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"9"Written By: L.
Valensi
Rating: R Warnings: Suspense/Romance, hefty amount of gratuitous
violence; some abuse; lots of minor OCs & general term-invention 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 Spoilers: Everything; Set Post-Mariemaia
Chapter 4: Rootless Tree -- -- What I want from this is learn to let go. -- A.C. 205 – Location Unknown “Hey you!” Fifteen-year-old Duo yells. “I’m callin’ you!” He runs toward the shadowy figure of Heero in the distance. He catches up to the shadow and reaches out, touching only thin air. Duo sighs. “Here I am, Mr. Nice Guy, offerin’ to fix your mobile suit with mine, but you just brush me right off…” The shadow of twenty-five year old Heero appears next to him. “Could you keep it down over there?” Duo turns around and punches him square in the jaw, but the shadow dissipates against his skin. He starts to run towards no particular direction, pulled by something like gravity. The scenery in front of him slides between blinding and crystal-clear, as if he is running in a flickering old roll of film. Heero’s shadow appears in the corner of his eye. “Life is cheap, especially mine,” Heero says hauntingly. “I think they like you better… it’s a good chance, so don’t die yet.” Duo’s eyes become wet for no reason. He feels the wind cooling his cheeks as they hit the water falling helplessly from Duo’s eyes. The visions of Heero disappear completely as Duo regains complete, yet addled, consciousness. He blinks, eyes poisoned by the fluorescent whiteness all around him. He tries to move but finds that he’s strapped tightly to a cold, tilted table. He grunts, throat dry and coarse, and realizes that he is additionally and embarrassingly buck-fucking naked. Shit, he thinks, I’m in real trouble now. “Well, well, Mr. Maxwell,” Duo hears someone behind him say. “Have a nice nap, did you?” Duo, rather foreign to the feeling of fear, chuckles hoarsely. “Hell yeah,” He whispers, “But I think I also might’a gotten laid. Seein’ as how it’s just you and me, I’m guessin’ you’re the one with the bondage fetish.” Duo laughs out loud as best as he can. The man, however, gave a displeased humming sound before walking over to face Duo directly. Duo’s eyes widen in raw fury. “Volans!” He croaks out, desperately struggling to remove himself from the table but to no avail. Duo hears several voices behind him laughing along with Volans, igniting an anger within him that he has long since forgotten he can feel. “You piece of shit coward! What the fuck’ve you done to Hilde?!” “If I recall correctly, Mr. Maxwell, it was Hilde who got you into this position in the first place,” Volans responds calmly. Duo yells indistinct curses before Volans gags him “for posterity. You are, after all, in a business meeting, Mr. Maxwell. Do mind your manners.” Volans turns him around and has him face the other leaders of the L2 salvaging networks: Sirius Canis Major, Leonardo Canes Venatici, Caelus Orion, and, of course, the motherfucker Karluv Volans. Duo stares at them in utter disbelief. “We’re sorry, Maxwell, but your extermination is in the interest of all our businesses,” says the wiry, olive-skinned Leonardo Canes Venatici. “Your business is getting out of hand. The salvaging business has now become a monopoly under you,” Sirius Canis Major states. “Prosperity must be shared, not owned by one entity. I’m sorry to say that you have reaped all the benefits and have left us, your former colleagues, with nothing. And that is unjust.” What the fuck are you talking about, Duo screams with his eyes. You assholes are the ones with all the money! “It would just be better for you, as well,” Caelus Orion says. “When you find that you have nothing left to go back to on L2.” Those words spark something beyond anger in Duo. In fact, the anger is quelled by that alien emotion that he swore he’d never let himself feel again. Volans asks the other men to leave them alone briefly before they continued the execution. He calls on a guard at the room’s only door to lead the other men into the waiting room. Volans then turns his attention back to Duo. “You see, Maxwell,” Volans says quietly, putting his face directly next to Duo’s. “It’s over. Everything you own—everything you love—has left you. It’s gone. Poof. All because you decided to steal something very, very important from me.” Duo’s eyes and teeth clench together almost hard enough to draw blood on muscle action alone when he feels Volans’ hand slowly caressing his chest, then his stomach. Duo inhales and exhales sharply, trying in vain not to react the Volans’ prying hands as they proceeded to viciously molest Duo’s genitals. “It’s just business, Maxwell,” Volans whispers in to his ear breathlessly, chuckling with grunt his pumping hands draws from the helpless younger man. “You take something from me, and I take it back… with interest.” Volans laughs into his ear. Duo feels nothing but sickness, an ill feeling enough for him to wish death on himself. Volans removes his gag but does not stop his sexual prodding of Duo’s body. He cries out when he feels something warm and foreign enter an area never meant to be entered by foreign objects. Volans laughs and watches and tears of desperation force themselves out of Duo’s eyes. “I wonder at all why you even bothered to steal it. After all, what could you be thinking of doing with it? Trying to recover the past? You miss the limelight, Maxwell, the feeling of power, of having control over the lives of normal people?” Volans laughs. “Pathetic. All you pilots are pathetic. Just a bunch of megalomaniacal cowards.” But now that I’ve succeeded in taking everything that is precious to you, I would like my reward back, Mr. Maxwell.” Duo heaves and spits a glob of saliva straight into Volans’ eyes, sending him stumbling backwards in disgust. Duo laughs, albeit pained as all hell. “Fuck you,” He says tersely. “It doesn’t belong to you and now it never will.” Volans, wiping his face in complete repulsion, sprints to the door in the corner. He calls out an indistinct name and points back to Duo. “Take his precious jewels and throw ‘em in the trash. And make sure he feels it.” The surgeon nods and enters the room. Duo’s body is wrought with anguish as the surgeon brings the scalpel toward his genitals. Duo pleads more audibly than he has ever remembered speaking, screaming prayers and curses in the same breath. The surgeon remains unaffected and inches the blade closer and closer, commencing its incision into Duo’s supple flesh. Duo’s first unbearable scream is masked by a gigantic explosion which blows a chunk of glass straight through the surgeon’s abdomen, missing Duo only by centimeters. The table topples to the side. Duo frantically attempts to free himself, but the steel binds around his wrists prevent him still. He feels a sharp pain in his side and feels himself falling back into a state of unconsciousness. He hears the wailing alarms sound all around him as he lies on the floor. He watches as the Volans points the other network leaders to the direction of a shuttle ready to take off. He screams to his guards, “What the fuck just happened? Where the hell are the rest of the men?” “We don’t know, sir,” the guard says, frenzied. “When I went to the quarters and all the entrances, every man had been gunned down, but we don’t know by who,” “Shit!” Volans screams. “Get the hell out of here! And tell that bitch to get out of here, too!” “Roger!” Says the guard as he runs out of Duo’s field of vision. Duo watches Volans ignore him and runs to the shuttle’s direction in order to escape. Duo finds that it is getting harder to breathe the longer he remains where he is, wherever he is. His mind knows it must panic, but it is unable to function beyond the thick smell of gunpowder, propane, and the faint smell of blood. Just as darkness consumes him again, he sees the familiar and comforting shadow of Heero Yuy coming to his side, to save him. “…Don’t die yet,” He hears, or imagines hearing from Heero. Now this is a nice last dream, Duo thinks as the curtains to his consciousness close once more. -- A.C. 205 – T-Cluster – Unknown Residence Duo awakens feeling damp and warm all over. Am I dead? He wonders, hoping to see the pearly gates when he opens his eyes. But when he sees an imitation of Edward Hopper’s “Nighthawks” hanging from the burgundy wall in front of him, he recognizes that he isn’t in heaven; he’s either at an art gallery, or somewhere far from Volans. Close enough, he thinks, but how? “Don’t move too much,” says Heero Yuy, sitting beside him with a lengthy report in his hands. Heero resumes his reading and Duo sits there, trying to think of something to say but he can’t find the words. There are too many and too little, and he knows that neither he nor Heero are in any mood to grapple with the questions that would surface. In typical Duo fashion, though, he attempts to move himself into a more comfortable sitting position, so as not to feel so weak, but finds he has neither the strength nor the pain tolerance to be able to do so. He shouts in pain and slumps back into position, reflexively grabbing the part of his body in immense pain. Heero puts his report down and moves Duo’s blanket off of him. Duo notices he is half-naked, with only a pair of loose flannel pajama pants and a massive patchwork of bandages and gauze around his stomach separating him and Heero. Well, including Heero’s own ensemble consisting of a crisp black dress shirt and a pair of fitted dark denim jeans. “Are you deaf?” Heero asks, but Duo can’t tell whether he’s being sarcastic or serious. “I told you not to move. I’m not sure what they cut you with, but it was deep enough to cause you to hemorrhage very quickly. You’ve lost a lot of blood and if I hadn’t gotten there in time, you likely would have died,” Duo looks at him with an ached expression, finding it better to remain soundless. He should have just died, Duo thinks, maybe the network leaders were right. He turns away from Heero. He sees Grizel’s face continuously fade in-out with Hilde’s, and vaguely remembers that Volans had claimed she was responsible for trapping Duo so effectively. Great, Duo thinks, feeling unbearable pangs of pain not only from his side, but a result of his ribcage closing in on his heart. Heero stares at Duo’s profile, his irritation with Duo’s action betraying his overall concern. “You idiot,” He says, watching Duo’s countenance stiffen at his words. They remain quiet. “Fuck you,” Duo replies roughly. He feels Heero’s hands approach him and he weakly bats them away. Heero forcibly, but gently, takes Duo’s hands and places them away from his stomach. These movements cause Duo to protest, but in his condition, he knows it is a losing battle. He sighs heavily and complies to Heero’s advances. Heero begins to unwrap the blood-soaked bandages from Duo’s stomach. Duo sees that he has a fresh set of bandages and a bowl of steaming water in a mobile tray next to the bed. Duo turns red from both pain and anger and remains staring rigidly at “Nighthawks” in an effort to ignore Heero. Heero methodically changes Duo’s bandages, managing to cause the other as little pain as possible with his precision. Once Heero is finished, he gets up and picks up the report from Duo’s end table. He sits down on the chair beside Duo’s bed and resumes his reading. Duo feigns sleep as Heero reads the entire report for nearly two hours (and, by the way, gets no sleep at all—just more and more frustrated for various reasons). Duo peeks at Heero out of one eye; the other man doesn’t respond. Once Heero finishes the report, he puts it down on the end table again and looks directly at the peeking Duo. “As you’ve probably guessed, I’m going to be watching over you from now until this thing is over,” Heero states. “No, you fuckin’ are not,” Duo says loudly, almost yelling, despite the dryness in his throat. “This is none of your business. All you need to do is get back to your grand fuckin’ job as Relena’s bodyguard and just leave me alone!” “Do you want to find out why all this is happening or not, Duo?” Duo gazes at him, enraged. “I don’t need you,” He seethes. “Yes, you do,” Heero says. “And I need to keep this problem from touching the Peace Wing at all costs. So stop whining already, because this time, you aren’t going to stupidly risk your life again.” “Look who’s fuckin’ talkin’,” Duo says, amused and angry at the same time. “Mr. I’ll-Blow-Myself-Up-Anytime-I-Fuckin’-Want.” “Things change,” Heero says. “No, they don’t, Your Highness,” Duo replies. “Nothing changes. People, most of all, don’t change. Ever.” Heero gives a quiet “hmm” before he gets up and heads for the door. He turns around to find Duo looking outside the window. “I’m going to make tomato soup for lunch. I’ll be back soon.” Duo doesn’t pay attention. “By the way, Duo, I believe the correct expression is, ‘Thank you,’” Heero says as he closes the door. -- A month has passed by, and Duo has reluctantly come to terms with Heero’s presence in his daily life. He contemplatively sips his soup, preferring most times to be quiet around Heero (who is always with book in hand). He is almost always trying to suppress himself from getting too excited at the sight of the other, a feat that proved to become more difficult as the season began to fade into summer. Temperatures increased enough to encourage Heero to wear less stifling clothing. It will be impossible to keep down, Duo thinks sadly, if Heero starts wearing his old attire consisting of the loose green wife-beater and the spandex. Duo closes his eyes and sighs in mock anguish. “Is there something wrong with the soup?” Heero asks, inserting a bookmark to save his place in Milan Kundera’s The Unbearable Lightness of Being. Duo opens his eyes and shakes his head. “No, no, it’s great, as usual,” Duo says happily. “Broccoli and cheese, my favorite Wednesday treat.” Heero doesn’t respond, but instead leaves and wheels in the bandage tray. Duo frowns. He hates getting his bandages changed because Heero also takes the liberty of sponging him down at the same time (“Saves time,” Heero would say). It is the time of day he despised most because it is nearly impossible to stop himself from, say, thinking of anything but sex. And that, in turn, makes it impossibly difficult to keep the lion tamed, as they say in the old country. Duo remembers the one time it did happen was when he was half-asleep, and Heero had begun changing his bandages. Heero didn’t seem to notice much—the only reaction he had was when Duo began subconsciously moaning, and Heero shook him awake to ask him if he was in pain. Duo awoke to Heero, his naked body, his throbbing erection, and Heero’s hand with a sponge right next to it—sending him in to shock. “What the fuck are you doing!” Duo screamed as he attempted to pull the blanket over himself but instead doubles over in intense pain. “Fuck, fuck fuck! Owww!” Heero hurriedly set Duo back into his old position and held him down until the pain set aside. “I’m just cleaning you, Duo,” Heero said. “I thought it would be better if you were asleep so you wouldn’t feel the pain as strongly.” “Don’t touch me when I’m sleeping,” Duo hissed, breathing heavily in pain. Heero nodded understandingly and picked up the sponge from the floor. He sat down and began to wrap Duo in bandages once more. Duo felt regret, embarrassment, and a swell of increased attraction to the man bandaging his wounds. Why you, Duo asks, Why does it always have to be you? “You know, Duo,” Heero said quietly, “It’s no crime to be grateful,” Duo frowned, but Heero didn’t notice. Why is it so hard for me to say thanks? Duo asked himself. However hesitantly, though, Duo managed to croak out, “Thanks.” Heero finished, took his book, and went to the door. “You’re welcome, Duo.” Then he left. “Thank you, Your Highness,” Duo says, this time cheerfully. Heero wheels out the tray, closes the door, and returns with a folder thick with papers, which he hands over to Duo. “Here is the Preventers’ report on your botched mission in Cherbourg-Octeville,” Heero says, “Along with that mission, you not only caused an uproar among civilians about a new terrorist organization, but you’ve gotten the attention of the Peace Wing. I don’t know how long I can keep this down, but you can’t do something like this again, Duo.” Shit, Duo thinks. If that’s the case, then Axel and the others… Duo flips through the report, ignoring Heero’s words and focusing only on finding news about occurrences in L2. He needs to know if the others are safe, and by sifting through the papers, he assuages himself. Finding nothing on any underground facilities, Duo sighs in relief. “That’s not good news, Duo,” Heero says. “Those are the markings of war.” Duo turns to Heero and smiles wanly. “Sorry, I’m a little sleepy,” Duo says, falsely congenial. “You know how I get after eating. I just need some time to nap and then I’ll read through this and we’ll talk it over, you know, whatever we need to do next,” “You won’t be doing anything,” Heero says. “Not in your condition and also because you’re an idiot.” Duo laughs it off, eager to get Heero out of the room. “Alright, already. Just lemme sleep, won’t you?” Heero leaves the room and Duo closes his eyes. Heero’s absence left a similar cavity in somewhere in Duo. No matter what he does or how long Heero stays, Duo can’t ignore the weight of the air that clings to him, pulling him down, whenever Heero is around. It weighs on his heart, having to always cover his marks, his self, around the other. Nothing between them, Duo’s convinced, can ever be sincere like this—and therefore the weight will never ease. And if he isn’t around, when there’s nothing tying Duo down, everything turns into emptiness. Better emptiness than weight, Duo thinks. Sorry, Heero. -- When Heero arrived early in the morning to check on Duo, he found all ten of his guards incapacitated in the lobby of the building. He runs over to the group of men and grabs someone half-conscious. “Where is he?” He says with noticeable anxiety, shaking the guard into lucidity. “He’s gone, sir,” mumbles the guard. “Told us to tell you… don’t follow… none of your… business…” Heero drops the guard and sprints back to his vehicle, driving rapidly towards the Tunis Spaceport. He instructs the call-function to dial the number of the Peace Wing. “Good morning, Principal Yuy, how may I assist you?” Greets Miss Sphinx. “I need you to schedule a flight from Tunis Spaceport to L2 now,” Orders Heero. “Done and done sir; have a nice flight!” As the call-function ceases to resound in the car, Heero’s mind races to Duo—Duo’s whereabouts, Duo’s health, Duo’s stupidity, Duo’s actions. There is something missing, Heero understands, there is something important that Duo hasn’t told him. There is something driving Duo to act irresponsibly with his life, motions that are not alien to Heero. If this had been ten years ago, Heero would not have cared what Duo did with his life. He’s acting on his emotions—the only way to live a good life—isn’t that right? And then he realizes, somewhat vaguely, that there is something driving him to this mission regarding Duo. You fucking idiot, He thinks. What the hell do you want? But Heero no longer knows who he is talking about. -- A.C. 205 – Shuttle 660 to L2 Duo dreams of Hilde’s smiling face and recovers memories of their first excursions out into space as salvagers. He remembers only good times, never bad ones, because he remembers they never had any. He remembers sharing the dark days after the deaths of their employees and the quick spiraling of this life into despondence, into pain—pain that seizes his body and soul when he recalls the moment he realized Hilde was, indeed, Grizel Liegen. He spasms into consciousness in his seat on the shuttle, cold sweat running down his cheeks. Why, Hilde? You can’t possibly be on his side, thinks Duo, it’s impossible. Hilde isn’ that kind of person. He must be holding her prisoner. I still have to save her, he thinks desperately, I have to. I have to find out why. -- A.C. 205 – The Graveyard: Underground Safehouse “Bro! You’re alive!” Sonny screams, running towards him and embracing him tightly. Duo yells in pain, pushing Sonny away and falling to his knees. “Shit!” Axel pushes Sonny back and Morty comes to Duo’s side, lifting him up. Jion helps Morty move Duo to the couch. All of Duo’s employees stare at him in shock at his current state, unable to speak. “What happened, Brother?” Axel says, soothingly stroking his back. Duo laughs in an attempt to calm them. “It’s okay, I’m alive, that’s all that matters,” Duo says breathlessly. “Listen, guys, I’m really sorry about all this… I really didn’t mean for things to go this far, but I’m afraid things on L2 aren’t safe for the Maxwell Network anymore. And I’m not entirely sure how else I’ll be able to keep you safe unless I keep you here.” “No, Brother, we’re fine here,” Marisela says assuredly. “All this time we’ve just been worrying about you,” “And we were right to worry,” Sonny growls. “You look like you’re already dead.” “Well, thanks a lot for the compliments, Sonny,” Duo chuckles, “Y’douchebage.” “Hey, no problem, Bro,” Sonny says, sitting next to him and pushing Axel away. “So are ya gonna be stayin’ with us for a while, or what?” “No,” Duo says forlornly. “I just came here to hand the business over to you guys, if and when I become too incapacitated to take care of it,” “Brother, what the hell are you saying?” Jion asks, exasperated. “Please, Jion,” Duo says weakly. “Please, everyone. Don’t argue. Don’t ask me questions. I’ll answer everything when this is over… and if I can’t, either way, everything will be explained,” Duo hands Axel a key. “That’s the key to the originals of all the business files in my apartment. There’s a plan there written by Hilde and me that outlines the necessary renovations to the Graveyard and some new ships we were looking to buy. Also, the floorplans for the office are in there, so the contractors will be able to rebuild it.” “I don’t know what all this means, Brother, and I hope to God you know what you’re doing,” Marisela sighs, “But I’m going to trust that all this is for the best.” They have a moment of silence for what has happened, what will happen. Duo looks at each and every one of his employees—no, his family members—and prays as much as a sinner can pray that he will be able to save them. I won’t stop, Duo thinks, I can’t. Not even for you. ~ * ~ |
