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"The Rescue"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: Drama/Romance Angst Pairings: 1x2, 3x4 Summary: When liberating Duo from a prison camp, Trowa is rescued from brainwashing, and both Quatre and Heero are free to love them. The war may be over but peaceful it is not. A/N: Thanks go to Waterlily for the edits " The Rescue" Chapter 7 "He's alive!" Quatre cried out. "Trowa! I found him. I know where he is!" He ran to the desk and flattened the detail map, while Heero and Wufei rushed into the room. "Your hair is...black," Wufei commented. "Yes, so I can pretend to be Duo's wife. Don't you think I can pass for Hilde?" Quatre batted his eyelashes in a fetching manner. Heero let out a doubtful snort, as Wufei looked the other man over. "The figure is all wrong, but with the right clothes, possibly, if you hadn't seen Hilde before." "Well, naturally I'll try to cover up my body-" "We must extract Duo," Heero said, interrupting. "If Trowa's held out this long, he'll hold out until we can develop a plan to get him." "Oh, I know!" Quatre searched Heero's face. "I understand. I'm not abandoning Duo. It's just that... I'm not abandoning Trowa, either." "Is that your cell?" Wufei asked. He pointed to the vibrating cell phone about to lurch off the table top. "Yes!" Quatre cried out as he dove for it. "Hello?" He listened while the other two agents watched him. "I understand. We'll send you our ETA." "That was Rashid, who is the leader of the Maguanacs, as you know. He is coordinating with the Resistance for landing rights and assistance to get roads available and to hold a bridge for the extraction. I have our drop off point." Wufei was on his feet. "The transport that brought in Hilde will take us back out. It should be refueled and ready. Are we?" Heero grabbed his gun. "Yes." Commander Une had cleared them for limited reconnaissance of the area, not willing to risk the men, materials, or valuable armored vehicles. Sending out two agents to gather information on a third missing one was one thing, a limited expenditure, but a whole battalion, which is what Preventers had estimated it would take, was too much. Une wanted to "wait and see" and give Trowa and Duo more time to affect their own escapes. She had "other fish to fry", countless places screaming for her limited resources. Naturally, none of them had cleared the true nature of their extraction plans. This was for friendship and more, not a part of the job. She would be unhappy. So unhappy with them that they imagined reprisals, but even facing the possible punishment of a dismissal didn't sway them from their objective. They also imagined that she expected them to do this so she wouldn't have to. Whatever. The last-minute personal gear, additional munitions, and perishable food were all loaded with the men, and then the flight took off. Quatre informed Rashid of their departure, and, in turn, received a recommended safe approach and guarded landing strip. After a tense but uneventful flight and landing, Wufei, Heero, and Quatre were met by the tall, swarthy leader of the Maguanac Corps, Rashid. "We will be traveling in one vehicle, while my other men will be dispersed in groups, securing our retreat, the roads, and there will be another transport coming behind us by half a day to provide backup," Rashid told them as he led them to the armored van. "Let me introduce you to our driver, Amir. Jamid! Load those bags and the crate for the gentlemen here, please!" Rashid and Amir took the front seats of the ground cargo van, while the other three young men climbed into the back. They were grateful to discover their comfort had not been forgotten. Padding cushioned off one section of the van from the cargo. The engine started and they felt the wheels rock over the bomb-damaged tarmac and roll onto the slightly better road. Behind them they could hear the rumble of the backup transport following closely. Rashid talked to them from an internal intercom. "In a few hours, we'll come upon a river crossing. There we will leave the other troops behind and the backup vehicle will cross later." It was then that Rashid explained that after Duo's successful extraction from the camp, the Maguanacs would move in en force and free the other captives. Apparently the Resistance was paying them to remove the threat from their territory. "I didn't know they acted as mercenaries," Wufei said to Quatre. "I thought they reported to you." "No," Quatre said, "they have been independent since the death of my father, but Rashid will do most anything for me, and, of course, I pay them for their service to my company or to family-related requests on L4. I have many sisters and it seems there is one requiring secure passage someplace," he explained. Well, a man had to earn a living. "That's understandable...justified," Wufei said. "I don't know how to repay you," Heero murmured. Quatre bumped shoulders. "Save them." There was nothing to see, no windows to look out of, no light except from their flashlights, so, after a short while they dozed off, making up for sleepless nights to come. A gruff voice woke them. "I'm sorry to awaken you but I wanted to inform you of a concern." "That's okay. What is it, Rashid?" Quatre asked. "We crossed the river some hours ago and are within a couple hours of the prison. I am very troubled because I have not received confirmation calls from the backup vehicle." "What could be holding them up, do you think?" "Fighting. Nothing good. Do you wish to continue?" Rashid asked. Heero nodded, "Yes." 'Yes, if we have to escape on foot, we still go in, we still make the attempt," Quatre assured him. "Very well. I was certain you would say that. Amid was not. I win the bet!" Rashid laughed and the call was cut. There was no returning to sleep after that. The three friends sat in strained silence, Wufei muscles taut, eyed closed; Heero rigid staring into the void; Quatre jittery, twisting the loose button on his sleeve; all waiting as the van bounced and jolted them closer to the town. "Coming to a road block. Prepare for an inspection and remain silent," Rashid warned them. When they stopped, they were nearly blinded by the light slipping through the cracks as the back doors of the van were opened. Cartons of baby formula stacked at the back gave a false impression of what the van actually carried. But would it work? Would the van be ordered unloaded completely and examined? The doors slammed shut and the van rocked along again. "We just passed inspection," Rashid explained. All three men let out their held breaths and relaxed minutely. "We are in the town and will park in an alley near the back of the prison. At that time, Master Quatre and I will attempt entry to the prison through the front entrance." Wufei and Heero re-checked their guns and wished the pair good luck. With the loose layers of clothes over his slight body, the scarf and dyed hair, Quatre wasn't a half-bad copy of Hilde- considering. "She" as Duo's wife and Rashid as the rich uncle entered prison encampment with the offer to pay for Duo's freedom, while Wufei, Heero, and Amir waited in the van. Waiting was hell. (o) "Eric Martin." I jumped, startled out of my calm. "This way. Come to the door!" the guard shouted, indicating that I was to be led into an officer's room rather than out of the compound. "Go in, go in." The guard, a young fanatic with an AK-47 slung over his shoulder, gestured for me to hurry. "Don't keep the important man waiting." He slipped inside to stand beside the desk of the prison yard supervisor. Out of the shadows stepped an older man with thick black hair and moustache, and the armbands denoting The Resistance. The badges of office proved rank. I recognized Rashid of the Maguanac Corps when he smiled and revealed his one gold tooth. After the end of the big war and the ESCUN Accord, he and the other Maguanacs regrouped to...I knew not where. Quatre never said. Well, this lovely reunion was a godsend to me. "I am your wife's Uncle Hamid." I didn't know what was going on, but I went along with the charade. "Oh, ah, hi, unc." I was slow thinking. He reached out to shake hands and wound his fingers around my wrist. "You should try to eat more vegetables," he said. "Vegetables?" I was confused. Prisoners did not get enough of any kind of food. "You are malnourished with vitamin deficiency." I thanked him for the diagnosis. If this was coded information, I didn't get it. I was out of that loop, I guessed. "How is... my wife? Is she well?" Are you alone? "Doing well, yes." "Did she come with you?" Was there backup? "She's at the inn. Spouses are not allowed visitation. You know that." "Oh, yeah, sure. I forgot." I realized he was telling me to be cautious. Even though he was probably one of the highest-ranking party members of The Resistance the local OZ people had met, Rashid, um, Uncle Hamid, was careful not to show any impropriety and had not requested to meet me, Martin, privately without the OZ supervisor. These walls had ears. Perhaps he was afraid that I was foolish enough to blurt out something dangerous. "Your wife asked me to explain to the local authority that you are a good citizen, a scrap man, and that you fled the capital because you were afraid. You were coming to stay with us on the coast. You had no intention of leaving the country or spying on their activities." He was saying that I must stick to my original confession, harp along that line in my interrogation, and never deviate. I nodded and said, "Thank you, Uncle. Please tell my wife that the comrades here are treating me well and teaching me the importance of their political ways. I am grateful for the opportunity to learn." There. I must have proved I was a well-trained agent at least. Uncle Hamid smiled and nodded his approval, and then wished me good luck and good health. Without another word, he moved past me and left the room. I was touched because I knew he was a good man of integrity and ethics. I wondered what made him decide to help me. Had Hilde really contacted base? Was Quatre involved, which meant Wufei and, God could only hope, Heero would be, too? I was returned to my room. And the next day my first interrogation began. (o) I was in a terrible mood. I'd received my orders and now had to travel to a prisoner camp to conduct an interrogation. Accompanying me were two subordinates, the car's driver and a hateful little snake in the grass operative seated behind me, called Preen. I detested the man who was at my elbow at all times, supposedly to aid me, although I was certain that his true function was to execute me if I didn't do as I was told. On the ride, he'd been particularly annoying. Teasing, irritating me with non-stop chatter until it got under my skin and pushed me past my limits. I leaned over the back of the seat and slapped the annoying underling in the face. Then did it again, harder. The driver laughed. The passenger stretched sideways until he could see himself in the rearview mirror and muttered a string of oaths under his breath. "Remember," he told me as if I'd passed some test. "Prisoners do not feel pain where they've been slapped; they feel it in their wrists, where they've tried to break the cord." So it had been just another test after all. I was constantly being tested. I wanted that to stop. I wanted to end the nightmare I'd become lost in. Later on, when we exited the car he managed to twist around and free the ties I hadn't put on but maybe the driver had. I looked and saw that he was bleeding. Striking him had been satisfying. It helped wipe out my misgivings. The name of the prisoner had been disturbingly familiar. A memory from a dream. Displaced and one I felt I should know. Duo Maxwell. - Commander Trenton Breem Chapter 8 Less than an hour later, they heard the pounding of footsteps running toward the van. It was Quatre. Alone. "It's Rashid!" Quatre announced. "He'll be on his way back to us. He's seen Duo. They wouldn't let me in, so I waited outside." "How is Duo!" Heero demanded. "He's thin, but healthy and alert still. Apparently, a payment has been worked out, but first Duo must see some man in charge. And we have been told to just wait." "Do we know who this man is?" Wufei asked. "An OZ officer...Breem, it's rumored." Wufei shook his head. "More unknowns. More secrets." "What do you mean by more?" Heero asked through gritted teeth. "Une." Wufei spat out her name like it tasted foul. "She keeps her agents in the dark." "You can confirm Une is keeping vital information from the agents that are in the field?" Quatre asked. Wufei dipped his chin. "Yes. When I recovered Hilde, I spoke to one agent with firsthand information about previous missions he'd been on with Trowa. What he told me was disturbing. So much so that I sent out a brief, confidential message to all the other field agents. It's only been a matter of hours... I didn't know when to tell you, but in case something happens to me, you should know this." "Tell me!" Quatre begged. "I will. Prior to his assignment with Hilde, Trowa had been acting undercover missions for some time, as an OZ agent." "Oh, no! That was something Une promised me, and him, would never, ever happen!" Quatre cried out. Not with his past experiences and PTSD. Quatre hands fisted. "I am very, very angry, indeed." "Hilde wasn't informed of that before her mission with Trowa," Wufei added. "And I didn't know, obviously." "Nor I," Heero said. "And Duo never mentioned it. I'm sure he would have had he known. It would have altered the mission he and Hilde took." "Yes, it would have," Wufei said. "And for your information, Hilde has carried out her last mission for Preventers. She's handing in her notice after this." He waved his hand, meaning when this mission was complete. They all hoped that Trowa and Duo would live to execute that privilege, as well. Quatre sat, eyes closed, trance-like with his lips moving, repeating, "Live, live, live." The others left him to his own ways of dealing with what was going on. Coping skills were never questioned in the field. In the meantime, Rashid re-joined the annoyed men back at the van. He was to wait for a call from the guards at the compound, which could be any day, any time. They ate without tasting, took short walks, kept out of sight, and waited the wait of the damned. (o) The next day, Rashid did not hear from the prison guards all morning. In the late afternoon, an official-looking vehicle pulled up to the gates and was ushered inside. "I have a bad feeling when I look at that vehicle," Wufei said. Quatre, however, sat up in his seat. "Trowa! He's here!" "Could he have been brought to this prison?" Heero wondered. "Just now!" Quatre cried out. "He's here!" Heero studied the official-looking car. "Looks like it's time for plan B." Wufei and Heero layered on Kevlar vests, flak jackets, helmets, munitions, and armaments before leaving Amid to guard the van. They sneaked around to the back side of the prison from which Rashid had exited the day before. Quatre and Rashid wore protective body armor beneath their uncle and wife clothing, but took no metal that might get them stopped by the detectors at the doors. Rashid was partial to ceramic knives and had hidden pockets built into the seams to contain a couple. They would once again attempt a frontal entry, demanding to see Duo at once. There was no plan "C". (o) During one interrogation, I collapsed with a high fever. The inspector splashed water on my face, but couldn't revive me. Two prisoners carried me back to my quarters. Fellow cellmates nursed me with aspirin and penicillin from my stash of medicine. I lay on the cold concrete ground, wrapped in four layers of borrowed clothes, sweating, freezing, and delirious. The body was ready, the spirit nearly there. Fellow inmates had fallen all around me, worthier men had perished, and I was learning to let go of my fears. I thought of something Wufei had once told me, when we had both been incarcerated on the moon base by these same bastards. I'd asked him how he could be so calm in the face of death, and he'd called it the Buddhist's third truth of existence: Death is a natural condition. There is no way to escape death. We both did that day and on other occasions thereafter with so many close calls I'd lost count. I'd been the self-anointed God of Death, but I was always aware that I wasn't immune from death. In the long descent, I arrived finally at a place where what I had lost did not matter as much as what I had had, however briefly, in life. Here, I was free of bitterness and sorrow. Things, the essence of them, came to me, caressed me, entered and passed through me like familiar spirits. Riding the border of sleep and wakefulness, I dreamt of the green fields of March, the yellow wind of summer harvests, the eternal gray of November rain, the pale blush of Sanc winters, but through it all kept surfacing the deep blue of Heero's eyes, but the voice of an angel chanting a positive affirmation for me to Live! (o) My uniform was new and stiff. I felt uncomfortable and irritable. If I was a commander, as labeled, it was all in masquerade because I was the one being led around like a trained monkey, or like a puppet. Yes, I was a puppet, but who was pulling my strings? I was directed to an office, a room with a desk and chair and not much else. I was told I would conduct an interrogation, kill the enemy, and collect proof that I had done so. A man I'd never seen before brought in weapons. Two different guns, an old model German Korth handgun, a greasy Glock that looked like it hadn't been cleaned in ever. A sword slid across the desk. Well, this spoke to me. Treize Khushrenada and Wufei Chang fought with these, so did Zechs Merquise and Heero Yuy, and even Dorothy Catalonia and Quatre Winner. The names popped into my mind automatically without faces, just names. Except for the last one, Quatre. The name glided over my tongue as if I said it a thousand times. I guessed that the names came from my murky past. I didn't want to lose it, so I grabbed the sword. "Where's the prisoner?" "With the others." I liked the feel of the sword, the weight and how it strained my arms to hold it. I practiced a couple swings. "Bring him to me." "Yes, sir." I don't think I was ever a swordsman. It felt foreign in my hands. I lifted it and let it fall, cutting a wedge out of the wooden desktop. Not impressive. In order to cut through a limb or a neck, I would have to apply force. I practiced chopping legs off the chair until an unhealthy man was pushed into the room by a guard and the commander of the prison. - Commander Trenton Breem (o) "Commander Breem!" shouted the guard to get his attention. He certainly wasn't trying to introduce him to me. I was barely on anyone's radar at this point in my life. So, this was the man I'd been waiting for? Breem was a young man dressed in the starched khaki slacks and matching jacket of the OZ officers. I could tell by the deference the guard showed to the uniformed man that he was of higher rank. The man was well-built, slender with wide shoulders. He had calm green eyes, but his mouth was pressed into a hard, thin line. He said nothing. Oh, it was Trowa all right, a buttoned-down kind of guy. I dropped my eyes, as in deference, but really to hide any signs of recognition and excitement. He was alive, at least. I couldn't tell what his game was. I was surrounded by the enemy, so I pretended not to know him. I mean, he didn't act like he was a friend. He started asking me questions. The usual sort. I answered in the usual way. "Eric Martin... I buy and sell scrap metal... I was on my way to the coast with my wife to live with her uncle..." And then I added, unasked for, "He was here yesterday, I think it was. He brought money to get me out-" Breem/Trowa slapped my face to shut me up. He wasn't interested in unsolicited information, I guessed. He'd also pushed a pill past my teeth. I fumbled around with it to spit it out. Then he punched me and when I gasped, he forced a finger down my throat-and the pill. God, was I to be poisoned? "Is he one of the terrorists?" the guard asked him. "Yes," Breem said. Ah, shit. Well, now I knew Trowa wasn't on our side. He'd condemned me for sure. I felt woozy. He drugged me, that stinking, pill-pusher! My will to fight took a vacation just when I needed it overtime! Hard hands pushed me down so I was half lying across the desk. I could see the glint of metal in the air. The sword! That's when I just about gave up hope for making it out alive. My weakened state minimized the fight left in me. I mean, if Trowa was going to kill me, there wasn't much I could do to stop him alone. I wiggled and squirmed and cussed him out-I had that much pride. But I didn't hold out much hope of successfully convincing him to rethink his actions and let me go. Until I heard the shouting coming from outside the door! Rashid, for sure, and another voice, Quatre? My heart sank. I didn't want him to see Trowa like this. My life ruined was one thing, but Quat's too? That was unnecessary. "We offered payment and you accepted. Where is he?!" "Turn him over!" Wood splintered from the door breaking inwards, and I heard feet pounding on the floorboards. I was shaking from infirmity, excitement, and pure terror. I struggled to the best of my limited ability to roll off the desk. On the floor there was the possibility of tripping Trowa and it would be harder for him to swing that sword. Why a sword, I wondered? The mind does strange things under stress. Mine was focusing on Trowa wielding a sword as being out of character-forget the fact that he was about to chop my head off! The weight of a body pressed onto my back. I felt a tug as my braid was moved aside to expose my neck. God. This was it! I also felt as much as heard the word "love". A balm of warmth comforted me, relief lifted my spirits, and I laughed, I think. A low voice very close to my ear said, "Don't move." I was so shocked by the intensity of feelings surrounding me as well as the honeyed "love" and soft command that I obeyed and didn't move. Whack! The blade cut the air past my ear. Thunk! (o) When next I became aware of my surroundings, my first thought was disappointment. If this was Heaven, then was why I so sore still? Slowly, I regained enough awareness to recognize what I was feeling arms around me and my head was cushioned by a firmly muscled leg. My eyes seemed glued shut, so I just listened. Voices, familiar ones. "Get him back to camp." "Burning up!" "Are you sure that's Duo?" Was I? Eric? Duo? The God of Death? "What's that in his hands? A dead rat? Get it outta here!" I moved my fingers and there was nothing there so they couldn't have meant me. Who then? "Stop! That's hair!" "It's Duo's braid!" "I k-killed him..." a grief-stricken voice wrenched out, followed by sobbing. "No, no, Trowa. You didn't. He's right here. We're all here." "What's all this? Money?" came another voice. "That's the money Rashid brought. The bribe money to get Duo out." I heard more sobs and then, "I did!" a hoarse voice insisted. "I cut off ... his head... with a sword." Ah, I remembered that. So, it was Trowa in the van alongside me and Quatre, whose reassuring voice I heard. "Not his head, just his hair and not all of that, just the lower half or so. You didn't hurt him." "He fell I saw his body fall... and I held his head." I must have fainted. How embarrassing! "Only his braid! Look! Feel it! See? It's just a hank of hair, Trowa!" I heard deep, painful crying and all the while a hand raked through my knotted, insect-ridden, dirty hair, massaging my scalp, relaxing me. I was in love with that hand. The next voice I heard was muffled and turned away so I couldn't make out who it was. The accent was familiar. "Only Amid was injured and then that was just a graze. We are lucky." From the jerks and bumping around, I figured we were riding in a vehicle over the rough road. I heard the slosh and splash when wheels slid into puddles. The hand continued to caress, and I could no longer stay awake. Squeaking brakes woke me up. It was all dark to me, but if I listened carefully I could hear rushing water, a roar, which meant we'd come to a halt at a river crossing. I heard sighs of exhaustion, doors opening and closing letting in the rush of cold, damp air, which felt refreshing. I heard voices discussing the condition of the bridge. "Why not go over the bridge?" "Burned out-." "Duo can't swim!" I heard Heero say. Heero. It was distinctly Heero's voice I heard. "He can't swim even if he was not injured." Oh, yes. The problem was what to do with me. "Why was it always the cunning one that can't swim?" another voice asked, but not in anger. I knew that accent. Wufei! Wufei was here, too? Wow, freeing me had somehow warranted the expense of everyone coming after me. I was so worth something then. I set a goal of getting my eyes to open. I had to have been drugged to have been so worthless. That pill. Had that been to drug me? "And there aren't any logs. Maybe we can break off a piece of the burnt railing?" I struggled to open my eyes. I had to get a look at him, him being Heero. Heero unbuckled his belt and looped it around me. "Give me yours, Wufei." Heh! I'd been right about the voices. And then Heero and I were linked together, bound by belts. "Quatre, do the same for Trowa. He doesn't look so good." I could hear Rashid's voice and a shout. "I can carry Amid! I go last!" I imagined at least one man had been injured freeing me-and Trowa. Setting a rear guard meant we were still in enemy territory. Wouldn't Rashid have brought all his corps? Where were the other Maguanacs? Quatre, Trowa, Wufei, and Heero had all come for me. Man, I felt special. And then I felt sick as one of my arms was stretched and pulled over Heero's shoulder and another draped over Wufei's. I might have carried some of my own weight, or not, but we moved. I felt the damp, chill air rising from heavy current. Crawling over the weathered planks smelled like old fire. And it hurt. We hadn't gone far at all when we stopped. Wufei let out an exasperated sound, then said, "Looks like we'll be going into the water a little earlier than I'd planned. The support poles have burned, part way." That didn't sound good, but, we moved onward, the bridge trembling and swaying each time someone moved. "Stop!" Wufei signaled back to Heero and Quatre to stay where we were. "I'm going ahead on my own." I opened my eyes and watched his progress. Flat on his belly, Wufei worked his way across the bridge. I could hear the water as it rushed past, ten feet below, could feel it-the damp, chill air that rose from heavy current. He did not look back. "We'll move slowly," Heero said to me, I think, and dragged me onto his back before he began crawling over the weathered planks. Heero reached a bad place, hung on; I felt him start to sweat in the cold air. "Wufei? Would it be better to dive in here?" "No!" came the quick reply. "It's a long way to the other shore." We waited for the bridge to stop wobbling, and then Heero curled his fingers around the edge of the next board and slid forward. Waited, reached out, pulled, and slid. "I've reached the end-or as close as I can risk getting. Any further and it won't support a cat, a c-a-t." As opposed to a "Quat". I smiled inside to find out now that Wufei had a sense of humor. "Catch your breath and wait up for Quatre and Trowa," Heero said. "I'm going into the water, you follow. You hold on to Duo, I'll swim across and pull you with me. You do the best you can-kick your feet, paddle with your free arm. We'll manage." "All right." "If that works," Wufei continued, "I'll go back and help Quatre with Trowa." I looked down at the water, ten feet below us, dark and swirling. The far shore seemed a long distance away, but at least the bank was low. I really didn't want to go into the water. It served no purpose arguing with him, though. I was helpless and worthless. No one had a better suggestion either, so it was agreed. "We'll be fine," Heero told me. He pulled us along; I felt the planks beneath us quiver, then shift. Wufei swore and I heard a beam snap. I looked ahead in time to see Wufei turned on his side and drop. He fought the air, then nothing. No loud splash of the water like I'd expected. "Wufei!" Quatre cried out behind us. He must have seen heard the wood give. Heero had pulled us to the brink. I looked over and found Wufei on his hands and knees, poised, the river churning around him. He'd landed with a shock that knocked him senseless on a rock. A rock! Smooth and dark, about two feet below the surface. "I'm...okay." And then Wufei laughed and gained his feet, laughing. "It's a steppingstone! I can see more, a walkway just under the surface." A hidden causeway. {A/N: my thanks goes to Alan Furst for this idea} Heero must have carried me across. I passed out being lowered to the water from the bridge. I felt a gentle rocking motion and fell into another doze. When I next was aware that I was alive, I had a headache. I didn't remember drinking, but it felt a lot like a hangover headache, but tiredness was probably part of it- I had loads of vivid dreams last night, the most distressing of which was me crying hysterically because I'd let down my executioner by asking not to be shot. Yeah. So maybe this was also partly a stress headache. We were in another vehicle, my head on Heero's lap. It wasn't rocking but it was moving, so we were on a good road. The murmur of voices around me were nothing like the prison and the cushion under my head was warm. My next awakening brought me to alertness. The smell of antibacterial soaps and antiseptics of a medical facility. Not a hospital. My eyes opened to lights, but not bright ones. I saw Heero immediately. He was standing near, directing staff. Protecting me. This was my rebirth. I turned my head and saw the reflection of a stranger in a metal surface. The assistant warden had asked me in the last interview if I had learned my lesson, if I had changed my behavior, if I had decided to become an honest person, if I had repented. I couldn't remember my answer, I'd been so sick. I couldn't remember what my crime had been, I knew that much. Weeks of psychological torture, brainwashing, brutal imprisonment, starvation, physical abuse, and hard labor digging graves for our dead had not changed my confession: I was a draft-exempted scrap man who, in fear, had fled from Sanc with his wife with the intention of staying with family on the coast, not leaving the country. For which part of that should I repent? That I was collected scrap metal for sale? That I felt fear? Or that I'd fled Sanc? Maybe it was for being gay and having a wife? At that thought, I chuckled. I still had my sense of humor. I'd make it. "Duo? You... You're awake!" Heero stating the obvious? "I repent of taking a wife while being gay!" I shouted, laughing, coughing, and probably becoming a little hysterical. I was free! I wanted to dance, laugh, howl like a madman. I lay on a transport gurney, ill, lice-ridden, shrunken, but I knew two things with certainty: First, absolute power did, indeed, corrupt absolutely. Second, I would risk prison and death all over again just to see the look of adoration on Heero Yuy's face directed wholly on me and me alone.
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