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"Diary of a Protected Witness"Written By: Snowdragonct Disclaimer: Don’t own any part of Gundam
Wing or the characters, more’s the pity. This is for fun...no
profit involved. Rating: NC 17 Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC
(probably), violence, drugs, sex, Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC, (past 2X3X2, 6X2) Summary: Ever wonder what was running through Duo's mind at certain points in"Witness Protection?" Here are snippets of his point of view...a companionfic, that will not rehash the entire plot, but offer a new perspective ofcertain events. A/N: This fits with chapters seventeen and eighteen of Witness.
" Diary of a Protected Witness"
It had apparently escaped Chang’s notice. But not mine. When I scurried back to my room, listening to the murmur of voices down the hall, I was in a black, black mood, the likes of which I hadn’t known since meeting Trowa. He’d always seemed to know how to pull me out of that pit. But he wasn’t there to do it this time. No one was…and I missed Zechs so much right then that I’d have killed to be with him. Nothing mattered except escaping—finding somewhere that the noise and activity would drown out the ghosts in my head for a few hours. It was almost like the days when I’d been using drugs—the need to not think overriding my common sense. So I grabbed a towel, rolling up my favorite leather pants, a clubbing shirt, and a few necessities in it; and as soon as I heard the garage door open, signaling Chang’s departure, I headed for the kitchen to report to Warden Yuy that I was going to take a shower. As I walked down the hall, I heard him blurt out “Jesus!” “No,” I commented, leaning in the doorway. “But I’ve been called ‘Angel’ a time or two.” By Zechs…oh God…only by Zechs. I felt a sharp pang where my heart was located. “What do you want, Maxwell?” “A nice piece of ass for starters,” I retorted, stung by his sharp tone. Yours would do nicely, I wanted to add, looking hungrily at his intense blue eyes and chiseled features. God, the guy had a body that wouldn’t quit! It made me want him so much that the scorn in his eyes didn’t matter any more. I wondered yet again why he wouldn’t act on his feelings, as I flipped him off, and then turned on a heel and stalked down the hall to the shower. I knew he was attracted—so it was for damned sure he wasn’t straight. He was at least bi—like Solo. Well, thinking of Solo did nothing to improve my mood. And as I locked the bathroom door and turned on the water, I forced the blue-eyed cop I was lusting after out of my mind and focused on my escape. It was pretty simple, really, singing loudly enough to cover the noise as I changed into the clubbing clothes and then shoved a chair under the window and climbed up to slide it open. Shinnying out that high, tiny window was the real trick, as it was never meant to fit a full-grown man. But I was slim and lithe enough to make it, despite taking an unceremonious tumble onto the grass outside. I picked myself up, brushed the grass from my clothes, and straightened the wrist cuffs and collar I’d accessorized with. Then I jogged around the back of the house, dodging the zones where I knew Yuy’s cameras and sensors would pick up my motion. Sucker. I might’ve felt a split-second of guilt over using the information I’d gathered when he was being so nice to me—except I knew it had just been a distraction. He hadn’t wanted me to notice Chang screwing the windows shut from the outside. It was the fact that he thought I was stupid that really stung. Did he not think I’d pick up on their tag-team? Fuck—he deserved to shit bricks when he found me gone. Maybe I’d bring him back a souvenir—a nice book of matches from a nightclub—or maybe a bottle of scotch. I chuckled as I picked the lock on the side door of the garage. Yeah, Yuy an’ Chang would need a fifth between ‘em to get over the mindfuck I was about to deliver. That Harley was a fine, sleek piece of vintage machinery if ever I saw one—a fully restored antique—low to the ground and hot enough to hump. Just—sex on wheels. I rolled that baby outside, whispering an apology to Quatre, as well as the gorgeous machine I was about to hotwire. It seemed a wee bit sacrilegious to play with the wires on a beauty like that—but desperate times, an’ all that shit—. I crept along the edge of the lawn, and then wrestled the Harley between some trees to bypass the camera near the end of the driveway. And then I was in the clear. A quick touch and twist of some wires, and that baby was purring like a big, bad tiger. Me-ow. Man—the feel of the wind in my face and whipping my braid out behind me, made me feel alive for the first time in days. No scowling cops to look down their fine noses at me—no being treated like a fuckin’ idiot—or worse, like the child I’d never been. That machine between my legs felt like sheer freedom and unlimited power. I’d noticed a couple of cities on the road map Chang had hoarded so selfishly—and I turned the bike in that direction, eager to join a throng of hot, sweaty, writhing bodies on a dance floor—to feel the throbbing beat of the music and the pulsing of adrenaline and testosterone in my veins. Fuck—I needed to get laid. Badly. Not that it was likely to happen that night. In spite of my reputation, I was pretty selective about my sex partners. My bluster and posing for Yuy was just that—posing. In reality, I knew the name of everyone I’d ever slept with—and the list was a lot shorter than I’d led him to believe. Fuckin’ cop. I don’t know why such an anal-retentive prick had to be packaged so very nicely. Damn—he was hot! And my fingers just itched to slide inside that button-down shirt and feel that smooth skin over hard muscle—. Fuck. I really needed to get laid.
When I finally found the city, and made my way to the nightclub district, I was energized and ready to rock. And the second I saw Hell’s Bells, I knew it was the place for me. In fact, I could hear AC/DC music blasting from inside as someone opened the door on their way out. Sweet! I hid the Harley between a dumpster and a brick wall in an alley, figuring a rad bike like that wouldn’t last five minutes out on the street—and then I smoothed back my hair, checked in one pocket of my skin-tight leather pants for my cash, and another for the condom and lube—just in case. Like I said—the odds were slim—but if a hot enough guy came along, I was pretty desperate for some action. Something to burn away the memory of Zechs’ death—and the constant look of scorn in a pair of deep blue eyes. My elbow bumped the pay phone as I passed it, and I caught at the receiver I’d almost knocked off the hook. And then I stopped and stared at it. A phone. A lifeline. I hastily scrounged some money from my pocket and dialed Trowa’s cell number. “Pick up, pick up, pick up—,” I chanted hopefully. “Hi—you’ve reached Trowa—leave a message and—.” I hung up, sighing. It had been worth a try. I looked at a clock on the wall of a building further down the street—realizing Trowa was at work by then—probably on stage. He’d call back if I left a number, but I really couldn’t do that. Plus, I planned to be on the dance floor in the next few minutes. I found myself dialing the Sanc Palace, knowing the schedule there was a lot looser. “Sanc.” “Hey, I’m tryin’ to reach Hilde. Is she on a break?” “Hold on.” There was a momentary delay, and then a familiar voice got on the line. “Hilde here.” She sounded anxious, and I realized she’d probably think it was her babysitter telling her there was a problem at home. “Hey, Hil—it’s me, Duo.” “Duo!” she blurted, and then her voice got quieter. “Duo—where are you? After the hospital you just dropped off the face of the Earth.” “I know. I’m sorry. An’ I can’t explain it all right now.” I looked up at the flashing neon lights lining the bustling street. “I just—I watched Zechs’ funeral today—on television.” “Oh Duo,” she sighed. “I couldn’t even be there,” I added, swallowing to keep from getting choked up. “Why not? Where are you? Seriously, Duo—what’s going on?” “I told you—it’s nothing I can explain. Just—I have to stay away awhile. And it was really hard to see the funeral and not be able to go. There’s not even anyone to talk to about him—no one that would care.” “I care.” “I know,” I said, feeling unaccountably better. “I just needed to talk to someone who actually knew Zechs a little—someone who didn’t hate him.” “Why would I?” “You wouldn’t,” I assured her. “Just—the people I’m with do—.” “Who are you with? Cops?” “Hilde—stop asking questions,” I said firmly. “I can’t tell you much. You knew at the hospital that I was in a bit of trouble—so just accept that I’m where I have to be right now.” “You don’t sound happy about that.” “I’m not. I’m not happy about anything,” I said wearily. “Just—I’m going to a club in a few minutes, and I’m gonna have a drink or two and try to take my mind off things, y’know?” “Yeah. I know what that’s like,” she admitted. “Look, Duo—I’ve gotta go back on in five.” “I know. I just—needed to hear a friendly voice,” I told her. “Thanks for talking to me.” “You—take care of yourself Duo Maxwell,” she said sternly. “And any time you need someone to talk to, call me?” “If I can. Say ‘hey’ to the brat for me,” I teased, having called her adorable kid that many times in the past, just to get a reaction out of her. “Oh, Duo—.” She paused, and I heard her heave a sigh. “I’ve gotta go.” She hung up before I could say goodbye, and I figured her boss got on her case for taking a personal call at work. Poor kid. She worked hard to support her little boy—and if I’da been there, I’d have kicked Dermail’s ass for giving her a hard time. I hated not being able to look after the people I’d cared about. I almost tried Trowa one more time, but then decided I’d better get busy if I was gonna have my fun on the dance floor, pick up my own cigarettes, and get back to the safe house before my caretakers had fits. Fuck it—they were gonna have fits no matter what,
weren’t they? I figured I might as well enjoy myself while I
could, and I shook off my somber mood and headed across the street
towards Hell’s Bells.
tbc... |
