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"Dangerous Valentines"Written By: Nix Winter Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing. I think Bandai does in the US. I writing this story as original and fan fic because I couldn't make up my mind and well, Heero and Duo are just more fun. Rating: NC 17 Warnings: Angst, Citrus, Violence Pairings: 1x2x1 Summary: After EW by quite a bit. The boys are
late twenties. Heero is a doctor. Duo is Preventer. They're married.
Chapter Three Duo's feet were planted firmly on the ground, his motorcycle
warm and grounding under him, but the terror and confusion in Heero's
voice left the rest of him completely unsettled. The memory of Heero's
first reply, the inhuman vicious logic turning Heero's loving voice
cold as walking death, the memory of that voice clawed goosebumps
over Duo's shoulders. The wars were over. They did not have permission
to come back now. He gripped his handlebars with all his force, as
if he could force darkness away from them. The wars had almost stolen
Heero before he'd even met him. Those bastard who had kidnapped and
tried to erase Heero's humanity had almost stolen him. Duo was not
giving him back. Not now. Not ever. Heero was free, beautiful, full
of kindness in his own bent way. Duo was pretty sure that Dr. Heero
Yuy might be the only person who could ever love him, had ever needed
him in a It wouldn't work to call his precious doctor back. He'd told him to shelf the past and get on with surgery. Duo had to force himself to stop grinding his teeth. His lover, his husband, his soul was actively saving the life of a man who had committed war crimes, up close and personal war crimes. There was only one time in the war that Heero had specifically seen someone torture him. Humiliation, long stored away, kindled across his nerves. He knew exactly who was in the operating room with Heero. If he'd come across the bastard in a dark alley, while he had an alibi, and Heero would have had no reason to ever question him, he probably would have shanked the guy himself. He hadn't meant to scream. The sound, raw and primal, tore out of him as he ripped his helmet off and threw it against the nearest divider. He leaned over his bike, arms folded over the gas tank, sobbing through the rage and emotion. They'd woke up this morning to a perfect day and he wished to all the gods that they'd run away, been far away from whatever the world had for them. They could go off planet. Titan was shaping up, he'd heard. They needed doctors and law enforcement. Panic hit as fast as the rage had, closing of his air, presenting a million ways in which their lives could go to complete Hell. Forcing his breathing to go shallow and fast, to prevent the hyperventilation that was the undignified result of panic, he focused on a day when they'd both been safe and happy. He'd just come back from an undercover job. Heero was still a resident. He'd waited all morning for Heero to get out, for him to come out to the garden where he liked to meditate and eat. So there he'd been sitting on the base of this sculpture when Heero walks up, cool as if he hadn't been up for thirty-six hours, the sun in his hair, lighting his face, making his eyes as blue as summer, with this confident little smile on his face, that said they were perfect, that every thing was exactly as it should be. That was a perfect moment. Heero made everything perfect. One fucking war criminal wasn't going to change that. His helmet beeped with his headset, announcing an incoming call. The temptation to let it go to voice mail evaporated when he realized it might be Heero. With an easy strength, he jerked his bike up on the kick stand, dismounted and went after his scraped helmet. He pulled the headset free, tucked it in his hear and answered, "Maxwell." "When are you getting in here?" A terrified voice hissed. Duo blinked. "Captain?" "Get in here, Maxwell." "Uh," Duo hedged. He could quit. Right then. Make a clean break. Unemployment didn't bare any greater notice than peace had. "About that...." "No, Maxwell. There have been three murders, two assassination attempts, and an undisclosed number of threats. I need you on the job, unless it's you and your boyfriend pulling this shit off?" Hatred at least was a cold and logical emotion, sometimes. "He's my husband and you have no grounds to accuse either of us. In fact," Duo growled as he pulled on his helmet and remounted his bike, "it's a federal crime. Heero and I are both covered under the Amnesty Decree." "I get that you and he are all innocent now," Captain Pense snapped, "That decree was used as a hit list for people who weren't as popular as you and your boy." Speeding up he said, "I know that you and I haven't had the most cordial of relationships, but we've done good work, haven't we? Look, I need your help. I'll pay you." Duo tilted his head, hands light on his handle bars, violet eyes narrow. Whatever was going on, it was bigger than just one dick resurfacing after the war. "I don't need you to pay me," Duo hissed, "The One Nation pays me just fine. Don't fucking do anything until I get there." "Of course," Pense said, a calm in his voice that Duo didn't like at all. The call ended and he pulled back onto the freeway, fast, but not as fast as the mecha he'd piloted in the war. "Call: Une One." After a few rings, his real boss answered. "Duo," she greeted him, professional, preoccupied. "You're aware of the situation?" "Partially. Multiple victims, probably collateral damage, one target survived. Heero's operating on him. He'll live," Duo said, changing lanes, and a cold 'for now' in his tone, "I need a deep background check on a Captain Geoffery Pense. He sounds guilty as hell and frightened." "Isn't he your division chief with the locals you so love to work with?" "Yeah. Can you spare someone to pick up Frenchie and take her down to the hospital?" Duo leaned tightly into the curving exit. "And security for Heero." "He's the last person in the Earthsphere that needs extra security or are you afraid he's going to kill someone?" "He had a real flashback. Identified Herbert Sanders. I'm going back to the hospital as soon as I can, but I need to see what Pense knows." "I understand." She did. Duo had made it completely clear multiple times in their history that where work conflicted with Heero's well being, work lost. "I'll get someone on Pense. His file should have raised flags." "Thanks," Duo said. The call ended and he wished again that he could call Heero. <><><> Chaos reigned in the police station, but they parted for Duo as he strode through. He hadn't felt such fear directed towards himself since the wars. It just made him angry now, and if he were honest with himself, other people fearing him had made him angry then too. He didn't knock on his captain's door, just strode in and pinioned him with all the accusation he could summon. Self-righteous indignation was a little hard to pull off if you knew you were a reformed murdering bastard yourself. He kicked the door shut and only the bullet proof glass kept it from being so many sharp little shards. "What the Hell, Pense?" The man was twice Duo's age and not someone who took advantage of modern medicine's longevity options. Stress' crush made him look three times Duo's age and Duo almost felt bad for him when he just looked at Duo as if the world were going to end any moment. Wide eyes, white knuckles, and every visible sign of impending nausea did not speak for either the man's innocence or how easy this problem was going to be to solve. "I should have gone in for the amnesty." Duo's mouth dropped open. He grabbed the chair in front of his captain's desk and sank into it. "You were a monotheist." Confusion flicked for a second over Pense's face, but then he nodded. "Yeah." "Where? What? When?" "Start of the wars. I was Earth First. I was in the Thai Action. I was," he said, jaw steeling, "a propaganda specialist." "Writing pamphlets doesn't make you look like someone just ground up your soul." "It wasn't pamphlets. We did things," he said, eyes on his desk, a hand reaching for a lacy valentine on his desk. "We blamed those things on the Gundams and on the Institute." Duo went stone solid, life and time just not part of the world anymore. As if it would restore the world, he flexed numb fingers. He and Heero had been part of the Gundams, an anti-war group that hadn't been even remotely pacifist. "The reason for the Amnesty, the way it was done, is so that we know who we're working with. You killed people and blamed it on me, on Heero, or Trace, and you show up every day and tell me how to do my job? Do you still hate me? Are you still fighting the war?" Pense tossed the blood red holiday card towards Duo. "I never hated you. You were never real to me. You were a teenager running around in a jet black ninja robot that could turn into a plane and come out of the water like whirling dervish. You were just a demon. I was doing what I thought God wanted me to do, that he'd comfort the victims in Heaven. I haven't been fighting or believing in anything for a long time. I'm ashamed of what I did. I'm sorry." With calm fingers, Duo picked up the valentine. "You still would have been eligible for amnesty. Why didn't you go in?" "This girl, she contacted me, said she could get me new papers, that no one would ever know. That it would be like I died in the war and I could be someone completely new." "Did it work? Was it that easy?" "After the Amnesty closed, she started extorting money and," he took a deep slow breath, "services from me." "You sold out the police force to protect yourself?" "Yes. Would you have done it?" Head tilted, Duo's nose flared as he forced a deep slow breath. "I'd have done it for Heero." "Read the card." The card was rather gothic to say the least, antique paper, blood splatters darkened to a near black, lettering written in the same dark color. It read: My husband would have been thirty today. I have securely planted enough explosive in the hospital and in three elementary schools to completely demolish them. If you alert either the hospital or the school, I will detonate the explosives. You will find a file in your inbox with the list of all the criminals who avoided Amnesty and of fifteen individuals who should never have been allowed Amnesty. At two-thirty today, you will hold a live press conference and release the names of the Amnesty evaders to the public. If all fifteen of the other criminals are dead by three o'clock, I will surrender myself and the triggers to all the explosives. If even one of them is still alive, I will kill a lot of innocent people. You, personally, killed my beloved. I'll give you until three o'clock to do as I command and see to your own death. It's more than you gave him. Happy Valentine's Day, Serena "Who was her husband?" "How should I know? I killed a lot of husbands. So did you. You have to assassinate the fifteen people on her list. I'll put a gun to my head and go to my God, after I do what she's asked, but most of those people on that list aren't going to. We can't let anymore innocent people die because of us." Duo ran his fingers through his hair, pushing his bangs back. There was a time when Heero would have taken the path of lowest causalities and made sure that Serena joined them. Now he was a healer and would die before he caused death. Maybe that's who Heero had always been, underneath all the brainwashing and involuntary training he'd survived. Actually, Duo knew that's who Heero had always been, kind and loving, if too intelligent for his own good. An enemy as strong as Serena though, probably had Pense's office and the whole station under surveillance. "Transmit me the list." Pense's eyebrow twitched in surprise. "Okay." Duo stood, shoved his hands into his jacket pocket and glared. "If I don't see you again, I hope your God is more welcoming to you than I'm gonna be if I do see you again." "Fair enough." As he walked out, he really wanted to call Heero, run straight to the hospital, beg his husband to just come away with him, not tell him, just get him out of the city, far away from crazy violence. Doing that would be an unforgivable violence in and of itself. On his way back to his bike, he broke into a run, needing to be out of a building where he'd never been safe, no matter what he thought, running from the idea that maybe the best course would just be to carry out the hit list. ~ * ~ |
