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"Chasing Wings"Written By: Impish Disclaimer: Gundam Wing and its characters are
copyright to Sunrise, Bandai, Sotsu Agency, and associated parties.
I make no money with this fic. Rating: NC 17 Warnings: Graphic violence, strong
language, mild sexual undertones, AU (ish) Notes: Thanks to Startirs for beta-ing. Pairings: 1+2 Summary: Duo teams up with an enigmatic boy who has amnesia and very unusual tattoos. Written for the Moments of Rapture 2010 fic comp
- second place; Duo & Heero long fic section.
Part II "This is it," said Duo, leaning down to disable a booby trap. He straightened, grinning brightly. "Can't be too careful, y'know," he added, stepping deliberately over a trip wire. The room was on the top floor of some abandoned tenement housing. It was mostly bare, dull metal rusted through, but there had been some domestic efforts made, which included a newspaper tablecloth covering a milk crate, and a sad flower in a glass soda bottle. "I never plan on ever staying in one place very long, but that's no reason to let things go," Duo informed Heero. Entirely unsure of the level of sarcasm in the comment, Heero decided against letting Duo know his flower was actually a weed. "Come on, we'd better get you cleaned up and dry." Duo absentmindedly attempted to wipe some of the blood on his face away with his arm, but it had dried enough that it only smeared across his cheek. Swiping off his cap, he ran his fingers through his sweaty bangs and studied Heero, who was splattered in blood from head to toe. "Christ, it's something we only caught one patrol's attention when we got out of there, you running around like that. I hope none of them got too good a look at your face. With any luck they were distracted by the hardened gangers crying like babies on the ground as we got out of there." Duo frowned, eyes flicking back and forth between Heero and what he was doing as he pulled out a toolbox and set about cleaning instruments. Heero watched silently as Duo lined up everything in front of him, spreading an old newspaper and pulling a box up to sit on while he tended to the cuts on Heero's legs. With a pair of pliers functioning as tweezers, he began pulling out splinters of glass and dropping them on the newspaper. "An Alliance patrol shouldn't have been in Chiu territory, anyway, even so close to B sector. Doc's gone, now this? Something's up," said Duo. He looked up at Heero's face, almost making him drop the instrument, because Heero's eyes were no longer flat and dull. There was a depth, a life, there that hadn't been before. Something that had only come forth when the violence had. "Shit," breathed Duo, and for an instant, he was frozen in that look. "What the hell's going on?" Heero stared back at him; the voice told him that Duo seemed to need some sort of answer, reassurance. He was prompted to say, "I won't hurt you," realizing only then that he wouldn't. The grin that leapt to Duo's face was sharp, brittle. "You could try." He snorted. "Not what I meant, anyway. You attract trouble worse than I do, which really says something. I'd just feel better knowing where that trouble's coming from and why." Duo went back to his work, now cleaning out the cuts. "You sure you can't remember anything? Because someone should really be held responsible for making you wear these black bike shorts." "No. I don't remember. But I seem to be operating at a higher capacity." "I'll say," grumbled Duo, but then he blinked, tilting his head, studying Heero's face. "Hey, you're frowning! That's, like, an actual expression." He beamed. "Congratulations! You've joined the human race. Welcome to the misery." Heero's brow furrowed. "So what changed, then?" "I don't know," replied Heero, "but it felt like waking up." "Huh. That's the last of it," Duo told Heero, then looked quizzically at the cuts he'd just cleaned. "I could've sworn there were more of those a second ago." He shook his head. "Well, get stripping -- what you've got on is worthless with holes, even if I had any idea how to get the bloodstains out. Hold on while I try to find you something else." Duo went to a canvas duffle bag by the door, turning his back to Heero's while he let the long coat and tank top fall to the floor. "Sorry, I don't have a lot around," said Duo apologetically as he rummaged. He sniffed an undershirt similar to the one he had on, but rejected it when he spotted a tear in the seam. He dug around for something else. Duo turned around to toss Heero the cargos and long-sleeved shirt he'd come up with. "Good thing you -- Jesus!" Heero turned, sharply, but didn't see anything amiss beyond Duo's transfixed expression. Wide-eyed, Duo went around Heero, hand reaching out as if to touch. "Dude, that's some serious ink." Heero twisted his head, trying to look over his own shoulder. Duo's finger traced over the tattoo, from between his shoulder blades, up and around, then down to the middle of his back. "These... this is the best body art I've ever seen," said Duo, awed -- because Heero had angel wings. They were beautiful, detailed so finely and with such dimension that, at a glance, they appeared real. Duo continued to trace them, as though he could almost feel the texture of the feathers beneath his fingertips. Heero's muscles drew tight at the touch, feathers rippling with the movement. Duo's hand smoothed lower, to the small of Heero's back. "I can't believe this. You actually have fucking wings... There're guns back here, too. Crossed. Jesus, they look real." Duo swept his thumb over the designs, continuing, "If you weren't so obviously unhinged, these'd be kinda hot." Heero twisted, again trying to see, but Duo caught his arm, turning him. "Damn, how many are there?" There were twin knives decorating the outside line of his forearms, painted over the grooves of deeply defined muscles and tendons. They were so detailed the leather grip on the handles looked oiled, the blades viciously sharp. When Heero looked down, he could see another design on his chest, over his heart, next to a smooth, pink scar over his breastbone -- all that was left of the wound where the knife had been that morning. The tattoo was the size of his palm, round and gold, with delicate filigree detailing, like an old-fashioned compass or pocket watch. "They don't happen to jog your memory, do they?" asked Duo, hands now on Heero's wrist and elbow as he inspected one of the knives. His bright eyes were lit up with fascination. Heero studied the colors and lines, but the shapes brought nothing forth more than the feeling that these were important. He shook his head. Duo searched his eyes. "You can't try? Just try. Try to think of what happened before the first thing you can remember. Try to think of getting these made." Heero stared at the knife, hard. His brow furrowed as he sought to remember, but there was only cold, wet, nothing. Just nothing. Like there was a cotton-wrapped numbness in the center of his consciousness. Closing his eyes, a small ache began to grow in his head. He focused, trying to recall something, anything, from before. The ache grew, stabbing, radiating out, streaking throughout his entire body, down his arms to his fingertips, until it was piercing between his ears with the same sharpness of a strident noise, and he had to stop. There was ringing in his ears, and for a moment, all he could see was an electric, liquid blue. He shook his head again, making a noise of disagreement and pain. "Hey... hey!" Duo's eyes widened. He touched Heero's face, soothing. "Shit, shit. Okay, don't. Just stop, it's okay." Duo's voice had grown slightly panicked. Breathing labored, Heero opened his eyes. Duo looked into them, able to see the confusion there. "What is it?" asked Duo, studying his face. "Pain," responded Heero. "Pain?" worried Duo. "It's the only feeling I've recognized." Duo made an unhappy noise, looking like he didn't know what to say. He cleared his throat, taking a step back. "Are you sure you're not hurt, really?" "I'm sure." His body read at 98.5% and the pain in his head had already begun to recede. "Look, here's the deal." Duo heaved a sigh, rubbing at his brow. "I've known you for like, five minutes. You're obviously trouble, can't remember your own goddamn name and insist on going by one that has some seriously sketchy subtext. Also, you're some sort of psycho who can crush metal with his bare hands, which should worry me, because my larynx is far easier to crush than a pistol." He huffed, looking at Heero through his lashes. "I was going to dump you on Doc, but that's not really an option anymore. "...Still, I'm pretty sure you'd destroy the colony if left on your own. So I'm going to help you. Got it? You don't crush my larynx or anything, and I help with your wings or whatever." Heero frowned. "I said I wouldn't harm you." "Gravy. Anyway, someone has to remember these tats; they're unreal. I know a chick who slings ink... We can go to her first. She knows all the artist's work -- if she didn't do 'em for you, she can tell us who did, okay? Okay, then. Just put on some damn clothes and sit down for a bit while I get cleaned up." "I don't need your help." "Sure you do. Who else have you got?" Duo waved Heero off. He began digging around again, coming up with a couple of military rations and tossing a pack to Heero, then tugging back the metal tab on another with his teeth for himself. With a fleeting grin, he went back to the medical supplies. It took him less time to tend to himself, seeing to his own scrapes in a haphazard rush. Duo could be useful, decided Heero. The tattoo idea made sense, and Duo obviously had connections. "Look, man, I said I'd help you -- and I will -- but I really do have to get Doc first," Duo told him, his mouth full. "Alliance doesn't keep prisoners around too long, especially the way he was taken, and they sure as hell don't just let them go, even if they ever figure out they're not actually helping rebels. So I need you to stay put, just for a little while, okay? "I'm going with you," said Heero, distrustful. He didn't see the purpose of finding this doctor. It would only delay his search. Duo did not look convinced. "No way man. Leaving you to your own devices isn't exactly ideal, but this is a one-man sort of operation. Besides, last time it was like a switch flipped that made you a badass. What happens if that switch gets flicked off and you go all catatonic again? I can't be worrying about your ass while I'm trying to get Doc outta there." "Your fighting style is suited to skirmishes and hit-and-run operations," reported Heero as the information suddenly occurred to him. Duo blinked at the non sequitur. "If you say so. That's kind of what I'm going to be doing, so --" "It's best employed by attacking aggressively, usually with the element of surprise, and followed by a strategic retreat," continued Heero. "But before, you were not as aggressive as the situation warranted, nor did you retreat when you had the advantage. Your style of combat also suggests that you are well aware of your strengths and weaknesses. Why, then, did you make those two errors?" Duo lifted an eyebrow, amused. "You can't just go around killing people, Mental, even people who deserve it. Shit escalates, and there're consequences. There's a time and place and I'll sort them when I've got it planned up right." Heero thought about this, nodding shortly. "I understand. There's an ingrained structural balance between the authorities and street gangs, and disrupting it could cause a power vacuum or social disorder, with the additional probability of personal retribution." Duo picked at the hem of his fresh shirt, fingers smoothing over the back of his neck. "Sure, yeah. That." "But why didn't you retreat?" Duo rolled his eyes. "Because I couldn't leave you behind, dipshit." Heero's brow furrowed; he did not understand this at all. Even so, deep in his chest, something moved. The gold apparatus's inner workings whirred, wound, and began to turn. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Duo went to do what he could for Doc, leaving Heero with strict instructions to sit tight and wait, which Heero at least attempted to follow. He sat on an upended milk crate, knees pulled up to his chin, thinking. His mind seemed to be working out a distorted cycle as it was slowly straightening out kinks, but for whatever reason, his thought process had cleared substantially since the fight with Chim. Heero held his arms out in front of him. He liked the tattoos. They belonged to him. He didn't have a name, or a past, but he had these. It was a new feeling, fondness. Being emotionally attached to something. Tracing one finger along the edge of one of the knives, he could almost feel its sharpness. He did not like waiting; every fiber of him itched to follow the order he'd been given, to find what his wings were meant for. What he was meant for. Still, he waited, because he wouldn't know where to go without Duo. Duo's suggestion of uncovering Heero's origin to discern the exact nature of his quest seemed a solid initial stage. The tattoos were his most distinguishing marks, and could prove valuable if someone knew why he had them, or at the very least, remembered seeing them. Even so, it was highly probable someone meant him harm. Markings so distinctive could also be detrimental if noticed by the wrong person. Heero rubbed at his chest where the knife had been. Duo, something in his head pointed out. It was suspicious for a stranger to be so helpful. Dangerous to trust him. Heero wanted to dismiss the thought. Their first meeting had seemed innocuous enough even if he hadn't been very attentive to detail at the moment. But Duo's reasoning to go so out of his way didn't seem equal to the effort he was putting in, especially considering the apparent troubles Duo faced already. Heero's lips tightened. Did Duo's motivations really matter? So long as it got him the results he wanted, they wouldn't. And if Duo were for some reason looking to subvert him, he would simply have to prepare for that possibility and keep a vigilant eye on him. After all, Duo had been right about one thing; he didn't have anyone else. Heero didn't intend to rely on another person, but there were certain gaps in his knowledge, and a guide was a tool he could use. Duo would have to do. Suddenly, Heero lifted his head, utterly alert. Something was not right. Everything seemed still but a deep instinct told him otherwise. He felt an uneasy, agitating sensation, like someone blowing gently against the back of his neck. Quietly, he moved to the partially sealed-up window to look outside, but caught only a flurry of movement as someone entered the building. His muscles tensed as adrenaline built up in his system, ready to take action. He wasn't sure what the situation was, yet, but his body knew what to do. Move. He went carefully to the hallway, sure to avoid Duo's traps and alarms. Stopping there, he listened for signs of the intruder. From the sound of it, there were several, and they were moving up the stairs; they didn't want to be noticed. Heero looked back at Duo's provisions. Quickly, meticulously, he ordered everything away so that there was no trace anyone had ever been there. Waiting here was no longer an option. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Well," said Duo when he'd returned, "You gave it the old school try. I guess." They studied the building from a discreet distance. What was left of the building, in any case. The entire top corner was caved in like a smashed egg, smoke wafting into the colony dome as firefighters did their best to put out the blaze. "You tripped my wire?" guessed Duo, one hip cocked, arms crossed. "I had to," responded Heero. "You tripped my wire on purpose?" "It was the most effective way to handle the intruders. An explosion created a sufficient diversion, giving me time to escape and hide, as well as destroying any evidence of who had been there or where we might have gone." "Yeah, well done, Sparky." Duo patted Heero roughly on the back. He heaved a sigh. "Wow. This day really, really could not be going worse." "I was able to extract your supplies," reminded Heero, unfazed by the treatment. Duo didn't seem to hear him. He continued to talk, apparently to himself, "I swear to God, it's like having a new puppy that gets into everything and wanders off when you're not paying attention. Only, you don't just chew through my phone cord and pee on the carpet, you blow up the goddamn building." Heero did not look particularly remorseful. "Well, somebody figured out where we were crashing. I just wanna know which one of us they were looking for," went on Duo, clasping his hands behind his head. "They weren't in uniform," informed Heero. "I really can't even tell if that's helpful at this point. How does something made mostly out of metal burn that much anyway?" Duo's eyes were fixed on the building, crawling over with authorities. "Come on, we'd better split before they start searching the area. Doc can't wait too long; I got him transport off-Colony in a couple hours." "I told you, I don't need a doctor." Duo shrugged. "You blew up my pad. Humor me." -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Duo seemed more careful as they moved through the Colony streets, taking as many shortcuts as possible. Even though he approved of this quickened pace, Heero couldn't help jerking to a stop when he noticed a giant projection high above, an evening announcement flickering against the soot-stained screen. The image in the corner above the figure speaking was a familiar one. "Hey, we don't have time..." Duo tried, but Heero's eyes would not be moved. "It's just Alliance bullshit, Heero, like it always is. Alliance blames their cock-ups on the gangs; the gangs blame their own existence on the Alliance. No one believes any of it." "During the night," the anchor reported gravely, "An underground laboratory that Alliance officials believe was being used to manufacture illegal narcotics was destroyed, and all those inside gunned down, in what has been confirmed to have been a gang-related incident. Investigators believe a rival gang --" "See?" said Duo, but got no response. Shrugging, Duo looked at the projection. "At least we know why there were extra patrols out today." "It wasn't used to manufacture narcotics," said Heero still staring at the image of the compound's opening, non-descript but leading, as he knew, to inner chambers hidden from any Colony blueprint. "What? Hey, you remember something?" "No. That's where I woke up. In the compound. It wasn't used to manufacture narcotics, it was..." he trailed off, unable to recall what it had actually been used for. "It wasn't used to manufacture narcotics. But everyone was killed by gunfire." "You woke up in a lab?" asked Duo, voice lowered, grabbing Heero's arm to pull him away. He looked around, but the street was nearly empty, with no one in hearing distance. "Yes," answered Heero. "With a knife in my chest." "What? A knife?" "Yes, in my chest," said Heero. "It felt much better when I pulled it out." "What?" Duo blinked. "Let me get this straight. You woke up with no identity in a lab someone -- probably the Alliance -- wanted shut down in the worst way, with a knife in your chest, and not only did you survive just fine, but you can crush metal with your bare hands. Are we sure you're really human? I mean, a genetic experiment or cyborg theory's looking pretty hot right now." "I'm human," Heero told him. He might have even been affronted. Duo snorted. "Sure. Bleeding is believing." Before Duo registered the movement, Heero had grabbed Duo's switchblade from his back pocket. Heero flicked it open with one, hard motion. Then he lifted it to the palm of his hand and sliced a neat cut open. He held out the bloody knife for Duo to see. "...Okay. So you bleed," conceded Duo, obviously deeply regretful he'd spoken. "But I don't think that really did much to prove you're human, especially 'cause I can see it starting to heal already." Sighing heavily, he reached tentatively to take the knife back, snatching it from Heero's grip. "I know it's a lot to ask, but how 'bout we try to keep the weirdness to a minimum until we get there, yeah? We gotta take the Underground and the less fuss down there, the better." -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The Underground, it turned out, was a labyrinth of tunnels and inner passageways walled in by massive pipes and lines, all nestled beneath the colony streets and between the walls and outer shell. Exclusively the domain of those who labored there to keep the colony running, working any various aspects of maintenance or in the boiler chambers, the tunnels were strictly off-limits to anyone not properly outfitted and especially outsiders, due to the delicacy of most of the lines and machinery, and the volatility of the rest of the equipment. Not even the gangs or Alliance had access here. Duo, apparently, had a pass. He'd pulled on his goggles, having found a spare set he insisted Heero wear, and lent him a set of gloves as well. "We should be okay just walking through, if we're careful, but stay clear of... well, everything. Especially anything that sparks. Even a small splash of almost anything down here will burn straight through you," warned Duo. "And don't piss off the Gnomes." "Doz!" called a broad-shouldered man from further down. "How's ticks, mate?" Another, stouter worker was with him, both of them dressed in a similar fashion, with thick gloves, half-aprons, and crude spats over their heavy boots. Despite the protective gear, their arms were, like Duo's, bare, most likely due to the enormous heat emanating from the furnaces. It even smelled hot. "Still tockin', Rocco," greeted Duo. "Hey, Prest." "Who's he?" asked the shorter man gruffly, raising a beefy arm to lift his welder's mask. "I'm looking out for him, don't worry," assured Duo. "You better be," warned the man with unease. "Aw, bugger off, Prest. It's Doz, he's got the eye out," said the taller of the two, Rocco, who had welder's goggles instead of a mask. "You gonna work on the doxycarborator? Even Erv can't get her up this time." "Yeah, I'll take a look, but I've got some shit to take care of, first. I'll get around to it before tomorrow night, though." "Thanks. You're the only one who can keep that heap running properly. The iron gilder's been wonky as all hell, so we've had our hands full," said Rocco. "Oh, hey, is it cool if we crash in the Break tonight? That way I can get to work a lot quicker." "Yeah, all right," agreed Prest. "Though Doc's not staying as well, is he?" "No, he'll be out of your hair within the hour, promise." "As long as that doxy's fixed," stipulated Prest, already walking away. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Doc had a wide, heavy-boned face framed in by a short beard of thick, corkscrew curls. His eyes were deep-set, flashing streaks, but worried, slanted down in the outside corners. Everything about him was pale to the point of whiteness, his skin, his hair, his clothes, as though he were a statue come to life. Heero submitted to the examination, albeit reluctantly. He still saw no purpose in this exercise, but humoring Duo seemed essential to moving to the next stage of his search. "How's your vision?" asked Doc near the end. "Exemplary." Duo rolled his eyes from across the room where he sat on a worktable and Doc chuckled. "Well, you seem perfectly healthy, even if I haven't the best equipment," said Doc, ruefully. "Is he human?" asked Duo, swinging his legs back and forth. "Yes, yes. Quite human." Doc's long, dark eyes curved with amusement. "Whatever caused the memory loss, I don't think it was an injury. Perhaps psychological trauma?" Duo cocked his head. "That would actually make sense." Doc nodded, but he didn't ask for further explanation. "If that's true, I don't think you can do anything but wait. It will come back in its own time, when he's ready." "Huh." Duo hopped off the table. "Well, Sweepers don't come by here till day after tomorrow, but I got you alternate transport in..." Duo checked the time. "...half an hour, so you'd better get a move on. The message went out to your niece; she should be waiting for you when you get there." Doc tried not to look concerned, but it was far too entrenched in his features for him to be successful. "I hope you'll be careful," he told them. "Hmm." Duo closed his eyes, and Heero wondered how it was possible to smile that brightly and look enigmatic at the same time. "Always." -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Heero was beginning to feel like they'd turned down every side street on the colony when Duo suddenly went down another. Duo wasn't looking back, but his attention was definitely behind them. Heero zeroed in on the problem like a target. "Two. Green coat. Brown hat." "That would be them," agreed Duo blithely, hands deep in his coat pockets. Heero took stock of their surroundings. The detour Duo had used to ascertain if they were being followed had taken them into a deserted area. It was plain in the night lighting that windows all around were dark, the buildings abandoned. He stopped walking. Duo stopped with him. He closed his eyes, sighing. "Yeah, I get it. Confrontation inevitable, we might as well see what they want." They could hear the footsteps behind them pause. A decision was being made. The footsteps resumed, echoing solemnly in the canyon of empty buildings. Duo and Heero waited, but did not turn. There was a rustle of fabric, the soft swish of metal against cloth as a knife was drawn. Duo sighed; Heero said nothing. Heero could feel the knife's presence, pressed expertly at his back, the flick of a wrist away from severing his spinal cord. Good. "Come with us," commanded a voice. "Why?" asked Heero, flatly. "Because I'm holding a knife to your back." The voice was somewhere between amused and triumphant. "You'll need a better reason than that," said Heero. "Your friend has one at his throat." Heero made a noise of consideration. Promptly calculating the amount of time he would need to act, adding Duo as a variable, he said, "Still not good enough." Heero felt the blade press into his shirt as the man holding it clenched his fist. Duo did his best to look offended at Heero's comment, but ended up just rolling his eyes. "You don't have a ch--" The voice was cut off when the bony heel of Heero's palm smashed into his larynx. The knife that had been in his hand was then in Heero's, but only for an instant, before it was embedded in his partner's neck. The partner went down with a weak gurgle, hands pawing uselessly at the protruding weapon for a few moments before twitching into stillness. "Aw, fuck, Heero," said Duo, squatting down to inspect the body. "We talked about this." With a dismissive shove, Heero knocked the other man to the wet ground. He leaned over him, pressing a knife to the man's throat. "What do you want with me?" asked Heero, but the man could hardly breathe, let alone answer. He shook his head desperately. Heero looked at Duo. Duo shook his head. "We don't have time, someone might come down this way, and there's a body to explain if we wanna hang around." Hastily, the man tapped at his coat pocket. Heero searched it, coming up with a slip of paper with a time and docking number in plain type. "All I know... swear," wheezed the man. Tucking the note away, Heero studied the man, trying to decide if it was too dangerous to keep him alive. With a small frown, Heero applied pressure to a nerve at the back of the man's neck until he went unconscious. He set his weapon down and began searching through the rest of the man's clothes for anything useful. "Whoa," said Duo, eyes wide. Carefully, he asked, "Heero... where did you get another knife?" Thrown, Heero looked down at the weapon he'd just put down, then over at the one still in the unmoving man's throat. Duo crawled closer and reached over to yank up Heero's sleeves, first one, and then the other. There was no tattoo on his left arm. They both looked at the knife by Heero, identical to the missing design, but completely real and three-dimensional. Duo sucked in a breath. "What the fuck."
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