"Defying Gravity"

A Romance in Three Parts

Written By: Kaeru Shisho

Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Gundam Wing or its characters, nor do I make any monetary profit off this story.

Rating: NC 17

Warnings: AU, yaoi, some language

Pairings: 1x2x1, 3x4x3

Summary: A multi part story of romance starting with a turning point vacation, developing throughout a dangerous UC mission, and moving ahead through the unexpected challenges of a summer vacation.

"Part One: It's a Vacation"

I had straightened out everything in my head. Heero had needed a coat, and he took me clothes shopping because he was more fashion savvy than me and wanted to get Trowa off my case. He treated me to a meal, and then set up this dinner date as a way for me to pay for him and even-Steven things up. He told me he liked me because he did, as opposed to saying he couldn't stand me. I shouldn't expect any more of these outings after this.

Man, I musta been loopy before to even consider this to be a romantic move on his part. He'd had counseling to open up, not to be able to declare love. And Quatre was a dreamy fool caught up in his own fantasies and seeing romance everywhere, whether it was there or not.

Heero snapped shut his laptop and stood. "We should go."

Yeah, things were back to normal. "So, how about pizza?" I asked.

"Hn." Heero let his watch fall backward on his wrist and grabbed a coat.

"And I drive, okay?"

I felt like piloting tonight, and I figured it was my turn to choose where we'd eat, even though it was he who had done the asking. That made it way less of a date, or so I kept telling myself. Heero graced me with a deadpan nod, and the car keys flew in the air, but not from Heero's direction.

"You'll have to take my car," Wufei pointed out. "It has chains."

Oh, yeah, snow. The roads were messy. "Maybe we should pick up some chains for your car?" I asked, but Heero shrugged. Was he totally disinterested or had he already taken care of the issue and I should just shut up about it and not offend him with my lame reminders? Hard to read that shrug, so I steered oblique. "Okay, in the morning."

"Out," he ordered me, and out I went, steering upright and direct this time. "You're the man. Out, yeah. Gotcha!"

He and I got along swell. Going out to eat pizza with Heero—what a ball! Especially the insane drivers swerving on the icy streets.

There were several pizza joints in town; I chose the one with the most crowded parking lot, the most popular, and, therefore, the best or cheapest food. I hadn't any idea what he liked, never having watched him eat pizza before. Heero never seemed to care what was put in front of him, but I asked as much to hear him talk as anything.

"So what toppings do you want?" I asked.

I can't tell you how weird it felt to be in a pizza parlor with just Heero. For one thing, there was no other place for that deadly glare to land but on me, where it was currently boring into my thick scull.

"Get what you want," he told me, and then he strode off to buy drinks.

I ordered two pizzas, one with meat and the other vegetarian, paid cash, and returned to our table with a parmesan cheese shaker in one hand and chili flakes in the other. While I waited on the pizza, I checked Heero's progress every few seconds. There was nothing warm and fuzzy about Heero. He walked like a soldier with his rigid posture, even in casual clothes. I liked the outline his wallet made in his back pocket, though, and blushed to think I'd been staring at his ass. My eyes slid to the face of the girl taking his order. She wasn't smiling. His clipped speech and abrupt manners gave the impression that he was arrogant and distant. Well, sometimes he was pretty hostile and cold, frosty like the pitcher he delivered to the table. It smelled cloying-familiar rather than malty-memorable.

"Root beer?" I whined.

"We will buy beer on the way home."

"Oh."

"You like soda."

Yes, I did and it was damned nice of him to have noticed. "Yeah, but it's bad for teeth," I said. His words to me on more than one occasion.

"The phosphorus damages bone growth," he said, delivering this cheery information as he poured me a mug full of bone-stunting, tooth decay.

"Thanks."

What? I'm polite. Okay, I'm also sarcastic. I dragged a finger through the condensation, drawing the droplets together until they ran off my mug, while I picked my brain for a more pleasant topic to discuss. I knew it would be up to me to carry both sides of our conversation if I didn't choose something that interested him. I'd never known Heero to hold with idle banter.

Heero loved to talk about cars; so did I, making it a good place to start. I asked him about the car he was saving his pennies to buy. His face lit up and he talked at length and in agonizing detail. It occurred to me that it was almost a sensual thing, and certainly passionate. It was a turn-on- as if I needed another one- so we talked about cars until I mentioned "chains for the tires" and the fountain of enthusiasm dried up.

He brushed the hair out of his eyes with a gesture that in a woman would have seemed flirtatious, but on Heero was nothing more than the wish to get his hair out of his face. I had the strangest desire to reach out and run my fingers through that dark mop. A wave of relief swept over me when the pizza arrived and I had something else to absorb my attention.

Deny, deny, deny— I could not deny that I had a full-blown infatuation going on.

(o)

"Stop at the grocery store," Heero said.

"Right. Besides beer, know what you want to get?"

"Yes."

Naturally.

Heero swept through the store dropping selections into a hand basket with matchless speed and efficiency. He'd probably downloaded architectural plans and mapped out the shortest route the night before. He checked his watch.

"Get in line. I have one more stop to make." Aware, possibly that he had been ordering me around, he added in a gentler tone, "It will get us out of here faster, if you do that."

"Right!"

I grinned and bobbed on over to the checkout with time to pick out some gum. Remember how I thought I'd seen the last of the banana man, Gill the Groper? He ran into me in the checkout line. Same grocery store. Same clerk. Same asshole. Different antisocial friend MIA someplace else in the store.

"Hey, it's Duo. Niiiice jeans. Lose the Chinese boyfriend? He was one severe dude."

"What? No! I mean, there's a bunch of us guys renting a cabin and he's just one of them."

"Cool, so, ah, you with ...ah... or...? I'm not making you nervous or anything, am I?"

Instantly, Heero loomed beside us. "Trouble?"

"Ah, no," I muttered, although I'd hedge any bet that there soon would be. "This is Gill—"

"Hey, yeah. Duo here shot me with a banana couple days ago."

"He bought the beer I dropped," I explained to Heero, whose scowl darkened.

"Yeah, too bad about that. I wanted to replace it, but that Chinese dude was in a hurry. Hey, I could buy that case for ya."

"That won't be necessary," Heero said.

Gill's eyes scanned Heero and the pair of six-packs he was carrying with ease in one hand and basket of groceries in the other. I had the feeling Gill was a lonely guy, or at least desperate, since he chose to ignore the obvious body language: Heero was about to kill him.

Gill leaned into me, cramming me into the counter as his lips brushed my ear before I could twist away. "Invite me over?" he whispered.

I had been slow on the uptake, because I had been watching Heero's reactions. Oh, he heard Gill, and what Gill had said was not to Heero's liking; it was clear from his adamantine look: his mouth set like marble below eyes cut from glistening shards of sapphire. He looked resolute and unbending. When Gill let out a kind of shocking squeak, I looked down where his eyes seemed transfixed. Heero's thumb had bent the metal handle of his basket into the letter "C".

"Maybelater," Gill said in a rush of words, and dashed out the door, his one grocery item forgotten.

"Guess it wasn't my clothes," I muttered. "And you didn't need to do that; intimidate him that way. I had everything under control."

Heero turned his blue gaze on me. "You are too..." he began, then paused, and I swear he said something different than what he had originally planned, "... too open."

"I'm social."

"Hn."

That issue settled, we both ponied up some cash to pay, and left as quickly as possible.

(o)

All our buddies were ensconced around the TV, waiting for me to settle before starting the next movie. I had volunteered to stoke the fire. This activity probably "redirected my pyrotechnic tendencies in a constructive manner," or so 'Fei had declared, as if it were fact. As I made an appearance from the out-of-doors, four pairs of eyes were on me.

"What's up?" I asked, kicking the door closed with a snow-encrusted boot, my arms loaded with firewood.

"We decided to all go skiing tomorrow," Quatre announced.

You have, I thought. "Never tried." How could I afford the lodge food, the lift tickets, the equipment rentals, or the time?

"Oh, you'll learn quickly, and Heero can teach you," Quatre said lightly.

Wufei looked from Heero to me to Quatre, uncomprehendingly. "You are the more patient teacher and the superior skier, Winner, making you the obvious choice to instruct Maxwell."

Quatre looked sheepish. Quatre looking sheepish with that endearing smile on his face was also Quatre looking charming. "But Heero already volunteered," he said with a matching, appealing shrug.

I looked askance and caught Heero glaring at Quatre, Wufei, and anyone else in his line of sight. If my arms hadn't been burdened with a forest of timber, I just might have hit him, any or all of the "hims."

"I'll think about it," I bit off.

I labored over the fire more vigorously than was called for, but it worked to silence the discussion. Why was Quatre pushing Heero into interacting with me? Didn't he think Heero was capable on his own? Or me? There wasn't any "us" to begin with. Maybe everything was just conjecture and misdirection up to this point. I certainly didn't want Heero forced into giving me ski lessons!

By the time I was ready to join them, the plans had been set, the discussion over, and Trowa was slipping in a DVD and adjusting the volume.

"Whatcha got?" I asked him.

"Something with action, Kung-fu fighting so Chang will have something to rip apart, and no sex. Can't take that hetero sap."

"That all?"

"Either that or some gothic romance crap Quatre picked out."

"Hey! 'Pride and Prejudice' won an award!"

My bud was only pretending to be offended, though, because at the same time Quatre scooted over the couch, patting a spot, inviting me to sit beside him. I collapsed at the far end with a put-upon sigh, and the real show began. Heero, who had been stretched out on the floor, rose and slipped onto the arm of the couch, a hand's breadth away from me. I felt the couch decompress, and Quatre shimmied further away from moi. I heard him murmur over his shoulder, and Trowa parted his legs making space for Quatre to cozy up close. He proceeded to make himself comfortable, draping himself over Trowa's chest and legs. Wufei settled lower into the oversized, stuffed armchair, crossing his legs at the ankles on the ottoman. I felt Heero's eyes on me and got the hint, so I moved over into the warm spot Quatre had vacated, leaving space for Heero to sit in comfort. Heero sprawled out, his thighs touching mine.

Okay, so this was no big deal ordinarily, but somewhere along the line my libido kicked in. I'd been thinking a lot about male bodies, groping males, over-protective males, and Heero. I could hear his breathing. He swallowed. My heart pounded and my ears started ringing. I was itching to rub my sweaty palms on the nearest not-belonging-to-me leg.

Damn.

I'd had Heero to myself for hours before and I was okay then, but now, surrounded by our friends, I had these cravings. I squirmed and shuffled my feet, disturbing Wufei enough that he glanced my way. He wasn't lounging comfortably; he was posed enticingly, his expression wrapped in mystery. He raised an eyebrow provocatively and I swallowed hard.

For the love of...

I looked away, fearing my face might give away my thoughts, my eyes resting on Trowa's long arm wrapped possessively around Quatre's shoulder, massaging the muscles underneath. The motion was slow, hypnotic. A hitch in my breath drew Trowa's attention. From beneath overhanging bangs, bewitching eyes tempted me to join in, and his mouth wore a beguiling smile.

Shit.

I dropped my eyes and tucked my hands under my arms to stop them from trembling. When Quatre moaned, I felt heat shoot across my torso and settle in my groin. One peek and I saw my best bud in three-quarter profile, the angle of light eclipsing a portion of his face, highlighting the silky, gold hair and accentuating his straight nose. His chin was raised, lips parted slightly, alluringly. I cleared my constricting throat.

Fuck.

I squeezed my eyes shut. Heero's thigh was searing mine along the few inches of contact. My pants started to tent and soon I wouldn't be able to hide my woody at all. I didn't want to stick around and hear Heero's laconic responses to my ongoing conversation or be compelled to hate myself for saying or doing something embarrassing, so I stood abruptly with the excuse "not feeling well," and stalked off, leaving the circle of friends and torment for a little while. Whether or not he noticed my hard-on, I hoped Heero would stop Quatre from "checking on me," and leave me in peace.

It was a long time before I fell asleep. I simply lay in my darkening room, staring into the gloom with images of Heero flooding my mind. Gods, I was totally infatuated with him.

Boys didn't love other boys. There was sex, but in the mind of adolescents, sex was divorced from love. Love was what happily married couples shared. Your mother and father might be in love, but the idea of them having sex seemed unimaginable. Sex was physical release, the urging of the body. Now my body was urgent. Those hormones had finally caught up with me, and I was in a daze of heat, my mind swimming with erotic images, which were sharpening, becoming increasingly more tangible. Unfortunately for me, they were fixating on the emotionally-damaged Heero Yuy.

The memories of the dinner came back hotter and sharper: ordering the root beer, his body, with its shoulders broadening out, his legs muscled, his pants slightly snug across his hip, and what they had outlined. Then I dressed him in skin-tight ski wear, and I swear I moaned.

Now, I knew with a cold rationality at the back of my mind that the situation my over-heated imagination was beginning to set up belonged to the world of fantasy. What was I to do? I was really, seriously, fighting my better instincts. A guy who dreamed about another guy and got really, really aroused, was in serious trouble and was most likely doomed to bring down a whole shitload more on his head.

What could I do? I could sleep it off, and that is what I did.

(o)

"Bundle up and let's go," Wufei ordered me for the second time. "You can sulk in the lodge there as well as here."

"Not sulking," I said, and to prove it, I wrenched my languid body off the couch and followed him out and into the car.

Skiing, that was the plan. Actually, by the time we got to the lodge and lift, I was cheerful again. There were lots of guys and girls our age carrying an assortment of snow toys, one, a red-haired boy with a face-full of freckles, had a snowboard. That looked interesting.

"Maxwell! Quit ogling the boys and come over here!"

Yes, he said that aloud. Loud enough to turn heads, I might add. There are times I could just kill Trowa.

"I'm not skiing," I announced. After his crack I was in no mood to be accommodating. I know, I sounded as peevish as I felt.

"What about cross country?" Heero's voice was low and soft over my shoulder.

I found myself examining the map of trails and prices for equipment rentals. Compared to any of the other skiing options, it was reasonably priced. "Yeah, I could do that."

"Okay," Quatre said with evident relief. "We'll go our own ways until noon, then meet back for lunch together and then decide what to do after eating."

We left the plans as is, and Trowa, Wufei, and my bud ran to the next rental line. It was nice of Heero to suggest the alternate, I thought. But now he was staring after them longing to join them.

"Hey, go on. You'd rather go ski. I can amuse myself. Don't worry 'bout me. I can do just fine—"

"Shut up. I hate skiing. Pointless."

Okay. It was nice and thoughtful of him to keep me company then. Four hours of exercise in the clear, fresh, cold air, being pushed to the max to complete the entire grueling, twenty mile trail in record time with the perfect soldier. Who wouldn't be excited? It sounded punishing, but better than having him as a ski instructor.

I thought we'd never get started. Heero demanded to choose the skis and poles, but only after a detailed examination.

"Hey, it's not like our lives depend on this equipment," I told him. "It'll be lunch time before we get out of here."

Heero smiled guiltily. It was an odd expression on his face. "You are right. My cursory inspection shows no dangerous flaws. These will do."

A guide snowmobile-ed Heero and me to the trail head. It appeared we were the only ones to attempt this particular trail today. "It's a tough one with the fresh snow. I wouldn't recommend it, but you say you're experienced," he said. "Tell you what, if you get to the last marker and carry it back, I'll return the fee."

"All of it?" I asked.

"Yeah, sure," he said, and left us reluctantly to face our doom.

Heero smiled. "He doubts us."

I returned it. "Yep! Think he meant that as a challenge?"

"He doesn't recognize who we are." Heero shook his head.

"Too bad for him."

Heero strapped on the short, broad skis and set out, point man. I was rear guard. The guide had been right about the surface conditions. The soft stuff made slow going at the beginning, but we hit a long flat stretch and kicked ass. Well, I watched Heero's ass for an hour or so, anyway.

We paused at a particularly scenic outlook. "Look over there," I pointed.

A doe and her young bounded by, knocking clumps of snow off a tree limb. Heero studied the animals, the trees-cape, and the sky. I wondered what he thought. Did he write poetry in his head? More likely, he cataloged the species and atmospheric conditions for future access.

I rambled on about some mission we'd shared with a ruined machine installation instead of trees and enemies rather than deer, but otherwise how much the view was similar.

"We were at a much higher altitude at the time."

"Yeah, but it was pretty, all clean and glittery."

"You are odd," he said. A phantom smile graced his face for an instant.

I like to think he meant "extraordinary." I couldn't help but wonder what he felt surrounded by all this beauty. He couldn't be totally unaffected. I found out around the next turn.

I didn't see him ahead, but it was a curve and he'd probably raced on ahead to make up for the seconds lost deer observing. I crouched and skidded beneath an arbor of overhanging branches, thinking about how good it felt to be outside exerting myself, when an avalanche hit me on the back. Okay, not that much snow, but it shocked me. Some caught in my collar and melted, trickling icy cold water down my neck. At my elbow, Heero stood wearing a smug smile. He wiggled a branch, dusting my head with more snow. He had played a practical joke one me. Ha. Ha.

"Idiot!" I snapped.

"Baka," he corrected in Japanese. "We are behind schedule."

"I didn't know we had one," I said.

His hand appeared in front of my face and he smoothed a few strands of my hair. Snow fell from his hands. It was the lightest of touches, but it shook me as much as a deliberate punch would have. And then he moved off.

We were back to the course, pushing ourselves to cover the miles at top speed. I needed the stretch, the burn. Exhilarating. No thirty pound packs of ammo, tech toys, and rations on my back. No flying shells, exploding bombs, or ricocheting bullets, or searing laser near misses either. Just two guys and nature.

Sometimes too much nature, like when we found a deep drift, up to our necks, and again when we had to plow a path for few hundred feet in thigh-deep snow. Heero offered me a hand and I gave him a push and together we conquered the slopes and valleys. Man, it felt great! I missed having a partner to watch my back and, at times, for the company. Trowa was Heero's partner at work, Wufei was Quatre's, and I did what would be suicide missions for anyone else, always alone. Any other way would have been too great a risk.

"Marker in sight," Heero declared.

This was effectively an announcement for a race to the finish. I'm actually quicker than him, but in the long run his endurance tops mine. To win, I needed to slow him down. We were shoulder to shoulder, with him about to pull away, when I jumped, tackling him around the waist. He lost his balance and his feet slipped from under him. Down we went, colliding, rolling less than gracefully with cross-country skis snagging snow-hidden twigs, rocks, and buried logs. It was that buried log that stopped us.

We just lay there, me on top, pinning Heero to the ground. He was panting, so I knew I hadn't knocked his breath out. I didn't want to get up. Holding Heero was a braining-stunning experience. His body was slender and solid. I knew it was; I'd stared at him enough to know that, but feeling him writhing in my grasp was incredibly exciting and so totally out of the ordinary. I considered slipping a hand beneath the layers of outerwear and touching his skin. Yeah, I wanted skin-to-skin contact.

"Careful. Your braid's caught," he warned me, his breath hot on my chilled earlobe.

Stupidly, I reached up to yank on the braid, and he rolled free. It was "caught" all right. Heero had looped the end around a piece of tree limb. So much for the sexy squirming.

While I untangled my braid from a branch stub, Heero raced onwards to the goal. Shit! I yanked hard to break free and left a few pieces of hair behind. I hadn't needed to have pulled at it so zealously, because with his head start he was sure to get there first. I didn't care. I had something new to think about. I wanted to hold Heero again, and soon.

When I caught up with him, he was just standing, studying the marker.

"Take it!" I shouted.

"The flag is attached to this flexible, steel rod, which is embedded into a solid-granite boulder. I can't pull it out. Opinion."

"Heh, heh... So, the dude gambled on us not making it this far to discover his trick. Oh, just break it off. You know you want to do it," I told him, grinning.

Heero nodded and snapped the steel rebar with one hand.

"All right. Last mile to go with our banner flying in the face of our faithless guide!" I cried out.

We flew across the icy path right up to the pickup point singing and waving the flag, my singing and Heero's waving. I don't know what was better, the look on that guy's face when we handed over the broken-off flag or getting our money back. Okay, right, the money, but that guy's expression was funny. We destroyed his day, I think.

After turning in our equipment and pocketing our winnings, Heero and I sauntered over to the dining room. We were early enough to secure a large table near a window, place hot drink orders—me coffee and Heero tea—and stare out at the view.

"Look at that," I said. "That's what we do next."

Heero watched the kids bouncing and crashing down the slope on giant inner tubes. "Tubing."

"Oh yeah? You done it before?"

"No, but I thought you might like it." Heero fanned brochures onto the table, picked one and read: "'Tubing, also known as inner tubing, is the recreational activity of riding an inner tube on snow. The tubes are also known as 'donuts' or 'biscuits' due to their shape. Our resort's 'tubing hill' is a groomed hillside, smooth and slippery, with a convenient tube-tow lift-system that attaches to the tube for transport up to the top. Descend individually, in tandems, or group clusters where the speeds are the highest and the run-outs the longest.'"

"I gotta do that," I said, enthralled by the view of the "tubers."

"Well, Maxwell looks happy." Trowa folded his arms across his waist and gazed down at me and Heero from under his long hank of bangs.

"Yeah, we had fun and it was free!" I was excited.

Quatre slid into the chair beside mine. "Tell, tell!"

Wufei and Trowa found chairs and rounded out the table. I told the story without Heero adding in extras until the waitress lit on us like a fly on fresh shit. She started flirting atrociously and taking overlong to get our order straight. Trowa leaned across the table, grasped Quatre's head with both hands and gave him a wet, open-mouthed kiss. The waitress fought back a cry, sucked up her pride, and completed Wufei's order without further delay.

When she scurried off, 'Fei said, "Next time, do that sooner rather than later."

I thought that was hilarious and laughed until I cried. I was on an upward moving mood swing, I guess. I did quiet down and wipe my eyes and sip some water before the food arrived, by which time Fei looked like he wished to be anyplace but where he was, and Heero was stiff, staring out the window.

"So, after lunch," Quatre began, having survived the deeply embarrassing incident sufficiently to speak again. "Anyone have an idea what we should do?"

"Duo wants everyone to go tubing," Heero said, then explained what that entailed.

Wufei was the first to balk. "It's for kids."

"Ah, guess what, Fei-man, we are kids."

"Don't be condescending," he told me with a deepening scowl.

"Sounds fun and dangerous," Trowa mused. "Okay with me."

"We could try it." Quatre smiled wanly.

Heero glared at Wufei until he gave in. "One time."

So we got this ride to the top of the hill and from there, we rocketed down in our large, inflated donuts with an adrenalin buzz that I guarantee would put a huge smile on anyone's face. I know this because it made Wufei grin, his face shiny and red, and he was first to hook up and take the motorized pulley towline to the top for the next run.

"The low friction between the rubber and the snow means the tubes reach impressive speeds on these steep slopes." When Heero strung that many words together, you knew he was excited, too.

Speed is good, real good. However, because of the circular shape of snow tubes, controlling the course and speed of a tube while riding on snow was tricky business.

"Try using your arms to steer," Quatre suggested. "I remember when sledding that the rider would drag his arms on the snow to brake or steer, to a degree."

Sounded good, but attempting this on a tube mostly made the tube spin. We failed in our first attempts, but we were not like the average kids tubing. Our physical conditioning and battle-refined skills put us in another league altogether. Without noticing what was going on around us, the five of us proceeded to test the limits of our crafts. Heero was first to puncture his and had to lug the heavy, deflated tube back to the office and collect a new one. Wufei and Quatre contented themselves accruing the fastest speed records, while Trowa and I doggedly struggled to channel the course. We also invented a group cluster technique, grabbing onto one tube and propelling it ahead at jet speed, or sending it spinning dizzily if the launch went wrong.

What we didn't notice, but Heero observed, when he reappeared at the mountain top with his new tube, was that we had garnered an audience and fan club. Our activity drew a crowd and made the other kids attempt more daring moves than they had any business trying. This lack of control could lead to injuries, some serious, if the riders struck obstacles such as trees while tubing on snow. Heero realized this at the same moment one of the tubes hopped the barrier.

The course used fencing-like barriers on the periphery to guide the tubes along a safe course separate from the skiers. These worked great, until a bunch of idiots tried to imitate what we were doing and gang-crashed the barricade like a log-jam on a mill-race.

I heard Heero's shout and wrenched around. He shot off the top of the hill, blasting-off down on the wrong side of the barrier.

Why was he doing that?

Then I saw the red-headed, freckled-faced kid on a tube flying over two others, skimming over the barrier, and racing in a direct line for a clump of trees. This I discerned in a fraction of a microsecond, while altering my own course in hot pursuit of the runaway donut. From my calculations, and I could triangulate moving positions in my head faster than a computer, Heero was going to hit the trees first, possibly providing a cushion for the other kid. He was going to sacrifice himself for that kid, I knew it. I also knew that he figured he had a far better chance of avoiding serious injury and surviving- I also knew that I couldn't let him do that.

I'd had a few trips more down the track than Heero and could alter my direction with more precision. If I could maintain my speed, I could cut them both off. The wind was screaming past my ears, blocking the sounds of the onlookers, which was a really good thing because I didn't need distractions.

I remember streaking by the runaway donut, or nearly. Our tubes collided. His, being the heavier was only slightly diverted off course, but it was just enough to plow into a snowdrift and miss the trees; mine, being the lighter, absorbed most of the momentum. I bounced, let go, flew, and hit the ice-packed snow in a roll, but then I skidded into a snow-covered outcropping of rock hard enough to knock me out. I found out later that my loose tube bumped Heero's just enough to alter his course. Heero had glided past—a few nanoseconds away from sideswiping my prone body—coming to rest a few feet from the other kid, safely by the drift. Next I knew, I was blinking up at Heero's face, flat on my back in the snow.

"Status?" he demanded

"Er, okay, I guess," I said. "Head hurts."

"It will do that when it contacts a rock with force. Ribs?"

"Yeah, can I have an order of fries and a beer to go with that?" I was a funny guy.

Heero smiled. Briefly. "You must be okay. Can you stand?"

"Sure...eh...no."

One leg collapsed when I attempted to get my feet under me. Heero wrapped an arm around me and yanked me to my feet, me groaning all the way like a baby. About that time, a snowmobile swooshed up with a medic on board. Heero insisted that he be allowed to come along, so I had to sit on his lap in his firm grip all the way to the resort's EM clinic. It was just terrible, heh, heh.

(o)

"Hell no, you aren't cutting up these pants; I just bought them!" I yelled.

"We need to get you into x-ray, Mr. Maxwell."

"He will remove them," Heero said.

Actually, Heero helped me out of my pants. I was kinda woozy after my little outburst, but, shit, those pants cost me half a days pay! I must have been out of it because I wasn't the least bit timid to have him there. Quatre streaked into the triage center about that time.

"Duo! Oh! You are all right. We've been so worried."

His earnest eyes were about one inch from my face, his hands on my shoulders ready to embrace me, if I told him my ribs weren't broken. You'da thought I was his girlfriend.

"Mild concussion, mild contusions, the expected bruises, and a sprained or broken ankle," Heero told him. "He's going into x-ray. Stay with him while I purchase some sweatpants."

Quatre nodded, "Of course," then turned back to me, burying his face in my chest and blurbling something to the effect of "Don't do that to us again. You nearly hit those trees. You take chances attempting the most dangerous stunts and...and...you have to stop!"

Heero frowned and pulled Quatre off me more forcefully than necessary, I thought. "He saved the boy with only minor injury to himself. It was a calculated risk I was ready to take also. I'll get Chang to accompany him if you can't shut up."

Whoa... Heero supporting me, and against my bud too?

I had only a moment to exchange an appreciative glance at Heero before the medic rolled my gurney away. I'd really enjoyed the anonymity of this resort town, so far. No one knowing who we were, when all five of us were together, was rare. Well, that was over now. The gig was up. Five ex-Gundam pilots, heroes/murders, in one place—one of us was bound to be recognized.

We were ready to go back to the cabin with a splint, crutches, a bag of pain killers I knew wouldn't work on my pumped-up system, and a five page list of instructions, which Heero scanned and tossed before we left the examination room. This was nothing as far as injuries were concerned, but it would sorta put a glitch in my back-to-work plans.

Heero, Trowa and I were waiting on Wufei and Quatre. "What's the hold up?" I asked for the third time.

Trowa and Heero shrugged in concert, a silent duet.

"Hey, I'm going out that door crawling if I have to, but I'm not waiting any longer!" I trumpeted.

"You will wait until Winner has diverted the press and Chang has our transportation at the rear exit, and you will wait patiently."

"You are no fun, Tro-baby," I grumbled.

"That's not what the Q-man tells me, D-bro." Trowa's smile was more of a leer.

"He's just easily impressed by your dirty talk. He led a very sheltered life before the war."

Of course, that was all changed by the war. Of course, Trowa was now aware of what Quatre had gone through, and, of course, he knew I was just yakking to keep busy, but he was on a mission to rectify my boredom by being an asshole.

"I'll take care of him just fine, or is that what's bothering you—jealous? I got something you want?"

I swear Heero tensed, his hands fisting as if to strangle Trowa. I wasn't envious of what Quatre and Trowa had going. Quatre was not a love interest, nor was Trowa, but Heero's reaction made me wonder if he was resentful of my close friendship with the two of them. That was nuts. Heero's limited emotions wouldn't include anything as mundane as jealousy. No, he was more likely to be fed up with our arguing.

"You ain't got nothing I want," I laughed. "Except two good legs. Damn, my head's pounding. Can't we go yet? If I gotta hang here any longer, I'm gonna start singing."

Starting with songs from my childhood and moving to the latest hip-hop melodies, it would be my opus.

Trowa's eyes were wide, visible, and panicky. "Do something, Yuy."

"He sings well," Heero said.

Yeah, and he'd only heard me on the slopes! Sadly, my concert was cut short. Quatre bounced into the hall where we were hiding, all smiles.

"Good news! Wufei's at the back door and the press thinks we're having a conference out front. Let's move out!" he fluted.

No show for the paparazzi; performance canceled. We rushed the backdoor, where there was no enemy encampment. Heero loaded the trunk with a large bag and the crutches, while Quatre barked out seating instructions. I was to sprawl across the backseat, legs strewn across Heero's lap and head on Quatre's. I was in no position to argue, too drained to care any more. I did ask Heero about the bag in the back and was surprised when he avoided my eyes and gave me the "hn" anwswer.

Wanna know why? Oh, yeah, Heero bought the cross country equipment using the returned fee - his and mine. He took my money from my wallet while I was in x-ray, without asking! Wufei agreed that it was the honorable thing to do since it had been an unfair contest. We hadn't disclosed our identities, which meant that we cheated, and, now that the truth was out, it would be a serious breach of "code"—whose code I don't know—to keep the fraudulently acquired winnings. I was pissed enough to forget about how much I hurt all over, and my head ached enough to reduce my reaction to just giving them both the finger.

Chapter 4

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