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"Baby Series 3"Written By: Karina Rating: PG Spoilers: None Disclaimer: I don’t own Gundam Wing or the Characters from the series but the baby is mine. Pairing: Duo Notes: Challenge 95. Baby Series 3 #50. Takes
place at the same time as The Deeper Question. Many thanks to ShenLong for her work betaing
this fic.
Goal How long would it be before Yuy had their answers? How long before they knew what had been added to the mineral water? How long before he knew what fate awaited the King? If Milliardo escaped with his life this time, how long would it be before they stood as they did now, tense, waiting to learn when the axe would fall? Someone, somewhere, would make a fateful decision. The man was not afraid of being unpopular, in fact he was the most feared man in the Earth Sphere. There was no shortage of people who could take that fateful step and cross the line. Murder was a dangerous game and assassination was murder. He had done his share of murder in the past and he was barely twenty one years of age. War, they said, was different. Man killed man and it was not murder beneath the umbrella of war. Did he believe that, even now? Duo rubbed his cheek against the soft fabric, curving his fingers around the booted ankle. There was one advantage to the circumstances and that was escaping the stifling atmosphere of the ballroom and the game playing of the court. Be it a few minutes or a few hours he did not care, it was a blessed relief while it lasted. It would be nice in the future, on those rare nights when he and his family could sit like this, in front of a television or just lounging around listening to music, maybe reading. It would be rare, the chance to really relax, he had no illusions concerning the future. It would be a hard fought battle, but eventually they would find the key to winning the King’s heart and such nights would come. His eyes flicked to the television screen and he watched the players running, the ball passing from foot to foot. Dancing steps, movement flowing from one to another to keep the ball in play, to get it through the goal. //Do they call it a goal? Goal net? Whatever. It’s just nice to be sitting here.// His fingers lightly caressed the booted ankle, confident the man would not feel his touch through the leather. He had his own goal to achieve and he was not the only player on his team. Chang and he constituted one side of the game, politics and the people the other and stuck firmly in the middle was the ball, long blonde hair and all. His head and shoulder pressed to the leg that told him Milliardo was still alive, warm, breathing; the minute flex of muscle as he moved even the smallest degree relieved his concerns. Survival was a serious game when one lived in the halls of the wealthy and powerful. A game he was fast learning the rules to. Once Shinnigami knew the game rules, those on the opposing team had best keep a wary eye out in dark shadows. Figuratively speaking, of course. ~ * ~ |
