"Remade and Remodeled
"
Written By: Artemis
Disclaimer: Gundam Wing and its characters are
copyright to Sunrise, Bandai, Sotsu Agency, and associated parties.
I make no money with this fic.
Rating: NC 17
Warnings: Alternate reality, hurt/comfort, angst
Pairings: 6x2
Summary: The challenge of an outlandish bet brings
unforeseen consequences
"Remade and Remodeled "
Duo wasn’t sure what he had expected, but he had certainly been
given the royal treatment from the time he arrived at the OZ corporate
offices.
The building was green glass and steel and the lobby had an open design
with a ceiling three stories high. The focal point was a wall of water.
It was nothing as garish and noisy as a full-on waterfall. The water
flowed gently down a wall of polished green marble. It had fascinated
Duo as if some passage to a mysterious world lay just behind it.
He had been made to feel every bit the celebrity by the photographer,
Serge, with his crazy Old World accent, and the hair and make-up artists.
Duo hadn’t liked wearing make-up. It slowly suffocated him as
he melted under the lights that were at once bright, hot and illuminated
every pore on his face.
There had been so many people whirling about in the shoot that Duo
couldn’t keep track of them. Some worked in hair and make-up,
others with lighting, still others assisted the photographer, and
then random people came and went in the studio, but all looked very
serious and very busy. No one had been more of an enigma than the
man that had stopped everyone in their tracks—Mr. Khushrenada.
That was a name Duo remembered hearing from Hilde. She had warned
him to keep away from Zechs Merquise and Treize Khushrenada. Well,
Duo had already decided that Zechs was a pussycat in wolves clothing,
but the CEO was harder to discern. At a distance he had been almost
impossible to see, like the man was a silhouette and nothing more.
When Zechs had arrived, nothing else had mattered, but Duo had noted
the posturing of the two men. Their conversation, albeit brief, had
been too quiet to hear.
Zechs was like a god! The man was always impeccably dressed. He had
to own dozens of tailored suits and all of fine cloth and shades complimentary
to his skin tone. And then there was the white blond hair that flowed
down his back like that waterfall in the lobby, smooth and mesmerizing.
Duo had become fixated on Zechs’s hair. The last couple of times
he had seen the man he was in a rush, dropping off art supplies. His
hair had moved behind him like a warrior on a charging steed. Zechs
as ancient warrior played out in Duo’s mind. Zechs and Apollo
had become one and the same. A mass of hair like that must have been
glorious on the field of battle, wild and flowing, and commanding
attention—look at me, look at the man who will command you.
The idea had leapt from Duo’s mind to his hands, and in the wee
hours of the night, Apollo had been given long hair made of steel
and cables. The statue had been transformed like Duo had been by Zechs’s
presence in his life. The image, the man begged to be obeyed. If only
he could control Zechs the same way he controlled metal in his hands.
Feel the power of creation give him the personal strength to reach
out to the real-life Apollo, to throw his head back in ecstasy while
the man ravished him.
Duo was being propelled toward the make-up room and in the process
had discarded the white shirt he’d been given to wear.
“Duo?” Zechs asked.
“Yeah?” He looked back just as an assistant handed him his
gray t-shirt with the black skull and cross bones screened on the
front.
“I’d like to send my people by on Wednesday to pick up what
you have done.”
“Wednesday!” Duo cried out in shock.
“I’m being generous. The show is Friday, and the installation
crew is getting nervous.”
Duo nodded, chewing on his lower lip as he slipped on the tee. “I
guess I have no choice. I’ll have something ready by Wednesday.”
Zechs turned toward the photographer and snapped his fingers. “Serge,
I need you to shoot a few more.”
“What?” came the voice of the photographer from behind some
lighting.
“Duo, get back on that chair,” Zechs said.
The command sent a shiver through Duo. This was the side of Zechs
he was coming to appreciate and get excited by. The strong, self-assured
commander of a great army….
“Duo!” Zechs called.
Duo shook his head. He had been in la-la land again with all that
hair. “Yeah, no problem.” He walked over and sat on the
stool.
“The white shirt was good, but I like this,” Zechs said
to Serge. “It’s edgier. We can use both looks in the campaign.
I want people to understand what he’s capable of and where he
comes from.”
“And where’s that?” Duo asked, curious.
“The street,” Zechs said. “Just like when we met.”
+ + +
At nine o’clock Wednesday morning, an art swat team arrived at
Duo’s apartment from the Epilogue Art Gallery. The gallery’s
owner, her personal assistant, an intern, and three burly men inventoried,
wrapped and carted Duo’s collection into a moving truck to be
transported downtown. Duo fussed like a mother hen as his creations
were handled by strangers. He was losing a part of himself, but there
was such a flurry of activity that he didn’t have time to grieve.
The gallery owner, Corrine Carmel, was a stunning and eccentric woman
in her mid-50s. Her fiery hair was worn short and spiky, her jewelry
was large and dangling, and her sage green pant suit tailored to the
womanly curves of her body. She was a hands-on type of woman, constantly
touching Duo’s arm or taking him by the hand. She called his
art a “tangle of youthful emotions,” and scoffed at her
art world colleague Cynthia Teller who had passed on the show.
“When Zechs told me that Cynthia would not cancel her showings
to fit this in, I said a little prayer for her.” She patted Duo’s
arm as though comforting him over the news. “She might as well
close her gallery and leave town. And to think she was one of the
first dealers he had shown your work to.”
Duo blinked. “What do you mean?”
Corrine gave a theatrical laugh. “It’s professional suicide
not to show what Zechs wants shown. And besides, he’s always
right. Zechs has the Midas touch.”
Duo wondered about that touch, and the disappointment he wrestled
with at Zechs’s conspicuous absence this week. No doubt he was
giving Duo the space he needed to work. That restraint impressed Duo.
Zechs was a man of motion, power and vision, but not patience. And
he certainly wasn’t the type to leave things to fate. So, what
did that say for this little venture that he was not here?
“He trusts me,” Duo said.
Ms. Carmel blinked. “Of course, he does, darling. Zechs never
gambles on a bet he can’t win.”
In all, fifteen three-dimensional forms and five paintings were taken.
With two days until the opening Duo was expected to complete more
paintings. He doubted it was possible. He’d been working around
the clock, getting only a few hours sleep each night, and his engine
was on empty.
When the gallery team had finished only silence and an empty apartment
remained. Duo stood in the living room, staring at the nothingness
left behind. Sure, Zechs was willing to take a chance on him and was
enthusiastic about his art, but where was Zechs now? Duo wanted him
here, needed him at this critical moment.
Just then the phone rang, startling Duo out of his funk. “Hello…
Zechs?”
“It’s Hilde.”
“Oh, hi.”
“Sorry to disappoint you,” she said.
“No, it’s great to hear from you.”
“Where have you been? I thought you were going to stop by to
see my dress for your big opening.”
“Right. I guess I could do that now.”
“Gee, don’t go out of your way or anything.”
“Are you mad at me, Hil?”
She sighed. “When have I ever been mad at you?”
“Let’s see….”
“Never mind! I’m concerned that’s all. You sound tired.”
Duo nodded, closing his eyes. “Yeah, I’m a walking zombie,
but I’ll get plenty of sleep this weekend after the opening.”
“What time are you picking me up?”
“The limo will get me at 6:30 on Friday, so we’ll swing
by your place about twenty minutes later.”
“That early?”
“I thought I’d arrive early at the gallery just in case
something’s not right. It’d give me time to fix it.”
“You sure this is all okay with you? I mean, you’ve never
shown your work.”
That was the million dollar question. Duo didn’t rightly know
if he was okay with this. He had been talked into the show by Zechs,
the savvy charmer. Or was he really a snake oil salesman?
“It’s gonna be okay, but right now it feels like a mistake.”
“Then don’t do it, Duo. You gotta listen to your gut instincts.”
He plopped on the floor cross legged with a heavy sigh. “My gut
can’t make up its mind.” He chuckled, but Hilde didn’t
join in. How could he tell her that he was torn, because he was starting
to have feelings for Zechs? Those feelings were overriding his usual
warning system. “Everything will be okay, Hil. I promise.”
“Oh, you always say that!”
He smiled. “Do you still need me to come by?”
“Only if you bring dinner… Chinese?”
“Perfect. I’ll see you in under an hour.”
He hung up the phone, and stretched his legs out in front of him,
closing his eyes once again. A long sleep would feel great about now,
but the phone rang again.
“Oh, one more thing,” he said, dispensing of the greeting.
“Do you want steamed or fried dumplings?”
“I prefer my dumplings steamed,” the low voice said.
Duo gasped. “Zechs?”
“Had you forgotten me already?”
How could I? Duo thought. “No, no… I thought you were Hilde.
We’re having dinner tonight.”
There was a pause and then, “Please give her my best. Now, how
are you holding up? Was Corrine good to you?”
Duo laughed, remembering the vibrant woman. “She’s a little
nuts, but I like her.”
“Good.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m meeting with a client, but should be back tomorrow.
Have you missed me?”
Duo’s eyes widened from Zechs’s boldness, but he should
not have been surprised. “No… I, uh….”
“It’s all right, Duo, you don’t have to answer that.”
Zechs chuckled softly. “It probably feels like I’ve left
you hanging, but I thought my presence would only interfere.”
Duo wondered if Zechs sensed how much he wanted his bodily presence
to interfere. “Yeah, I’ve needed to concentrate.”
“Corrine mentioned that you have five paintings for the show.
There’ll be more, I hope.”
“In two days?”
“Two days, two more paintings. I have every faith in you.”
Why was Zechs pushing him like this? “Is it okay if I eat first?”
“I wouldn’t ask this of you if I didn’t think it was
absolutely necessary.”
“You’re killing me.”
“Just two more days and you can put the brush down. Now I’ve
got to run. I’ll see you soon.”
“Yeah, see ya’,” Duo said, and heard the click ending
the call.
He stared at the phone already missing the small connection it had
allowed between him and Zechs. Duo wasn’t the needy type, and
had certainly done a fair job of looking after himself for years,
but he was buoyed by Zechs’s enthusiasm for his art.
+ + +
After a restless night of little sleep and lots of painting, Duo needed
some air. He showered, and dressed in jeans, a black hooded sweatshirt,
denim jacket and athletic shoes, and headed out on his bicycle—the
old one. He had pocketed Corrine Carmel’s business card and let
his curiosity take him downtown to the Epilogue Gallery. It was located
in a very posh part of town where designer boutiques, coffeehouses,
and art galleries were the norm. Duo could not have been more out
of place, but that was a temporary condition.
At the gallery, Duo got off his bike and stared at the large display
window. Taped inside it were posters advertising his show—one
with an image of Eve and a tiny inset of Duo, and the other with a
large image of Duo, wearing the gray t-shirt. His heart pounded. This
was it. Zechs had done it, just like he said he would.
Duo leaned forward, shading his eyes from the sun to peer inside,
but only the foyer and reception desk were visible. Beyond them a
muslin curtain was drawn. He saw movement behind the curtain, faint
silhouettes and the flutter of the fabric as it was brushed against.
He imagined himself stepping inside, parting the curtains and watching
his show being assembled, but then remembered Zechs’s words:
“Like the wizard behind the curtain you must pay no attention
to it."
His breath caught. A future he had not planned, not even imagined
just days before was unfolding before him. The opportunity was exciting
and too good to pass, but it was as if he was on the outside looking
in at his own life. He had handed his life over to strangers. Sure,
he hadn’t had much going on before this, but at least he was
at the helm—well mostly. Lieutenant Sally Po was helping, too,
but her agenda was clear. Keep him out of trouble. These art people
had taken possession of his creations as if they were their own. It
made him shiver.
The world was moving too fast. It tipped, and suddenly his bike fell
from his hand and hit the sidewalk with a clank. Everything spun around
him, and then the sidewalk came up to greet him.
Duo blinked his eyes open bringing him out of darkness. There were
people looking down at him. How did they get up there?
“Are you all right, Mr. Maxwell?” A woman asked as she knelt
next to him.
Hadn’t this happened once before… at night and in the rain?
Duo sat up and the onlookers stepped back. “What…?”
“You must have passed out, Mr. Maxwell. We’ve called an
ambulance.”
“You did what?” He shook his head. “How do you know
my name?”
“Why, you’re Duo Maxwell, the artist.”
His eyes widened. “You know me?”
“Of course, your photo is all over the gallery district.”
He was helped onto his feet just as Corrine Carmel came out of the
gallery.
“Darling! What happened?” She took his face in her hands
and looked deep into his eyes. “Were you accosted? I can have
the police here in an instant.”
“No… I think I fell.” It still was all very unclear
to him.
“It must be from that concussion you suffered a week ago.”
She swept her arm as though in a performance. “Let’s get
you inside where you can sit down.”
In an instant, he was sitting in the gallery on a wooden chair, watching
as his art was hung on the walls. Suddenly, the outsider was an insider.
“Here you go, darling.” Corrine handed him a glass of cold
water.
She was dressed in a tangerine colored shift dress, and he thought
that if he stared at her too long he might get dizzy and pass out
again.
“Are you feeling any better?”
“Yeah,” he said, taking a long drink of the water and getting
up from the chair.
“Please be careful! Zechs would have my head if anything happened
to you!”
“Have you spoken to Zechs?”
“Why yes, he’s called here every day this week. So…
what do you think?” She waved her hand toward the display of
his work.
It was odd how they’d taken his pieces and grouped certain ones
together, but he liked it. He was reluctant to admit that, but it
seemed that these art lovers knew what they were doing. What he liked
best was where they had placed Apollo. As his most impressive work
to date it would have been obvious to position the piece at the center
of the room, but they had not. Apollo was near the back of the gallery,
slightly offset from the center of the room, as though he was moving
into the space. That’s just how Duo had imagined the piece, in
motion, coming at you like the force that it was.
“I’m putting a price tag of $10,000 on this one,” Corrine
said, folding her arms over her chest as she looked on Apollo.
“Ten thousand dollars!” Duo’s eyes were wide. Surely
it wasn’t worth that. All the pieces were junk, literally fragments
he’d found in the junkyard or trash bins on garbage day.
“Not enough? Maybe I should ask Zechs.” With that she laughed,
and the whole situation seemed so ludicrous that Duo laughed, too.
Corrine seemed to like that he had joined in her laughter and gave
him a sincere smile. “You are a very lucky young man. I have
a feeling you’re going to do great things.”
“Thanks, Ms. Carmel.”
“Oh, it’s Corrine, darling. And you’re very welcome,
but don’t go telling people that I said that or they’ll
be wanting me to be nice to them, too.”
Duo smiled and the woman flitted off to speak with her assistant.
The gallery crackled with energy. His paintings were being hung with
precision using tape measures and levels to get them perfectly straight.
The intern from the previous day came up to him. “What do you
think?”
“It’s a lot to take in, but I like what you’ve done.”
“Thanks. Tomorrow the lighting specialist will be in and the
space will look completely different.”
“Really? How’s that?”
“It’s all about the lighting. You’ll be a believer
when you see how your art looks tomorrow night at the opening.”
Duo swallowed hard. Oh, yeah, the opening.
“This show has been a dream to work on. Usually the artists are
so possessive and cranky we can’t breathe without their permission.”
“Oh.”
The intern laughed nervously. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
Duo laughed. “Don’t worry about it. I actually am the possessive
type, but I’m out of my league here---”
“You’re not out of your league,” a velvet voice said
from across the room.
Duo whirled around and his heart leapt into his throat. It was Zechs.
He had arrived as silently as a summer night’s breeze, and looked
like a fucking dream.
~ * ~
Chapter 9
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