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"One Week"Written By: ELLE Disclaimer: GUNDAM
WING is a Registered Trademark of Bandai, Sunrise, Sotsu Agency &
TV Asahi. This work of fiction was written for non-profitable purposes. Rating: NC 17 Warnings: Drug and alcohol
abuse, Homosexual themes, Sex scenes: heterosexual and homosexual,
Nonconsensual sex,Violence Summary: War is fought by
people guided by powerful convictions. A warrior living a life without
war is therefore faithless. For years they've been trained for battle,
ideology drilled into their minds, fueling their will to fight for
freedom. But when the conflict between Earth and the Colonies was
finally over, their kind of faith could no longer guide them. Lost
in a world they helped to create, two such warriors end up building
themselves very different lives. Two worlds are about to collide:
" One Week"
Chapter 01: Arrival Some damn dog was barking out a window; its loud howls echoed throughout an urban Philadelphia city street. The desperate barking came from a low-rise residential building located in a crowded urban neighborhood, where white and red bricked buildings were crammed against each other in lengthy rows. A narrow one-way road divided the rows of buildings; many cars parked along the sidewalk. It was a quiet side-street, leading up to a main road that was buzzing with traffic. A bus pulled over up on the main road and allowed a passenger to exit. Duo stepped off the bus and hoisted his gym bag over his shoulder. The bus drove off, displaying a colorful side-advertisement of a tanned model in a bikini telling people to 'Get out, go party! Philadelphia Hot Summer Fest AC 207!' Watching the bus drive off, the young man used a free hand to nudge a pair of sunglasses off the top of his head and down over his eyes. It was high-noon and the blazing August sun flooded the streets of Philadelphia with an intense and unforgiving sunlight. It beat down on Duo's light chestnut-colored hair. With his eyes shielded from the glaring sun, he turned to scan his surrounding, searching for street signs to tell him where he stood. Once he got his bearings straight, he headed into the narrow side-street from which a distant sound of a barking dog could be heard. The tall buildings blocked the hot sunlight, shadowing the narrow side-street. Duo reached for his pocket to pull out his box of cigarettes and green lighter. His gym bag bounced against his back as he walked and smoked nervously. The damn dog was still barking loudly. Its barks emitted from an apartment building in the middle of the narrow street. Duo stopped in front of the building and, gazing up at the third floor, he squinted against the bright blue skies until he spotted the head of a large golden dog peeking out a window, howling. He then turned to look at the number of the building and smirked, pleased. It was as if the damn howling beast had beckoned him somehow. He had found the address he'd been searching for. After taking one last drag on his smoke, Duo threw it to the ground and crushed it with his foot, which was clad in a heavy black boot. "Here goes nothing," he muttered grimly, secured his gym bag over his shoulder and headed into the building. The air in the lobby was a bit cooler compared to the outside; cool, but still very humid. Duo was thankful for the relative coolness, for even the short walk from the bus stop had produced a sticky layer of perspiration all over his body. Philadelphian summer was hot and muggy. His colony-born body was unaccustomed to Earth's weather conditions. His red T-shirt clung to his stained armpits and chest, and his dark jeans were riding up his sweaty ass, giving him a nasty wedgie. Pulling at the garment on his backside, he then wiped off the sweat above his upper lip, sniffling loudly - feeling like a damned junkie. An ex-junkie, he reminded himself mentally and his face twisted with a sarcastic snarl. I should get useta adding an 'ex' next to every damn title I give myself: an ex-Gundam pilot... an ex-junkie... an ex-con... and an EX-tremely fucked-up individual. Heh, god for me. Snickering, Duo reached to push his sunglasses up over his head again. Then he turned to face the rows of mailboxes situated on the wall to his right. He scanned the various names of the apartment owners until he found the name he was seeking. A sly smile curled his lips upwards as he gazed at the name printed neatly on the mailbox: 'Hiro Nakasone, 6C'. "Gotcha," Duo whispered in triumph. He summoned the elevator and tapped his foot impatiently on the floor while waiting for it to arrive. Once inside, he continued to tap nervously on the elevator's floor as it made its way up. To those who knew Duo - and very few did - it wouldn't have been hard to guess who he was coming to see so out of the blue. There were merely a handful of people who would be quick to put one and one together and conclude that 'Hiro Nakasone' was no other than Duo's old-time friend: Heero Yuy. His previous name was both legendary and notorious in the pages of the After Colony Era history, but Duo cared very little for that. To him, the name Heero Yuy represented a kindred spirit, a comrade and a long lost friend. A comrade, because they had fought through the last war Earth and Space had known; long lost, because it has been over a decade since he had last seen the man; and a friend... well, that still remained to be seen. Recent history told of great battles, heroism and despair which had taken place over a decade ago. Ever since the completion of the five Lagrange Point Clusters and the mass immigration of Earth citizens to Space, an inevitable conflict had developed between the Earth nations and their colonial counterparts. Eventually, the Colonies demanded autonomy and in a bold move, despite their dependency on Earth resources, separated from their mother planet. The Colonies turned to space and technology for resources. Great mining projects were initiated on numerous asteroids and on the moon. Large space stations were constructed in orbit of the Lagrange Point Clusters and served as Resource Satellites, supplying the Colonies with vital minerals, metals and energy. While the Colonies prospered, Earth nations were still scavenging the planet and fighting over what little resources they could find. In an arrogant political move, the Colonies offered their assistance to the deprived Earth nations below. The proud Earth nations refused and in an effort to preserve life on Earth, they united into one nation: the United Earth Sphere Alliance. Countries that were once at war began cooperating and search for ways to better life for all Earth citizens. Once the Alliance became stable, it wasn't long before a military solution was reached. The Earth Sphere Alliance soon endeavored to bring the Colonies back under its rule, claiming that full cooperation would be the only way for humanity to survive, both on Earth and in space. Earth oppressed the Colonies with brutal military force, forcing space dwelling citizens to abide by the Alliance's rules. The Alliance strove to yield space-resources for Earth's use and the population in space became practically enslaved by the powerful Earth Nation. The Colonies united in an effort to fight the oppression, but they could not compete with Earth's superior military force. With no other choice, the five Lagrange Clusters turned to guerrilla warfare. In an attempt to undermine the Earth Alliance with precise and crippling terrorist attacks, five superior fighting machines - popularly known as Gundams - were developed, and five young pilots were then sent to Earth to rain havoc. But by AC 207, the last great battles between Earth and Space, more commonly known as The Battles of Christmas Eve, were just a distant memory; another footnote in someone's memoir, another chapter in a high-school textbook. Still, there were those who remembered it far more vividly than mere written words. There were those who still lived in its shadows and Duo was one of those people. Being one of the five Gundam pilots, he was one of very few who had experienced the battles like no other. Heero was the same. Once, they had been comrades and there was even a time when Duo had dared to call them friends. However, after the "Eve Wars" ended, the pilots drifted apart, moving on with their lives. While he had a basic idea where the other pilots - Wufei, Trowa and Quatre - had settled down, until recently he had no clue as to what became of Heero after the war. He had spent the past year searching for the lost ex-Wing ZERO pilot. With only scarce resources available for his use at the prison library, Duo used every connection he had in the underworld to find Heero. However, even a thorough search had failed to come up with any records of a 'Heero Yuy' living anywhere on either Earth or the Colonies. Thus Duo concluded that Heero has assumed a new identity. He could easily understand why Heero wished to disappear and change his name. Hardly anyone knew the other pilots by their names. Heero had solely carried the burden of recognition; his was the only name people associated with the Gundams. It was no wonder he wanted to change it and start anew. The name 'Heero Yuy' bore too many connotations to the war, since it was also the name of a martyr of the colonies, a famous politician assassinated for his ideals of peace. If Heero would have kept that name, the war would have followed him wherever he went. Since Duo couldn't even begin to guess what kind of new identity Heero assumed, picking up his trail seemed nearly impossible. However, luck was by his side and provided him with a recent breakthrough. When the war ended, the world became gracious enough to recognize the need to keep the peace and also acknowledge the people responsible for realizing it. Subsequently, at the end of the war the newly formed Earth Sphere Unified Nation government decided to reward the people who fought for peace with a handsome sum of money to be paid annually for a period of ten years. It wasn't long after the Mariemaia Uprising back in Christmas AC 196, that Duo had been contacted by government officials with the offer to give him the annual grant in gratitude for his efforts in the Eve Battles and his contribution to the containment of the Mariemaia Incident. It was hardly enough to make up for all he had been through, but it was a good start. It felt nice to finally be appreciated by the people he had fought to protect. For the past decade, Duo relied on the annual grant for a living. It was a sum that usually went to cover various debts to numerous disreputable individuals. After receiving the final annuity payment a few months back, Duo had been struck with a brilliant idea: If he could get his hands on some records regarding the bank accounts the grant was being transferred to, he could probably find out where each pilot was and more importantly - what was Heero's new identity. Getting his hands on that information required some questionable moves; Duo had put into use some illegitimate resources and semi-criminal methods in order to find his long lost friend; the only friend he had left in the world (or so he kept telling himself). After many frustrating months of searching, one of his contacts finally came through and provided a name: Hiro Nakasone. To make sure that the name matched the person he was searching for, Duo asked a few old acquaintances of his, people who still owed him a favor, to track down Mr. Nakasone and send him photos of the man so that he could identify him as Heero. He had more than enough connections with the right (or rather, wrong) people. They reported back to him with photos. Duo gaped at the surveillance pictures in disbelief. There were images of an older Heero Yuy: tall, slender and still striking in appearance, going about mundane life. After years of searching, he had finally found Heero. The ex-pilot was alive and well, living in Philadelphia. Thus Duo now found himself in The City of Brotherly Love, hoping to find such kindness there once he would meet Heero. He was counting on the fact that Heero had severed his ties with the rest of the ex-pilots soon after the war ended. Since he hadn't been a part of their little group for over a decade, Duo assumed the Heero must be clueless about what had transpired. There hadn't been any news coverage about the incident that sent him to prison for the last seven years, so if he was lucky, Heero never heard about any of it. The elevator chimed as it arrived to the third floor. Duo's restless foot ceased tapping. Once the elevator doors opened, he hesitated to exit. He remained standing inside, looking out at the corridor. The barking was even louder now, since he was standing on the same floor as the howling dog. The sound was a bit muffled, coming from behind one of the doors. Duo listened to relentless barking, unable to take a step forward. Fear of rejection stirred wildly inside of him, rooting him to his spot. It took a few deep breaths and a short mental pep-talk to move forward again. Taking a deep breath, Duo clutched his bag's strap, ran a hand through his shoulder-length hair and then finally stepped out of the elevator. Slowly, he walked down the hall, scanning the numbers on the doors. There were two apartments on the third floor. Apartment 6C was the one to the left, which meant that it was the apartment from which he saw a dog barking. It was Heero's dog. Duo was a bit surprised at the revelation; he had never imagined Heero as a pet owner. Then again, a person could change drastically over a decade. Hell, for all he knew, Heero could be completely domesticated: living with a wife, two brats, a mortgage and a fluffy dog named 'Smoochy'. The surveillance photos he had received hadn't provided enough information to know for sure. The last thing he probably needs is me popping outta fucking nowhere, dumping all ma shit down on him, Duo thought bitterly. He hesitated for a moment longer before finally working up the nerve to reach a hand up and knock on Heero's door. He knocked once, hesitant, and then added a few more knocks for good measure. In a flash, the barking became louder and more desperate. Something large and heavy made its way towards the door, as an apparently hugeanimal charged at it with a vengeance. It began scraping desperately against the wooden surface, clawing at the door and barking crazily. If the knocking hadn't done the job, the dog's racket was probably more than enough to attract the occupant's attention. Duo waited nervously for Heero to answer the door, but other than the damn dog, no one else came. After a minute or so, Duo knocked again, but all he got in response was more barking and more scraping. Not home on a Sunday? He realized sadly, disappointed. Or maybe he knows it's me somehow? No, that can't be... can it? I just got out today... What if Quatre told him? Fuck, if Heero knows then I'm really screwed. Where else could I go? Fuck, Heero, answer the damn door! He knocked again, almost franticly. The thought of Heero rejecting him was more than he could bear; it was frightening. Since the day he'd been told that his sentence was being reduced to seven instead of ten years' time, Duo began planning his and Heero's reunion. During those months of planning, he had convinced himself that as long as he could see Heero, he would be able to get his life back on the right track. He kept telling himself that the ex-pilot would never fail him; he had never done so in the past. Shit, God I swear - if he opens the door and lets me in, I'm gonna put all that shit behind me. I swear. During his seven years' time in prison Duo had gotten close to God, searching for salvation in Christian faith instead of finding it in chemical substances. Even as a child, when he had been living in the Maxwell Church on L2, he had refused to acknowledge his Maker. He had learned at a very young age that there was no God to help him or the ones he loved. They all wound up dead and God didn't give a shit about that. So Duo turned against everything he had been taught while being raised at the church. It didn't matter anyway, because the church, the Sisters and Father Maxwell were dead and gone. What little faith they had managed to bestow upon Duo, died with them. At ten-years-old, mere months after the Maxwell Church Massacre, of which he was the sole survivor, Duo had already been using. Living on his own on the harsh streets of colony L2-V08744, drugs had given him a kind of sanctuary religious faith failed to provide. He would have most likely perished from an overdose in some filthy alleyway if not for running into Professor G back in AC 192. The old scientist took him in, forced him to kick the habit and once he was clean, trained him into a Gundam pilot. He had no time to rebound back to his addiction during training and while fighting. The war helped him to keep clean. It also reinforced his atheism, proving to him time and time again that there was no God to turn to and that faith in some alleged Almighty was for the weak and the deluded. The only delusions he was willing to live with, were the ones provided by narcotics. That was why he quickly got back in the habit when the war ended. However, seven years in prison changed that. Mortified and crippled by his addiction - a shameful dependency which led him to commit his crime - Duo fought to get clean once and for all. He had been brave and foolish enough to try to independently rehabilitate himself from drugs. Lying on the cot in his cell, he had gone through the roughest of the withdrawal symptoms all on his own, clutching the pillow, screaming, when he felt as though the torment would kill him. It nearly had. His daredevil attempt to go cold turkey on his own took a bad turn and he was hospitalized at the prison clinic. He was then encouraged by The System to keep clean. They even sent the prison Priest to his cell to consult him. The damn preacher came to him when he was most vulnerable. In his despair, Duo drank the man's words hungrily, replacing the deluding comfort of narcotics with the misleading promises of religious faith. Eventually, he replaced one dependency with another: he had turned away drugs and turned to God instead. Without drugs Duo felt so utterly miserable, empty and alone, that he had no one else to turn to but the God he had forsaken long ago. He used to think that God was the one who had forsaken him, but somehow the Priest made him see otherwise. It all became so clear: God turned his back on his suffering because he kept stubbornly rejecting his Maker. His God was a petty God, and it made perfect sense to Duo that such an all-mighty entity would be so arrogant and vain. God created Man in his image, and Mankind wasn't anything if not vain. Through the Priest's preaching, Duo learned that he must suck-up to God in order to deserve his blessing. That was how things worked. So he hung a Jesus on a Cross in his cell, got the largest cross pendant he could get his hands on - pure silver no less - and wore it day and night around his neck as a clear statement of his newly regained faith. He kept the Holy Bible in his cell and even attended Sunday Service regularly. God became a new addiction; a blinding and fanatic faith that fueled his anger and hate, his resent for life. Duo wasn't looking for divine absolution. Repentance was none of his concern. He could not bring himself to feel contrition for past wrongs he had done; he was too angry to regret any of it. He was furious with his Lord and the feeling of betrayal was his source of strength. His faith was not about penance; his prayers weren't for salvation. He believed because he finally had someone to blame for the pain he had been subjected to. He believed because it helped him stay angry and anger kept him going, helped him avoid despair. At times when he was forced to be completely honest with himself, Duo acknowledged that he had turned into one of the "bitter ones". His faith was of the egotistic kind; a devotion for bitterness and shame. In his despair, Duo often cursed and condemned his Lord with blasphemous words, blaming him for every wrong ever done to him. His faith was a love-hate relationship with his Marker; gratification achieved through self-flagellation. His faith was almost masochistic in nature, which suited Duo just fine. Pain always made him feel alive; without it, he was completely numb inside. If nothing else, at least his faith eventually guided him back to the right track. With the aid of the prison Priest, Duo finally got his act straight and finally changed his attitude towards life. After he had ridden himself of his drug addiction, Duo also quit the illegal peddling operation he had been running in prison and finally managed to stay clean and out of trouble. He signed up to work at the Prison Industries and after a year of PI work, he even managed to get his sentence cut short for good behavior. His improvement and his newly found Christian faith impressed the parole board. They decided to cut his sentence short by three years, reducing it from ten to seven years' time. Finally, he was being rewarded for his belief! The prospect of being released early had given him great joy at first, but soon the feeling of elevation was replaced by anxiety and fear. He realized that very soon he would have to handle himself outside the prison, back in the real world where trouble and temptation awaited him, ready to pull him under and make him sink again. Nothing waited for him on the outside; no one would be waiting for him once he's out of the slammer. There was nowhere for him to go and no one for him to turn to. He would slip back to his old self the minute he'll step back into the streets where he used to belong. Duo realized that if he truly wanted to keep together, he had to find someone other than God to rely on; he needed someone tangible and reliable to turn to after his parole. That someone has always been Heero. Regardless of the man's blunt exit from his life after the war ended, Duo knew that he had no other choice but to look him up. He would have to work out whatever led their friendship astray; otherwise, he was doomed to repeat the same cycle he was so desperate to break. Anxious to finally consummate his long awaited reunion with Heero, Duo gave up on knocking on the door and tried the doorbell instead. "Hello?" he called after it buzzed loudly, but again his only reply was frantic barking. The damn dog even began slamming itself against the door. "Shit," Duo cussed and took a step back, startled by a particularly loud thud. What does Heero keep in there - a fucking dinosaur?! Freaking beast... it's gonna tear the fucking door down! Shit, man, why aren't you home?! On instinct, he quickly reached for the back of his head, reflexively searching for the lock-picker he had always carried tucked securely in the thickest part of his braid. A quick break-in would be harmless; he'd be in and out of there before anyone could even notice. But as quickly as the criminal thought came to his mind, it soon vanished. Feeling foolish, Duo let his hand drop down, regretfully recalling that he no longer had a braid. He had chopped it off the day he was sent to prison, knowing full well that if he kept his precious plait, other cons would mistake him for a damn sissy boy. His young age, slim body and good looks were more than enough to give the dirty perverts the wrong idea. During his time in prison, Duo had exercised hard in order to achieve a burlier figure. He had no choice but to become a ruthless and deadly individual so that even the burliest bully knew that he was a force to be reckoned with; and indeed he was. He considered using his switchblade to pick the lock, but then decided against it. Those days were behind him now. Breaking an entry was by no means an option. If he ever wanted to stand a chance in appealing to Heero, he had to get things started on the right foot. Heero was a harsh and intolerant individual, which was exactly what he needed in order to keep out of trouble. Sighing tiredly, Duo let his gym bag drop down to the floor and settled down on it. He took the sunglasses off the top of his head and ran a hand through his shoulder-length hair. Sweat had accumulated on his scalp and he wiped it away. It was too damn hot in Philadelphia. Fatigued, Duo leaned his head back against the wall, toying with the sunglasses in his hands as he stared numbly at the ceiling and waited for Heero to show up. * * * An hour later Duo was still sitting on his gym bag by Heero's apartment door. He was dying for a cigarette, but he didn't feel like going back out to the blazing sun; a smoke wasn't worth the trouble. He would have smoked inside, but he had spotted a few smoke detectors throughout the hallway. He didn't want to get into any trouble (Heero would have his head for it), so he waited, staring at the ceiling, daydreaming to pass the time. The damn dog was still barking, but Duo blocked out the sound so it was no longer a bother. Seven years in prison had taught him how to tune out many things. He had witnessed many horrors during his time in the joint, he had even taken part in some of them, but that life was behind him now. He was looking forward to making a clean start; a life away from all of the scum-of-society he had dealt with in the slammer. Suddenly, the dog fell silent. With a short high-pitched wail, it ceased scraping against the door and finally settled down. The abrupt silence pulled Duo out of his dark musings. Still seated on the floor, he turned around so he could look at the door. The silence sounded so strange... unfamiliar. He waited for something to happen. Turning to look in the elevator's direction, he expected to see a new arrival, but none came; the hallway remained silent and empty. Then he heard a metallic jingle behind the door: keys. The lock was being turned. Frowning, Duo quickly jumped up to his feet and turned towards the door. He wondered if someone has been there the whole time. The damn dog must have been barking for well over half an hour - why hadn't the occupant silenced it? The front door to apartment 6C opened slowly. Suddenly anxious, Duo quickly ran a hand through his messy and sweaty hair, trying to look decent for a guy who was just released from prison and flew 150 thousand miles just to be standing in front of that door. The door was opened fully to reveal a young man holding a large Golden Retriever by a leash. He was just about to step out the door, but when he noticed Duo he froze, halting abruptly. For fleeting second, his eyes conveyed his surprise before his gaze hardened into a stony glare that was all too familiar to Duo. He couldn't help but grin excitedly; he was actually standing in front of ex-Gundam pilot Heero Yuy! Heero was dressed simply, wearing a pair of gray slacks and a white/blue polo T-shirt. A familiar mop of scruffy chocolate-brown hair framed his harsh facial features. Duo had always assumed that Heero was of a mixed Asian/Caucasian decent, a quality which made him exceptionally appealing and adorned him with a pair of remarkably blue eyes. Those piercing Prussian blue eyes now gazed firmly at Duo from behind a pair of thinly framed black eyeglasses. Much like him, Heero had grown taller, however, unlike Duo who had filled out into a muscular frame Heero's figure was still very lean. His arms weren't as well-built as Duo remembered; his white/blue polo T-shirt hung sloppily from his shoulders, falling loosely around his slim frame. Heero's face has matured over the years, losing its once cheeky and boyish appearance. His high cheekbones were much more prominent now; his features were sharper and longer, still striking in their intensity and still extraordinarily handsome. However, standing so close to Heero, Duo noted that the man's skin-tone was very pale; unlike the rich bronze tan he could recall stretching over taut muscles. A few days' worth of stubble covered his haggard face and dark circles were noticeable under his eyes, accented by his black eyeglasses. Overall, Heero's gaunt features, combined with the clothes that hung baggily over his lean body, gave him a rather decrepit appearance. The longer he stared, the more Duo realized that the person standing before him wasn't the fierce teenage boy he so fondly remembered, but rather there was a twenty-seven-year-old man who had obviously grown and changed into a full-fledged adult torn and tattered by the ordeals of his youth. Heero's subtle frailty was alarming. As Duo recalled him, Heero has always possessed a raw kind of majesty. Even as a teenage boy, still growing and awkwardly being shaped into a man, he had radiated a sort of crude brilliance, hidden under layers of aloofness and reserve. That exquisite magnetism of his had captivated people in ways they couldn't quite grasp. There was something about Heero that made people act; it made them better somehow, it made them worthy of being in the same room with him. His unrefined allure swayed the hearts of friends and foes alike; it allowed him to carry the hopes of many on his shoulders. That was why Duo returned after all those years. No one but Heero would be able to make him worthy of living again, yet it now dawned on Duo that the person he had known and relied on must have changed. His brilliance has diminished significantly; perhaps it was because that in an age of peace, there was no more need for such a heroic allure. He didn't want to face a shadow, a stranger. He needed Heero; he needed his Heero, the unstoppable man who could bend steel and walk through fire for the sake of his convictions. Only that Heero would be able to save Duo from himself. The realization that he might be gone frightened Duo more than he cared to admit, even to himself, and he stood there in a stupor, gaping at the stranger in front of him. Heero too stood unmoving, staring blankly at Duo as he held the large Golden Retriever by a leash. He studied Duo quietly, staring at him long and hard; his gaze was as cold and calculated as always. For a moment Duo thought that Heero didn't recognize him. After all, he too had changed and was now very different from the goofy braided teenager Heero could probably recall. Duo briefly wondered if his appearance gave him away as an ex-con, but quickly dismissed the absurd thought. "Hey man," he struggled to speak over the nervous lump forming in his throat, "you were in there this whole time? I knocked like a billion times." Not the best opening line, considering it has been over ten years, but it would have to do. Heero remained silent. His eyes narrowed with a frown, conveying his dismay. His Prussian blue eyes scrutinized Duo from behind a pair of black eyeglasses, taking everything in: from Duo's shorter hair, to the heavy silver cross dangling over his red T-shirt and the dirty black boots on his feet. His glance paused to observe Duo's tight, obviously a size too small, T-shirt for a moment. He studied the image of an insane-looking cartoon dog being stabbed by a large army-knife as he laughed madly, his blood spattering all around. His eyes then shifted to look at the arm-length tattoo decorating Duo's left arm. Pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, he turned to meet Duo's gaze; his eyes condemning. "Uhm," Duo let out, feeling uncomfortable under the harsh glare, "You do recognize me, right?" he asked just to make sure, for Heero still hadn't given him a response, other than a frown that is. "Yes," Heero finally spoke; his tone steady and callous. "How did you find me?" he asked quietly, looking at Duo with a stony expression. His voice was still the calm near-whisper tone Duo remembered and admired. He felt relieved to hear it. In fact, for a short moment, all he could do was gawk at Heero dumbly. Hearing Heero for the first time in over a decade made their reunion far more tangible, because he still sounded the same. He was finally face-to-face with the man who was going to save his life, his eternal soul and what was left of his sanity. "Seek and you shall find, right?" Duo replied with a careless shrug of his shoulders. Heero merely scrutinized at him quietly. He appeared to be contemplating something difficult. Fearing that the man might ask him to leave, Duo hurried to explain: "Listen, uh, Heero, I know this is kinda sudden, well, actually, it's like totally out of the blue, but... I uh... see, I uh... I need your help, man," he let it all out in one breath, stumbling over his own words for he was suddenly very nervous. He usually wasn't; but Heero had that effect on him. He always felt as though he was being criticized for just about anything while in the presence of the infamous "Perfect Soldier". Duo found himself fidgeting under the man's severe and unforgiving gaze. It took every ounce of mental strength he had in him to face Heero's firm blue eyes; the black eyeglasses made him appear even sterner... older. Damn, he looked so different! "It's been over ten years," Heero stated dryly; his tone conveyed his displeasure clearly. He pinned Duo with his harsh gaze. "Am I still the only one you rely on to keep your ass out of trouble?" "It's just for a couple of days, I swear," Duo blurted out quickly, "I just got outta- I mean, see, I ain't got nuthin' else goin' on and... It's just for a while! I swear ta God, just for a while." Heero's frown deepened, creating worry-lines on his forehead. Combined with his eyeglasses, his pale features and the stubble on his face, the wrinkles made him look... old. Once again Duo wondered if he was indeed standing before the same 'Heero Yuy' he had once known; 'Hiro Nakasone' seemed to be far removed from the young man Duo remembered and admired. Sighing, Heero turned to go back inside. "I can't help you," he said as he began closing the door, obviously choosing not to take his dog for a walk at that time. The large Golden Retriever cocked its head aside, confused. "Try asking the others for help." With that, he closed the door and locked it behind him. The damn dog started barking again and Duo continued to stand in front of the closed door, gaping at it with disbelief. It took him a moment to process what Heero had just said. 'Ask the others?' Why da fuck would he say that unless... Holy SHIT! He really doesn't know! Encouraged by the realization, Duo pounded against the door. "Heero!" he called, "Open the door! Heero! Please, man! I just wanna talk! Really! Just hear me out! Please!" He wasn't going to give up so early into the fight; he was far too obsessed to think of anyone else other than Heero. He had to convince the man to let him in! They had to be friends again! Heero had to be the one who saves him - he had to! "I swear ta God, Heero, just a talk. C'mon, man, we're buddies right?" Despite his plea, Heero did not return to open the door. Desperate, Duo leaned his forehead against the door, banging his head on it lightly. "Heero?" he called softly this time, "Please, man... I ain't got nowhere else ta go..." The dog barked once before quieting down; Heero must have silenced it. Then, the door opened bit by bit, just a slight crack. A pair of doubtful blue eyes peeked outside, studying Duo quietly. Once again Heero scanned Duo up and down. He frowned and leveled his gaze with Duo's. "Are you in some kind of trouble?" he asked with clear disapproval in his voice. "No," Duo assured him, "actually, I'm trying to stay da Hell away from it for once." Heero's frown deepened. Finally, heaving an almost dramatic sigh, he opened the door fully. Stepping aside to make room for Duo to enter, he mumbled a silent "Come in." "Thanks man, much obliged." Duo hurried to pick up his bag and enter the apartment before Heero would change his mind. Heero slammed the door shut after Duo. He almost seemed upset, but Duo knew better; Heero would never let such obvious emotion show on his face. The large Golden Retriever came charging at Duo, sniffing his legs and running between them in circles; Duo almost tripped and fell over. "Chowder, no," Heero commanded tiredly and grabbed the large dog by its collar to pull it away from Duo. The massive canine thrashed about playfully, pulling Heero with it instead of the other way around. "He's unaccustomed to strangers," Heero explained as he struggled to keep the excited dog at bay. "Yeah, the damn thing was barking since before I got here." "He's hungry," Heero muttered quietly as he dragged the struggling dog towards the kitchen. Chowder was still trying to pounce at Duo, even while it was being held back by its owner. "I know the feeling," Duo said as he felt his stomach rumble in agreement; he was famished too. Heero dragged Chowder into the kitchen. He opened a door leading to a small laundry room and pushed the dog inside, hurrying to close the door before the animal escaped. Duo used that time to give the apartment a swift scan. It was a small residence, with a living room and kitchen separated by a long kitchen bar, and in between the two spaces was a corridor which probably led to the bath and bed rooms. The apartment was simply and modestly decorated. The interior design was tasteful, which surprised Duo. He wondered if the apartment was a rental and if the décor was done by the landlord, because there was no way that Heero would take the time to match the TV cabinet to the kitchen cupboards and the large black leather sofa to the elegant hardwood floor. Judging by the various appliances Duo spotted around the apartment, Heero most likely earned a handsome income. In the living room stood a large flat screen television and in the corner was a small home office with state-of-the-art office appliances. The ex-Wing ZERO pilot seemed to be living in style, at least by Duo's standards, which made Duo feel a bit jealous. Heero returned from the kitchen. He turned to Duo, looking like he had something to say, but kept quiet. Duo realized that much like in the past it was up to him to break the ice; but first things first. He turned to Heero, smiling sheepishly. "Say man, mind if I use the bathroom? I've been holding it since orbit." Heero nodded and gestured with his head towards the corridor. "It's the first door to the left." "Thanks buddy. Be back in a jiffy." It was a joint toilet and bathroom - clean, spacious and tidy. Duo actually had to pause for a moment to take it all in. To him, even the modest bathroom seemed luxurious. It had been a long while since he had last used such a comfortable facility; prison never offered much privacy, nor did it keep strict rules regarding the inmates' hygiene. Once he was done, Duo walked to the sink to wash his hands. There was a mirror hanging over the sink, which was also the door for a medicine cabinet. He gave himself a good onceover and decided that he looked like shit. He was so nervous that his face was sweaty, the red fabric under his armpits was stained with sweat, and his hair was a fucking mess, damp with humidity. There were dark circles under his eyes, evidence of sleepless nights spent fretting over what might be. Duo washed his face and ran a wet hand through his long hair in an attempt to tidy it up. After all, he was trying to make a good impression (not that Heero cared... right?). He took a moment to adjust his red T-shirt and wrinkled his nose when he realized how stinky he was. On a whim, he reached to open the medicine cabinet, hoping to find a deodorant. He was surprised to see that the cabinet was full of round orange pill containers, all labeled with prescriptions. His curiosity got the better of him and he reached for one of the orange cylinders. It was a bottle of painkillers, prescribed to 'Hiro Nakasone'. There were other pill containers inside the cabinet; Duo recognized some of the medication as antidepressants, anti-psychotic agents and sleeping pills. Figures; PTSD was a bitch. He had a long list of his own prescriptions to take, which of course he didn't. Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder or not, he was done doing drugs, prescribed or otherwise. Duo shoved the pills back into place and closed the bathroom cabinet. For now, he would pretend that he hadn't seen anything. He decided that if he wanted to get things started on the right foot, he shouldn't mention that he had snooped around Heero's medicine cabinet. Walking out of the bathroom, he spotted Heero in the kitchen, taking something out of the pantry. There were three tall bar-chairs standing in front of the long kitchen bar which separated the kitchen from the living room; the chairs stood on the living room's side, facing the kitchen. Duo took a seat on one of them and leaned forward on the elegantly polished wooden bar surface. He watched Heero as he walked around the kitchen, preparing the ingredients for what would most likely be lunch. The way Heero carried himself was something that Duo could never forget; his distinct posture and steadfast pace were deeply ingrained into his mind. Heero always moved in a steady and precise pace, as though each step was carefully calculated before a leg swung forward. His manner was almost valiant for it seemed so resolute; it was almost as if he was marching towards a crucial destination and not a cupboard or a pantry. But then Duo noticed that Heero's posture and tread were not exactly as he recalled; there was something a bit 'off' with his stride. It seemed as though he carried a limp, his body tilting slightly to the left as he walked. Heero pulled a can of crushed tomatoes out of the pantry; he placed it on the elegant black kitchen worktop, where a wooden cutting board and a few onions already waited. There were also two large pots waiting on the gas stove-top. "The dog's quiet," Duo mentioned, just to start a conversation. "He's eating," Heero said as he turned to the kitchen worktop where he had placed the ingredients that would soon be lunch. Duo realized that it was the first time he'll see Heero cook. Somehow, the image just didn't sit right with him; it wasn't something he had been accustomed to see during the war. Cooking hadn't been a part of their routine. In the scarce moments he had seen Heero eat, it had usually been a meal at the dining room of one of the private boarding schools they had attended while posing as students, or a quick snack between battles. Never in his life had Duo entertained the thought of the "Perfect Soldier" taking the time to cook a meal! Duo had a certain image of Heero in his mind, an image that was very hard to shake. The domestic scene was never a part of that image. He usually associated Heero with the smell of gunpowder, sweat and soot, and not home-cooking. Thoughts of Heero raised in Duo dim and distant sensations of mortal peril and pure adrenaline. It was a thrilling impression, an electrifying rush bursting through him, burning vigorously in his veins whenever he thought of the ex-Wing ZERO pilot. Thinking of Heero was like doing drugs; it was overwhelming enough to make his head spin. In Duo's mind, the immediate connotation with the name 'Heero Yuy' was that of dark crimson blood, hot orange fire and fierce blue eyes. When thinking about his ex-comrade his mind would fill with snapshot images such as blood slowly oozing from a cut on Heero's forehead, while he paid it no heed; nasty blue and purple bruises staining his limbs as he tossed and turned uncomfortably at night; a pair of intense Prussian blue eyes gazing at him sharply from the doorstep of a dark OZ prison cell; strong muscular arms bending steel bars in an attempt to flee him to safety; a mere wince when he had set his own broken leg; a brooding look on his face while he was silently sipping a drink of water out of a straw. They were memories of a quiet, powerful and intense presence, of a fierce teenage warrior who had been willing to give his life for the cause without a blink. Now, Duo felt odd looking at a twenty-seven year old man who bore little resemblance to the image he still had of him in his mind. The thought of losing the image of an idol saddened him, but Duo supposed that Heero couldn't have changed all that much. He still seemed quiet and brooding, remote as he had ever been. So what if he owned a dog, had a home office and cooked lunch; he was still Heero and that was all Duo needed to be sure that he hadn't lost his old time friend. Opening a drawer, Heero pulled out a large knife before grabbing an onion and preparing to chop it. When Duo turned to watch, simply out of boredom, he noted that for some reason Heero hadn't noticed that he was trying to cut the onion with the wrong side of the blade. He was holding the knife pointing upwards, with the blunt end of the blade unsuccessfully cutting the onion. Duo was about to say something about it, but then Heero realized his mistake and turned the knife back in the right direction. He released a quiet sigh and began chopping the onion; his movements were slow and careful, deeply concentrated on every move he made. Duo frowned at the odd occurrence. Something like that would have never happened to the Perfect Soldier. Heero suddenly hissed in pain and Duo looked up, concerned. He noted that the young man had cut himself while chopping the onion. He let out an annoyed grunt and placed his bleeding finger in his mouth, sucking on it to stop the bleeding. For a long moment, Duo just gaped; he simply couldn't take his eyes off Heero's pale lips curled around his slender finger, sucking the injured flesh. He swallowed hard and tore his gaze away, only to fix it on the man's behind. Shit, he cussed mentally and fidgeted in his seat. This ain't happenin'. I ain't thinking 'bout that shit! No chance in all of freaking Hell! He continued to stare at Heero's ass. Duo forced himself to look away. "Need any help?" he looked up at Heero and asked; he was feeling awkward at his sudden sexual fixation on his only friend's body. Why in God's name was he doing that?! "No," Heero muttered as he examined his injured finger, brining it close to his face to make sure that the bleeding had stopped. He then returned to chopping the onion, finishing with the first one and then reaching for the second onion. This time, he looked at the knife closely, to make sure that the blade was facing the right way. He adjusted his eyeglasses and chopped the second onion as well. Duo's eyes continued to linger after Heero's every movement, his gaze on the verge of lust. "What'ja makin'?" he asked in an attempt to find a distraction. "Spaghetti and meatballs," Heero replied quietly. "Oh yeah... I remember you like those," Duo said with a nostalgic smile and Heero stopped what he was doing for a moment, frowning. "I never said I did," he claimed warily. "Sure you did," Duo insisted; "Because they remind you of the frozen spaghetti and meatballs you used to eat when you were a kid. You said that they were yucky but you ate 'em anyway." "Now I know you're making this up, because I would never use the term yucky." Duo laughed. "Okay, maybe those weren't your exact words, but I'm pretty sure you told me about it once. I didn't know you could cook 'em, though." "I can't live on battle rations," Heero retorted acerbically; he was chopping angrily now, a bit too angrily. "Right, good point. I keep forgetting it's been ten years. Things sure changed, right?" "I suppose," Heero grunted. He silently finished chopping the second onion and then poured some olive oil into a pot waiting on the stove, turned the burner on and threw the chopped onions inside. "So, uh, you seem to have some pretty good shit goin'," Duo tried again, gesturing at the fancy living room. "What do you do in life?" Heero paused, apparently surprised by the blunt question. He took a wooden spoon and stirred the onions simmering inside the pot. "I try to live it out," he gave a short and bitter answer. "Yeah? And how's that working out for ya?" Duo tried to joke, but Heero didn't seem to appreciate it. Without offering a reply, he took a can opener out of a drawer and opened the can of crushed tomatoes. Duo sighed quietly, discouraged from speaking. He watched Heero pour the crushed tomatoes into the pot, along with the chopped onions. They sizzled loudly, filling the kitchen with a delicious aroma of home cooking. Heero added water, some fresh herbs, salt and pepper, and stirred them all together. Duo watched silently, somewhat impressed. He couldn't cook for the life of him. It was just another skill out of many he hadn't bothered developing after the war; he hadn't wished to live a normal life so he never made an effort to learn anything new and productive. "What have you been doing with your life?" Heero suddenly asked, surprising Duo, who hadn't expected Heero to return the favor and be so candid. Looking up, he ran a hand through his shoulder-length hair. "What have I been doing with my life?" he repeated the question, buying some time so he could come up with a more or less evasive answer. "Well, I, uh, I mostly screw 'em up," he replied in a bleak tone of voice, being as vague as possible. "That's more or less what I do," he shrugged. "Have you gotten yourself into some sort of trouble?" Heero asked for the second time since he had arrived. "Not lately, no," Duo replied slowly, "It's like I told ya already - I'm trying to stay out of it for a change." Finally, Heero turned to face him. His gaze was extremely intense; it demanded nothing short of complete honesty. Duo found himself speechless under the compelling Prussian blue gaze. Heero's presence was as fierce and powerful as ever. Even though the other man now seemed somewhat smaller compared to him, his posture and demeanor were as sturdy as always; his blue eyes were ruthless as they had ever been. Everything about him radiated confidence and therefore strength. It was an unmistakable trace of the soldier Duo had admired and a certain part of him twitched inside his jeans, reminding him of the lack of attention it had suffered lately. Duo did his best to ignore it. "Is that why you came to me?" Heero demanded to know, "So that I could keep you out of trouble again?" Duo had to clear his throat in an attempt to find his voice again. "I guess," he mumbled and cast his gaze down, embarrassed. He hated himself for being this honest with Heero. He felt like a pathetic scumbag. Heero sighed and Duo dared to glance up at him again, afraid to see the disappointment in his eyes. "Is there something you need from me?" Heero inquired harshly, "Is it money?" While Duo really wanted to answer the question, all he could do was gape at Heero, unable to speak. Somehow, the young man standing before him, looking like a complete dork with his unfashionable gray slacks and white/blue polo shirt stained with tomato sauce, his long untrimmed bangs falling over his black eyeglasses while he stood stiffly, holding a wooden spoon and looking at him with demanding blue eyes was the damn most sexist thing Duo had seen in years. He was speechless at the sight. Fuck man, am I actually getting horny? Shit. This is unreal. "No... I didn't come here for any of that money stuff 'n shit," he finally answered Heero's question, trying to ignore the uncomfortable tightness inside his jeans. "I just need a... a friend, I guess. Someone who'll let me stick around until I get ma shit back together." Heero turned back to face the stove. "You came here looking for a friend?" he muttered skeptically as he filled a second pot with water and slammed it down on the stove in a surprisingly open display of emotion. He didn't say another word as he waited for the water to boil, nor did he turn to face Duo again. Duo swallowed hard, not because he was offended by Heero's blunt skepticism, but rather because he was unable to tear his eyes off Heero's ass. He tried to control his shortening breath, attempting to keep his growing arousal in check. Heero ain't like those boys in prison. He ain't like that. I can't fuck him up like that. I can't. He had seen many awful things in prison: rape, violence, blood and gore; he had even participated in some of those atrocious abusive acts. But all of that had changed after he had found God. For the past few years, ever since he had turned to God instead of drugs, Duo had denied himself of any sexual contact in prison. He had found that the mere thought of it disgusted him. So, all things considered, it was no wonder that now he felt aroused even at the most benign sight, right? Heero or no Heero - Duo was as horny as Hell! Oblivious to Duo's inner struggle against his dark impulses, Heero walked to the refrigerator to take a glass container full of raw, and apparently homemade, meatballs. Limping back to the stove, he threw them one by one into the pot full of boiling tomato sauce. Duo continued to sit by the kitchen bar, resting his head against his arm and leaning forward on the polished surface. He watched Heero silently as the young man limped to the small pantry at the other side of the kitchen and pulled out a pack of spaghetti. He threw the pasta into the boiling water and stirred. Looking at Heero's back, Duo paid careful attention to the way the young man's shoulder-blades moved as he stirred. Heero was so thin that his shoulder blades were clearly showing under the fabric of his white/blue polo T-shirt. He looked somewhat fragile, but still he stood firmly in place, his shoulders stiff and his posture as sturdy as ever. It was a confusing mixture; in front of him was a young man who almost seemed worn-out and brittle, and yet, since Duo remembered him being so strong he could bend metal bars, he still saw a man with an overwhelmingly powerful presence. Again his groin tickled with a familiar sense of arousal. Dammit, get a hold of yourself ya fuckin' shithead! Cut-it-out ya randy bastard! Fuck! Taking a deep breath, Duo reached to hold his cross, drawing strength from the feeling of the heavy silver cross against his skin. He toyed with the cross pendant between his fingers, swinging it back and forth. I can do this, he assured himself. People are more than just a piece of ass. And Heero's DEFINITELY more than that! He's my only friend. I can do this. I can make this shit go away. I don't haffta fuck to be happy. I don't haffta. I can make it so that we'll be friends again. Just friends, I swear ta God. Duo decided that the minute he will have the time to do so, he would go out and find himself a good one-night-stand. No! NO! People are MORE than just a piece of ass! I know that! God knows I had enough therapy to know that! I know it! I do! But... even that damn priest would haffta agree with me that it's better to fuck some stranger up at ass then think about how I can desecrate my only friend... right? ...right? At times like this, Duo really wished that he could still consult with his priest. He simply didn't know the answers by himself. Sex was an addiction; one far greater than drugs. It became even worse after he had stopped using. But I'm better than this now. I don't need to fuck to be happy; he repeated the mantra over and over again. Fucking won't make me happy-just for a while, maybe-no! It won't. I don't need to fuck to be happy. His priest would have applauded his efforts, but in the end, Duo knew that they would prove futile. No amount of chanting the stupid mantra could ever cure him of his obsession. Men, women... boys, girls... it didn't matter. If there was a hole to shove his manhood in - he wanted to be in it. The compulsive urge was just something he had to learn to keep under control for the rest of his life. But dammit, it was hard! Everything in the God damned world was simply dripping with sex. Wet, hot, steamy sex... Quick, hard and violent sex... Soft, tender and loving sex... In all shapes and sizes. He briefly recalled the image of the model in a bikini which was plastered all over the bus that drove him here. He would've fucked her good. He would've torn off her taunting little swimsuit and fuck her right there against that fucking bus. He could picture it clearly: the tall, enticing brunette slammed against the hot metallic surface of the bus, her perky tits scorched with pleasurable burning pain as she hits the heated metal. She would scream in ecstasy, her slim hands shooting up into the air, banging against the bus as she was fucked like a bitch from behind. He would flip her over quickly and her long legs would wrap around his waist tightly as he would continue thrusting into her right there and then in front of a dozen appalled passengers. Fuck yeah. That would definitely be enough to calm the irksome burning in his loins. Just IGNORE it, Duo told himself and struggled to focus on anything but Heero's body or thoughts of that model. Ignore it and it'll go away. You ain't fucking anyone today, so just IGNORE it. The kitchen was filling with a mouthwatering aroma of tomatoes, herbs and meat. Duo tried hard to concentrate on the hunger in his stomach instead of his loins'. Straightening in his chair, he rested his arms on the bar top and folded his palms together, balling them into a nervous fist. Hesitantly, he looked up at Heero, whose back was still facing his way. "Look, uh... Heero," he began slowly, hoping to gain the other man's attention and maybe even earn a glance, but Heero didn't turn to face him. Sighing, Duo decided to continue anyway. "See, I know that, I mean, I bet I know that you're pissed as Hell at me and the guys. For leaving, I mean." He paused for a moment, waiting for Heero's reaction, but other than stiffening his shoulders further, Heero didn't say a word. "It was selfish," Duo continued carefully, hoping that Heero was at least listening. "We hurried to carry on with our lives and it wasn't sumthin' friends should do." The dog began barking and scraping against the laundry room's door. Heero went to open it and let the animal out. The large Golden Retriever quickly ran out of the small room and began circling the kitchen, getting in Heero's way as he tried to get back to the stove. Duo wondered if he should even bother to continue, because Heero didn't seem to be paying him any attention. The young man was more concerned with the damn dog than with him. He watched Heero use the wooden spoon to scoop a meatball out of the pot and serve it to the dog. The damn beast practically inhaled the food off Heero's hand, licking the man's palm when it was done eating. Duo found it disgusting. Heero then patted lightly on the dog's head and returned to tend his cooking. "What's its name again?" Duo asked, thinking that perhaps it would be better to speak about something Heero actually cared about. It seemed to work, for Heero finally responded. "Chowder," he said quietly as he stirred the spaghetti in the pot. "Chowder? Like the fish soup?" "Yes." "Why name a dog after a soup?" "Because," Heero mumbled as he scooped another meatball out of the pot; he handed it to Chowder, which consumed it hungrily. "Because what?" "Just because." "Makes sense," Duo muttered sarcastically. "It's a popular dog name, ain't it?" "I suppose it is." "Yanno," Duo added lightly, hoping that now that he had Heero's attention he could finally say what was on his mind for the past year. "I was kinda hoping we could start over, or pick up where we left. Whichever idiom suits you." This time he was sure that Heero would react somehow, but the other young man remained silent. Chowder seemed to be listening though, staring at him curiously and watching him with its big dumb brown eyes. "I mean, it's not like you made any effort to keep in touch, right? Communication goes both ways, yanno? But I ain't mad or nuthin'. I mean, if things were the other way around, I wouldn't shut the door in your face or anything like that." Heero finally turned to face Duo; there was spiteful and angry look in his deep blue eyes. He leaned against the kitchen-top, crossed his arms over his chest and fixed his stern gaze on Duo. Duo swallowed. "But, uh... I mean... okay, that's not the best of excuses, but cut me some slack here, okay? We just got out of a nasty war... I needed a break, yanno?" He sighed, shaking his head guiltily. "Maybe I shoulda handled things better, but you didn't stick around so I couldn't even try. You just split, man!" He dared to look up at Heero again. The man was still looking at him sternly. Duo wasn't even sure what he was being accused of anymore. "It's not like I was the only one who left when shit ended... and hey! It seems like I'm the only one who came back, so I get credit for that - right?" He wasn't really sure what he was trying to say anymore, or if he really wanted to know Heero's thoughts on the matter. All he wanted was to sweep matters under the rug and move on already! But by the time he was done ranting, Heero seemed even angrier, almost insulted. He glared harshly at Duo. "I wasn't waiting for anyone to come back," he remarked coldly; the sting in his tone seemed to suggest otherwise. "Have you even considered that I had my reasons for splitting?" Duo sighed petulantly. He could tell that Heero was being purposeful nasty, imitating him in a cynical and scornful way. It wasn't like the Heero he used to know; the Heero he used to know wasn't so damn bitter. "Listen, man," he tried again; "bottom line is - I know you're mad but I'm here now and I wanna make things better. And I ain't leaving 'til they are - got it?" It was very forward and very harsh, but to the best of his knowledge, Heero had always responded best to rough treatment. Silence fell over the kitchen. Curios by the exchange of words, Chowder turned its head back and forth from Heero to Duo, waiting for one of them to speak again. "I'm giving you one week," Heero finally muttered and turned back to the stove. He stirred the meatballs inside the tomato sauce, his back facing Duo and his shoulders stiff with silent anger. "One week," he repeated as he grabbed a stainless steel colander that was waiting by the stove-top. Chowder stood up, wagging its tail, happy to see that food would soon be served. "For old times' sake," he explained. "Get your act back together by then, because after that, you're out of here." Heero turned off the burner swiftly. Chowder let out a single bark, as though warning Heero about an unseen menace. Duo grinned slyly. "Thanks man, you won't regret it." * * *
Chapter 2 |
