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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 6: Coconut Skins -- -- You can brave decisions -- A.C. 205 – Lagrange Two Squatters: Howard’s Place The ringing in his ears is like an earsplitting siren’s call, shrieking in the highest octaves the story of the terrors in the basement, the ghosts in the attic. And Duo can’t do anything but wait for it to be over; to be back where the sun was golden and the nights were filled with fireflies instead of firestorms. The dull thudding of the night skies shakes Duo to rise and face the magnitude of war once more. This pill, however, isn’t as easy to swallow when you know you’re the one responsible. When you’re the only one that knows how it has to end, how it can end, but the problem is you can’t do it alone and without giving up everything. He sits upright on the sweat-soaked couch and barely feels the steady stream of water down his cheeks. He can hear voices wade through the floors, Heero’s and others, and he can sense the urgency with which they called for action. The necessity follows Heero’s footsteps through the building, approaching Duo, and he can’t hide this time. “Wufei’s sent some troops to come pick us up,” Heero says. “They’re waiting for us downstairs.” “Go.” Duo answers pithily. “This isn’t the time to pity yourself,” Heero says, grabbing Duo’s arm and forcing him to stand upright. Duo’s eyes, however illuminated by a mixture of reflected fire and tears, gaze back emptily. Duo heads downstairs, overthrown by fate. As the vehicle swims through the filth of the southside and climbs up to the abyss in Duo’s life, Duo begins to understand the reason for the weight between Heero and himself. It isn’t between them, that’s all, it’s between Duo and the promises of his future. The kind of future you face against a terminal cancer eating away the meaning of your body, your being. The kind of future torn into unidentifiable fragments of light in the eye of black hole. The kind of future never meant for the God of Death. “Maxwell,” He hears a familiar voice say. Wufei approaches him and nods in greeting, his angular jaw glistening in sweat and gunpowder. “I’m sorry. There were no survivors.” Duo looks at him vacantly and smiles. “Nice to see you too, Wufei,” He greets in a tone of voice evidently belonging to another face. Heero moves between the two and asks Wufei about when, where, and who is responsible for the carnage taking place on L2. “We caught men from all the participating Networks, most of them lowly peons who don’t even know who they’re really answering to,” Wufei explains, pointing to an encampment surrounded by several metal fences. “However, we did find out who was responsible for the explosion at the Graveyard.” Wufei leads them to a small canvas tent, a little ways away from where most of the action is taking place. Heero and Duo sit in wooden stools in front of a large desk covered in papers and bullets. “We didn’t expect to ever deal with anything this big ever again,” Wufei says as he searches for something in the papers. He pulls out a folder and opens it up in front of the two other ex-pilots. “We managed to catch an assassin that was stationed near Maxwell’s apartment, probably waiting for him in the advent of his finding out about the bombing. He was hired by Karluv Volans to kill you on sight. We assume that Volans is responsible for the bombing, as well, given that information.” “Did they tell you why Volans wants Duo dead?” Heero asks. “Yes,” Wufei replies, pausing to look at Duo. “He said he was sent to kill you because you had stolen something important to the Volans Network.” Heero stiffens visibly at hearing this. Duo’s expression remains between nothing and that same Maxwell-brand of glee even as Heero turns to him with potent wrath. “You…” Heero utters in that same, frighteningly cold manner from the night before. “All this time that I believed he was trying to kill you because he was an avaricious bastard—all this time I was trying to save you because I thought you were fighting for something worth all this—and all this reasonless death is happening because you stole something?” “Yeah,” Duo replies succinctly. Heero stands up and uncharacteristically bares his teeth at Duo. “I risked my reputation and the nation’s peace for you, you fucking liar!” Heero yells, above the gunshots and cries. “Nobody asked you to,” Duo says. He looks at Heero, unswervingly absent. “…You should leave.” Wufei does not respond to the actions of the two and remains silent even as Heero walks out of the tent. He sits down in a stool across the table from Duo, whose eyes are closed in prayer or meditation or regret—Wufei can’t tell. “What did you take, Duo?” Wufei asks. Duo is silent for a long time, tired of forcing the weight to stay on him, keep him company, making him feel whole. “The head of Wing Zero,” Duo admits with chilling finality. -- A.C. 205 – Sanc Kingdom: Chamber of the Vice Foreign Minister Heero arrives promptly to the Chamber as ordered by Relena Peacecraft, the ESUN Vice Foreign Minister. Upon entering, he bows respectfully, cleanly dressed in standard ESUN guard uniform (though with many more pins and patches than any soldier in existence). He remains bowing until the radiantly-dressed Relena swivels around and acknowledges him. He observes her careful steps towards him. She is bathed in soft accents of light, glimmering like some fairy-tale princess in a bouffant gown in shades of rose. She is a sight to behold for nations and colonies alike, and tonight she will be addressing problems and solutions to all the leaders of the ESUN. “Thank you, Principal, for accepting my request for your company at tonight’s gala,” She says curtly, properly, perfectly. She smile a tender smile only the leader of peaceful nations can. Heero holds out his arm and she places herself within his protection happily. As they walk out onto the balcony and wave to the men and women applauding them from the floor below, Relena begins her straightforward line of questioning. “Where have you been?” She asks, discreetly enough for only his ears to hear. “Missions on behalf of the Preventers,” Heero answers loosely. The commencement music begins to play and they are led to descend the stairs to join the other leaders in the main hall. “I will have to talk tonight about the civil war in L2,” Relena continues speaking. “Were you aware of Duo’s involvement in it?” “Yes, somewhat,” He replies. They are seated at an elevated table facing the crowd. Relena rises from her seat, but turns to Heero once more. “Are you involved?” She asks. Heero does not look at her. “No,” He answers. -- Beads of sweat begin to drip down from Heero’s forehead to Relena’s cheek as he moves back and forth against her body, supple against the war-hardened tautness of his heart and soul. It doesn’t feel right, he knows, because there are many moments in the short time they consummate that their breaths and movements fumble and resist. At least, his movements do. He stops when he hears her sigh audibly and meticulously separates himself from the softness of her arms. Relena smiles at him tenderly. He looks down at her from the edge of the bed and sees the Sanc Kingdom laid out before him in all its glory. It makes him a little ill. “I’m going to clean off,” Heero says, gathering his clothing and heading for the bathroom (the biggest and most grandiose in the entire estate). He steps into the shower, unable to subdue the emotions surging throughout his body even with the coldest temperatures the water could throw at him. His body shakes from time to time as he gets dressed. Suddenly, a vibrating in his breast pocket distracts him from the thought of Duo’s blank eyes. He answers his phone, surprised to hear Trowa’s voice. “Are you with Duo?” Trowa asks, wasting little time in getting to his point. “No,” Heero says, expression darkening at the mention of Duo’s name. “I’ve left the situation at the hands of Wufei and the Preventers. Duo should be with them.” “We just got off the phone with Wufei, and he says that Duo’s already left,” Quatre interjects in the background. “He didn’t mention you weren’t with him, so we thought we might be able to talk to Duo through you.” “Well, you can’t,” Heero snaps. “What do you need from Duo?” “We need to know where it is,” Trowa answers. “You mean the thing he stole,” Heero says with palpable ire. A pause. “You don’t know what he stole, do you, Heero?” Quatre says with a trace of sadness. -- A.C. 205 – Lagrange Two: Just Outside the Graveyard “But… how is that possible?” Wufei asks in disbelief. “None of the Gundams should have survived!” “I don’t know how or why, but Wing Zero’s head survived,” Duo explains, “And along with it, the ZERO System.” Wufei falls back in his seat, stunned. “That explains why Volans and Minor were so desperate to get it back. If they were in possession of that head, it would mean disaster for the ESUN as we know it. It’s no wonder they keep coming after you.” “That begs the question: why are they trying to kill me?” Duo asks rhetorically. “I’m the only one who knows where Wing Zero is.” “Which means they’ve already found it,” Wufei says, troubled. “Shit! I have to send word immediately about this. Excuse me, Duo,” He says, running to the video-receiver to give his report. While Wufei occupies himself, Duo walks to the tent entrance to watch the war spewing lives and fire all across L2. He starts to chuckle. “All this, for you,” Duo murmurs hollowly. “I exchanged my entire life to save this present for you, Heero Yuy.” “That’s just human nature, Maxwell,” He hears Wufei say from behind him. “Pardon?” “Sacrificing everything for the things you love,” Wufei explains. “Or people, in this case.” He wants to turn around and shout at Wufei, I don’t love him, but he knows it’s untrue. He wants to shout that his sacrifices have been in vain, in the name of selfishness, just to keep his secrets, to deny who he is—but he can’t. What’s the use? And yet, it just doesn’t matter, Duo thinks, defeated. -- Heero sits on the edge of the wide, pool-like bathtub in the middle of the 900 square foot bathroom. His hands grip the thick golden floral trim lining the tub in epiphanic shock. His heart beats quickly, unmanageable, irresolute. “But… why?” Heero asks no one. “Why did he keep this from me? From all of us?” “He’s just following his emotions,” Trowa says. “His emotions?” Heero says incredulously. “He sacrificed peace to selfishly keep Wing Zero a secret from all of us!” “No, not all of us,” Quatre says, ever comfortingly. “Just from you.” Heero stays silent. “He was going to give it to you.” There’s a knocking on the door and Heero abruptly mutters a farewell to Quatre and Trowa. He puts his phone away just as Relena slowly opens the double-doors. She finds Heero standing very close to her, which surprises her enough to make her step back and apologize. “I’m sorry, Heero,” She says quietly. “I heard the shower turn off quite a while ago and I was worried that something had happened when you didn’t come out immediately.” “No, it’s fine, I just have a lot of things on mind,” “As of right now?” Relena asks with a knowing smile. “Or has it been this way since you first spoke to Duo?” Heero’s looking at her, but Relena knows he’s far away and as lost from her as he had always been. After ten years of staying by his side, she has only noticed how devoid of understanding she has always been concerning him. He had never been happy, never been anything else other than the soldier. There had been nothing much to his life until he came waltzing back, Maxwell’s demon, shutting out all past actions and driving him to reignite his passion for the mission—for a future worth saving. Heero embraces her. “I’m going to L2,” He states decisively. “No,” Relena says deliberately. “Go to Duo.” -- Wufei helps Duo load a crate of grenades onto the back of a camouflaged pickup truck already stacked with different weapons and necessary items for Duo’s plan of attack against Volans. Both men wipe the sweat from their brow after they lock the provisions in. “There, you’re all set,” Wufei says, dusting off his hands. “But remember that I don’t want to be incriminated in your headhunt mission. I’m doing you this as a favor, so that all of this will stop.” Duo nods and surveys the battle raging on around them. “What’s going to happen?” Duo asks. “They’re sending all the troops we can possibly accommodate,” Wufei replies. “I’ll make sure we’re more preoccupied with the rest of the fighting networks than we are with Volans.” Duo waves good-bye and hops into the driver’s seat of the truck and starts the engine. “Thanks,” He shouts to Wufei. “If anything goes wrong, you know who to call!” Wufei shouts back. The fires engulfing L2 dim as Duo drives further from them, as does the necessity once present in his eyes. With every turn of the wheels below him, Duo loses parts of himself he was never sure were there in the first place. But as he feels himself give in to numbness, there are pockets of feelings he doesn’t remember and then they are gone and left only for memory. There is the pocket that holds the faces of Jimmy, Rider, and Won Tonshu, and the vacancy on their faces behind the glass lids of their caskets. There is the pocket that holds Axel, Morty, Sonny, and the others, all faces that love him and trust him and need him—all faces that were eaten up by the fire of selfishness and revenge. There is the pocket that holds Father Maxwell, Sister Helen and all his friends, all of them who prayed for a promise of a better world and rewarded by God with nothing but death. There is the pocket that holds Hilde, with whom life gained new meanings and possibilities, and yet for some reason she, like all those in his life that matter, found it necessary to take it all away just as he was sure he could have it forever. And then there is the pocket that holds Heero Yuy; a pocket he must relinquish for its own good. For the good of the world. Otherwise everything is truly lost. Duo stops driving, finding himself amidst lush, transplanted trees in the middle of nowhere. His knuckles turn white from his solid grip on the steering wheel. He breathes heavily and begins to pant uncontrollably. Holding his head in despair, Duo cries. He cries for the anguish, the dreams, the losses, and his life—he cries. ~ * ~ |
