
"That some kind of joke? Some kind of pity --"
"No!" I was sharp in return. "Never that!" I
shifted awkwardly, trying to reach over to him. "It's always disturbed me,
to be so close, yet to feel so different from you; to be so confused by my
reactions. I just never thought... I never understood..."
"Shit," he hissed. "You never --"
" -- knew!" I finished, talking over him, my
voice urgent, my mind racing. "You've always been there, Duo, always been
beside me; prattling on; provoking me; always one step ahead of me in the
action; always pulling me onwards."
His eyes were wide now, the blue colour more prominent as the
daylight washed out the darkness. "And... " another cough wracked
him, "and your point is? You'll appreciate that this is hard for me to
take on board after months of scorn."
"I never meant that --" I interrupted, but he ignored
me.
"Hell of a time for this, Heero." He was wheezing again.
He sounded angry. "That's the only place I ever wanted to be, beside you.
My idea of home -- my sanctuary. Hell of a time to change your mind and imply
you want the same."
I stared at him, trying to project my feelings through my eyes --
I didn't think my words were safe with him; I didn't think they were
convincing. What the hell did I think I was doing, stirring this all up now? I
didn't even understand my own desperation -- except that I knew how I felt
about him, and I knew exactly what that meant to me. I'd faced fear many times,
but now I was deeply, deeply scared that I'd lose him, either to this dank
prison that trapped us, or -- worse than that -- to his disbelief. I had kept
him so long at bay that I'd entrenched myself behind the very same barrier.
"I haven't changed my mind," I said, slowly. "I
just didn't realise what it meant, having you there like that -- expecting you
there, every time. Disappointment when you weren't; worry when you were
elsewhere without me." I'd never heard myself so hesitant, and my face
flushed with embarrassment. "I didn't realise what I felt. That it was...
care for you."
"Care." He just echoed the word.
The flush went even deeper, suffusing me. "Your jokes, Duo --
they can confuse as well as amuse. Your chasing, as you call it, never
seems anything more than light entertainment for you. It's not... easy, to show
emotion in front of you."
"You could have tried --"
"It's too late," I said, urgently. "I know it is. I
should have tried -- many times."
We were silent for a moment. He was shaking his head, and there
was sweat on his brow: I could see it glistening. "Just go, Heero. Get
outta here."
"What? I told you that won't happen."
He glared at me. His eyes reflected a brittle slice of light; they
seemed unfocussed. "Why the hell not? It makes sense, doesn't it? Leave me
and go for help. Leave me and get out!"
"No." I wriggled my ass across the stone until my
hip nudged at his, dragging my feet behind me, my bottom lip caught tightly
between my teeth. I needed another deep breath before I could continue.
"I'm staying. All I ever wanted is here. I want to help you; save
you. I won't leave you alone, Duo. We'll get out of here together."
His gaze raked over my face, eyes narrowing in the way he had when
trying to concentrate. His face was deathly white, the pain furrowing his skin
like charcoal markings. "Bullshit," he said, but there was little
energy behind it.
I drew a deep breath. "That's something beginning with
'B'," I said, softly, and smiled at him, willing him to accept it -- to
accept me.
He caught at his breath, too. After what seemed like an age, he
smiled back. "Yeah. Good call. Back to the game for us. So...
bruises?"
I saw them on his neck; felt them on my own body. "No.
Another bad guess, Maxwell."
He laughed and this time I was close enough to put a hand to his
arm. His skin shivered under the coarse fabric. "You were right, Heero.
Damned stupid game. You're a fair man to indulge me, regardless. Balls?"
I frowned at his coarseness but he still smiled back. Despite the
critical situation we were in, I felt astonishingly happy. Things felt very
different suddenly, as if words had new meanings; as if limbs were stronger;
hearing was more sensitive. As if there was a new resonance between us.
"Burned uniform," he continued. "Bust radio?"
I smiled at him, shaking my head. "If you insist on the game,
at least play properly, Duo..."
"Blood," he said, his voice suddenly sharp.
There was a moment's silence.
"You said... only three guesses, Duo." He wasn't
listening to me. It seemed inevitable that we should both look down at the
floor between us at the same time; horror has its own, chilling fascination.
It glistened there -- the slightest trickle of a thick, viscous
liquid that I knew would be salty if I brought a drop of it to my lips. It
hadn't been there a moment ago: I had hoped it never would. The wound should
have been drying up. But then I'd been relying on my initial assessment of the
depth of the shot and its position in my leg. An initial assessment that had
been carried out too swiftly, in deteriorating light, in the face of shock and
anger and with the knowledge that all our support had been ambushed and
eliminated. And in the face of instinctive fear for someone else's condition
above my own.
"You're bleeding." He sounded amazed: angry, too.
"You stupid bastard."
"Thanks," I muttered wryly. "But you've had all
your guesses on that particular letter."
He lurched sideways into me, which must have been really painful
for him, grabbing my shoulder and thrusting his face against mine. His breath
was hot. "You never said you'd been hit! Wrenched knee... sprained... when
we ran from the explosions -- that's what you said!"
"Injured," I said slowly. "I said it was injured.
We had little time for a proper update." It wasn't wise to bring attention
back to the wound; it made the pain more difficult to control. I should have
pushed him away, but his fingers were fierce on my arm and I welcomed the heat
and stability from whatever source. I was struggling to restrain the shuddering
of my limbs: my head felt very light. My previous happiness felt a little like
hysteria -- like hallucination. I grit my teeth. "I don't lie," I
said.
He must have seen the grimace on my face because he grunted and
pulled away. "Makes two of us, then," he said. "Like I said,
you're a stupid bastard. You look like shit, too. Should've noticed that
before, instead of whining on about my couple of sore ribs. How the fuck did
you think you'd get us both out of here when you're spewing plasma all over the
floor?"
I winced. "A little less of the melodrama would be good. It's
not a problem. If you can tighten the binding round my thigh, it'll stop the
slight leakage."
He looked at my leg properly, peering at it. "Heero," he
said, quietly. His tone was so unexpectedly serious that I nearly laughed
aloud. "Heero, you're sitting in a lake of the fucking stuff. How
long's this slight leakage been going on? Dammit..."
"That's something beginning with 'D'", I muttered. I decided
I didn't wish to answer his question. I think I was smiling, though it was
strained. "D for Duo. D for demanding, D for disturbing. I'm fine. Keep up
the game and that'll take our minds off it all."
"Shit." He sighed heavily. "You are a stupid
bastard. I prefer H for Heero, though. H for harsh, H for headstrong. H for the
hogwash you're talking now..." He fumbled a little with the makeshift
bandage on my leg, his fingers slipping on the blood.
We both heard the noises above at the same time and froze. His
eyes met mine. "Rescue?" he mouthed at me.
"Enemy?" I mouthed back, then bit back a groan. His body
had spasmed with pain and he'd taken his weight on my leg, jarring the wound.
He lifted a hand in apology. When he drew back, his smile was forced and the
sweat sprang up on his forehead again; his pain had obviously resurfaced.
"Duo..." I hissed, but he shook his head at me to be
quiet.
"I'll just go check it out," he muttered in my ear. His
lips brushed my neck. "It's not too late, you know."
"What --?"
"Kiss for luck?" he whispered, and then his mouth
pressed firmly against mine and I tasted the metallic flavour of fear and the
unmistakable warmth of masculine desire. I'd never realised how rich that would
be; how forceful. My lips opened eagerly for more, but just as swiftly, the
touch was withdrawn. There was a reluctant sigh in the air.
"Stay here!" I hissed, but he was already stumbling up
towards the door. "God's sake, Duo, you're too badly injured. Wait for
me..." But when I tried to follow him, my injured leg was a dead weight.
I'd sat too long in the cold; my muscles had cramped; my stamina had faded --
The failure swamped me with sudden, unfamiliar fear, and I slumped
back down against the wall. He looked over at me with eyes that showed so many
feelings. Pity; pain; a flicker of that desire that was still bright and
robust, unlike everything else in our current situation.
"Guess it's gonna be a while before we're up to a roll in the
sheets," he murmured, wryly.
"Don't go," I hissed through gritted teeth. "We
don't know what might be out there."
He grimaced. "We can't hang around much longer -- you think I
haven't noticed the state of this place? How long do you think the ceiling'll
hold? That creaking isn't the dawn chorus -- it's the sound of bricks cracking
into dust. We can't wait an hour for the guys, especially not now I've seen the
state of you. I'll just go see if they're up there now -- just a look,
that's all, to check out our options."
"Duo, it's madness!" He'd never taken just a look
in all the time I'd known him. "You're a fool..."
"Yeah," he snapped back. "Guess I left out H for
hypercritical." He leant against the door for a second, obviously fighting
to regain his breath. "D for determined, Heero, that's me. Have to get us
out of here. Get you out..."
"D for disobedient," I growled, and to my amazement he
grinned back.
"You better believe it, H for hot and handsome!" He
turned his back to me and started tugging at the rusty bolts on the door. His
body shuddered with the pain the physical activity must have caused him: I felt
the echo of it through my own body. Then there was a hideous groan from the
splitting wood, and the door finally wrenched open -- the jolt made him stumble
back and he gave a gasp of agony. A sudden flurry of dust and dead creatures
descended like a cloud over him and I lost sight of his face. I could hear him
coughing. I also thought I could hear the sound of footsteps on a distant
floor; falling masonry; a man's shout. They had heard us down here -- they were
coming.
I wouldn't let this happen! It was my watch, wasn't it? I dragged
myself up, ignoring the stab of pain in my thigh and I waved the dust aside
impatiently, it impeded my view of my partner. Investigate the clearance and
viability of exits. The brickwork was straining around us, shaken into
movement by the door's forced opening and the movements above. What
viability? I thought, almost calmly. I didn't seem to be stable any more:
my head swam and my knees buckled. My sight was darkening, yet I thought the
light should have been getting brighter. I tried to wipe my eyes, just as I
heard Duo's shout and a shower of crumbling stone knocked me forward.
I didn't register anything in the room after that.
I woke with a certain amount of surprise. I don't think I'd
expected to be conscious again. The air was still foggy and my ears hummed. For
a moment I wondered both who and where I was, then I remembered. My next
thought was for him.
When I struggled to sit up, a strong hand pushed me back down.
"Hush, Heero," came a familiar voice. "You're out of there now,
you're safe. Stay still -- your leg is bad and you've lost too much blood. We
need to get you a transfusion, and quickly." But I ignored the voice; I
threw off the hand with a grunt.
An equally familiar voice laughed, somewhere behind me.
"Trowa, he's as pig-headed as usual. Let him sit up!"
But I lacked the energy to get upright. Was I still buried?
Sensation was gradually coming back to me -- the air wasn't foggy, but my eyes
were misted. I could feel a bench under my body and the flap of torn fabric
against my leg. There was a tight splint around my thigh. "Where's
Duo?" I said, though it came out as a squeak. My throat felt drier than it
ever had before.
"He's OK," came Quatre's voice, firm and clear,
mercifully understanding of how I demanded to hear any news.
"He's got two broken ribs," came Trowa's wry comment.
"Dislocated shoulder. Severe bruising to the left lung. Sounds very OK to
me."
"He's OK," Quatre repeated earnestly, and I could see
his face coming into focus in front of me. "You're in an ambulance. We're
taking you both to hospital."
"We failed in the mission," I said. I sounded very
hoarse. "We were the only survivors --"
"The mission was compromised, Heero," Quatre
interrupted. "We've uncovered the betrayal -- the enemy have all been
taken. Don't ask for details now, I won't give them to you. You only need to
know that you both did what you could, but you're only human, after
all..."
There was a strange, rasping noise from a third direction. "H
is for human, Yuy. Told you so."
"Duo, shut up," came Trowa's weary voice. "I
preferred you when you were unconscious. Then you only rambled on about
showers."
I could hear Duo laughing again, and this time I pulled myself far
enough up to look across at his bench on the other side of the ambulance. He
lay there, his face white and his arm connected to a drip. His torso was
strapped to the sides of his stretcher. But he'd turned his head and was gazing
at me.
"D is for dangerous, Maxwell," I growled at him.
"You brought the whole damned place down on top of us."
"I think not," he protested. "That was the fault of
Trowa's hobnailed, special issue boots." Suddenly we were both smiling.
Trowa and Quatre looked between us, bemused.
"Did you mean it?" Duo said, his eyes never leaving
mine. "About your change of mind?"
"Yes," I replied. "About everything. I don't
--"
" -- lie. I know," he said. "H is for honest."
"I thought you said there were only three guesses per letter
tonight."
His curse was familiar and as colourful as ever. "As many as
you want, Yuy. Dunno who the hell else would have played that stupid game with
me --"
"No-one else needs to," I interrupted. "I won't
hesitate to take part again. In anything."
His eyes sparkled and if he hadn't been restrained there, I think
he would have tried to reach over to me. I did the reaching instead, and
although Trowa started to protest, when Quatre glared at him they let down the
side of Duo's stretcher. I touched his fingers -- I couldn't reach anything
else, but it was enough.
"D is for delicious," I said softly. I licked carefully
at my cracked lips. I didn't taste the dust and the damp. I tasted something
that had rested there some time ago.
Duo sighed. I think he was close to passing out with the
medication and the pain. "Took you long enough to notice," he
grumbled, his words slurring. "Bury you under rubble more often. Got there
at last, I guess."
"D is for destination," I whispered, as close to him as
I could.
"Nah," he smiled, his eyes closed but his face relaxed.
"H is for home."
The End