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"Bananas in Space "Written By: Asymphototropic
Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam wing. Author: Asymphototropic (attracted toward the
light, but never quite arrives there) Email: asymphototropic@aol.com Pairings: 1+2+3 (Preventers) Rating: NC 17 Summary: Duo's banana doesn't have a tattoo. What's
a guy to do? Warnings to date: sequels are never as good as
the original story
"Bananas in Space " Part 7. "Cannibalism. Man, don't you just love L2?" "Yes," Yuy answered the rhetorical question without pause for reflection. But he had pondered his status rather extensively in recent days. His conclusion was surprising. He felt contentment. It had taken him this long to sum up his emotions, only because they were quite novel for him. Never before had he felt so comfortable. Perhaps to others, this would have been a bizarre definition of comfort, in a place where work was grueling and living conditions were a continual challenge for mere survival. But here at L2 Preventers, his skills and knowledge were desperately needed. Commander Dickerson had allowed him considerable latitude in his revision and update of the entire computer system, a level of freedom he never would have been permitted outside of L2. As a result, his creativity had run wild, and he had developed an integrative system that was simultaneously more useful for agents and support personnel, while being far more secure and defensible against hacking. And he was adding refinements on a daily basis. He found the whole intellectual process very compelling. Then again, there were plenty of opportunities for use of his combat skills. He really enjoyed the physical aspect of his constabulary employment, and was determined to remain fit and able. Where else in the entire Earth sphere would colleagues admire his lethal acumen rather than feel horrified at it? And the ultimate prized possession, their L2 household. His comrades, Barton and Maxwell, were views of delight to his mind's eye. Clever, talented, good company, always interesting. Physically attractive and sexually eager. Forgiving, even appreciative, of odd personal quirks that set the three of them aside from the bulk of human kind. Affection, rare and strange. Comforting. "Yes, I do," Yuy reiterated with a firm nod. The ME quirked an eyebrow quizzically at the solid assertion. The young man addressing Yuy was the Preventers pathologist's fellow. He had come to L2 unabashedly in search of excitement and adventure. Although the acknowledged reason had been for a broadening of his professional experience. People on Earth died of such boring things. He looked at Yuy askance. The universally famous Heero Yuy, he noted to himself with a slight thrill. "Well, it certainly shortens the time required to perform an autopsy, when the body cavities are empty on arrival. Still, a major lack of organs renders gross, microscopic and molecular findings rather meager. We should be able to confirm officially the identity of the individual as soon as the genomic and mitochondrial DNA databases finish contemplation of the billionth degree of probability. As usual, cranial contents will take a bit more time than the rest. But, subject to my bossman's approval, the prelim report very likely will come back with 'exsanguination' as the cause of demise." The victim bled to death, with a lot of help from his friends. Big surprise, that. "I should appreciate notice of official ID as soon as possible," Yuy nodded. "This bit in the police report about tarantulas? Generally adults don't die of tarantula envenomation, unless there is severe anaphylaxis. Still, there should be enough blood available for toxicology and immunology." "Better be thorough," Yuy agreed. "However, the exsanguination is consistent with our case scenario, if your physical findings agree." "Will Agent Maxwell be available for consultation?" The young doctor had yet to meet the celebrity L2 Kid, and was eager for the event. Yuy scowled suddenly. "That may depend upon whether he goes on sick leave," he declared, pivoted on his heel, and exited. The ME watched until the agent was out of sight, savoring this brisk brush with fame. xXxXx Trowa clung to Duo's arm as if the Kid might otherwise turn tail and run. In fact, that was pretty much what worried Barton at the moment. He wasn't exactly sure what had his partner so thoroughly ready to run and hide. But it almost certainly pertained to their proposed visit to the medical school hospital. Duo didn't want a doctor's care. Really, really didn't want it. Of course, Trowa could find it in his memory to account for the reluctance. After all, the highlight of Duo's recent trip to L1 for an appendectomy had been his kidnapping by some rather nasty thugs who had wanted to sell his organs as transplant spares. Quite before Duo was through using them. Barton supposed that was enough to render Maxwell this skittish. "Poor Duo," Trowa's cock cooed sympathetically. "Shut up," Barton retorted. "It's for his own good." "Huh?" Duo asked. "Erm. Jus' talkin' to m'self," "There's probably medications available to help with that," Duo grinned crookedly, nudging Trowa in the ribs. Barton was thrilled to see the full fledged dimple in his friend's cheek, the sign that the L2 Kid lately had been eating regular meals, and gaining back some necessary weight. A lot of this was due to Heero's care. It didn't really surprise Trowa, that aspect of Yuy's personality. Barton thought he knew Heero better than anyone else in the world. Their friendship went very deep. Trowa treasured it. "Heero," Trowa's cock purred at the evoked mental image of a perfect male physique, muscular, young and golden gleaming. "Hn," Trowa replied. "Down boy." Maxwell snickered. Gradually, he had grown used to Barton's soft conversations with an unseen third party, and found them amusing, if not enlightening. Of course, he had wondered more than once, whom Trowa was addressing with his asides. Hmm. None of his business, he supposed. Besides, he had other worries on his mind currently. "Uh ah. Trow? The docs at the medical school. Are they mostly from somewhere else, maybe? Newcomers, wouldja say? Or are they L2ers for the most part? Young guys or old geezers?" Barton contemplated the question, part of his mind attempting an accurate response, the rest pondering the motivation behind the query. Did this relate to the source of Duo's anxiety? It seemed likely. "Pretty much a mix, some L2ers, some not. Some graybeards, some in betweenish, some twenty-somethings, right out of their residencies," he replied, raising an eyebrow quizzically, silently urging an elaboration. It occurred to him to wonder whether Duo would prefer an L2 doctor or a foreigner. Someone old and experienced, or a younger person, closer to his own age? Duo's jaw clamped uninformatively shut, however. Silently, he sweated, the redness of heat discomfort mingling with the inflammation of his eyelids and face, making the Kid look utterly miserable. "Time to strip to the essentials," Trowa nodded at other commuters in the public transport car. Those few who were still in their morning togs were busily unzipping shirt sleeves and trouser legs, baring as much skin as possible, removing and stowing the unwanted fabric in backpacks for later use in the icy cold of night. And looking enviously at those who had started off their afternoon journeys in scant tank tops and skimpy butt-high shorts. The clothing of L2's working class was nothing if not practical, Barton reflected. And on some, quite appealing. He eyed the sleek stretch of Duo's now naked legs, culminating in black combat boots. "Gimmee, gimmee," moaned Trowa's cock. Maxwell handed Barton a clean bandana to tie around his forehead. Forest green to match his eyes. The Kid knotted one underneath his own unruly bangs. Black. Of course. At each commuter stop, the transport car became more stuffed and stifling. Duo rested his head on Trowa's shoulder. The two of them panted visibly. After a painful pause, Barton approached that point on the horizon where self and environment merged. He lost his identity as a sentient being, and became part of a searing, seething organic mass of plastic and protoplasm. "Last stop. Medical Center. All passengers debark." With a tinny mechanical voice, a huge screech of metallic brakes, an acrid burning smell, and a violent jolt, the doors to the car groaned open. Trowa pulled the Kid to his feet and guided him out onto the platform. It was no cooler here, but at least they were less crammed. Some of the crowd dispersed, but most passengers were heading for the same destination, the front doors of the medical school hospital. Trowa guided Duo along the polymer walkway and inside the building. The hospital was hardly cool. Most of the L2 patients would have found that stark a contrast with the outdoors distressing. However, the inside environment was comfortably controlled. Barton grinned at Maxwell. "You can thank me now for arranging our visit ahead of time," he nodded toward the long line at the triage window. "We get to skip that crush at least." "Uh huh," Duo nodded, his eyes darting constantly about, as if expecting enemy attack at any second. There was a water station, with a med tech handing out drinking cans, scanning for signs of imminent heat exhaustion, and occasionally snapping up a faint looking individual for vital sign readings. There was also a long, long line for the public shower facility. And another for the cafeteria. A lot of the L2 patients' needs were pretty primal. Food, water, shelter, basic hygiene. Trowa shrugged, pulling an increasingly reluctant Duo along with him. "Dr Reswel is meeting us in the eye clinic. Come on. I haven't met him before, but he sounded really nice over the com." The ophthalmology clinic arrangement was simple. A single large room with row upon row of small cots. And some portable screens that could be placed to provide some semblance of privacy. The charge nurse and ophthalmology fellow happened to be at the front of the room, chatting amiably. "Charlie Beakin," the fellow smiled, introducing himself. He was a towering young man who had a coffee and cream complexion and an unmistakable Earth Caribbean accent. He shook Barton's hand, and then Maxwell's. "Well, I needn't ask which one is the patient. Mr Maxwell, you'd probably enjoy a comfortable chair just about now." Dr Beakin urged Barton to present the patient formally, telling him it would be excellent practice for when Trowa soon began medical school. Meanwhile a collection of residents, interns and students gathered at a discreet distance. "Duo, do you mind the students' listening? Its for their education, but you can say 'no' if it makes you too uncomfortable," Trowa whispered in the Kid's ear. "S'okay," Duo shrugged. Barton cleared his throat, smiled at the crowd, drew a deep breath and began. "Duo Maxwell is an approximately 19 year old male of mixed American origins, a native of L2, who was in his usual state of excellent health. This morning, after visiting a warehouse where fruit is stored, he noticed a tarantula crawling upon his shoulder. There was no bite. However, shortly after the spider's contact with his clothing, Mr Maxwell noticed left eye irritation, which progressed to involvement of the eyelids and face on that side, with redness, heat, pain and swelling. Mr Maxwell has some training in the natural history of tarantulas, and attributes his current signs and symptoms to the irritation of the spider's urticating hairs." Dr Beakin smiled. "Thank you for that well composed presentation, Mr Barton. We shall now get a set of baseline vitals, and a thorough patient interview, before proceeding with the physical exam. Ah, Dr Reswel," the fellow noticed the arrival of his attending physician. "Dr Beakin," the specialist nodded genially. "Please proceed." He was a silver haired man, physically imposing, probably a sixty year old, with a pleasant, scholarly mien, and an unmistakable L2 accent. Trowa became aware of the Kid suddenly trembling beside him. He turned to look, and was shocked to find Duo's expression one of unmasked terror. "Duo?" he began tentatively. The L2 Kid sprang to his feet, in his haste knocking the chair to clatter to the floor. And while everyone was staring in startled surprise at the fallen furniture, Maxwell turned and fled. Having no time for explanations, Barton took out after the runaway. Just then his Preventers com unit jangled. "What?" he demanded aggressively into it. "Barton? Status?" Heero Yuy retorted. "Chasing after Duo Maxwell." "Hn. I promised I would inform you when I change locations." "Wait for us," Barton commanded. "Its not safe to go out alone." "Too late. I'm going to go interview the widow. I'll inform you upon arrival. Yuy out." Barton glared at his silent com unit. Then eyed the surrounding hallways. In less than thirty seconds, Duo had succeeded in vanishing. ~ * ~
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