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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 8. "Zero two. Please meet zero three at our father's place." The lady's voice was calm and soothing, almost medicinal over the public address system. She had been reluctant to make that announcement without understanding what it meant, and at first had refused the request outright. But Trowa had, uncharacteristically, allowed his real worry to show upon his face. Explained to her that a young friend of his was having a wartime flashback. Then Barton had fluttered his lashes over puppy eyes at her, and she had melted. And more importantly, had made the announcement for him. Hastily, Trowa turned his steps toward the hospital chapel. "Cross your fingers, buddy," Trowa's cock told him. "Yuy will be pissed if you've lost the Kid." "Screw Yuy!" Trowa retorted. "Promises, promises," his cock replied wickedly. xXxXx Yuy eyed the number designation on the apartment door. The building was secure and in good repair, its residents wealthy, living in a prosperous sector of L2. Heero did not resent the fact that these people dwelt under such comfortable conditions. He passed no judgment upon them. His opinions on the extreme dichotomy of wealth and poverty extant on this colony were utterly practical. Poor people rather often were driven by necessity to criminal activity. Rich people usually embraced dishonesty because of their greed and powerlust. Both classes were dangerous. As soon as they participated in anything illegal, they became fair game for Preventers Agent Yuy. End of analysis. If there were any emotions attached to the subject at all, they pertained to his partners. Living in a poor neighborhood exposed Maxwell and Barton to rougher conditions than were desirable. More safety precautions were necessary. Plus, under the circumstances, Heero had to keep frequent watch over Duo, that he ate often and well enough to maintain his health. Other than this, Yuy left philosophical considerations to the scholars and politicians.
But her eyes were red from crying, and her nostrils damp, Heero noted. "He's dead. I already heard, so spare me the sympathy speech." She had a bland planetary accent that went with her mannerisms. "Who informed you?" "Somebody from his work. Phone call. They didn't say their name. And I couldn't care less who it was. They're all the same. L2 slime. What difference does it make?" She poured vodka from a bottle into a tumbler of ice cubes and swallowed a substantial mouthful of the liquor. "Pour yourself a drink." "No thank you." She shrugged, staring at the wall. Wiped at her nose with a handkerchief. After a silent pause, she began again. "I never wanted to come here. But he got into trouble and lost his license. So Earth was out of the question. And the other colonies, too. This was the only place he was still allowed to practice. L2 needs attorneys. Lots and lots of them." She drank again. "Do you have any information that would be useful in our homicide investigation?" "No." "If you think of anything you would like to communicate, call me at this exchange." He handed her a thin data chip. She was staring at the wall again. He let himself out the door, shut it softly. Then paused. There were several of them, standing in plain sight in the hallway. Yuy recognized them from this morning, the lobby of Sharpsten Shipping Enterprises. A handful of thugs. With the one, a huge, strangely feminized freak, merely a foot away. Towering, scowling threateningly down at Heero. xXxXx Trowa was relieved to find the chapel deserted. Now if only Duo would show up at the place. The PA message meaning would be obvious to the Kid, whether or not he had his wits fully about him. They were obscure rootless orphans, the three of them. Yuy, Maxwell, and Barton, each from a different colony. A message to meet in "our father's place" could only be interpreted one way. Maxwell, still wearing the crucifix left over from his church orphanage days, would hear "our father" and instantly think of the Lord's Prayer. And show up at the rendezvous. He hoped. Soon. Unless the Kid was so totally freaked out that he included Barton amongst the enemy. Trowa waited impatiently. He sat at a pew, and glared out the door, willing Duo to come through it. The dark depths of the room contrasted with the bright rectangle of light at the open door. Then he realized there was someone sitting next to him. "Maxwell," he spoke gently. "I'm sorry." "Its okay. Are you all right?" "Yurp." "Duo. We don't have much time. Yuy is out on the streets, solo." "Heero? Shit. Hellfire. Le's go." "Not until you see the doctor and get treated. If you prefer Dr Beakin, I could ask him to see you alone." Trowa hearkened to the ensuing silence, felt the Kid trembling against his shoulder. Damn. They really didn't have time for this. But he'd have to do some hasty psych work to get Maxwell centered again. "Did you recognize Dr Reswel, the attending? Duo, do you know him? From before?" He twisted in the pew, grasped the Kid's shoulder firmly. Shook him a little. "Nurp. Never seen him before today. But that's the point, though, really. Isn't it?" Duo's eyes burned defiantly in his swollen face. "I don't understand. Maxwell, you're going to have to explain this better." "Where the hell was he? Where the hell were they all, the L2 doctors, during the plague?" The Kid snarled, an injured and angry animal sound. But Barton, staring into his face, saw his lower lip quivering. "The doctors that weren't actively trying to kill us, helping to practice the military's damned germ warfare. The rest of them, where were they? Guess they were just sitting back on their fat haunches. Letting us die. Weren't they? Tell me I'm wrong, and I'll shut up." Barton let go. Sighed. Shut his eyes. How could he argue against this, when he agreed with the Kid? Fully appreciated his resentment. Wondered what the answers were to these righteous questions, in fact. Trowa felt ashamed for the medical community. His comrades, the people he had joined now in his new life's calling. "I'm sorry," Duo said again, the sound of regret very real in his voice. "Maxwell. We've gone beyond the war now. We have to, so we can all live. When people look at you. Don't you hope they see you, who you really are, Duo Maxwell? Not some worthless street rat. Not some dishonest sneaking thief? Not some faithless heartless terrorist. Don't you hope they will let you prove your worth? Take you for what you are now, today?" "Yeah. Tha's right, surely." "Then you've got to do that too. Look at this hospital. We're not turning folks away if they're poor or homeless. Everyone gets treated, helped to what they need. Dr Reswel is a part of this. Its not fair to look at him and judge him the way you just did, based only on his age and his accent." The L2 Kid sighed, lowered his head, resting upon the hard seatback in front of them, ruffling his long disorderly bangs against the harsh surface. Barton could read his facial features, almost as if he could see the long mental lineup, the progression of the dead behind closed eyelids. Could tally the hideous body count he knew existed there. Calmly, Duo stood. "Le's go now." "What do you want to do?" "Go back to the docs. Stop my bitch piss and moaning. Get this over and be done with it." "All right." "You tell them whatever ya need to, to smooth this over. 'Kay?" "Sure, Maxwell. I'll tell them. They'll understand. You'll see. This will come out right. And then we'll go give Yuy a piece of our minds, for scaring us shitless." "Works for me." The Kid gave him a small smile, slightly tremulous at the corners. Barton grabbed Maxwell while he could. First aid. The lame and halt, leading the blind. xXxXx Yuy considered his options. He was outnumbered by opponents. He knew these men were murderers, though he could not prove it. They had openly declared war, placing a disemboweled corpse on his doorstep. Plus they had hurt Maxwell. In a physical confrontation, he could still beat them. But only if he threw out the Preventers' rules of engagement. In order to survive, he would have to use deadly force immediately. In a fire fight, he could still survive, largely intact. He was well armed, more versatile, and perfectly accurate at this range. But again, only if he followed his wartime strictures and pursued all combatants with instantly lethal intentions. Yuy spent a moment, considering the future. If he were dismissed from Preventers, it would leave Maxwell alone to fight on the mean streets of L2. Unacceptable. But if Heero died here and now, it would leave Barton the exhausting task of watching out for the L2 Kid, while Trowa was trying to make it through his medical training. Equally unacceptable. Stalemate. But suddenly the lock was broken. The scales were turned, by a consideration so warm and bright, it took Heero's breath away. He remembered that he wanted to live. He was enjoying himself, delighting in every facet of daily existence. It was right and it was fair. He realized he would do whatever was necessary to survive. No matter which rules he broke to accomplish the goal. This fact made him smirk. He cast a haughty look of defiance over the thugs. They, in turn, flinched back a bit. Wondering, perhaps, what Yuy knew that they didn't. The huge fellow with the high pitched voice spoke up. "Boss wants ya to leave the widow alone. She's grieving. You shouldn't bother her." Yuy casually turned his back on them, knowing in his current state of awareness that no aggressive move they made would go undetected, and instantly countered with deadly force. "I was just leaving," he flung over his shoulder, tauntingly. His mind zipped over his inventory of armaments. He would drop at an angle with a flip, ducking into that wall niche, simultaneously drawing the automatic and laying down an energy blanket, while his opposite hand drew his dagger on any assailant who survived to breach his first defense. But he perceived the thugs were already in standdown mode. Which left Yuy more annoyed than relieved. L2 would have been a better place without those jerks, he reflected as he exited to the street. xXxXx "So. How do I look?" Maxwell demanded. "Extremely piratical." Dr Beakin, under Dr Reswel's supervision, had placed a tiny delivery pump into the tear duct of the left eye, which device sent a continuous stream of antibiotics, plus enzymes designed to digest the harsh debris lodged in the conjunctival surface, and gradually, gently remove it. This was to avoid ophthalmia nodosa and resulting panuveitis, which could be blinding if it developed. Trowa savored his new knowledge, resolving to read up online, as soon as he got home. Barton studied the Kid's face. The medicine reservoir was located in a black polymer patch that covered and protected Duo's eye. Which made the L2 Kid look rather gothic. "Its really quite theatrical. Not to mention enticing." "So. Do ya think total strangers clad in leather and chains are gonna pounce on me, demanding instantaneous sexual gratification?" "They do that anyway," Trowa whispered into Duo's ear, smoothed his hand down the length of braid, and growled into the tender flesh of the Kid's neck. "We should get you home before the anesthetic wears off." "Not until we find Yuy," Maxwell snapped. "I got first dibs on biting him into submission." "I propose a simultaneous double team," Barton's verdant eyes gleamed wickedly. "Hey, what about me?" Trowa's cock demanded. Barton whipped out his com. Without waiting for Heero to reply, he snarled into the speaker. "Yuy. Your ass is grass. Totally. Be afraid. Very, very afraid."
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