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"Close Proximity"Written By: Fancy Figures Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, wish I did, just
enjoy writing about 'em for free etc Pairing: 1x2, 3+4, Warnings: AU, Duo POV, drama, yaoi, lemon Rating: NC 17 Summary: Duo Maxwell and Heero Yuy are members
of the highly specialised Project Team, dealing with those matters
that are too sensitive for normal political channels. But there was
a time when they were something very much more than that – until
one particular mission went horribly wrong. Written for the 2005 Novella Challenge - voted 2nd place
"Close Proximity"
Chapter 8 Day Two 10:56 I remember thinking what a fucking moron I was, not to have sensed the danger. I remember wondering whether Junk was OK, and – even more stupidly – whether the dogs were. I remember thinking that people made a hell of a fuss about gunshots, because surely it didn’t really hurt much at all - just a scrape across my flesh and a tearing of my shirt… Then the pain flared through me like a hot brand, and I didn’t think – or remember – anything else at all. Stupid, fucking stupid idiot. * “Duo?” The voice was sharp, and it hurt my head to listen to it. “Dammit, Duo, open your eyes and answer me!” “Fuck off,” I said, but all that came out of my mouth was a cracked hiss. Pissed me off – I really wanted to get that message through to the person who’d dragged me from my comfortable rest. Because consciousness was far from comfortable! My head hammered, and my eyes burned inside the closed lids. It felt like someone was trickling the contents of a boiling kettle down the left side of my body, and judging from the anguished complaints of my nerve endings, this was while someone performed what felt like open-heart surgery on me - fairly clumsily, and equipped only with fire tongs. Oh – and without anaesthetic. I knew the real meaning of ‘feeling like shit’. The voice faded out of my consciousness for a while. I thanked God for that, not that I’ve ever had all that much credit with him. I think some tears rolled down my cheeks, what with the pain and all. Fuck. How embarrassing. Then I seemed to be waking again. The pain was duller, though no less piercing. There were a couple of voices in the background this time, and gradually, they came further into focus in my mind. “He’s conscious, but he needs to open his eyes, we need to know how badly he’s hurt!“ Heero’s voice. Nice and strident, of course. God forbid he should make allowances, even as my whole body felt like it had been spiked open to the elements. “Fuck off,” replied someone else, who wasn’t me. But I admired the sentiment – and the courage. “Who the hell are you to tell him what to do? Fucking suspicious that this all happened just after you turned up.” “What the hell do you mean?” I peeled an eye half open, because despite my pain,
this sounded damned interesting. I could see two blurry figures above
me. Guess I must have been lying down; I seemed to be indoors, too.
Where was I? My trailer? Someone
else’s trailer? On the banks of the Not as tall as Heero, but a damned sight broader, and not one for bothering with first warnings – I knew they’d be a match for each other. Junk’s voice was very aggressive. Very. He didn’t take well to strangers. “Y’think we didn’t see y’ movin’ into Max’s trailer yesterday, tough guy? A bunch o’ well-armed weirdos sneakin’ in at the crack o’ dawn like there’s good reason to keep outta everyone’s way. And now several o’ my dogs are shit-ful o’ drugs and Max is shot and all we got is a snivellin’ little turd who swears he had fuck all t’do with it.” Even though I couldn’t focus very well, I could hear the venom in Junk’s gravely voice, and see the threatening way he leant over towards Heero. I waited for Heero to respond. Knew he wasn’t backward in coming forward. “And so where were you in all this? If those dogs are so excellent at protection, don’t you think that’s suspicious too, that they’re conveniently out of the way at the first sight of danger? Something or someone must have led the gunman here – knew his way round well enough that Duo never saw him coming –“ “Hey!” I gasped. They were talking like I wasn’t there – like I’d needed saving, like some kind of newbie who’d failed his entrance exam for the Department - “Duo!” There was a strange tone to Heero’s voice that made me think he wanted to move closer to me, but Junk’s large bulk blocked the way. “Don’t try to get up – you’ve been shot.” “I know,” I enunciated very carefully. “I guessed. The gunshot was a real giveaway.“ “Fuck you, too,” he ground out, but he didn’t seem to put much heart into it. “Junk?” “Here, buddy,” the other man said, and now he swam further into focus. Broad, square face, with deeply creased skin and topped with a buzz cut of iron grey hair. Bright, fierce eyes and some interesting scars on his neck and shoulders that I’d never really had the nerve to ask about. “You lost a mess o’ blood, and all over my fuckin’ shirt, too. Now this guy’s got some kinda death wish, sayin’ I had somethin’ t’do with it. Things’re fine here if you like crap up to y’knees, Max.” Heero moved in front of Junk, and now I could see him far more clearly. His eyes were very dark. “Max?” said his decidedly cool voice. I stared at his scowl and grimaced. Max, yeah. That’s what they called me here on the park. I mean, I didn’t deliberately create some new persona for myself – but that was what Junk had called me after I told him my name, and that’s what I became. I shifted painfully; I had a few questions I knew I needed the answers to, but I wasn’t sure what I should say in front of Junk. Amazing how the training is instinctive, even in the face of agony, eh? But rather surprisingly, Heero seemed to pick up on my caution. He leant a little closer to me where I lay, and his voice was low and clear, cutting right across Junk’s complaints. “You’re in your own trailer, Duo. I wouldn’t leave you outside, but we didn’t move you further than the couch. The bullet passed through the flesh of your upper left arm. There’s been some heavy bleeding, but no major arteries were cut, nor is there any serious muscle damage. It needs a few stitches, but will heal well with rest and the proper care. You must have twisted at the last minute to avoid the bullet, or else he was a poor shot.” Junk gave a loud, dry laugh behind him. “Dylan had his teeth in the guy’s ass. That’s kinda distractin’ for anyone’s aim!” I could see Heero’s face screwed up with confusion, and if I hadn’t been so wracked with pain, I’d have laughed at the sight. Nice to see it in the context of some other poor bastard’s behaviour, apart from mine. “It’s his dog, Heero. Dylan is his dog. The best, eh, Junk?” “Yeah,” growled Junk. Put him beside the large German Shepherd and sometimes you’d be hard pressed to see the difference. Same sharp, black eyes; same frown of suspicion towards strangers; same grim set to the mouth. But I’d never seen Junk’s teeth in anyone’s ass. Yet. “Is he OK?” Junk nodded. “Been drugged, I reckon, and most o’ the others are still thick with it. Dylan’s the strongest, y’see – it’d take a fuck of a lot t’keep ‘im down. He’s awake now, but when I found ‘im, he was fuckin’ angry, and raring for revenge on someone.” “Found him? Where’s he been?” Now it was Junk’s turn to scowl. “Taken from the park, Max – fuckin’ dognapped. Along with all of ‘em, all them dogs. I’ve been lookin’ for ‘em since dawn, so it musta happened damned early. The bastards who did it would’ve needed a van or somethin’ – they’d’ve needed to know about dogs because my pack don’t go with just anyone.” “Maybe with drugged food – “Heero began, then caught the full blast of Junk’s look of utter contempt. He frowned, but he wisely shut his mouth again. “They take nothin’ from anyone’s hand, ‘cept mine,” Junk said, sharply. “Or one of your family,” I said, quietly, and they both turned to stare at me. “Or from me. They respond to those they know. I fed them last month, remember? When you had an … appointment … in town.” Junk’s mouth twisted grimly. Only he and I knew where he’d been, and it had nothing to do with today’s little drama. It was another bond between us. “OK. So mebbe they was tricked. But they’re sharp, you know? Not like humans. Don’t usually make a mistake about trustin’ folks.” “Where were they?” I asked. I was struggling to sit upright again, and Junk grabbed hold of my good arm and helped me up. He and Heero were kneeling down on the lounge floor by now, like guardian lions at the gates of my couch. Fuck, but every movement hurt! The pain zigzagged across my chest like a cheese wire through cheddar, and where my knees had taken the brunt of my fall, it felt like they’d been rubbed raw, right down to the bone.. “In one o’ the warehouses the other side o’ the junkyard. I’d have found ‘em earlier if they hadn’t been muzzled too. They ain’t hurt – but they’ll be cranky for a while, I can fuckin’ tell you, when they all come round.” Junk looked both distressed and furious; the dogs were like his kids, even when he had about twenty of the human variety, too. Thank God no-one had killed any of the animals – I wouldn’t have wanted to be this side of the state line when Junk’s fury was unleashed. My eyes were drawn back to Heero’s face. I didn’t remember him ever being that pale. Made me wonder if my eyes were still focussing properly. “The dogs will be fine, you say. But Duo needs stitches,” he said, tightly. His words were fierce, like he still accused Junk of something. “And pain relief.” Junk looked from me and then to Heero. Then back at me. “Reckon that’s a ‘no’ to a hospital, right?” he said. “No,” we both said, in unison. Junk grinned. “I’ll call Hans. He’ll deal with it. He’s a fuckin’ good doctor, but just one stupid mistake and they threw ‘im on the scrapheap, no respect for all that skill - everyone reckoned the old lady had outlived her time anyway… well, whatever, he’s out with the others, been lookin’ for the dogs. The call’s gone out that we found ‘em. The guys’ll be back soon.” “That’s where everyone is?” Heero sounded amazed. “Why the park was so empty? They’re looking for the dogs?” Junk looked at him like he’d come from some other planet and not bothered to invest in a guide book. I can’t say I didn’t enjoy watching it. Guess Heero never had pets, himself; I never heard him mention any. “Yeah. We’re a community here, tough guy. We would’ve called on Max, too, but I ain’t sure about you. Whether you can be fuckin’ trusted.” That looked like the final straw for Heero. “Back off!” he snapped. He rose to his feet. “If you’ve got any problem with me, you can bring it outside –“ “Shut the fuck up, both of you,” I said, wearily. It had been enlightening, seeing Heero play the territorial game with Junk, but it was exhausting too. “Heero, I trust Junk as a friend, I don’t see how he could have been involved in anything that disrupted the park. Junk, Heero’s a – a colleague of mine, so lay off. Besides, you don’t want to know about his right hook.” I winced, the sudden burst of emotion tugging too painfully at a weakened body. “Can someone fill me in on the bit about the snivelling little turd? Does that mean you caught someone out there?” “The dog –“ began Heero. “Yeah, Dylan got ‘im,” interrupted Junk, proudly. “Teeth like an industrial clamp.” “Once he bit that ass, he never let go?” I hazarded a guess. Junk grinned back at me. Heero rolled his eyes. They looked at each other – then they looked over to the archway to my kitchen. I turned my aching head and stared at a man I’d not realised was there at all. Possibly because he was trussed to the kitchen stool and gagged like a turkey for Thanksgiving, and would’ve had extreme difficulty making any kind of original sound, let alone coherent words. The lower half of his face was bound by a large, tightly knotted scarf. It was one of Junk’s; he always wore an amazing array of brightly coloured neck scarves, an unexpected sunburst of personal expression in amongst the habitual denim and leather. I stared at our captive and frightened, angry eyes met mine. It was Greg – Quatre’s young assistant. * Hans, the disbarred doctor had arrived, worked on me, and left. He’d been a small, quiet man, but his stitching had been exemplary. Guess it had to be, because Heero stood over him like he was pretending to help, though he was really waiting for the first mistake, probably for an excuse to castrate and behead him. We could all see his suspicion; it was palpable, like a blue cloud around him, but I didn’t have the energy to tell him to back off. I just grit my teeth and thanked some God or other that I only needed four stitches or so; any more, and I’d have been biting my lip to stop my eyes watering like before. Hans cleaned up, pumped me full of something that had the incriminating label soaked off the bottle, and left me a handful of unmarked pills for good measure. I started to relax a little – whatever the stuff was, it did its job swiftly and well. I’d already been blessed with visits from Ruthie’s grandkids, but only until Junk lost patience and threw them out bodily. Now some of his own family had drifted back to the park and came over to my trailer for curiosity’s sake. I knew them all – liked ‘em all, too. The door was half open and I could hear the sounds of usual life returning to the site. I’d have looked out as well, but the light was blocked by Junk’s heavy frame, where he’d taken up residence in the doorway as some kind of unofficial bouncer. I lay in just my sweatpants and socks, but a couple of the girls seemed upset at the sight of my bandaged chest and arm. I doubted they were moved by the state of my manly torso. Not that I wanted them to be; I’d held off their romantic advances pretty well so far. One of them knelt beside the couch, holding my hand. Must have been for half an hour or more. She was the oldest there – she looked up at me through younger replicas of Junk’s fierce eyes, but they were set in a damned sight prettier face. She had soft lips and a slim neck; her hair was shining and dark red, twisted into a braid like mine down her long, slender back. Her shirt was low cut and her skirt sometimes no wider than one of her father’s scarves. She smiled at me a lot and raged at Junk even more, and seemed to take some personal affront to my attack. That’s Sheri all over, I thought aimlessly. Says what she likes, bold and brave. Sheri was Junk’s eldest girl. She’d been his most reliable companion, always there with him, even as his lovers and other family members came and went. Or so he used to tell me when he was drunk and maudlin and determined to tell me his life stories for the umpteenth time. I’d seen Phil watching her with some kind of lovestruck helplessness, whenever he was around at Junk’s. A lot of the guys were like that with Sheri – like moths to her flame. She took lovers occasionally, though I wasn’t one to check up on her or anything, but she didn’t take anyone for a more stable relationship. Too busy with her family, maybe - she looked after the whole damned lot of ‘em, it seemed. A treasure… I sighed inside. A couple of the girls had lost interest in me and turned their attentions to Heero instead – guess he looked a better specimen than I did at that moment. I watched him try to ignore them and still be civil – but it made my head hurt again, despite the drugs. And when one of them stepped up on her toes and kissed him goodbye on the cheek, I didn’t like the feelings it inspired in me at all. Nausea, you know. Within half an hour, everyone had moved out of the trailer, the morning’s excitement over. There was just me and Heero left, and Junk who was still reluctant to leave. Oh, and our captive. Greg seemed to have stopped snivelling by now, or so Junk had called his frightened whimpering. Or maybe it was the effect of Dylan’s bite marks in his butt. Heero pulled over my card table and sat on it, facing the boy. He rolled his gun around in his hand, making it pretty damned obvious that he slept, ate, drank and possibly starred in wet dreams with it, until Greg’s fascinated eyes had started to glaze over. Then, having made whatever point he wanted, Heero took off the gag. “It wasn’t me!” were the man’s first words. Sounded like one of the kids on the park after a baseball and cracked window incident. He looked a bit like a kid, too, his blond hair sweaty and tangled, his eyes wide and scared. He spat out some threads of cloth and the words tumbled out swiftly. “For God’s sake, Heero, it wasn’t me that shot him!” Heero stared, his lips closed tight. I’d seen this ‘silent torture’ strategy before – it was damned effective. “Look!” cried Greg, wriggling in his chair. “You’ve taken my gun already - checked it – it’s not been fired, has it? And did you find any other weapon on me?” I turned my eyes to Junk and he shook his head slightly. Obviously Greg’s Department-issued gun had been clean – and there’d been no other gun found on the scene. “Duo!” Greg was casting that pleading look over to me, now. “Not a whole lot of other suspects,” I said, softly. “Not as if you were just passing.” Greg grimaced. “I know, I know! You were never meant to know I was here! Quatre sent me, as extra security, you know? Jeez, I was just scoping out the place, wondering why the hell it was so quiet, when I saw something around the back of that trailer. But when I went to look, suddenly there’s a dog leaping at me, attacking me –“ “Something around the back of the trailer,” I repeated. Even without thinking, I knew that a firm approach would be the best way to unnerve a young type like Greg. I stared back at him, my eyes kept as steady as the throbbing in my arm allowed. Heero slid his fingers up and down the gun barrel. Junk stared at the pair of us, obviously intrigued by the bizarre double-act. Greg started to stutter. “I tried to catch it – him – tried to see who it was. But just as I got close, I heard the shot, and then he ran. And then, like I told you, the fucking dog –“ Junk growled, rather like the dog himself, and Greg flushed bright red. “What did you see, Greg?” That was Heero – a low, sharp tone. Like a fingernail down a pane. Greg looked panicky. “Not enough! I think it was a guy – the figure was short and slim, but he ran like a man. There was just the shot, then I turned to come back towards Duo’s, then there was snarling out of nowhere and –“He swallowed, hard. His eyes went wide and flickered uncertainly towards Junk. He looked frighteningly young. He tugged helplessly at the ropes round his wrists, but they’d been tied by Junk, so there was no weakness there. “You were sent to watch Heero? To watch me?” I hissed, though gently. Greg flushed. For the very first time, there was a flash of slyness in his eyes. “I know, I thought it was odd, too. Quatre – well, he’s not always himself nowadays.” He suddenly seemed to think he’d been indiscreet because the panic returned and he gabbled quickly, ”No, forget that, of course, I wouldn’t say anything out of turn. But he said Relena agreed to it – I was to come and add support around the trailer park; check any strangers, you know.” He shrugged, and there was the return of his usual clear, naïve look. “You know what he’s like. That’s Quatre!” “Right,” I said, carefully keeping the pain and emotion out of my tone. “So he dumps Heero on me with threats of eternal damnation if he’s not kept safe, then sends his own guys to spy on me.” “Shut up,” said Heero. “Seems like a good thing he did. Maybe saved you from a visit to that eternal damnation.” I glared at him, the throbbing in my wound all mixed up with the pounding of the blood round my head. No, I thought. I’m there already. Was the minute you stumbled through with your boxes and your familiar scowl. Junk stirred behind me, and I shot him a look. He looked over at Heero, and they seemed to understand each other just fine now. “You can untie him,” said Heero. “Leave him to us.” * “What do you think?” I said, quietly. I still sat awkwardly on the couch, though Junk had gone to find me some more blankets or cushions to make it easier on my back. Greg was untied, but sat apart from us, over in the corner of the room, still perched on my stool. I didn’t think he could hear us. He was also a little distracted by another visitor. Dylan had loped up my steps like he owned the place, and now sat a foot away from Greg on the stool, tongue hanging carelessly from the corner of his mouth, his eyes returning constantly to the guy whose ass he’d tasted once today already. Dylan had a very healthy appetite. Heero drew breath, and waited a few seconds before he answered me. “I think he’s scared, but I also think he’s telling the truth – it sounds like something Quatre would do. Greg was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. A pity he distracted us though – the real culprit might have been caught.” “Why would Quatre think we needed extra support? And only one young guy? Seems very odd.” Heero frowned. “Yes. But it’s not good for us to discuss this now in front of others.” I glanced back at Greg. “He’s hiding something,” I said, softly. Heero tutted, but I think it was just an expression of his own frustration. “Do you think he recognised the attacker? Maybe he was a deliberate distraction – maybe his orders are something more than just protection. Or he’s been used without realising it.” I didn’t have the energy to ask him what he meant by that. That was Heero’s way, to analyse everything from a pragmatic viewpoint, to weigh up all the possibilities, not just the probabilities. “It’s just Quatre being a mother hen,” I said, wearily. “I’ll have something to say to him when I next see him.” “Meanwhile, we have his protégé here, apparently the only witness to another attack on the Project Team.” I was startled at his frankness. “You think that’s what it was? They’ve tracked us down to here?” “Tracked me,” he murmured. There was a twinge of harsh emotion in his tone. I didn’t know what to say. Things were moving rather like a movie – way too fast for real life. “I often wondered what potential Quatre saw in Greg,” I murmured, almost as a distraction. “Quat’s too tolerant with his guys. Kid was never the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree.” “Poor shot, too,” grimaced Heero, and I glanced at him in surprise. There was a wry smile on his lips, though I couldn’t see if it reached his eyes. “I can’t think it was him shooting at you – no-one could rely on him hitting you, not judging from my experience. He had me watching him last month on the range, begging tips on better stance, holding the barrel far too high, time and again. I passed him back to the training board in the end. He needed another few months to be anywhere near Departmental standard.” My eyes stung at the inside of my lids. “And that, after all, is the most important thing, isn’t it? To achieve standards – to achieve the best for the Department. Anything less than perfect performance is intolerable.” Heero’s breath hissed a little. “Not now, Duo. You’re hurt, I know, but don’t you think this situation is more critical than our own issues?” “We have issues then, do we?” He leant his head down to me, obviously worried that Junk would hear our bickering. “Fuck you, Duo Maxwell! You chose to run – you chose to close that particular door, didn’t you? So don’t tell me I don’t face the issues, OK?” He saw me staring at him in amazement, and he scowled again. “Shit, so that’s some kind of victory for you, isn’t it, making me argue? But I don’t intend to let you under my skin again, I tell you; it’s been hard enough ...” His voice tailed off and he bit at his lip. His eyes darted away from mine again. “This is not important, Duo! You’ve been attacked, which means someone else apart from the Team knew where you were. We need to work out who – and why – and what we do next. You know that’s what we must do.” But I didn’t know. My mind wasn’t as clear as it should have been. Truth to tell, I was still annoyed with myself for letting my guard down in the first place; I’d missed the threat until the damned bullet hit me. It was a horrible reminder of the other times in life I’d fucked up – the other time that had affected Heero himself. I looked up at him, my mind full of a pile of my own annoyance, and our eyes clashed. He glanced quickly up and down my bandaged body and frowned. “I’m good,” I said, quickly. I was still sharp enough to know what he was going to ask. “Just sleepy from the drugs. Dammit, just because I’ve bled all over the park doesn’t mean my brains bled out alongside it. You don’t need to worry about me putting you at risk.” Again, I thought, and then wished I hadn’t. “I’ll be able to think about it more clearly soon, I’m sure. When I’m up and about again –“ “You won’t be,” he said, sharply. “Fuck, Duo, you’ve been shot and you’ve lost a lot of blood, and you need to rest. Just let it drop, will you?” “What” I asked, confused. He shook his head impatiently. “Do you think I don’t know what you’re harking back to? But I don’t want to listen to it anymore, the damned post-mortem of that mission, the incident at the brothel, my injuries, your misery –“ “Whoa, resist the urge to twist that knife in my back, Heero, why don’t you?” I gasped, the anger rising in me far too swiftly for my weakened body to cope with. “Oh, please forgive me for living through this in the first place! Bet you wished I’d taken the bullet just a little lower and a little deeper, and then there’d be one less erratum to correct in your project plan!” He paled even more, and his eyes sank into deep black pits of hatred – or so it seemed to me. “Right on, Maxwell. Like I’ve said before, you seem to think you have the God-given right to put words in my mouth as well as spouting out plenty of your own. Far be it from me to deny you that glory.”
I felt nauseous. Everything was off kilter. The last thing I wanted was more argument with Heero. “What about the papers?” I worried, suddenly – last time we’d been in the trailer, we had reams of paper all over the couch and floor, just about to go searching for clues like some warped kind of treasure hunt – “I put them away,” said Heero, shortly. Like it was my fault they’d been scattered in the first place. “We should leave the park – get back to the Department –“ He shook his head vehemently. “Not until you can move more easily. If we believe Greg, there’s still someone out there trying to harm us. Better we stay put until we can assess the real threat.” “Call Quatre,” I urged. “Call Relena.” He stared at me. Perhaps I had been just a little too fierce with my tone. “There’s something still wrong, isn’t there, Duo?” The door creaked slightly and he spun round at the waist, the gun already against his palm, but it was just Junk coming back in with pillows. One looked suspiciously pink; I reckoned it had come from one of his daughters. Heero let out a slight breath. His murmur to me was for my ears only. “Who knows where we are, Duo? Who knew within hours of my arrival, that I was here? Or was it chance?” “What are you saying? That there’s a spy somewhere at the Department? Perhaps someone followed Greg - might even have followed you all when you arrived here.” He looked down at me and the dark pupils were fathomless. “Maybe. I don’t know. We need to talk it through – without company. Which is another reason for not leaving here at the moment: we’d waste time.” “Maybe Junk scared ‘em off, like he scared Greg, the boy agent,” I said, the words rather more frivolous than my tone. “For good.” I was still struggling with the thought of someone out to get me. He didn’t answer me. “I’ll call Relena,” he said, and moved to the archway of the kitchen area, gaining a modicum of privacy from both me and Greg. I saw Dylan’s eyes follow him – then the dog relaxed, and his gaze returned to its watch of the youngster. * Junk had dispensed his pile of cushions and crouched by the couch beside me. He sprang a can of beer and a drop of the spray settled on my cheek. I itched to taste it, and Junk grinned at the familiar flicker in my eyes. “Later, Max. You owe me more beers’n I can count, and definitely more’n you ever keep in that fridge o’ yours. But for now, Hans says you gotta stay off the stuff.” “Yes doctor,” I growled. At the back of the room, Heero turned slightly towards me, the phone hidden under his hair, against his ear. I could feel his gaze on me. Maybe Junk could, too. He coughed gently and turned his head so that his face was hidden from Heero’s sight. He dropped his voice lower. “So what the fuck’s this guy to you, Max? This Heero guy? I ain’t seein’ any family resemblance, so he’s no brother. And judgin’ from that look on your face, he ain’t your favourite person right now.” “A colleague…” I trotted out the familiar story with little sincerity. Junk raised an eyebrow like he wasn’t even listening. “You know it was fuckin’ bedlam out there when you got shot. I was just arrivin’ back, there was this sudden crack o’ noise and a yell that I reckon was from you, then the blond kid was grovellin’ in the dust trying to hide under my trailer, and Dylan was racin’ across the park towards ‘im. You were lyin’ on the ground like someone had snapped your knees underneath you, and this Heero guy had thrown ‘imself down the steps, coverin’ your body with his.” “Huh?” I wondered what fairytale he was telling me, but then Junk never saw any worth in lying to his friends. He nodded, watching my bemusement. “He was coverin’ you, Max – if there’d been any other shots, they’d have got ‘im for sure. I don’t know who the fuck all these other guys are that y’talkin’ about, or why someone’s tryin’ to shoot you. But that’s one devoted kinda colleague, if y’ask me.” “Junk…” I sighed. Guess the drugs were making me a bit dopey. Junk had obviously been mistaken about Heero’s behaviour, but he wouldn’t want to know the gory details about the pair of us, I was sure. His family was wild and uninhibited in many ways, but it followed a traditional boy-girl-baby pattern. He’d never shown any prejudice towards anyone, unless they’d directly threatened him or his family, but I was reluctant to give him the opportunity to start a new trend. Then his short laugh surprised me. “Sure,” he snapped. “I see that look in y’eyes, Max. You think I’m some redneck retard who can’t see past his own kind – that I don’t know there’re other folks with other ways. Don’t patronise me, OK? Believe me, I don’t wanna know what you do with y’long, lonely nights in amongst the sheets, but I do know that no-one’s ever refused my Sheri without a good reason, let alone remained her friend.” He treasured Sheri beyond prize; she chose her lovers with enthusiasm and her father’s blessing, and none had ever said ‘no’ and kept all limbs in working order – or so went the urban myth. I was very fond of Sheri, and she was cute, sure – but not my type. I’d dared to refuse her once – and I still seemed to be in one piece. Junk stared across at me with a rueful grin. “You’re somethin’, Max, I’ll say that for you. Can’t say I agree with y’habits, or I understand what the fuck’s going on, y’know? But if you and ‘im have something goin’, it’s none o’ my fuckin’ business anyway.” “We don’t,” I said, sharply. Junk shrugged and drained the can. “Whatever. But I’d be pretty fucking glad to have a colleague who felt that way about me, believe you me.” “You’re pretty fond of telling me all sorts of stuff,” I growled back. “Doesn’t make it true.” He grinned. When he liked you, he was slow to take offence. Fucking annoying, of course, when you were trying to give it. “So I’m wonderin’ what you and he do down at the store,” he said. I stared. “The grocery store,” he repeated slowly, as if he were explaining things to his youngest boy. “Where you told me you got y’ass fired from.” When he saw the penny start to drop in my expression, he laughed softly. “Reckon I never thought you really did work in a store…” I mustered up some spirit in my reply. “Yes, you did, Junk.” His smile was rueful. “OK, you’re right, I did. You’re fuckin’ good at that – letting people think things without ever really confirmin’ or denyin’ ‘em. Good thing people like you, kid, or we’d be thinkin’ you were some kind o’ government agent or somethin’.” He lifted himself back up to his feet and prepared to leave at last. He seemed to fill the room, and the rickety floor rocked under him. “We’re here for you, Max, you remember that. I’m leavin’ you here with Heero because you’re OK with that, although you’re pretty damned tense about it all. But if he gives you any grief, call me. Dylan’ll be outside day ‘n night – damned dog can’t stop sniffin’ ‘round the trailers recently.” He darted another glare at Greg, though there was more calculation in his look this time. “And I ain’t happy with leavin’ that kid in here with you…” “He’s OK; he’s not a problem now. They’ll send instructions about him I expect. But there’s still someone out there, the one who was to blame for the shooting.” Junk raised an eyebrow. “Mebbe. Reckon I’m better off relyin’ on Dylan’s instincts, m’self.” I smiled. “The dog? I’m not sure he can track someone who’s long gone now.” I didn’t understand Junk’s expression, but he stretched and yawned and the moment passed. “So you got y’professionals on their way? You gonna be leavin’ with ‘em?” It had been a mild enough comment but I looked up at him sharply. “That’s not on my ‘to do’ list. You after my trailer? Because it’ll cost you –“ He laughed loudly. “This piece o’ shit? I wouldn’t let Dylan sleep in here, let alone any fuckin’ human. You only got it ‘cause no-one else would touch the repairs. And I get the hint – no discussion about y’strangely official-looking friends.” He turned towards the door. “You sure you’ll be OK with Mr. Charm? You can trust ‘im?” The description of Heero made me smile, though it was a little weary. “Whatever I think about Heero, there’s no-one I’d trust more than him if I were in danger. No-one I’d rather have on my side.” Junk raised an eyebrow. “Can’t make you out, Max. You’re full o’ mixed messages. That’s OK by me – but seems like you’re not sure if you do, do you? Have him on your side, that is?” Before I could even think up a reply, he moved away, clicking his fingers for Dylan to follow. He nodded very slightly to Heero as he passed, as if the most he’d do was acknowledge he existed, and the door clattered shut behind him. |
