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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 more or less fits with chapter sixty
seven and sixty eight of Witness. And I have to admit, the scene with
Duo trying to convince Trowa he’s still alive, is one of my favorites
of the whole story. I had so much fun with it! " Diary of a Protected Witness"
As I finished dialing Trowa’s number, I glanced at my watch to keep track of the time. I wasn’t going to chance letting Alexander get a lead on me. I’d risk five minutes—tops. When I heard the first ring, I started wishing I could’ve driven to Tro’s apartment for an in-person meeting. He was gonna freak when he heard my voice—and I was pretty sure he wouldn’t believe it was me. “Barton.” “Tro’,” I gasped out, my throat going dry on me. “Don’t hang up. Please.” There was a pause, and then a very cautious, “Who is this?” I knew if I said “Duo,” he’d totally think it was someone’s idea of a sick joke. “It’s me…Shini.” There was a sharp intake of breath, and it sounded like he nearly dropped the phone. “You—it can’t be—,” he said hoarsely. “Look, I don’t know who you are, or how you know that nickname, but I’ve had all I can take—.” “Tro’, please—just let me talk!” I begged, hoping the words would come to me. “Alexander lied; he hauled me off into hiding—.” “I saw the body—.” “He faked everything,” I insisted. “From the moment they got me into surgery, he took over an’ ran the show. He made the surgeons sign off on a death certificate, had me transported to some private facility, an’ didn’t even tell anyone there who I was. Instead he brought in a private nurse from God knows where. Trowa—ya gotta believe me, love. I’m alive.” “I—want to—,” came a hesitant voice, and then an almost hysterical sob. God, he sounded like I had just minutes earlier. “Fuck, I must be dreaming. Or goin’ crazy.” There was a choked whimper and it sounded like maybe he slid down onto the floor. “Tro’? You there?” I asked gently. “You’re not dreaming and you aren’t delusional. You were lied to.” He gave a dark chuckle. “So who’s to say this isn’t another lie? How do I know you’re who you claim to be?” “Ask me anything,” I urged, grateful he’d kept listening to me this long. “Anything that only you an’ I know.” “Sure, why not?” he said, sounding faintly bemused. “Indulge my fantasy, why don’t I? Since you’re just a figment of my imagination, what’ve I got to lose?” “I’m as real as you are, Trowa Barton,” I scolded. “I know you have a scar on your left butt cheek from where a zebra bit you, and that you became a clown to get over a phobia of them. I know you like classical music as much as hard rock, and that you play the flute when nobody’s looking.” There was another choking sound, and a gasp. “I know that having someone stick their tongue in your bellybutton drives you wild, and that you hate rimming—but you’re freakin’ nuts for hummers. And the first time we had sex, you fuckin’ made me cry because you were so goddamned tender about it. Jesus, Trowa, it’s me—Duo—Shini—an’ I’m alive an’ stuck here all by myself and I need your help, love! I need you.” “God—Duo—,” he breathed, sobbing unabashedly over the phone. I wondered if it was waterproof, or if I’d have to call back to another number if he fried the circuits. “Fuck—where are you? How are you? How the hell did that bastard make the surgeons and everyone lie? We had a fuckin’ funeral—!” And then he broke down sobbing so hard he wasn’t coherent, and I heard the sound of footsteps and a horrified cry of “Trowa?” The phone crackled as it apparently changed hands, and a stern voice came on the line. “Who is this? What’s going on?” “Kitty-Quat? That you?” I asked, trying for a light tone. “What? Who—?” In the background Trowa started talking, his voice ragged and halting—and I waited for him to explain it all to Quatre. “—can’t be!” “—knows things only he’d know—.” “—haven’t slept in days—sure you heard right—?” “—know what I heard!” Then they got too quiet for me to hear, and finally Quatre came back on the phone, as I was checking my watch and trying to decide if I’d run out of time. “Is it really you, Duo?” “Yeah,” I said a bit breathlessly. “It’s me.” “Do you mind if I’d like some sort of proof?” I sighed theatrically. “Trowa’s got this little mole just under his left n—.” “Okay!” he yelped preemptively. “I believe you. Just—this is terribly—confusing. How did Alexander manage it?” “By lying the way Feds do it best,” I said dryly. “Speaking of which, he’s probably got Tro’s phone tapped, and is trying to trace this call. I should call again later—.” “I doubt Alexander’s got time to be monitoring this number,” came an amused reply. “When he heard about the shooting, he and several of his bosses came running, trying to do damage control and get warrants on other Oz executives before they could go to ground.” “I was hopin’ that might keep him busy—which is partly how I got up the nerve to call.” I hesitated to ask the next question, fearing the answer. “How’s ‘Ro?” “Geeze, Duo—he was a wreck!” came the blunt reply. “He thought you were dead—he was devastated. When I gave him the ashes—.” “So Alexander kept our bargain?” I cut in, eager to be sure my plan had worked. “I don’t know what your ‘bargain’ was, but he gave me your—the—ashes, and told me you’d managed some last words about Heero knowing where to take them.” Hot damn! Unless I missed my guess, my lover would be coming to Euphoria—hopefully soon. “Duo, where are you?” I still wasn’t ready to reveal my location over an open cell phone frequency. “Uh—can’t tell you, Quat. The phones have ears, yanno.” “Oh. But surely it won’t matter now—.” “Quat, I don’t want Alexander or his people to ever find me. Tell Trowa I’ll call back later—from a different cell number. I gotta cut this short before the Feds trace it. Just—get word to Heero that I’m alive, will ya? He’ll know where to find me.” At least, I hoped he would. “Duo—he’s gone. He left right after the shooting—.” “Shit. Did he take a cell phone?” “Yes.” “Good. Call and fill him in. Catch you later, Quat. Love ya!” I shut the phone and checked my watch again. Five minutes even. No way the Feds could have triangulated on my location. They might have the general vicinity—but unless they’d been told about Euphoria, they were unlikely to show up here. It wasn’t the kind of place my rap sheet would send people looking. I walked back into the kitchen and Mary looked up questioningly. “How’d it go?” “Good,” I said, with a genuine smile, handing her back her phone. “Thanks for pushing me to make the call. I needed that.” “‘Course you did,” she chided. “How was the cute cop?” “I didn’t get to talk to him,” I told her. “I never had his phone number. I called my buddy, Trowa. When you get right down to it, he was probably easier to convince than Heero would’ve been.” I grimaced a little, wondering how Heero would take the news that I was alive. Would he come straight here—or give Trowa his cell phone number so I could call him? I had no idea. In fact, I didn’t know whether he’d be elated or indifferent at the news. Okay—yeah—he wouldn’t be indifferent. I knew him better than that. He’d be very glad I was still alive, if only so he could stop feeling guilty. He hadda be blaming himself for my death—I knew that much about him. I wondered then if Howard had gotten my note to him. I wondered—a lot of things. The sudden beeping of the oven timer interrupted my muddled thoughts, and I rushed to take the tarragon chicken out and check to see if it was done, while Mary went out to continue waiting on tables, and Pops—well, he’d probably gone off with his fishing buddies to play some cards or something. That was okay by me. I suddenly valued the privacy of that warm kitchen as never before. It was a place that felt cozy and safe, and if I was alone, I could let my mind paint a vivid picture of how I wanted my reunion with Heero to go. I kind of imagined him showing up near sunset—probably heading for the trail along the cliffs, since that was where he’d proposed. If I timed it right, I could wait by the flat rock where we’d rested, and just let him walk right into my arms. Yeah, it was a lovely fantasy. He’d have instinctively known what spot I was talkin’ about, and when he got the call from Trowa, he’d practically fly there—desperate to see for himself that I was alive and well. I’d melt into his arms, and he’d hold me so tight I could hardly breathe, whispering how much he loved me and that he’d never, ever let me go. And I’d tell him the same things. Then we’d race back to my place and prove to each other how grateful we were to be back together. In bed. Hm—sounds kinda like a fortune cookie, huh? Heh, heh. At any rate, I let my dreams just run away with me while I worked in the kitchen. And when I went back to my apartment that night, it was with high hopes.
Those hopes got me through that first night, and a couple of others. But when it’d been several days since the shooting at the courthouse and Heero hadn’t shown up in Euphoria, I started to get discouraged. He hadn’t even called Wufei back, after repeated messages left on his voice mail. I’d talked to Wufei, as well as Quat and Trowa, and he assured me his messages had begun as simply “call and check in,” and later progressed to “Duo’s alive—call me!” And still, there’d been no contact. We were both getting worried—Wufei because he said Heero had been despondent—verging on suicidal—and me for the same reason, and a couple of others. God—what if he’d just driven away from everyone and gone off to end it all? I’d fuckin’ die. I checked in every day to make sure there’d been no word of his body being found. But Chang assured me Heero had promised to be at his wedding—holy shit, he an’ Cathy were gonna tie the knot! When I got over that shock, we talked more about how my lover gave his word he’d keep living and be there for the big event. So Wufei was reasonably certain his friend would not have done anything drastic. I was, too—but it left me wondering what his reason was for not calling back. Maybe when he got Chang’s messages, he was so pissed at the Hell he’d gone through that he’d decided I wasn’t worth the aggravation. Maybe he’d found out he was carrying a box of useless ashes and just dumped them in the nearest landfill and headed off on a vacation. I still went out to the cliff every day—hoping he’d show up at the place where we’d promised each other forever, even if it was just to punch my lights out and tell me we were through. But he didn’t come, and my hope faded more with every passing day. When I walked into the kitchen almost a week after the verdict came in, I was ready to chuck it all, convinced Heero was never coming. I mean, fuck—he knew I was alive. If he wanted to be with me, it wouldn’t have taken him this long to figure out where I was. “Oh, I was getting worried—it got so late,” Mary said over the noisy rock station on the radio, looking up from filling bowls with peanuts for the bar. “Sorry.” “No luck?” she asked, per our usual routine. God, my daily rejections were a routine now! I shrugged and grunted a reply as I took off my coat. “Don’t give up hope,” she urged, backing out the kitchen door with the tray of bowls in front of her. Hope? I’d have to have some, before I could give it up. I opened a beer, intent on drowning my sorrows. “Oh, sorry!” I heard her chirp to someone. “Didn’t hear the little door chime.” A couple of minutes later, Mary came back into the kitchen with wide eyes and an even wider smile. “He’s here!” she hissed excitedly. My heart almost stuttered to a halt. “Heero?” “Of course, Heero,” she teased. “I’m makin’ a pot of coffee. Why don’t you go out and serve him?” She winked devilishly at me. “I—uh—yeah,” I stammered, stepping past her out of the kitchen and just drinking in the sight of my lover, his perpetual scowl in place as he examined the menu. He looked—breathtaking—as always. I walked closer, my hands already a bit unsteady, and in a puckish moment, I set the bottle I was holding in front of him on the counter, and slipped around to stand next to him. “I didn’t order this—,” he muttered, not raising his head. “I know,” I crooned softly. “It’s on the house.” I swallowed to moisten my throat. “How ‘bout after dinner I take you from Euphoria to nirvana?” He looked stricken—and I could see him visibly pull himself together before looking up at me, his face ashen. “Took you long enough to get here. I’m glad Chang managed to reach you, though—.” And then I realized he had no idea what I was talking about. He shook his head. “You—you’re dead!” Whoa. Apparently he hadn’t gotten Chang’s messages. “Yeah—that’s what they told me when I woke up in the hospital.” I wasn’t quite sure what to say or do next. I mean, he hadn’t jumped up and hugged the stuffing outta me, or thrown anything. And the expression on his too-pale face was impossible to read. I tried explaining what Alexander had done—how he’d lied his ass off to everyone and kept me from contacting them. I even explained about the ashes, and how I’d counted on him to bring them to Euphoria. And finally, I just blurted out what was on my mind. “I just—need to know—.” “Know—?” “About us—.” He still looked a bit baffled, so I tried to spell it out. “You really came here just to bring the ashes, didn’t you? To—say goodbye.” “Well—yes.” Oh shit. There it was. My worst nightmare. He’d done his grieving and was ready to let go. Next thing I knew, my mouth was on autopilot, as I tried to assure him that I’d understand if he’d decided I wasn’t worth the trouble any more. It was a total lie; if he told me to fuck off, I was thinking of just curling up into a ball and dying. He stood up from the stool, his unreadable gaze raking me from head to toe, as I rambled blithely on, feeling a trembling that started somewhere in my gut and radiated towards my fingertips. God, I was going to just crumble if he turned me away now. Then all at once, he pulled me into his arms, his lips crushing mine into silence as he all but squeezed the breath out of me. Oh thank God! Please, let this be forgiveness and not a goodbye kiss—. Then he buried his face against my shoulder, clutching me even tighter, and I felt sobs shaking his entire frame. “Jesus, ‘Ro—I’m sorry!” I gasped, my own eyes filling with tears as I pulled back enough to see them running down his face. It just about killed me to see the raw pain in his eyes, and I brushed his tears away and kissed his face, before pulling him close again. “I’m so sorry. I never wanted him to keep it from you—not from the very beginning—an’ I’d have called sooner, but—.” And then I was crying, too, and he was the one shushing me and calming me, as he gradually regained control of himself. I felt awful. How could I have doubted his love for me? How could I have thought he’d just forget me and move on? I fuckin’ knew how deeply the man felt his emotions, once he let himself. And that made me all the more aware of how much he’d suffered the past few weeks. As much as I’d missed him, I’d at least known he was alive. He’d had no such comfort since that day at the courthouse. “God—if I’d known how much you were hurting—I’d have gotten away sooner—called—something.” “Well what the fuck did you think?” he asked sternly. “That I’d just get over you an’ move on—? Jesus, Duo—you don’t know how deep inside me you are!” “Not as deep as I wanna be,” I purred into his ear. “I missed you so much.” I felt like I had a lot of making up to do—for the pain he’d endured, and the loneliness, and the guilt. And I was ready to do anything for him—anything to take the hurt look out of his eyes and bring a smile back to his face. Of course, now that he was back in my arms, I was pretty
sure there was nothing I couldn’t do.
tbc... |
