|
"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 5: Dogs -- -- He lives in a little house -- A.C. 205 – Lagrange Two: Southside Despite concerned arguments from his family underground, Duo convinces them that it is better that he stay away from them, at least for now—‘til everything blows over. Duo smiles and commits the memory of their bittersweet farewells in his mind as he makes his way through the southside of L2. Here, the alleys become the streets, and the streets are littered with bodies and garbage—not that you can tell them apart too easily. The stench drives even the animals away, except for the rats, flies, and decrepit hounds sniffing bodies to check if they’re alive or food. Crumbling buildings, gun shots, and indistinct human voices meld together to become the southside’s anthem: disjointed, frightening, and musical. To a former street rat, anyway. But the longer Duo strengthens his composure so as not to look vulnerable, the faster the pain takes a toll on his body. The closer he gets to his destination, the fainter he feels. Luckily for him, the dingy wooden sign saying “Howard’s Fun Room” is the next building from where he’s standing. He can already feel the seedy, alcoholic air seeping out like chloroform. Chuckling, he strides in with his typical grin. “Duo Maxwell!” Yells an old man in a hideous pink and green shirt. Duo waves back, not as energetically as he would have liked, but happily nonetheless. “Well, come on in, buddy, have a seat!” Duo walks over to the nearest table, glad as hell. He surveys Howard as he moves slowly around the bar. Age has caught up to his former Sweeper friend since he last saw him five years ago (when the Sweeper Group decided to part ways and leave all the business to Duo and Hilde, he figured it was the right time to start pursuing other lazy dreams, like opening the “Fun Room”). The old man hobbles over, sprightly but noticeably aged. The wrinkles on his face are more prominent than Duo’d ever remembered, and the trademark tufts of hair on the side of his head, and even the facial hair, has dimmed in color. Howard’s laugh eases Duo as the old man seats himself across the table from the other. He smells of alcohol and forgotten eras. “Well, well, never thought I’d ever see you come down here,” Howard says with a laugh. “Things ain’t goin’ so well in the business world, nowadays, eh?” Duo nods, smiles, and sighs at the old man, understanding his strange form of man-comfort. “Well, whattaya gonna do when the whole world’s after you, Howard?” Duo jokes back. “To what do I owe this honor, Maxwell?” Howard says, mumbling thanks to one of his bartenders as they put down two pints of beer on their table. “I need a favor, Howard,” Duo says. “No, boy, what you need is a vacation. You look like shit,” Howard jests. “It would do you some good to stay around here a while. Away from all the fuckers tryin’a kill you, and all,” Duo grins widely. “What’re you, a mind reader, now?” “Nah,” Says Howard, taking a gulp of beer. “You’re a smart kid; I knew you’d wise up and ask me for help. Those whatchamacall ‘em network bastards can’t touch you when you’re with me,” “I’m glad to hear it, Howard,” Duo says with a heavy sigh. “Things just aren’t going as planned nowadays.” “You know how the saying goes, eh?” Howard says. “‘The best laid schemes o’ mice an’ men gang aft agley.’” “I think you’re already drunk,” Duo laughs. “Makes sense to me,” He says. “Now let’s drink up, catch up, and get you on your way to the squatters, where you’ll be plenty safe.” “Amen to that!” Duo says, wincing inwardly as he raised his glass to Howard’s. -- Three hours later, Duo stumbles out of Howard’s bar. “Don’t forget—just tell ‘em my name!” Howard shouts to him. “Gotcha, boss!” Duo yells back with a big grin. Seeing old friends always makes Duo smile for some reason; he reckons it’s just nostalgia. As Duo reaches the boundary of the L2 squatters, he exhales in relief. His stomach is wracked with an insufferable throbbing, despite all the progress he’d physically made. He isn’t used to walking so much after his incapacitation, too. When Duo steps on the invisible barrier between L2 and the squatters, a group of young, haggardly-dressed boys half his age come out of nowhere with weapons in their grubby little hands. Duo’s face falls. “There’s a God, my ass,” He mumbles, preparing himself for an unpredicted fight. He should have known it would be difficult to get through a place like the squatters, though Howard made it sound like it was easy like sunday morning. The first punk leaps at Duo, which he manages to dodge pretty easily. He shakes his head as the kid pummels into a shack, bringing down the meager building with him. Another one jumps from a garbage bin, baseball bat handy. He runs and swings the bat directly at Duo’s face; Duo ducks reflexively, swinging his leg out and knocking the kid down. Duo kicks his bat away and the kid freezes when he sees the coldness in Duo’s eyes. The kid prepares to run away, but he sees the pain flash briefly across Duo’s face. He notices that Duo is wounded, somewhere, and gives him a sinister look. “Bastard’s got an owwie, boys,” He yells, running back towards his gang. “Gang up on him! He won’t be able to take all of us!” Duo squares his feet and glowers, baring his teeth. Suddenly, his vision blurs, and his shoulder slumps to the side. He hears one of the kids shout “Go!” but in the split second it takes him to recover his senses, they are already before him. He flings away the most threatening weaponry they held but is unable to fend off their simultaneous kicks and punches. As soon as he feels the heavy leather catch his stomach, Duo’s world goes spinning. Shit, he thinks, not again, not now. He closes his eyes and prepares for another excruciating jab to his wound, as they likely would have realized by now that that’s where he was hurt, but he feels the cold wind hit his neck. He hears one kid call out “Retreat!” Duo looks up and sees three kids lying prostrate on the ground, unconscious, and Heero Yuy towering over them. Heero turns around with a look of raw condescension and bends down to face Duo. Duo, however, can’t face him. Heero props Duo on one shoulder and approaches the group of rebels. “We’re with Howard,” Heero says loudly, for the kids and all the others hiding in the shacks to hear. The kids then immediately drop their battle stances and begin to laugh understandingly. “No fuckin’ wonder he’s so good,” one of them says before they all disappear back into the shanties. Duo and Heero walk in silence. When they reach the intersection, Heero asks Duo for directions and Duo tells him to head further south until they reach a grey building with an “H” scrawled into the ground. Heero nods. These are the only words spoken between them before they reach the building. As soon as they reach the room at the top of the stairs, Duo removes himself from Heero’s grip and proceeds to sit on the couch furthest away from Heero. Heero observes him reticently for hours. -- A.C. 205 – The Volans Estate “I’m gonna kill the fucker that did this to me!” Yells Karluv Volans, slamming his fist into the wall opposite him and creating a dent. His flaccid face is blanched with rage. There is a large gash on the side of his face, a casualty from the attack at the torture chamber. “The other networks think I purposely led an attack on them, and now they’re all out to get me!” Hilde sits in an armchair across the small office from Volans. Her arms are crossed; she is wearing shaded glasses though they are indoors. She sits there stoically until he finishes his tirade. “Calm down, Karluv,” She says sternly. “Calm down?” Volans fumes, facing her incredulous and outraged. “Who the hell do you think you’re talkin’ to, you little bitch? You probably had this planned all along!” Hilde places her arms on the chair and shakes her head at the man. “Quit being dramatic, Volans. I’m here. I haven’t tried to stop you from doing anything. You have no reason to question me. You’d do better, however, if you shut up and listen to me.” Hilde can feel what Volans is thinking. It is a simple feeling. He feels threatened by her placid audacity, but Hilde can care less. She needs him to calm down. He seats himself in his desk, sinking into a state of despair and wrath. “Good,” Hilde continues. “Now we can talk.” “What’s there left to talk about?” Volans says gruffly. “Maxwell’s free again. He’ll come after us for sure.” “Duo was severely wounded, if you didn’t notice. I doubt he’ll recover so soon. He is probably still convalescing somewhere. All we need to do is find him,” Hilde approaches Volans’ desk and procures a folder from inside her wide purse. She places it in front of Volans. He opens it reluctantly. “You see, Karluv, the game has only just begun.” “What does all this mean?” “Those are all the possible places Duo Maxwell may attempt to seek shelter, and those are all the people currently linked to him. Kill the rest to make a point. Get your men to each and every one of those places and I guarantee you, we will find him sooner than you think. And once you do,” Hilde purposely trails off to let Volans finish. “We give him an offer he can’t possibly refuse,” Finishes Volans, wholly pleased. “Exactly,” Hilde says with a small grimace. “Now make those phone calls.” -- A.C. 205 – Lagrange Two Squatters: Howard’s Place Morning arrives before Duo speaks the first word. “How’d you find me?” He asks quietly. “A glass house is what it is,” Heero answers vaguely. Silence looms over the two of them once more. Duo begins to stand up to walk over to Heero, but Heero quickly moves to catch Duo as he inevitably stumbles. “Just stay where you are,” Heero says in such a gentle manner that it hurts Duo to hear him say it. Duo looks him in the eyes for a very long time, keeping hold of Heero’s arm though he is already lying down. After a minute has passed, Duo looks away once more. “…Thank you,” He murmurs. He’d meant to say it only in his head, but it escaped his lips the moment he felt the other try to position him better. Heero doesn’t reply; instead, he leaves Duo’s side and stands by the window. After a while, Heero says, “Is there a bathroom here?” “Yeah, it should be downstairs to your left,” Duo yawns. “Why, you need a shower just being here or what?” Unfortunately, the very thought of that begins to stir unwanted reactions from Duo’s body. Heero leaves the room without saying a word. Duo touches his stomach and looks downwards to find that his shirt is thoroughly soaked in blood (thank God it’s black, he remarks). He lifts it to find that the bandages are already crusted over with dried bodily fluids. The kick to his stomach had done his wound’s progress a great disservice, and now it will take even longer to get completely well again. It is definitely an unwise time to be wounded, and Duo knows this. He knows that Volans is probably seeking to get revenge on him still, and there is probably nowhere but here in the squatters that Duo can feel safe. I don’t know how much longer I can take any of this, he thinks, it’s too much. The closer he gets to the truth, the further he realizes he is from it. On top of that, there’s a burden on his soul and mind that he keeps and he isn’t exactly sure why he doesn’t just surrender to the powers-that-be, who seem so intent in bringing him down. Things fall apart; the center cannot hold. He’s left to pick up the pieces of his shattered life, and he’s desperate to put them back together for just a little bit of sanity. Just to be back where he and Hilde and his brothers and sisters are happy again with the Graveyard. Yet no matter how hard he wishes—how hard he prays—there’s no escaping the nature of his life. And he fears if he doesn’t give it everything he’s got, he’ll never get away from his name. From the future he once thought was the only one he’d lead. Heero returns with a roll of gauze, electrical tape, towels, and a bucket of hot water. Duo gazes in no particular direction, lost in thought. Heero puts the items down beside him and draws a chair close to Duo. Duo regards him with genuine astonishment this time. Heero reaches over to lift Duo’s shirt, but Duo’s hand closes over his, forcing Heero to look at him. “Why are you doing this, Heero?” Duo asks. Heero takes his hand back and remains quiet while thinking of an answer. “Because I’m waiting for you,” Heero says, “To tell me the truth.” Duo chuckles lightly at this reply, lifting his arms away from his body to give Heero easier access. “I’m a glass house, Heero,” He responds ironically. “What you see is what you get. I’m not hiding anything meaningful from you.” “That’s not what it means,” Heero replies. He begins to remove Duo’s bandages and Duo mumbles a “hmm” and stays quiet for the duration of the cleaning. When Heero takes out the sponge from the bucket, Duo hastily sits upright. “I think I’m okay to take baths now, Heero,” Duo says rather quickly. Heero shrugs and puts the sponge back and walks over to the window. Duo walks out the door and to the bathroom, narrowly escaping, once again, another awkward sponging session. -- While in the bath, Duo reminisces about his days as the Principal’s partner. He recalls his feelings for the other man as being platonic, but only because he knew better than to learn to love again. Quatre could love, and Trowa seemed to still have it in him to care. But back then, he was sure that Heero felt just the same about life as he had: that it was meaningless without the mission—that ever-present external mission that prompted his every action since the Tragedy. The only difference between them was that Duo hadn’t always thought that way, so there was a reserve of hope still lurking inside him—or so he thought. Recent events have caused to doubt that he ever really had any hope that his life would change for the better, permanently; yet here was Heero Yuy, the silent Evel Knievel, the eternal soldier, with more hope in those blue, blue eyes than Duo felt he had in his entire body. Duo dips his head in the water. Those blue, blue eyes, he thinks. I hate it when he looks at me and yet he’s always there, always looking even when he’s not. He’s got eyes on the back of his head, watching my every movement, waiting for me to fuck up over and over again. Why he even gives a crap why I live or die is now beyond me, because the reason behind it is nowhere near any reason I could give him for doing what I’ve done. For doing what I’m doing. There’s an ocean of things I can’t say, every drop important, but it doesn’t matter. And that’s just it: it doesn’t matter, Duo thinks miserably. -- Duo returns to the room, more nimble and refreshed after his bath. His hair in tangles cascades down around his back and shoulders, dripping still with water. Heero looks at him briefly before resuming his guard near the window. “Hey, Heero,” Duo says, approaching the other. He shakes his head and proceeds to wet Heero’s shirt, earning him a slightly annoyed look. Heero stands there merely looking at him, waiting for him to continue. “Oh, sorry. Didn’t mean to get you wet. “Anyway, Heero, I need to get out for a while. If I keep holing myself up, I’ll keep being miserable, and I’ll never be able to think straight. There’s too much going on in my head—what with Volans, and Hilde, and this stupid scratch…” And you, he continues in his head. “I’m gonna go to the bar across the street.” Heero maintains his questioning look. “By that,” Duo explains slowly. “I mean, do you want to come with me?” “It’s dangerous for you to be off-guard.” Says Heero. Duo rolls his eyes. “What more can they do to me, Heero?” Duo says. “Besides, you hit them pretty hard. They’re not like me, you know, they’re like you—they won’t act so stupidly all the time. They’re probably taking their sweet time planning an elaborate scheme to get me back into some kind of torture chamber. Whatever the case, if I’m gonna die sometime soon, I’m not about to spend it trapped in this prison.” Heero looks at him, strangely affected in an indescribable way by what Duo’d said. “Sorry,” Duo mumbles. “I’m not saying it’s not nice being with you all the time and all, it’s just that—” “Fine,” Heero agrees suddenly. “I’ll go.” “Really?” Duo says, sounding excited when in fact he is dreading Heero’s company, especially in a place like a bar. “Cool. Okay then. We’ll go at night.” Duo walks over to his couch, across the room from where Heero stands, and dries his hair methodically. Until the sun sets, neither of the two says a word. -- This is your chance, Duo Maxwell. Don’t waste it. Duo tells himself this over and over as he walks briskly with Heero toward the cacophonic sounds ebbing from the bar with no name. Heero trails behind him, looking in both directions for anything suspicious. In the squatters, however, suspicion is the native theme. The moment they step into the bar is the moment everything between the two men seemed to change. Duo’s eyes lit up with some emotion Heero has never seen in a man before, and he is feeling for the first time in a long time the discomfort of being in public. He was born a nameless soldier and then, in no time, became renowned. There was no middle ground for Heero Yuy—no normalcy, no diurnal tasks, no bars, no parties, and no childhood. However, he never cared much for such things, and he finds he still doesn’t. He just needs to keep his eye on Duo and perhaps getting him drunk is a good way to get the truth out of him (one of the many reasons Heero himself never drinks). Duo leaves Heero to his own devices, but from the corner of his eye he knows Heero has seated himself at the bar and is carefully observing him. Duo, for tonight, has let his hair loose. Every man and woman in the bar watches him in awe, because he is by far the most striking and beautiful thing they have ever seen. The bar is a hideout for terrorists, robbers, assassins, and even just some normal civilians who are just born into the unfortunate circumstance of poverty. These are the people Duo grew up with, and he still feels somewhat that he shares something with even the dirtiest, smelliest criminal in the room. After all, he’s no angel, either. As he dances suggestively with a random beautiful prostitute and drinks from a bottle of hard liquor someone had given him, somewhere in the bar’s corner, his eyes are drawn to a pair of piercing greens not more than five feet away. He is an attractive man of no more than thirty years of age, with long brown hair tied back and a clean black shirt (like the kind Heero wears). The man’s stare beckons him. Duo takes a long swig from the bottle in his hand, finishing it cleanly, and sets it down before strolling casually over to the brunette of interest. “What’s a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?” Says the green-eyed man, whose throaty voice sounds eerily like someone else. The man pushes a shot of tequila towards Duo, who gladly takes it all in one gulp. He’s already drunk, having finished that bottle of god-knows-what, and the added shot of tequila, and the next one that he orders, is likely enough to give him the necessary courage to go ahead with his plan. “Nunya,” Duo gurgles out coquettishly. The older man grins and chuckles, shaking his head. “Well aren’tya gonna ask me what I mean?” The man comes dangerously close to Duo’s face and flashes a brilliant smile. “I’d rather we skip the talking part,” He says breathily, “Unless your partner over there’s got a problem.” Duo’s half-lidded eyes want to turn to Heero, but Duo chooses to occupy himself with the green-eyed man though he feels Heero’s stare boring into the back of his head. This is your chance, Duo Maxwell. Duo puts his hand up to the man’s chin and turns it to face him and away from Heero. “What partner?” He whispers directly into the man’s ear, which he lustfully bites. Duo proceeds to give the man’s neck a series of long, wet kisses down his neck before he brings the man’s chin down close to his lips. Before his tongue collides with the interior of the green-eyed man’s mouth, Duo absently looks at Heero from the corner of his eye. He shuts his eyes quickly and focuses his actions entirely into the deep, stifling, and painstakingly erroneous last-ditch attempt at making Heero leave. The clock that times Duo’s shameless act of passion with the green-eyed man barely touches five minutes before he feels the wet warmth of his mistake get ripped away from his embrace. He opens his eyes and finds himself drowning in a nothingness of blue. “We’re leaving,” Says the blue, which, despite the deafening bass and strident treble, Duo hears crisply, like the sizzling of flesh in an inescapable fire. Blue, blue eyes vehemently drag Duo back into Howard’s place. They promptly shove him against the wall, and they, for once, unstirred by the splitting pain their action causes. Duo, with his half-lidded eyes and sticky lips, looks up at Heero’s indignant countenance. Duo stands up and grits his teeth, staring back with as much hate as he can muster. “Why are you still here!” Duo cries out loud. “You want truth? Well, you’ve got your truth, Heero Yuy. It was in that fucking bar, staring you in the face. What else are you waiting for? Are you waiting for me to admit that this is all my fault? Are you waiting for me to tell you every little fucking thing about me? Huh? What the fuck do you want from me?” Heero punches him in the face and Duo falls to the side, grabbing both his stomach and his jaw in pain. He turns to look at Heero, his fury burning the tears streaming from his eyes. “I don’t care about how you choose to live your life, Duo,” Heero says coldly. “But you are going to tell me how I can fix this mess you’ve made of the world.” Duo lurches upwards feebly and spits out blood to the side. “Fuck… you,” He heaves. Heero’s resentment is as clear and tangible as is Duo’s. “While you were “thinking straight” and wasting your time sidling up to criminals who’d sooner kill you than love you, some residents here reported that they’d killed a group of men who were sent here to investigate your whereabouts and to kill you. “Meanwhile, while you keep trying to get away from me for no reason, you waste more time, and every minute you don’t tell me how to fix this, people are dying. You’ve sparked a war among the Networks, just like I said you would, and yet you keep deigning me as the enemy when I am the only one here, now, trying to help you.” Duo can do nothing but gape at Heero, because he knows Heero is right. As the sun rises above the horizon on the east, Duo thinks to himself, What are you expecting anyway? “Grow up, Duo,” Heero says gravely. “Or you’ll end up losing everything.” A vibrating noise interrupts Heero and Duo’s silence. Heero reaches into his pocket, still staring directly into Duo’s eyes. “Yuy, this is Wufei,” “What’s happened?” “The argument between these networks is escalating into near full-scale guerrilla warfare,” Wufei reports, “And just now there’s been a massive explosion harming an extensive amount of civilian property.” “Where was the explosion?” Heero asks. Duo listens intently and for the first time an inexorable horror grips his entire soul so strongly that he is unable to breathe, to move. No, Duo thinks. The world spins beneath his feet, creating a widening gyre that radiates shadows so thick that Duo can’t escape the vacuum sending him down, down, down to where the falcon can't hear the falconer… “The explosion was at Maxwell’s burned-down junkyard, where we found a hidden underground facility that we believe was the target of the bombing,” No. ~ * ~ |
