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"Baby Series 2"Written By: Karina
Spoilers: None Disclaimer: I dont own Gundam Wing or the
Characters from the series but the baby is mine. Pairing: Duo Notes: Challenge 74. Baby Series 2 #231. Takes
place just after An Endless Race.
Distortion There was nothing for it but to increase his pace, and hope he had enough wind to deal with whatever was happening in the nursery. Rounding the corner Duo tucked his head down and imagined wings on his feet. The lighting in the hallway was dim, but sufficient to permit him to see shapes moving. Above the pounding of his heart and the rasping of his breath he could hear them, though not identify them as friend or foe. He did not have the breath to call out, all he could do was put his energy into making his feet fly faster. No one would reach the man, or the child, to harm either. Sweat poured from him, his body heat rising and he felt parched, desperate for a mouthful of cold icy cold water. It would be heaven to take a long slow swallow, to feel it trickle down his throat, all the way down to his belly, where it would settle with a pleasant chill. There was no time. No time to waste on wishful thinking. All that mattered was reaching the room and making certain everything was alright. He was making up ground. He had to be. Not even the fastest sprinter in the world could out run him at the moment. The voice of Hunter and the security agents were submerged beneath the pounding of his heart. He had no breath to speak to Hunter, though he heard Hunter requesting his location. There was no breath to be spared, and he was not going to delay for even a few seconds. Every second counted. Was that Chang? A brief glimpse of dark hair as someone ran through a pool of dim light just down from the nursery. He raced past the intersecting hallway, wiping sweat from his eyes impatiently. The sweat hampered his vision, blurring his sight, making him uncertain of his footing, but there was no time to do more than swipe a hand over his forehead. Ahead he glimpsed two bodies throw themselves through the nursery door, and a snarl erupted from his throat. He would not allow anything to happen in that room. His feet were lead weights. His breath rasped, a pain in his side tried to distract him, but nothing was important, nothing. Nothing but getting in that door now swinging closed. He would not allow it. Through the pounding in his ears he thought he heard a thud, the sound of bodies connecting solidly. Did someone cry out? There was no mistaking the thundering impact of bodies hitting the floor, or the wail of the baby beginning to cry. The world seemed to slow down around him, sound became distorted, wrong. It was like a soundtrack played at too slow a speed, and the door was just there, ahead of him and he lunged, throwing himself into it. Nothing would happen to what was his! End
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