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"Friends "Written By: Karina
Series: Friends Pairings: 2+6 Ratings: M 15+ [In Australia] Rated in the event of bad language and violence. Disclaimer: I don’t own Gundam Wing or the characters. That’s the way it is. Warnings: Not a death fic despite how it starts.
Aussie spelling and unbetaed. Summary: When Milliardo Peacecraft is abducted
and left to die a solitary death Duo Maxwell decides to take a hand
in the proceedings.
Chapter 48 "If you were inclined to blow the bastards up I'd be the man to help you, and I would not be taking no for an answer." "Then it is fortunate I am not inclined to make a spectacular fireball their epitaph." Duo smirked and glanced into the depths of the tent. "Hey, I'm not picky. I can do you a big firestorm or a tiny little puff of smoke, I don't particularly mind the size; though I have to admit the big firestorms are the most spectacular and satisfying to create." "Always implying the target warrants the glory of so spectacular a demise, Mr. Maxwell." Duo blinked. "There is that, I suppose, and these suckers are pricks. Okay, no fiery spectacular for the scum of the Earth." Heero growled softly. Always the joker, that was the face Duo presented to the world. It annoyed Heero as he knew there was far more to Maxwell than a flippant mouth and a seemingly carefree nature. Unfortunately certain persons in powerful positions were also aware that Duo Maxwell was far from the jester he appeared, and their amusement and patience were in notably short supply at the best of times. Duo was surely running out of time. He surmised it was a survival mechanism left over from Duo's L2 days, where it was expedient you appeared harmless and, better yet, practised invisibility if you wished to survive. There were various forms of invisibility one could employ; the `totally vanish off the face of the colony' type or the `up front and harmless jovial nutcase' invisibility Maxwell appeared to have perfected. Unfortunately either method could last only so long. If you made the wrong sort of waves, or got tangled up in another person's mess, you learned to extricate yourself from disaster's coils with all expediency. On L2, to be totally harmless would be to attract unwanted attention from those who sought to dominate… or take what little you had and leave a corpse to be thrown out with the garbage. To survive meant you had to strike a balance; warn your opposition that you were not so easy to take down but let them be aware you would not cause a fuss if they left well enough alone. In certain circles it was expedient to ignore each other, though never take your eyes off the opposition, and you both might survive. Unfortunately for Duo the war had left his identity well known and there were always eyes watching him. Certain persons in positions of power considered it their duty to keep the dangerous terrorist observed, lest he once again seek to wreak havoc on the world. Duo was simply too distinctive to become invisible. The joker guise was not sufficient to hide him from the attention of a government all too conscious of their own faults, and bent on trying to contain within the boundaries of normality, those who had proven they would not stand by and do nothing when oppression ruled. Duo was a known identity to the masses and it seemed there was always someone who recognized him and was willing to set whispers circulating. It would not be so bad if Duo would only cut the braid… but the thought of Duo without that chestnut rope just seemed wrong, even to Heero, who was doing his best to conform and earn freedom of a sort. Duo's spectacular firestorms, like that cursed braid, were well remembered and those in power now, time and politics being the fickle creatures they were, featured many who had held positions of influence during the war. It was why the other pilots trod fine lines and did their level best to appear harmless and, for want of a better word, tame. It was unfortunate but an undeniable truth; Heero silently admitted that no one would ever be able to tame the L2 dynamo. Duo was too much the free spirit to be caged. Politics was a dirty game and Heero had seen enough of it from close quarters to sicken him, despite the war leaving him with the idea he had a pretty strong stomach. While the pacifists still held the balance of power there were others gaining influence and rank within political factions, who were not so pacifist minded. Outwardly they sprouted peace with the best of the pacifists, but Heero was not fooled, nor were Preventers beneath the guiding hand of Lady Une. As closely as they were watched by the government, so did Preventers watch the watchdogs. He glanced into the shadows of the tent, unable to avoid wondering just how much of the black ops unit Marquise worked for Une was aware of. In all probability she would know a great deal. Her contacts from her days in Oz should never to be discounted, and Khushrenada had had one of the best intelligence networks of the war. No, Heero could not see Une simply dropping all ties to anything remotely tied to the object of her infatuation. For all she had had mental issues, Une was anything but stupid. She was politically astute; a Commander to fear and respect. Of course, Une had her watchdogs too. The government was well aware of the infamous Lady Une, as well as the genteel Une who had charmed the colonists into cooperation. The face she presented in current times was that of a blend between the two personas; the ex-military Commander who knew how to get the best out of her people, and the peace minded diplomat who swayed millions. Of course politics being what it was, no one would believe any face they presented to the world and would always harbour thoughts of duplicity. No one wanted the days of war to return. It really had to be the war that ended all wars, and to that end Preventers was formed, but there were other agencies out there who professed to work for peace and the greater good. The trouble was that everyone had a slightly different view of what peace should be. To that end you had the situation which now coloured the world. Everyone watched everyone else, ready to point the finger, seeking conspiracies yet afraid to find them. Fingers were poised to point but the fear someone else's reaction should be more volatile than expected kept the finger poised. No one wanted to lose advantage, and no one wanted to instigate unrest. It was certainly not the ideal peace. And sitting here, in this ramshackle remnant of the past in the middle of nowhere, was five of the main players in the past war that had frightened humanity into its current state of peace. Irony in a nutshell. Watched as the five Gundam pilots were, Heero knew they were small fry in the political ocean they attempted to navigate. They kept low key, trying to remain under the radar so that in time they could vanish into obscurity. If they could just present themselves as harmless ordinary citizens their watchdogs would relax. //Who the hell do we think we are kidding?// Heero mused. Relena had almost undone her budding political career advocating for the pilot's freedom. What they had was certainly not true freedom, but it did permit them to find a place in society and to make use of the skills they had acquired. Quatre took his place as the dutiful son and struggled to rebuild an empire, until now he had regained all that his father had lost to the war, and perhaps a little more. Quatre had learned his lessons though and was careful to keep his fingers on the pulse of the ESUN. He had his fingers in many pies. Trowa had remained with the circus initially, but it had not taken long, merely a year or two, for him to team up with Quatre and they had become more than friends. Barton had not insinuated himself in the company, instead joining up with Preventers and making use of his skills to best effect. The relationship between Quatre and Barton was more than frowned upon on L4 and so they resided on Earth and Quatre's sisters held more power on L4 than the CEO of the company. Not that Quatre cared what others thought-if he did he would not have taken Duo under his wing. Chang had settled into Preventers and made a name for himself. He was one of the best Preventers had to call on, and he took part of each year to instruct unarmed combat. He was primarily a field agent and he was teamed with Barton when he had joined the organization and Sally Po, his former partner, had opted to return to her medical career and now headed up the Preventer Medical Centre. Heero himself had wandered until he found his wanderings caused more attention from the government than his presence in one specific location had, and thereafter he had chosen to join Preventers, under their badge working security for the Sanc palace and Relena. It was far from an ideal situation for any of them, but it was what kept the wolves from battering down their respective doors, and the status quo had been maintained for some years now. Of course Maxwell was the odd man out. He refused to settle down and allow the government to dictate any facet of his lifestyle. He had initially tried a life on L2 with Hilde and it had been a screaming failure, thereby ensuring he was not inclined to become domesticated in the near future. Heero did not know all of the details, and he did not wish to, it was no concern of his other than being the dawn of Duo the wandering jester. He, and he suspected the other pilots, had assumed Duo would find something else to do quickly enough and settle down, allowing himself time to slip under the radar with a grand display of normality. Really they should have known better. Duo Maxwell did not do normal. He did not know what normal was. Having had his face plastered all over the ESUN during the war certainly did not help any attempt he did make to blend in. Terrorist one day, hero the next; and before you knew it terrorist again, though he had not done anything to deserve the title. It was his past catching up with him as, if they were singularly unlucky as a group, it would eventually catch up with them all. No one wanted to employ a terrorist, least of all one who had been made famous by Oz displaying his capture on every colony screen and on Earth. If you were a Gundam pilot, particularly Duo Maxwell, then your employment opportunities were limited. Preventers was one of the few organizations willing to take on someone with their particular skill sets. Heero was sure Duo considered himself to be an outcast, and he undoubtedly identified with Marquise because of it. There had to be no greater outcast than the former Prince of Sanc who was, technically, still dead. Duo was too proud to take handouts, but he stayed with Quatre for much of the year, taking off periodically only to return. Quatre welcomed him and Duo seemed to enjoy being with the blond. Some days it simply baffled Heero what the two had in common; as far as he could see, it was nothing. What Trowa thought of the arrangement Heero did not know, nor did he want to know. On a personal level all Heero wanted for himself at the present time was stability, and the chance to gain an identity beyond his days as a Gundam Pilot. He acknowledged that he resented Duo for thumbing his nose at the establishment and doing his own thing… and for getting away with it. Yes, that was what stung the most. Duo actually managed to get away with his lifestyle. Maxwell kept his nose clean enough that his watchdogs could not point the finger at him and have him taken into custody and disciplined. Duo flaunted the system with seeming immunity to the consequences, and Heero, who had discovered he could not simply float from day to day without a purpose in his life, could not understand how Duo survived each day. Then there was Marquise, the Terror of Earth, who should have been locked up in a cell and the key thrown away. According to the popular press it was divine judgement that he had not survived the destruction of the Libra. It saved the tax payers a fortune in court costs to have the man tried and sentenced to death for his crimes. Heero was tired and he ran a hand over his face, only too aware of the uncomfortable silence growing in the small room. Marquise was involved in something dark and shadowy, and it was now encroaching onto the small security the Gundam pilots had forged for themselves. It did not matter if it was for the good of the people, or if it was dark and illegal, it was there and it was a problem. It would not easily go away and Heero had already offered to help him. Why? Why did he make that offer? He did not understand. It was so unlike the Heero he had been trying to become. The Heero the government would accept and leave alone to live a normal life, did not dabble in shady deals and offer to back up nefarious deeds. He had not even taken on the role of field agent for the Preventers, opting instead for the security service. Why was it that at the first hint of trouble he offered to jump in feet first and settle the matter? A matter in which people were sure to die. He had determined not to kill anymore. He had decided to blend in and become `one of the guys'. Become normal, not that he really understood what normal was. That was how one kept the government off one's back. The alternative was to perpetually be on the alert, waiting for government agents to find one and force one to move on, before they could close in. "You are quiet. I expected you to have a lot to say." He met the blue eyes, noting the violet tint that gave Maxwell away. He was tensed, ready for a fight and Heero grunted, noncommittal. He could remember the war, though certain instances were blank. Blowing oneself to bits along with Wing tended to be bad for the memory, not to mention the body, but he remembered what was important and he remembered the pain. He remembered not belonging anywhere and being the tool of others. He remembered the first hint of there being something felt deep within him, a sense of camaraderie. It was with Barton he had felt it the most, with Maxwell after that; Wu Fei and Winner to a lesser degree. What he had not revealed to any of the other pilots was that, after meeting Marquise, even before he had known who his nemesis was, there had been some type of link felt with the man. What he did not know was why he was so willing to turn his back on what little he had gained from all his hard labour. Did it, in the end, mean so little? Or did the idea of having friends who had shared the horrors he had known, as others could not, mean so much? "If you can not keep quiet and permit others to sleep, would you at least speak up so the mumbles have meaning!" Duo smirked. "S'okay, Wuffers! We'll let you get your beauty sleep now. You sure as hell need it."
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