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"Greeting Cards"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: Yaoi, funeral practices, AU, fluff Pairings: 1+4, 1x2x1, 3+H, 5xH, 3x4, 6x9 Summary: Each chapter is based on Heero’s
greeting cards and Duo's mortuary. "Greeting Cards " Chapter 8 -- Fireworks (in July) part 1 "Hey, Hilde." "The woman of your dreams is not picking up, if you get my drift, so leave a message. That's all, babe, 'cause if I don't already have your ID, I don't wanna get to know your better. Bye, honey!" "Not in, eh? Well... Guess what? He kissed me. Give me a call back when you—" "Whoooo kissed you?!" "Ah, so you are in." "Screening my calls, dearie. So, who kissed you?" "Wufei." That was well received. I heard a squealing like a teapot about to blow that nearly left me deaf. "Jeez, Hil. Whodoya think I'm talking about?" "Kitty Quat?" "Dark Ages. I'm talking New Age." I tapped my finger on the mattress counting...then gave up. "You are no fun tonight. Okay, I'll give you a big hint: greeting card designer and artiste extraordinaire." I used the tip of my braid, slightly damp from my chilly shower, to paint his name in the air. "Heero kissed you? It's about time. Lord, gay guys are as dumb as straight. I thought you came with intuition and sensitivity and that, ah, gaydar, thing, but no. You are as clueless as the rest of the Y-cromos." "Y-cromos? You mean males? Where do you come up with this stuff?" I painted a big "Y" on my chest and added the "uy," liking that feeling a lot. "Anyway, he likes the way I smell and he kissed me and he's hot, hot, hot. God, I want him now, here, so much I am not going to sleep AT ALL thinking about him. Oh, and he held my hand to keep me from falling." "Well, wasn't that sweet?" "It was thoughtful, not sweet. Candy is sweet. Heero is thoughtful." "I thought you said he was hot." "Hot and thoughtful." "He's got a cute ass, for sure." I frowned at the phone. Too bad it was all wasted on Hilde. "What are you doing judging guys' asses? Especially my guy's'" "He's not yours, or are you official now?" she asked, deftly avoiding answering me directly. "Ah, yeah, I guess we are. He called me his." "Did he? Sounds domineering. Not the way I pictured him and not what you need. I'll have to rethink this guy now. Has he called you? You know, proper follow through?" She could think and re-think Heero till Hell entered the Ice Ages. I was done with thinking about a boyfriend, and out of major time periods to draw from. I was ready for action out of my head and in the real world again. "You mean call me tonight? Hil, I just got home. We just parted company for the night. Now, why on earth would he—? Follow through? That's for tennis players or golfers. I ain't either of those and nor is he, ah... Hold on, the other phone, probably business, but... hey gotta go. Bye." I could see the caller ID and knew it was Heero calling me on the landline phone. I hated to cut Hilde off that way, but she'd understand. "'Ro? Whatta surprise!" "Ah, why? Is this too soon? Or too late?" "Not at all." Man, I didn't want to spook him off already and he sounded worried. "Whatsup?" "How are you?" "Pretty damned good. Thinking about you." "I was thinking about you, too. I'd like to see you again. Tomorrow? Lunch? Can you get away?" "Whoa, doggies! Slow down. Tomorrow has a full schedule, so I'll say maybe. Can I call you?" "Anytime. I'll give you this other cell number. I'll be canceling this one." "Leaving your past behind, heh heh?" I meant it as a joke, but I swear he gasped. "Okay, old one deleted...and ...ready for the new. Shoot." "Bang? Here goes—" I entered the number as he recited and then gave him mine, although I think he had it, but it seemed all fair and square when we were done. "Dinner was nice, wasn't it?" he asked. He sounded unsure and tentative. "Sure was. Nice folks. Nice place. Nice..." I pitched my voice low and sultry for the last, "especially a nice you." "Thanks." He sounded a little breathy. God, I loved that voice in my ear. "I'll, ah, see ya then?" I said. And then it was quiet. Had he gone away? "Tomorrow." "For coffee in the morning, at the very least." I gave him the assurance he sounded like he needed. "Let's aim for more." Yum... pushy. "Yeah, okay. I'll...try." "Ah... bye now." "'Night, 'Ro." Sadly, we weren't going to make that date right away, because I think we both wanted something good to happen and Lady Luck was no longer in my back pocket. Like, too much good fortune and Duo might not be able to handle it. (o) I didn't want to part with Duo's voice. It connected me to the outer world in a comforting, solid way, but a persistent knocking at my bedroom door ended our conversation. "Ah... bye now." He wished me a good night and hung up. I answered my door and there to my utter dismay stood Lieutenant Zechs Merquise. "It's late," I told him. "I'm sorry to bother you, but you do seem to be a night owl. Your light was on." And you never sleep. "Call me Oliver Owl, the notorious fly-by-night." He didn't laugh. I imagine he thought I was batty as well as avian. Well, I smiled at my jokes, although my smile was very small and very hard to see. I wanted him to leave now so I could go back to thinking about Duo. "I'm about to go to bed. What do you want?" In my mind, vaporous words came together creating the unimaginative, but metered, answer: "I vant to suck your blood." "Relena told me you knew the Maxwell who owns the funeral home." And he is mine, so fangs off. "That's true." "Would you introduce me?" Not on your reanimated corpse's life! "Why not just go to the mortuary and meet him where he conducts business. He practically lives there so you'll have no problem making an appointment—during the day." And he can fit you for a new resting place at the same time. "I was counting on your good word to get my foot in the door." In the door, then what? At his throat? "It all depends on what you do when you get past the door? He accepts business from anyone. You don't need me to make arrangements." I am talking business, asshole! "I wasn't intending to make it an entirely-business proposition." Wrong! My blood boiled as his smile turned from obsequious to knowing in a heartbeat and I imagined his vile intentions. The man was not gay, so what else could he want but access to Duo's life essence or his house of the dead to make it into some kind of vampiric head of operations! I had seen that happen in a movie once. I was not sure of all my facts but I knew this: a vampire is an undead creature that drains the life out of the living. And I was feeling worse by the minute. "I'm sorry. I can't help you." His smile spread and he flashed his teeth. Perfectly aligned with the fangs neatly hidden away in secret recesses. "I want—" To suck MY blood! "—to do some volunteer work. I was thinking of the hospital, but," he shrugged indifference. "When Relena mentioned the funeral home, I wondered if that wasn't the perfect place?" For ghouls maybe. I have been called eccentric, but I didn't say that aloud, even to Duo who had a sense of humor about his job. "I thought you were in the military?" "I'm on permanent leave." "Oh." He had an answer for everything, and that one was good. Too many of the men with inexplicable blood loss, I suppose. "...don't need the money. What I need is something to do with all my spare time. You're not going to hold that little...misunderstanding we had against me, are you? Now that I know you're a queer and not trying to shag my sister and shake her down for her money, we can be friends, can't we?" No. "I could just go over there and introduce myself on my own, I suppose." Smile, smile. When the man shook out his platinum mane, releasing the strands caught on the glittering one-carat diamond earring, I had an epiphany. Even without those supernatural seductive powers, he could knock the socks off Duo, if he tried...if he knew Duo liked men. If Zechs were gay, he would have been even more dangerous. I felt reduced to a lump of coal, charred by the intensity of Merquise's uncanny, burning presence. Should Duo meet him unaware of the danger and without my presence to act as a shield, what then? My imagination could turn melodramatic at times, which is my excuse for why I caved. "If you are up at 7:00, I'll introduce you over coffee." "Seven... Ante meridiem —?" "In the morning, yes. Any weekday." Zechs withered, as expected. I knew he wasn't a morning person and just the thought of the brilliant illumination from the sun was taxing him already. "I'll work on it. Thank you. Good night, Yuy." "Merquise," I said in closing, shutting the door on that disturbance to my equanimity. I felt uncreative. Both Peacecrafts always left me feeling depleted. Whether a bloodless husk or a burnt briquette. I fell back onto my bed and stared up at the ceiling, considering my life. I had my painting, my work, a few friends, a scarred past, and my focus—my Duo. It was exciting to think I could call him and arrange a date. A date. A date—at last. So I pushed aside all the dark Peacecraft worries and rang him up. It disappointed me when he could not give me a definite yes and a time, but I didn't feel he was putting me off as a lark. He was not a tease; he did not like teases. Seeing him at the coffee shop the following day was nice. He sat close but not too close. He touched my arm, but didn't cling. I wanted a kiss, but without privacy, the opportunity didn't arise. Still, I knew he was mine. Duo was concentrating on his pastry. I don't know what it was, but he was...tearing at the paper wrapping. Muffin. It had to be a muffin, not that it matters. I had my sketchbook and pencil and five minutes to capture his likeness. How could I distinguish the texture gradations from his oxford cloth collar to his neck and from there along his prickly jaw line to his chin? Pointillism. That's why the technique was developed. Dot, dot, dot, dotdotdotdot dotdotdotdot... "Hey, what are you doing? I haven't got the pox or anything." "Shading and texturing." That was all I needed to say. My meaning was implicit in my action, and he recognized that I knew what I was doing. His smile altered the shape of his cheek, but I wasn't there yet and it would morph back in a moment. Dotdotdotdotdotdotdotdot... "Yeah, I guess I do have plenty of both of those. Want some?" Some of you? "Yes." We both blushed at the speed of my reply and after I had already told him I didn't like the nut topping on the banana-nut muffins. "Er, no, thank you. Turn you head, please. Like this." I touched his chin, and when his eyes fell shut and his warm sigh misted across my knuckles, I came just this close to caving in and kissing him in front of all the patrons. "I like the play of light from the slatted shades, the dust motes floating--" "Dust... moats? As in a ditch around a castle?" He flashed his bright blue eyes, which had the barest touch of violet in the right light, when he looked askance at me. "Dust... particles." My voice broke, trapped by his breathtaking beauty. "Oh, yeah. Motes. Cool. Um, I'll have to run out on you here in a minute. Tro's gonna be late so I'm opening alone with a visitation." "I see. Well, I can add more later." The soft feathering of loose hair framing his face would have to come last anyway. "Later, as in this time tomorrow. Sorry to keep putting you off like this. You gotta know I'd rather spend every waking hour with you, but this week is just one funeral after another and then I got to setup for the next day and folks are dropping right and left right now. I'm really wanting to...see you." "I understand." I want to release your braid and bury my face in that waterfall of hair. "I will see you tomorrow morning." And then I watched him leave and take it all tightly channeled and constrained by its plait and flow out the door. The week crawled by and sailed by—sometimes slowly, sometimes at the speed of light. I'd see Duo for coffee, bury myself in my artwork, as he literally buried himself with his work. When night would arrive, I would dream of loving Duo. I completely forgot about my promise to Zechs until he materialized in full sunlight Thursday morning, or Friday. Will you leave if I wear a garland of garlic? He blinked at me in such a way that I wondered if I had said that aloud, but on second thought, decided he was simply unaccustomed to the glare from the extremely close-up star streaming through his window, so I asked, "Yes?" "Good... morning. If that isn't an oxymoron then I don't know what is. Is your offer still open?" "If you're ready, we'll go now. You won't need the car keys. I take the Metro and walk." I enjoyed being in charge, if just this one time. I thought he'd balk and run, but he came along without a fight. He didn't realize the Metro required coins to operate, so I loaned him the fare. I wondered how long he'd been exclusively a night player. I'd done my internet research and that's what today's vampires, ghosts, ghouls, etcetera preferred to be called—night players. I hesitated to just fling this creature on my Duo so soon after staking, pun intended, my own claim. I was having many second thoughts. You could have taken the cubed root of the count of my thoughts and, gotten back to two. While I was coming up with the correct mathematical application, we were getting in sight of the coffee shop, and Duo was there at the door looking wide-eyed at my traveling companion. I knew it was a bad idea. For once, I could not imagine what Duo was thinking. What did that say about me? Greetings and introduction went around without my active participation and then we were lined up to place our orders. "What would you like to drink? It's on me," Zechs said with a suave sweep on hair and smile. "A soft one," Duo said and he batted his eyes and tossed his braid over his shoulder—all part of his act. "Hard ones make me weak; I save those for the weaker moments." I laughed, recognizing the film lines that Duo was quoting. So did Zechs, who quipped his own, "You know, if it wasn't 7:30 in the morning, I would have a drink." (Ava Gardner , EARTHQUAKE) "I never drink...wine" ( Dracula, 1931) I said, not to be out done. Duo laughed and Zechs, well he checked his watch. Duo and Zechs got along fine. Duo was charming and Zechs suave as hell. From hell it came. "Volunteer? Crazy. Well, most of what we do takes training. You good with makeup? No, I can see you don't wear any. Tro's a champ anyway. You look strong enough to heave bodies-- What do you like to do?" I think Duo was testing him. "Drive." "Drive cars or bargains, heh heh? Cool, maybe we can expand our pickup service. You know, go 'round and collect the deceased and transport them to the mortuary. Ya gotta be respectful and professional." "That will be no problem." "Well, great. Any friend of 'Ro's is a friend of mine. So, you wanna start today?" "Now?" While the sun is out--, burn, bastard, burn. "Sure, might as well, right? See, ya, 'Ro!" (o) Zechs Merquise was the coolest cucumber in the icebox, cooler possibly than Trowa. Trowa was laid back; Zechs was unflappable and chilly to the bone. Put them together with a dead body and me and suddenly work had gone polar. If I hadn't been hot and bothered over Heero at the time I might have been flash frozen after the introductions and obligatory tour. "How is it you get customers? They don't walk in the door, surely." Zechs launched one of his smooth smiles and arched an eyebrow, but didn't raise his voice or exude an emotion. "Word of mouth, rest homes, hospital, phone book, but no foot traffic, yeah, heh heh." I laughed and he smiled politely and Trowa shrugged one shoulder, slightly. "Where I was working before I started my own business, the hospital employees regularly took payment under the table for notifying us of deaths. That way Howard could get a jump on the competition and send one of his reps out to approach the family." Trowa frowned. "That's not legal." Zechs concurred. "And I am not aware of any cases where an allegation like that was proved." "Wasn't in Sanc, but it's hard to do prosecute when folks are getting rich and keeping mum." I indicated my own indifference with an expressive arm and shoulder gesture. "From my own experiences, personally, the funeral home business is extraordinarily competitive. I'm aware of one case where agents of two funeral homes got into a fight in the morgue over the disposition of a body that each claimed. It got very ugly." Trowa snorted. "Shit. I'll bet." "Point is-- way back when I had a point to make-- I want to go over how I conduct a "pickup" so any of us can go out and get a cadaver and do it in a professional manner." "Gotcha, boss." Zechs smiled. "I'm listening." And so was the monkey about to mess up the works, if you get my meaning. If not, well, things were about to go out of kilter. "So, in the hearse out back, there's a multilevel adjustable cot. I'll show you how it works. There's also a head rest with a couple spare sheets. What else, oh, yeah, blank death certificates. See me about those. Can't let important documents like that fall into the wrong hands," I explained. "They come to us numbered and have to be carefully accounted for. And lastly, the ICKD, or the Infectious Case Kit and Disaster pouch. That's in the van in a box with gloves, masks, plastic body bag, among other things. I'd recommend the gloves most of the time. Bodies...secrete the nastiest stuff." I noticed Trowa shudder slightly at some bad memory. He must have had quite a few at the hospital. "Go on." Zechs didn't blink a steely-blue eye. "The three places from which a funeral home is usually asked to remove a diseased human body is: 1.Hospital or nursing home; 2. Residence of deceased; and 3. Coroner's office." The phone rang and I, who was nearest, answered, "Maxwell Mortuary services. Can I help you? Chang? What a lovely surprise! It isn't? Oh. Hold on while I put you in touch with our recovery assistant who will be on the scene directly." I handed over the phone to my volunteer, wary-eyed assistant with the adviso, "Get good directions and any recommendations for special equipment from my buddy Detective Chang." "Certainly. Hello, detective, where is the, ahem, body? Oh, yes, I have been there. I'm pleased to make your acquaintance. Good evening to you, too." He strode across the room and hung up the phone. "Have you ever been to the Voyate laboratories at this location?" I took the scribbled note and read it. "Jeez, Special Ops division? No." Zechs extracted the keys from my grasp and pushed me towards the door. "Get along then. It will take us half an hour just to get there. And it's a two-man job, he told me." "Enjoy yourselves," Trowa said. I could swear he wanted to go, so I invited him. "I'd rather stay here and finish the embalming I just started on the slab, frankly." Zechs was staring out the half open door then at me expectantly. "You hired him. He's all yours." Trowa's voice had gone flat as day old beer. So, he didn't like Zechs and didn't like having him to work with. Great. I'd just messed with my best employee's happiness. I lowered my voice. "If he doesn't work out, he's history." "And if I just don't like him?" "Ancienter history." His smile went crooked. "You're the boss." "Right. Keep reminding me. Be back in a couple hours, no longer." And that's why I was speeding out of the city in a funeral van with Zechs Merquise behind the wheel. "Okay, you need to know a few things. Residence removals are a delicate matter, which is why I usually get them delivered to me, plus the time element. If there are any suspicious circumstances about the deceased, it must be reported, like blood dripping from a hole, pills all around the body--," "I don't believe that will be a problem tonight. The body is in a tank of water and it's been there...awhile. Police investigators are already on the scene." "Oh, jeez... Well...that's good. We have to report any questionable cases we get to the coroner first, here in Sanc. Seeing as Chang called us on it, it's not a problem. If in doubt, get a release from the coroner. It's his responsibility to determine if the removal is legal, and we don't want to get me into trouble, right?" "Right." I had to help this man defrost a little. Lord of Sanc or not, he was gonna drive himself into an early grave containing all his feelings that way. "Right, so, did you know that, on average, right-handed people live 9 years longer than their left-handed counterparts?" Zechs smiled at my rapid change of subject. "No, but I bet Heero told you that." After a short pause of silence, I asked, "Howdidya know that?" "He's right-handed." He chuckled at my 'that's a lame joke' expression. "I just guessed." "Hn." If Heero and Trowa could grunt their ways out of a conversation, I sure as hell could, too. "Shouldn't there be a shorter word for 'monosyllabic'?" Zechs asked. I was the king of smart comebacks. "Oh, but there is--'jock'!" We both laughed at that one. "Okay, I got one for you." If Zechs thought he could keep up with me tonight and drive at the same time, so be it. "I'm ready," he said. "Why is the word 'abbreviate' so long?" "I don't know, but it was probably made up by the same guy who did the other joke, don't you think?" He wasn't bad at this repartee stuff either, I had to admit. "Yeah, heh heh." I watched a smirky kind of smile flicker over his face and then it was gone. There were no streetlights or other cars on the road and he was staring hard, looking for the turnoff. "There it is." Zechs nodded as we passed a sign for Voyate Laboratories. "Isn't it a bit unnerving that doctors call what they do 'practice'?" I asked this more to break up the silence than anything else. I wasn't trying for a joke-off competition or anything. "No, now keep a look out for the loading area." Zechs wheeled the van into the back parking area, past the security gate and then backed up to a loading dock where a tall, sandy-haired man with an ear-to-ear smile waved us in. I opened the back of the van and hopped in. Zechs followed with his more stately gait and watched as I demonstrated how to remove the attachments holding the cot in place. "I'll carry the accessory bag," I told him as I stepped out onto the dock. "You want me to roll out the cot?" he asked. "Yeah, knock yourself out," I said. "It is lightweight and easily maneuverable," he told me. "Good quality." "Yeah, I do my best." Since the smiling cop was hovering between the two of us, I figured he wanted to meet us. "Hi! We're from Maxwell's Mortuary and we are here to remove a body. Want identification?" "That won't be necessary. Detective Chang called to say you were coming. This way." The smiley cop, smiled wider and at Zechs pretty much exclusively. S'allright. I had myself a boyfriend, even if I'd blown him off all week except for coffee hellos. God, Heero. Man, he must feel like I've blown him off and he went so far as to introduce me to the Sanc elite—and get him to do volunteer work for me! Shit, if Heero still wanted to see me on Sunday, I'd be one lucky man. Lucky for sure. Now, I did not want to go down Doubtful Street. Been there and it's a dead end. So, I reinforced my ego with the memory of his touch a couple days ago. Oh, yeah, we were cool. He was cool with how busy I was. He was just plain fucking cool. My Heero. Up ahead was a giant tank and a short cop with a shiny black helmet of hair. How did he keep it so perfect? Every hair in place. I wanted to muss it up just for the hell of it, but I kept my hands to myself. It was summer and the weather warm. I could smell death from the sidelines. "How do you want to go about this?" Zechs' face appeared unwell in the faintly illuminated light glowing through the murky water, but I suppose mine looked the same. We stood looking down into a saltwater tank where a partly skeletonized and badly decomposed body was floating near the water intake for the filter. "What's this reservoir used for?" Zechs asked helmet head with a sound kick to the metal corner of the enclosure. The smiley investigator shimmed closer to him and leaned in. "We were told that it's a tank of leftover sea water used in experimentation and then stored. It gets used for firefighting, when needed. Sorry you have to go after... that." The cop was flirting! And not with me! Zechs, however, seemed oblivious and remained professional. "The man drowned? He must have been in here a long time," he told me. "We'll see," was all I said and passed Zechs a pair of gloves. "This will get messy. Unpack a plastic cover and body bag, unzip it, and spread it on the cot. If we're careful and with a lot of luck, we'll get the plastic sheet under it and haul it out that way. Then we'll bag it for safe keeping. Watch your feet. And don't fall in." "Thank you." Zechs wrinkled his nose. The smell of rot was striking when we stirred up the water. "As if I were thinking about taking a swim." In the end, it took both officers to hold the bag open, while we heave, hoed, and wrestled about the corpse, but we managed to pack the body into the bag without going for that swim, so I called it a success. "Look at this." I pointed to the body before Zechs and smilely-cop could zip'er up. "Live fly larvae." "Happens a lot," the short dark helmet said with a bored shrug. "They don't hatch in salt water, even I know that," Zechs spat. Good for you! You tell the coppers how to do their jobs. Zechs was no dummy, blonde hair aside. "We'll do a thorough examination back at the morgue," I assured both investigators, who looked shaken and kept checking out the bugs until Zechs closed the bag. "If we find that these larvae prove that the body has been in the tank for only a short time, we'll let you know, because then you'll know that the death happened someplace else and the body was moved and dumped in here more recently." "Can you give us a time of death with that, then?" asked helmet head. "Yes," I said watching as Zechs cracked the code to the belting system and secured the bag in place on the cot. Zechs pushed and I guided the rolling cart to the van, after Zechs discovered that it was much more difficult than he thought to steer it loaded. I showed him how to move the cot into the back of the van. "Feet first is how I like it. That's right, and then lock it down." Once inside the van, the smiley investigator leaned into the driver's window. "I didn't know you were in the pick-up business." "Or the police," Zechs said smoothly. "Today was a special service for Detective Chang." He sighed and looked at me. "Can we leave now?" Honestly, his enthusiasm was completely unwarranted. I hadn't missed how the one in charge had given him an especially meaningful smile, and apparently Zechs hadn't either. Too bad for that dude. I found the tall blond attractive, but I could tell that Zechs wasn't in the market. "A few more reminders," I began when we were underway. "Don't tell me, I'm already on it." Zechs cranked up the air conditioner and opened the rear windows. "Right. Ventilation." "Indeed." "And we really shouldn't stop at the Seven-Eleven until this part of the job is over; people are very curious. Hearses never look good at McDonalds either." "I see your point." Zechs concentrated on the road and drove the rest the way without complaint. On our arrival at the funeral home, I showed him where to park and how to unload the body so we'd be blocking the view from anyone passing by. "This all seems so secretive-- hiding our movements from the public eye, slipping in the back door..." "Often it is. Most people don't want to see what's going on, or at least they don't want others to see what's going on. And they certainly don't want to think that we are so sloppy that someday strangers will see what's happening to them!" "No, that would be indiscreet," he agreed. "Okay, so usually you'd take the paperwork to the office for processing." "What paperwork?" "Body release papers, but we'll do that next time when we have a more usual case. I handle it all anyway so I'll take care of it later. That means it's time to roll him in through the back door. Then move the deceased to an embalming table or onto a gurney to be stored in the cooler. Don't leave the body on the cot unless I say to do so, because the cot needs to be cleaned and prepared for the next pick up, which can come at any time, or all at once." "I understand. So, which will it be? Cooler or table?" I wondered if there was anything that could shake him up and decided that I didn't want to meet up with whatever that might be. Both he and Trowa had that in common. "Put it on the embalming table. Level the table first then place the head at the end away from the drain. I'll give you a hand getting the body out of that bag. Watch the fluids! Ah, shit..." Trowa went to get the paper towel roll. "Thanks, Tro'" "No problem. You both stink." "This job stinks, at times. Zechs, you wanna help with this or just watch?" I received an arched eyebrow in answer. "Completely undress the body, Tro', what little is left on it." "Yeah." And suddenly, there was Zechs towering over me. The man is well over six feet tall and I am not. He loomed, trapped my eyes in his icy-grey blue one, and asked, "Are you collecting the larvae?" "Ah, yeah, but inna minute, okay? First, we gotta get the body set up. Now, if this were in better condition you would make sure the head's supported with a head block. Again, it hardly matters with this...case. Prevents a purge." "That's a nasty mess caused by gas build-up, pushing food and all through the mouth," Trowa clarified with more gusto than appropriate. Zechs made a face. "I know. I have seen decomposing bodies as a war combatant." "Okay, there's none on this yet, but if there is a toe tag, leave it there. Never remove ID tags. They don't belong in some desk unless you are going to look for new work soon! Same for wrist identification from the hospital: if there is any, leave it on." Trowa pulled out a blank tag and the chart. "I'll just enter the name 'John Doe' on the computer and record the ID number on the tag—" I mopped up a bit and turned up the fan. Trowa was jotting notes. "Have you put the bugs on the chart?" I asked. "I recorded the presence of larvae on the corpse," Trowa answered in the most formal manner I'd ever heard him utter. "And as soon as we get a count, I'll put that number on the chart, yes." Zechs was put in charge of collecting and counting. He gingerly used tweezers to removes dozens one-by-one. "All right. That is all I see now. The 'bugs' are currently residing on this dish." Trowa emptied the larvae into a plastic box on my desk. "And now they are resting comfortably in the incubator." Trowa said as he smirked over at me. What did I do? Trowa returned and attached the toe tag. He picked up the accumulated garbage and plastic bags, made sure that they were sealed, then said, "This stuff becomes nastier as time goes on. Can we agree that this goes in the incinerator?" "Yeah, let it burn in hell. Hey, Zechs, would you clean the cot mattress and the reusable body bag with a sponge and antiseptic soap." I showed him where to find supplies. "And use a little spray of antiseptic to finish it off. Don't forget to put another sheet with the cot for the next use; in fact, replace anything you used, like gloves, okay?" "All right," he agreed. "I'll put everything back where it belongs." "And when you are done with all that, wash your hands with antiseptic soap!" I shouted over the roar of water at the sink. "You are becoming a slave driver." Trowa performed most of the autopsy, with me watching. I stepped in a couple times to offer an opinion, but let Trowa carry the brunt of the load. Trowa was a clever, smart guy who was quick to learn, exacting, neat, and detail-oriented. I liked him. If I'd never met Heero, I'da liked him that way, too. "You can tell by the size of the wound on the skull here that he was shot at close range in the back of the head." Zechs and I looked over his shoulder. "Execution style," Zechs commented. Trowa nodded. "Probably. No other signs of major trauma. No knife damage to bones, scrapes or anything. The skin is pretty far gone, but I see no signs of rope burns." Zechs moved off to pick away at his larvae find. Trowa was first to spot the glint of gold as the mesh trap in the sink caught larger debris as he 'ran the gut'. "I might have found a clue to the man's identity!" He dug around until the gold chain and medallion were freed, and then he washed them. "Whatcha got for me?" I asked. "I found something the guy swallowed. You won't believe this. It's funny, I think I remember this jewelry from someplace." "Well, keep thinking. If you get a lead, we can follow up on it with dental records. We can run his head through the x-ray, if necessary." "Yeah, I guess I could do that, but it's been a long time since I did tech work on that machine. We might be able to get away with a dental impression and let you tackle the comparisons. The police will want to double check it all anyway with an outside source." "I could do that, sure," I agreed. "But keeping thinking." But Trowa couldn't remember where he had seen the chain before. And I understood, then, the effort it took him at times not to scream with the frustration of his memory loss. He had revealed his problem to me on the day I hired him. Everything that had happened around the time of some accident was a blank now, including the accident. He'd suffered lots of trauma in his lifetime and memory loss seemed to be the way his mind and body dealt with it. I was, as he had put it, getting a man with an unknown past. I had told him he was working for a man with a past better-left unknown, and we had shared a laugh or two. It hadn't been particularly funny, but it beat crying. The more he concentrated the more certain he was that the necklace had something to do with that time, but the concrete memory eluded him. "Come help me here," I called. I pointed him over to my desk. Trowa folded the chain in a towel and set it near me. He knew I was trying to distract him. "I'll need an 'effects' box for this." "Check the cabinet over there. Way back. And if we're low..." "Put it on the 'to buy' list, got it." Zechs was examining the fly larvae, and attempting to ignore us. "When you are finished with your assignment, I wonder if you wouldn't look over what I've discovered." He had no trouble getting Trowa involved comparing his findings to the on-line insect database. "Are we in agreement, then, that the live fly larvae collected from the body and pants absolutely could not have survived in salt water, thus proving that the body had been in the tank for only a short time. Obviously, then, the death happened at another site and the body was moved." "Yeah," Trowa drawled. I didn't think he was ready to like the frosty blond, but he was willing to work alongside him. "Good, then based upon examination of the larvae, I estimate that the death occurred some seven to ten days earlier, the average incubation time for the most probable varieties of fly. We will know for sure when these mature into actual flying creatures and we get an absolute ID on them. Do you concur?" Trowa referred to the calendar above my desk and ticked off the days. "Yeah. At this stage we can't discount five or six possibilities, but they all take about the same length of time to hatch from eggs." He riveted his one visible green-hued eye on Merquise. "Where did you learn to do that?" "I've been a career military man, but I first graduated from college. Entomology." And there was born a new camaraderie amongst the bugs. Science majors and nerds at heart, both of them. Before they could begin comparing grueling chemistry classes and nasty exams, I knew I had to put the kibosh on the chatter. "Nice job, but we gotta get it in gear. So, roll on back over, and close up the body. We have another work order to do tonight awaiting embalming in the Keep." Trowa froze in place and turned toward me slowly. "In gear...gear...That word...like a name..." "Kildear was here?" Zechs piped up from my desk. "Kildear...no, but like that. Someone... at Voyate Pharmaceuticals with a name like that. I can't remember, more." Trowa looked away and then back. "Duo knows, so I guess I should tell you, too," He said over his shoulder to Zechs. "I was in an accident and suffered like total memory loss. It's come back, some, not the accident and my childhood is nixed." He dove back to the keyboard. "Give me a minute here." He entered the personnel database of the company through the company's website and using the passwords he recalled from his mysterious and mostly forgotten past. "What are you...whoa...?" I was impressed at the speed at which Trowa could break into the company records. Zechs suddenly appeared, hovering over us. "Deerheart?" Trowa shook his head. "I saw that name too but it's not quite..." "Dilbert?" I suggested. "Isn't he in a comic strip?" "That's it! Dekim, right below that. Dekim Barton. That name ...this chain and that name." "Your name's Barton, too," I pointed out. "Possible relation?" "No idea." Trowa shrugged and continued scrolling through the personnel file on 'Dekim Barton'. "Looks like he's on an extended vacation," he pointed out. "You think this body could be him? The dead guy?" I asked. "Possibly, or Dekim killed this guy, who swallowed his chain as a clue. I don't know. I can't even picture him or recall why he's important yet, but I will. It's in my head I just need to get it out." "Here's the picture on record. Does that help?" Zechs asked, hopefully. "No." "We need a hypnotist, and I know just the person!" "Not...Quatre." He may have sounded disinterested, but I knew better. "Super qualified. I'll call him now and..." "Put the phone down," Trowa ordered. "We are going to finish the job, fill out the forms, call Chang, and pass on our findings. Then we'll do what's next on the list and go home. I want to shower, go to sleep, and enjoy my weekend. I'll call Quatre later in the morning when it won't terrify him." "Oh, yeah," I smiled with a blush. "I forget what time it is for the rest of the world." To speed things up, Trowa closed the body that may have belonged to Dekim, while I took the upper and lower jaw impressions. When Trowa cleaned up, Zechs offered to wash the tools and sanitize everything for the next body. That left me to fill out forms. "Wanna see the "Keep?" Trowa asked Zechs. "Full of dead bodies." Zechs practically flew at the chance. "Yes." Odd duck, that one. So, Trowa covered the body with a plastic coated sheet, rolled it into the cadaver keep, where I imagine he manhandled it into a locker. Meanwhile, I logged into the funeral services website and requested dental records for Dekim. Trowa and Zechs rolled in the next cadaver. Zechs easily moved the small body onto the embalming table as Trowa set out the cleaned tools. When Trowa pulled away the sheet, Zechs looked away from the exposed cadaver with a blush rising from his neck. "I-I don't think I can...do this." "It's easier to deal with the older ones," Trowa told him with, could it be, a note of sympathy? "I suppose." "No autopsy is required; that was already done at the hospital where she died. Botched abortion, says here. Sometimes it was hard to be strictly clinical, but you get the hang of it with time. So, first, I wash it down with antibacterial—" I pulled out Chang's card and placed a call. "Duo from Maxwell's Mortuary...yeah, howdy do to you too. Here's the scoop, although we're still waiting on confirmation via dental records—hold on. Hey, gotta go. I'll call you back. Bye." I heard the clatter of a scalpel and watched it skittle along the floor out of the corner of my eyes, and then heard the shout. "Zechs! Trowa grabbed the other man's shaking arm, and forced him to back away from the cadaver. I was a little afraid Zechs was going to crack and run out of the building and more afraid Trowa was going to knock him senseless. "Hey, dude," Trowa said, surprising me again with the gentleness in his voice. "It's not a person any more. No feelings. What's important are those of the people going to look one more time at her and say good bye. See?" Trowa impressed me with his maturity and skill at putting the newcomer at ease and turning his attention off the girl's nakedness and onto the job to be done. Zechs nodded, but I could tell he didn't 'see.' "But, you can't cut her," he said, his eyes loaded with haunted pain. "You can't damage her...cut her...scar her... I know her, knew her!" "What's her name?" Trowa asked. "Mariemaia Barton-Khushrenada. And if that other...body... was Dekim Barton, then this was his granddaughter." "Leia's daughter," Trowa said with his voice husky. "Who's Leia?" I asked. "Who's Dekim Barton? Who are any of these people and why are they here?" I was totally ignored. Trowa shook his head. "I don't even know why I said what I did or how I knew what I did. This is so frustrating and I have a job to get done here!" "Don't you think it's strange that in one night two bodies, from unrelated sources, come in here and both of you are connected-- Trowa, you in particular?" "Yeah, I do." "Okay, then it's not just me. Zechs, if this is gonna be too hard for you, I understand. Go home. Trowa, I'll do the embalming and you can talk to Chang, okay?" "I'm okay, thanks, Duo." Zechs glided over to the table. "I don't know what to say. I should at least lend a hand." So I gave it my best shot. "Well just think about what we do here and it helps. Really do here, I mean. We have to make her look peaceful again for them, her family and friends. Okay? Like Tro' here said, we do it for them. This is just a...like a doll. And we fix it up, make it look good. And to do that we have to do our job. Stop the decomposition going on inside. Right? Okay then, to do that we have to open the body and clean it out, re-pack it, sanitize it, replace the blood with embalming fluid, and close it up. We'll will pretty her up and dress her in the morning, but tonight, we have to get her ready. Got that? See how important a job it is we do? We only have a few hours before the gases build up and degradation of the tissues begin, so...what do you say? You ready to help her family out?" Zechs stood stock-still and listened. He wordlessly returned to the body and watched as Trowa tucked into the task before him. I got Chang back on the phone and kept my eye on the proceedings at the same time. "Hello? Yeah, great night, Chang. Whaddya know? The wonders of the modern world... I got the dental records and the impressions." Zechs seemed calm as Trowa prepared for the aspiration. "Listen, I took the impressions. Okay, the crown-work lines up as does the fixed retainer attached to inner lower teeth. I'd say it's a match, but you could order new x-rays. We'll put the chain in an evidence bag. Didn't tell you about that? Well we found it in the gut. Body's locked up now. I'm sure it'll be secure. Okay, if you like, I'll keep the key on me. No problem. We're working on a time of death, but we may have an ID. Yeah, we are good. What's more... yeah, there's more. We gotta body form the hospital, ah, EM, with the wrong ID. Pretty damned sure. And, get, this, you'll love it—the two bodies are related. No, not yet. Hold on. Hey, Tro'? stop the presses. 'Fei-man wants us to do another autopsy on the girl. He's ordering her 'parts' to be delivered here by secured vehicle. Names? Dekim Barton and his granddaughter, Mariemaia Barton-Khushrenada. Yeah, full service providers. That's us. What's that? Oh, okay. Bye." I hung up the receiver. "We could be in danger, gang." Trowa looked up from his work. "I think I'll give Quatre a call and check out that hypnotist act of his. We need to get some clues to what happened to me." "Let's give our patient here our best, lock her up, and then go home." "Exciting place you have here, Maxwell." "Glad you like it. Welcome aboard, Merquise." "Thank you. I feel enormously taken with the job and will return as often as possible, but the hours... well, I'll do my best to greet the morning with an open eye. However, this case is particularly interesting to me and, since I know Mr. Winner-- he's been introduced-- and now you too, I would like to avail you of my services. Let's have your séance at my place." "The palace?" Trowa asked, in awe I might add. And all I could think of was "Heero will be there," and said emphatically "YES!"
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