"9"
Written By: L.
Valensi
Disclaimers: Before you read this, be aware that this is [1x2]
fanfiction, meaning it involves a relationship between two males (specifically
Heero and Duo). I do not own Gundam Wing nor do I own the characters.
All events and terminology related to the canon GW belong to the creators.
The title of the story, as well as the chapter names, are taken directly
from Damien Rice’s most recent album, “9” (buy it—it’s
heartbreakingly fantastic). All criticism, especially concerning terminology/time
discrepancies/facts, are heartily welcome. On to the story!
Rating: R
Warnings: Suspense/Romance, hefty amount of gratuitous
violence; some abuse; lots of minor OCs & general term-invention
Pairings: 1x2
Summary: The story is set in A.C. 205, little
less than ten years since the series ended in Endless Waltz. It centers
around the new life of
Gundam pilot Duo Maxwell, who co-owns a prosperous salvaging company
with Hilde Schbeiker. Just as life looks as if it's
going as well as it ever will, things in the business world go awry
and Duo's new life spins out of control. The people
that he loves start dying once again, one by one disappearing from
what he thought was a perfect life. And to add insult to injury, all
the events may lead up to something both the Earth and the Colonies
were hoping to avoid: war. Duo seeks help from old friends, but finds
himself in a precarious situation where he will have to choose between
his heart and his life.
Spoilers: Everything; Set Post-Mariemaia
"9"
Chapter 1: Crimes
--
-- Leave me out with the waste—this is not what
I do
-- It’s the wrong kind of place to be thinking of you
-- It’s the wrong time for somebody new
-- It’s a small crime, and I’ve got no excuse
-- And is that alright with you—
-- If I give my gun away when it’s loaded?
--
A.C. 205 – The Graveyard, After the Fire
Duo Maxwell can’t pinpoint exactly when he’d
started smoking—but he has an inkling it was the moment when,
in what the papers called a “freak accident,” a mysterious
fire consumed his homely salvaging business. He doesn’t know
exactly when he began to breathe life back into the soul of his resting
alter ego, the God of Death—but he’s fairly sure it was
the instant he realized that the body of his friend and business partner,
Hilde Schbeiker, was nowhere to be found.
He’s found only a video-note: “Our turn,”
it displays tersely, possibly expecting Duo to understand the where-and-why
of it. Duo rubs his temples with his cigarette hand, trying to press
the nicotine into his skin, hoping with an acolyte’s faith that
the drug, if applied closer to his brain, will make a difference.
Oh, Hilde’s alive—Duo has no doubt of that. He’s sure
of the why, too. (In hindsight, Duo understands that he should not
have risked ‘salvaging’ what he knew was private property
from the Leo Minor network on the slowly degenerating Southside of
L2. But in return, he gained the trust and local political control
of the Northern Canes Venatici network—what self-respecting businessman
could refuse that? He didn’t like the Leo Minor that much, anyway—sooner
or later he would have found a way to get rid of them and their penchant
for kidnapping child recruits.) He just didn’t understand, at
the moment, why they would bother with such a ridiculous plan to get
him to hand over what he’d stolen. As he sees it, they would
have achieved more by killing themselves.
Duo sighs, and in one motion both kills the cigarette and stands up,
dusting the ashes from his trousers, leaving trails of white in his
fingers’ wake. He walks with measured steps (an attempt to remain
calm) towards a polished mahogany cabinet with gold gargoyle knobs.
The cabinet is one of about five ornaments of color in Duo’s
miniscule apartment home, which consists of an office, a bedroom,
a kitchen, and a bathroom –all sparsely decorated (somewhat of
a departure from the chatty, uplifting nature the ex-pilot maintains).
The door swings out to reveal a full-length mirror, which inspects
the notable differences between Duo at the end of the Mariemaia Incident
and the present. It detects that since the youth reached adulthood
at the end of A.C. 198, a significant two feet carefully added their
effects onto Duo’s still-muscular body. The mirror considers
it a miraculous growth, which overshadows the extra foot Duo allowed
his hair to grow to match his towering height. Though he still holds
the face of a boy, the mirror acknowledges that Duo Maxwell is who
he claims to be—proven by the darkness of his visage as he turns
to face himself, the God of Death.
As much as he would like to say that the Death in him has washed away
with the light of peace offered by Earth Sphere United Nation and
its new Foreign Minister, Duo can’t—he can see by the shadows
around his eyes and the glint in his indigo irises that he can’t
ever refuse the call of the hunt. He, on more than one occasion, has
asked himself whether or not he is really alive—if there is ever
really a reason to continue, or if he is forever doomed to seek some
kind of war.
He adjusts his priest’s collar and the golden cross beneath it.
He walks back to his desk, sits down, and calls for the video receiver.
He dials a number and decides he will think about it all later after
he locates Hilde and kills the motherfucker who took her.
--
A.C. 205 – The Winner Estate
Quatre Raberba-Winner is sitting peacefully with a teacup in one hand
and handing Trowa Barton a cup of his own with the other. Neither
has changed too much—each man has grown according to their genes
and are properly dressed as young men are supposed to be, Quatre more
so. Trowa Barton’s face is gleaming with a tenderness that was
rare in the past, except perhaps in Quatre. They sit in silence, drinking
and glancing at the differences in each other’s demeanor.
“You’re staying for a while this time, won’t you?”
Quatre asks, confident in the answer. He smiles, not having seen much
of any of the other pilots since they parted ways. Though, he gladly
manages to keep in closer touch with Trowa more than the others, as
he personally attends each performance his circus holds in Quatre’s
area. And Trowa, in return, makes sure there is a performance there
each tour. “You and the others have been working quite hard for
a while now. It’s only right if you stop a little bit, isn’t
it?”
Trowa nods, drinking the last of the cup’s steamy contents. “I’ve
told Catherine to disband for a little while, to give us all a general
vacation,” He says, with both his patented calm and a degree
of newfound warmth, “so, I’m able to stay longer. That is,
if it’s no trouble to you,”
“Trouble?” Quatre asks with a soft laugh. “My, Trowa,
if you’re trouble, I wouldn’t know how to survive in something
like a war.”
The two laugh vocally and steadily, and look at each other with longing
eyes, sharing the irony and basking in the freedom of their simple
actions.
A slight Arabian man in beige garb enters the room, bowing towards
Quatre. “I’m sorry to intrude, Master Winner, but Mr. Maxwell
is waiting on the receiver for you,”
“Thank you, Mustafa, we will take the call from here,” Quatre
says, nodding politely to the man with smile. A slim receiver lined
in sand-colored, polished stone rises from a compartment inside the
table to their right, displaying Duo Maxwell with every pretense of
mischievous joy exhibited on his boyish face.
“Hey Qu—whoa,” Duo says, widening his eyes. “Is
there some sort of pilot reunion call I missed?”
“No,” Trowa says with a small smile. “I’m just
staying with Quatre for a while.”
“Oh, I see,” Duo says, his tone betraying his subtlety.
“Would you like to join us, Duo?” Quatre interjects quickly.
“Trowa’s here while his troupe is on vacation. You owe yourself
one too, after what happened,”
“About that,” Duo says, his voice losing a degree of its
initial happiness. “Listen, Quatre, I need help in locating Hilde.”
Quatre looks at his friend helplessly, turning to Trowa for advice.
The other lowered his eyes in silent pity. It must have hit him hard,
losing Hilde, Quatre thinks as he looks desperately at Duo. The silence
between them grows and neither Quatre nor Trowa are sure of how to
answer Duo’s request.
“Look, if you can’t do it or whatever, it’s okay,”
Duo says, a little irritated at the blank looks on their faces.
“No, it’s not that, Duo, it’s just…”
“Just…what?”
“They reported Hilde as dead, Duo,” Trowa says, with a look
of true concern. Quatre’s face falls in what looked like sadness.
Duo freezes, blinks, and laughs out loud, causing the other two men
to both worry and to observe him confusedly.
“Duo?”
“Ah, I’m sorry, guys,” Duo says, out of breath. “I
completely forgot about that.”
“Forgot about what, Duo?” Trowa queries, more than a little
unsettled.
“Well, uh,” Duo stammers. “You see…”
“Out with it, Maxwell,”
“Alright,” Duo says seriously, smiling grimly. “But
don’t act like you didn’t see it coming.”
The two ex-pilots share a look, noting with a wordless understanding
that their friend, Duo Maxwell, has been productive in peacetime—though
with what they both feel as something forebodingly dangerous. They
look at Duo once more with their full attention, both sensing an underlying
and seething anger in the smiling American.
--
A.C. 197 – The Graveyard
Duo sits behind a cherry oak desk, lightly decorated
with a single rose in a glass vase and a picture turned away from
the three young men seated on the other side. The trio fidgets from
time to time as Duo reviews their résumés in thoughtful
silence. Though Duo looks far younger than the three men before him,
even they know his history—and, furthermore, can all feel an
aura of force around him that unsettles the very pits of their stomachs.
Duo looks up with a disarming smile, which serves to initially frighten
and then calm the three men.
“I gotta say, guys, you didn’t really need these,”
Duo says cheerily, stuffing the papers into a wastebin beside him.
“All you had to do was tell me you needed a job. You guys seem
like real decent people, y’know? We’ll be glad to give you
a place here, no problem.”
The three men grip their seats in order for them to keep from jumping
up in surprise and joy.
“Ah, well, don’t look so surprised, gentlemen,” Duo
says, grinning broadly. A petite, yet well-toned young woman in tight-fitting
army garb enters the dark office, shedding light upon the three men
and Duo’s smiling countenance. “Aw, Hilde, you know I don’t
like it when you barge in like that.”
“Well, did you hire them or not? Because I got a craft ready
and I’m not seeing anybody in it except for me,” Hilde says,
hands on hips.
“We’ll find you gentlemen some lodging and get you your
startup money after we get a little work done,” Duo tells them
reassuringly. He stands up to put an arm around the slightly-vexed
Hilde and smiles. “Sonny, Won-ton, Axe—welcome to the network!
Now let’s get to salvaging, eh?”
--
A.C. 199 – The Graveyard
Hilde comes bouncing into Duo’s office, which is
considerably more furnished than before—floor-to-ceiling bookshelves,
an antique vase full of fresh-cut roses, another picture frame, and
richly-framed original paintings by a now-famous Sonny da Vinci. Duo
shields his face from the burst of light and crinkles his nose at
Hilde and the young man trapped in her grip.
“Guess who passed the STAR exam and is coming to visit us after
landing a new job with the L2 Justice Department?” Hilde asks
rhetorically, hugging the brunette beside her with full force. Duo
jumps up with a wide smile, joining the embrace.
“Axel Drummond, you goddamn overachieving bastard, you!”
Duo says, rubbing Axel’s well-groomed head with his gloved knuckles.
Hilde laughs and lets go, and Duo follows, though keeping his hands
on Axel’s shoulders. He embraces the other man earnestly, patting
him on the back before releasing him. “We’re really proud
of you, Axe,”
The young man beams and kneels before Duo unexpectedly, taking Duo’s
gloved hand and removing the article of clothing. Duo begins to protest
but is silenced by Axel’s lips touching the back of his hand.
“I should be thanking you, my Brother,” Axel says quietly
but proudly, pressing Duo’s hand to his temple.
Hilde watches silently in the background, very much shocked at Axel’s
strange actions. Duo looks towards Hilde, questioning what was happening,
but accepts Axel’s motions as Earthly tradition that he didn’t
understand.
“You don’t have to do all that, Axe,” Duo says with
a light chuckle, bringing the other, probably older man to his feet.
“I’m just glad you were able to do what you’ve always
wanted.”
“No, Brother, you don’t understand,” Axel says seriously.
“You have given me a new, better life. And for that, I owe you
mine. I’m forever in your debt.”
“Listen, Axel, this really isn’t necessary—“
“Believe me, Brother. Don’t ever hesitate to call on me
for anything. I am at your beck and call, whatever it may be.”
Duo exhales, finding it futile to change the hardheaded lawyer’s
mind. He smiles and shakes Axel’s hand firmly.
“Alright, then, Counselor, I accept. Good luck to you out there
and remember that you’re always welcome here.”
--
A.C. 200 – The Graveyard
“They’re calling us the Maxwell Network,”
Hilde says with a smirk and a sarcastic roll of her eyes. “Little
do they know this pile of heap is nothin’ without pretty old
me.”
Duo shakes his head and sighs, head on his palm. “Is that some
weird phenomenon on Earth, too? I’ll admit, I thought the hand-kissing
was just some kind of tribute of respect, but they’ve actually
pegged us with a name because of all this nonsense.”
“Isn’t it flattering, though, Duo? I mean, the business
is going insanely well with all the connections we’re making
and the freedom we’ve gained, what with Axel, Carmine, Jion,
and Marisela essentially buying that new legislation that allows cross-colony
salvaging sans excise taxation. And Morty and Kilo are heading our
area’s police force and going easy on our less-than-legal excursions
into factory backyards.”
“I know, I know, Hilde. I’m extremely pleased with all the
progress your business has made,” Duo says, “but I’m
pretty sure this moniker is just going to bring bad news. They’re
going to start suspecting we’re some sort of rebel group and
then the government’s gonna start investigating if we’re
harmful to the peace and then everything’s gonna go downhill
from there.”
Hilde rounds the corners of the desk and places her hands on Duo’s
tensed shoulders, easing them with soft massages. “Just look
at it as free publicity, Mr. Paranoid,” She says, giving him
a soft hug. Duo relaxes slightly and puts The Lagrange Chronicle down.
Hilde kisses him on the cheek.
“Hilde,” Duo says, with a rather tired and vexed tone. Hilde
releases her grip on him and moves for the door. She turns around
with a small smile.
“Don’t worry, Duo. It’s just a name.”
--
A.C. 200 – Lagrange Two Periphery, Unnamed Area
526
The small salvaging spacecrafts, which Duo aptly named
Maxwell’s Demon and the Schbeikerschklist (he was particularly
proud of this), roved around a previously undiscovered area around
the L2’s borders. There’s a respectable amount of dispensed
cargo shuttles clustered around what looks to Duo like a magnetically
charged hunk of rock, possibly containing rare minerals.
“Don’t even think about it, Maxwell,” Hilde warns,
pointing to the full load they had on both spacecrafts. This slightly
annoys him, as they had ordered two bigger ships earlier in the month.
It had taken them three more months to figure out what to do with
the money they had amassed without drawing too much attention to the
prosperity of their business.
Lately, salvaging businesses became more common around the edges of
L2, whether they were locally started or other colonial businesses
found legislation to be more lax in L2 than the other colonies. Naturally,
Duo encouraged this in the beginning, as by that time, their business
had flourished enough for both he and Hilde to live comfortably if
they decided to shut down.
The downside to the competition was just that—competition. The
businesses that started up were rarely dependent on their own workers
and skills—they were often more focused on scrounging up whatever
Duo couldn’t take with him, and very effectively at that. (This
hyena-like behavior irks him to no end, as sometimes he can’t
give his employees assignments for days on end while he and Hilde
mapped out new areas to scavenge.)
Decent workers that were steadily streaming in from Earth and other
colonies were winding up in bad working conditions in other salvaging
businesses, which, more than often, espoused the idea that Duo’s
business was the devil amidst them, and that it must be put out of
business if L2 was to enjoy a monopoly-free atmosphere.
Now, the real salvaging businesses that Duo respected for their integrity
were also beginning to zone in on that idea, despite the mutual agreement
they had with each other to compete in peace. In a strange turn of
events, as soon as Duo’s business earned the name the Maxwell
Network, the other businesses coined names of their own. There were
four other particularly well-established salvaging businesses: the
Networks, however, were named relative to their owners: respectively,
the Canis Major (the Dog Pound) in the West; the Volans (the Shoreline
Salvaging Company) in the East; the Canes Venatici (Vultures Incorporated)
in the North; and the Orion (the Hunter’s Lodge) in the South.
Duo sighs and spies from the corner of his eyes the faint silhouette
of veiled rival spacecrafts on the cargo shuttles, waiting for his
departure from the site.
“Don’t worry, Duo, we’re good for another month of
work. We may even be able to send Rider and the other recruits tomorrow
by themselves if the new ships come in,” Hilde says in the video
receiver below him.
“It’s just dumb for them to go on like this, always trying
to provoke fights by outright foul play,” Duo says, flatly irritated.
“I won’t have it, but they’re bound to piss off someone
else. Each other, maybe. Haven’t these people had enough of war?”
“That would be betraying human nature, Duo,” Hilde says
with a tired sigh. “You give ‘em enough peace and they’re
hankering for a whole new OZ to rain hell on the galaxy.”
Duo smirks grimly and keeps quiet, docking in silence.
--
A.C. 203 – The Graveyard
Representative Won Tonshu Assassinated in L2 Home,
reads the Chronicle’s main headline.
The newspaper is crumpled within the confines of Duo’s
hands and is promptly slammed onto the table. Duo curls his fist and
punches directly through his window, spraying shattered glass around
him. He can feel his knuckles welling up with blood from the impact,
but the pain felt less real than the despair vibrating in his blood.
He sinks to his knees in a desperate attempt to hold his growingly
fragile spirit together. The list keeps growing, he thinks, and I
still don’t know what to do to stop it.
“They really know how to piss somebody off, don’t
they,” He whispers weakly, having heard Hilde enter quietly to
see what he had done. He feels her hands encircle his shoulders and
her head prop itself on his arm.
“Duo, I’m sorry,” She says softly.
“He didn’t deserve this. Rider didn’t
fucking deserve this. Jimmy hadn’t even been with us two weeks
and he was a good kid,” Duo shudders and Hilde holds on in fear
that he’ll break. It’s a moment or two of silence before
Duo stops shaking and Hilde is able to let him go.
He stands up and retrieves a black leather jacket from
his closet. He turns towards Hilde, with an expression eerily similar
to the one he wore while piloting Deathscythe, and says, “I’ll
be back in the morning. Don’t wait up.”
Hilde swears that, despite the blurred image of Duo
behind her tears, as Duo moved towards the sunset, she saw the shadow
of demon wings follow the ex-pilot.
--
A.C. 203 – Lion’s Den
Duo, unmatched by any living being in stealth operations
still, proves his excellent skill retention by seamlessly infiltrating
the headquarters of the Leo Minor Network through air ducts extending
to the nearby shipment factory it boasts. Fortunately, since peacetime,
the majority of the population has been low-inclined to gain knowledge
of combat and weapon tactics. (If the rage hadn’t convinced him
to don his God of Death alter-ego once more, Duo would have more reservations
in picking off the unsuspecting guards, one by one, but that’s
not the case.) Duo reaches his point of interest—that being the
office of Victor Leo Minor, head of the network.
“You know how I hate unannounced guests, Mr. Maxwell,” Minor
says with an arrogant smile. Duo spies his hand move towards the bottom
edge of the desk between them, no doubt to signal his goonies to play
guard dog before Duo has the chance to off with his head. “Unfortunately,
I don’t have room in my schedule for your attempt at grieving
right now.”
Duo cocks his head innocently at the much older man, playing his youthful
role in order to distract the other from his fatal situation. Under
the shadows produced by his baseball cap, Minor is unable to see the
blood-stopping anger in Duo’s eyes.
“Well, y’know, I’ve only really got about a minute’s
worth to say, so let’s just stay still a little bit, won’t
we?” Duo says with an entirely morphed tone of voice, which is
at once cold as well as gleeful.
The longer Minor is alone in the room, the less confident he appears.
He’s wondering what’s taking the others so long to come
to his aid. The approaching figure of Duo Maxwell, cloaked in darkness,
is causing him considerable mental stress. It can’t possibly
be, Minor thinks, I can’t get trapped by this—this kid.
“You’re a lot less talkative than I expected you to be,”
Duo chuckles, seating himself in the chair in front of Minor’s
desk. Minor’s hands inch toward his desk to grab his gun and
prevent his death, but is frozen in place when Duo says, “Move
your hand away from that drawer and I might even give you room to
apologize before I blow your fucking head off.”
Minor sits back, realizing the ramifications of his actions. But he’s
just a kid, Minor thinks, just a fucking kid! His heart pumps enough
blood to cause his pale, fat face to fill with redness. The anxiety
alone is enough to send him reeling into unconsciousness, but the
hidden face of the boy before him is keeping him paralyzed, as if
one tilt of that head and one look into his eyes will turn him into
stone.
“Mack,” Duo says, almost upbeat, flicking a bloody finger
like a burnt-out cigarette across the table to Minor’s chest.
“Lyle, Scamp, Sugar, and Tony,” Duo says in a sing-song
tone, grinning like a madman as the body parts stain Minor’s
pressed white suit. “I took the liberty of taking two of your
guys for every one of my brothers you took, without permission, from
me,” Duo seethes.
“Oops,” He says softly, momentarily confusing the still
Minor. Silence lays out between the two men before Duo shoots Victor
Leo Minor square in the eyes. “Forgot one,” Duo cheerily
remarks.
--
A.C. 204 – The Graveyard
“We believe in the resurrection of the dead and the life of the
world to come, Amen.”
The priest proceeds to shower three decorated graves with holy water
as several of the Graveyard’s workers finish their prayers and
depart to ship off to their next assignment. Duo, however, remains
behind with Hilde at his side.
“You never did tell me what you did to avenge them, Duo,”
Hilde says, wistfully looking at the three graves.
“I didn’t have to do anything, Hilde,” Duo says, laughing.
“Death dealt with the bastards who killed our brothers better
than I ever could.”
“If I’m not mistaken, Duo, you are Death, aren’t
you?” She says knowingly.
“You very well are, my dear Hilde,” He replies. She looks
at him disapprovingly. “I run, I hide, but I never lie, Hilde.
It was Death himself. Nothing to do with me.”
The two leave the graves and return to the docking area. They look
proudly at the three new shiny ships, named Jimmy, Rider, and Won-ton,
greeting them with their brand-new trademark clear for the colony
to see.
Duo whistles, acting mighty impressed. “Ain’t they bee-yoo-tiful?”
Hilde nods as she accepts a handful of paperwork from the head delivery
pilot, flipping through them with interest.
“I’m gonna go ahead and take old Demon for a quick periphery
sweep, okay?” Duo says, already making motions to board the spacecraft.
“Alright. Don’t bring back too much, if you find anything
at all. I still have to reorganize last night’s collection into
the additional bins, which in turn still have to be properly labeled,”
Hilde sighs, looking up from the paperwork. “In other words,
I gotta do all the dirty work, so don’t add to the shit load,
okay, Maxwell?”
“Gotcha, boss,” Duo says, grinning and rocketing irresponsibly
fast out of the atmosphere.
--
As Duo attempts to contact Hilde for a clear docking zone, he finds
the connection unable to link him to her. Moreover, as he closes in
on the Graveyard’s location, he realizes that the entire block
seems to be covered in heavy, opaque smog. Duo cries out in disbelief,
ironically cursing himself as he finds a clear field to land.
He makes a desperate race towards the Graveyard and finds nothing
but smoldering rubble and yellow tape preventing his entrance. He
stares in horror.
Hilde, he thinks, Where’s Hilde?
He runs around the entire area, looking for any sign of the blue-haired
German. He pulls aside a paramedic violently, asking, “Did you
find Hilde Schbeiker?”
The paramedic, already harried from the rescue, exclaims, “No!
Look, we don’t know who’s who yet. The fire just happened
a little while ago. Now, if you excuse me, people are dying. Let me
do my job.”
Duo, helpless, lets him go and turns his attention back to the fire.
--
He sneaks into his office as the sun sets and the police become entangled
with civilian questions. He looks around for any sign of Hilde, any
part that can possibly quell the sickness in his stomach and tell
him whether he should be angry or grieving terribly. But instead he
finds nothing of significance.
He thinks back, cursing himself for leaving her unprotected.
But he never could have seen this attack coming—after all, everything
had been peaceful after the Leo Minor incident, which he and the other
four networks agreed happened for the better. It seems so out of place,
so—
Until he remembers what he’d managed to steal from
Leo Minor, and the rumored involvement of the Volans Network being
in business to obtain it.
Shit, Duo thinks. He falls to his knees and rubs his
temples, retrieving a cigarette case full of dusty Sobranies. “I
didn’t think I’d ever need one of these, Howard,” He
says, attempting to suppress any overwhelming emotion with the memory
of his awkwardly-dressed mentor handing him a case of cigarettes for
his twentieth birthday.
He uses the dying fire to light the slim, black cigarette
and in the process spies a beeping piece of metal in the burning carbon
that used to be his desk. He attempts to pick it up, but finds his
fingers slightly burned. He puts on his gloves and stealthily plays
hot-potato to bring the video-note to a cooler environment.
The note escapes his grip and makes tinkling noises
as it falls a few feet away from Duo, revealing only two words.
--
A.C. 205 – The Graveyard
“What the note said doesn’t matter,”
Duo says, not meaning to allow his anger to seep through his farcical
routine. “What matters is that I need your help in finding Hilde.
They’ve taken her hostage somewhere, and the Volans Network consists
of old pre-colonial businessmen with wiles and connections just like
your father had.”
“What was it that you stole?” Trowa asks, still calm in
his seat.
“Look, Trowa, I’m short on time,” Duo says, knowledgeable
of his evasion. By the looks of it, Trowa is as well. “I just
want to know if you can help me or not.”
“I’ll see what I can do, Duo, but most of the systems in
general are undergoing renovation right now at the Winner Estate,”
Quatre replies honestly. “I can’t promise instant results
on her whereabouts.”
“You should ask Heero for help,” Trowa offers. “As
the Foreign Minister’s bodyguard, he has free reign of the ESUN’s
anti-war technology, which should help you greatly—probably more
effectively than Quatre’s technology can at the moment.”
The look on Duo’s face says exactly what he is thinking, despite
his best efforts to hide it: Fuck, he thinks, I was hoping it wasn’t
going to come to that.
“Alright. Thanks, Quatre, Trowa,” Duo says, visibly fatigued.
“I’ll talk to you soon.”
“You’re welcome, Duo,” Quatre says kindly. “I
will try my best… believe me. Trowa and I will put our best efforts
into finding Hilde for you. Good-bye, my friend.”
“Yeah. See ya,” Duo gives a wave good-bye and a big grin
before shutting off the video-receiver and lighting another cigarette.
He looks at the seven cigarettes still left in the embroidered titanium
case.
This is the wrong time to be thinking of you, he says
to himself.
~ * ~
Chapter 2
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