Author: Chauni
Email: ChauniMaxwell@mechpilot.com
Website: www.oocities.org/asukalangley2nd/
Warnings: Violence, Angst, Language, Attempted rape, Yaoi
Pairings: 1x2, 2x4, 3x4, 5+2
Disclaimer: I don’t own the GW boy nor did I make any money off this.
Pity me.
Sighing,
the Wing pilot flipped the screen of his gray laptop down and looked at his
hands for a moment, growling somewhere deep in the back of his throat. He could
hear Duo moving about in the next room, and he didn’t want to give him the
information he had just received; however he knew there was no other option. To
prolong the inevitable, he rose to his feet and began to pack, throwing a few
clothes and some personal items into a violet nylon knapsack. Once all
finished, he grabbed the handle of the bag and stalked out into the living room
of the apartment he shared with the braided boy.
He
was not surprised to find his koi dancing in the living room, a pair of headphones
covering his ears. Amethyst eyes shut, he sang loudly to the music that flooded
his head, shaking his behind in the process. His braid twisted and twirled,
following him like an obedient pet as he swirled and danced.
The
feeling of being watched struck Duo suddenly and he cracked one eye open to see
his lover standing across the room from him. A grin fell across his smooth
lips, and he hopped across the floor, almost tripping over the coffee table in
such a hurry. Once at the Japanese boy, he grasped his hand and kissed his
cheek softly.
“Come
on and dance with me, Heero,” he said, eyes wide.
The
Wing pilot gently dislodged his hand from his partner’s grasp and looked at him
sullenly. Holding the violet eyes with his cobalt ones, he calmly said,
“There’s something I have to tell you, Duo.”
The
braided pilot took the cue and calmed down immediately. Quickly turning off the
headphones, he raised a curious eyebrow. “Mission?”
“In
a way,” he answered, eyeing his companion. “Something has happened to Quatre.”
The
headphones slipped through Duo’s numb fingers and crashed to the floor while
his face went instantly white. “I-is he all right?”
“We
don’t know.” His Prussian eyes studied his koi’s face, searching to make
certain he was all right. “He was kidnapped yesterday from his office on the L4
colony.”
For
a lack of anything better to say, the braided boy muttered, “I told him he was
working too much.” His eyes sparkled as he looked up at Heero, concern covering
his features. “Does Trowa know?”
The
Wing pilot nodded, dark hair bobbing up and down. “Hai. He was the one that
contacted me. He wants us to meet him in the city he’s currently staying at,
Venice. My stuff is all packed, so hurry up and get ready while I attempt to
track down Wufei.”
Duo
shook his head, talking as he headed for the bedroom he and Heero shared.
“Don’t worry about finding Wufei. I have his phone number.”
“You
do?” Heero asked, raising an eyebrow. “Is there something you’re not telling
me?”
Duo
poked his head out of the doorway, winking. “Are you jealous, koi? Now’s not
the time to talk about our relationship, love. We can discuss that after we get
Quatre back, when we can have long hours to ourselves, alone.” With that said,
he disappeared into the room, leaving a bemused Wing pilot standing in the
hallway.
Laid
up in a hotel room, sitting at a cheap glass table, the four ex-Gundam pilots
stared at one another in stunned silence, ignoring the scene of water-filled
canals and breath-taking art of Italy outside. Trowa had not laid eyes on Wufei
since the war ended, aside from one party Quatre had hosted for the lot of
them, but the other two he had been fortunate to have seen one time after that.
However, as much as he wished this could be a joyous occasion of remembrance
and catching up, their thoughts were tangled around a certain golden-haired war
hero.
“It
sounds as though they want us to come,” Heero muttered, shaking his head.
“Either that or they are really foolish.”
Trowa
shook his head, his low voice cutting through the hush like a dagger. “I’m not
sure, but from what I can gather, they moved their captive from L4 to Berlin
three days ago, not bothering to delete their flight records, their hotel
stays, or the video tapes of their kidnapping.”
“They
are most likely just idiots attempting to do a professional’s job,” Wufei
growled. “Let us go in there and take them out.”
“If
they are being this careless, why haven’t the police taken care of it?” Duo
asked, sipping the hot chocolate in front of him.
“The
police still have no knowledge of this,” Trowa quietly explained. “If the media
or stock markets got wind of this, the Winner Corporation would go through a
major crisis with the stock market. One of his sisters is running it on the
inside and in fact she called me to inform me of this entire matter.”
Duo
glanced across the table to Trowa, noting the worried expression riding high in
his one visible green eye, even as he desperately fought against it. Duo shared
in his sentiment, knowing the concern was well warranted. He impatiently kicked
his feet beneath the table, frowning, memories coming to mind…
“STOP
IT!!!!!!”
That nightmare again, loud enough to rattle the mirror
against one wall and to wake the sleeping braided boy on the floor. In a flash,
he was on his feet, gun out and whirling around frantically.
Finally, he turned to the shaking boy lost in a sea of
satin blankets and down pillows. His buttery locks stuck to the sweat-sheened
forehead and his sea-green eyes were open wide, overflowing with salty tears.
The thin white night shirt he had donned for the evening was plastered to his
body, transparent with dampness and clinging to every ripple in his young body.
“Quatre, are you all right?” Duo asked, setting his gun
onto the table and climbing on the bed.
Shuddering, he slowly nodded, the sweat becoming cold.
His eyes found Duo’s in the dark, while whispering, “Another nightmare.”
Duo, knowing all too well about the horrors of
nightmares, gently took Quatre’s hand. “Do you want to talk about it?
“I-I-” He brow wrinkled as he attempted to recall it, his
voice shaking. “All the people who have died in the war were standing over my
open grave while I lay helpless below, straight dirt walls surrounding me. They
held out their arms, blood dripping off their limbs and falling onto my face in
rivers. Some slipped into my mouth and I could taste it, Duo! I-I c-c- can
still taste it!”
The braided boy slipped his arms around his companion,
the companion he had just met a few weeks ago. Quatre willingly fell into his
embrace, shuddering and crying once more.
Swallowing hard, Duo gently grasped the boy’s chin and
lifted his face upwards. Leaning forward, his lips brushed against the desert
angel’s cheeks, taking the burning tears with them.
“D-Duo…” Quatre hissed, the nightmare momentarily
forgotten.
“I can make you forget, Quatre,” Duo murmured softly
against the boy’s cheek. “Let me help you.”
And beneath that desert moon, the two outlaws of war made
love, forgetting for a few hours the horrors of both nightmares and their
waking lives. Clumsy and virginal, the situation was anything but smooth, but
it possessed a deeper quality that can never be replicated.
It was
innocent, full of a purity that can never be replicated.
And after Duo and Heero’s relationship began to flower,
the two lovers vowed not to speak of it again, leaving that night to remain in
the crimson redness of people’s minds where fantasies and heated memories
flourish forevermore.
“When are we leaving?” Heero’s voice
drifted through Duo’s memories, severing his tie to the passionate past in an
instant. He blinked and shook his head as if to banish the residue of the
daydream away.
“An unmarked shuttle will be waiting
for us in an hour at a personal airfield thirty-three miles south of here,”
Trowa impassively answered. “Quatre’s sister made the arrangements.”
“Where is he currently being held?”
Duo asked, an icy tone in his voice. Something strange was beginning to form in
his chest, a strange sense of duty, of possession, of protectiveness, that he
refused to ignore.
“There is an abandoned OZ base
twelve miles outside Berlin,” Trowa replied, pulling out a map and pointing to
a small, hastily scribbled red “X”. “From what I have been able to discover, he
is held within those confines, but where at exactly is unknown.”
Wufei nodded, bronze skin flashing
in the din of the sunset outside. “Let’s discuss our course of action on the
shuttle. Sitting here isn’t going to get him back, although we may not be able
to either.”
Duo nodded, dimly feeling his
fingernails biting into the hardened flesh of his palms. Quickly, he rose to
his feet, sweeping his eyes across those that he loved above all else, but he
felt empty as he noticed one soul, one soul that he had loved for years now,
missing. A false smile hung lightly to his lips as he whispered, “It’ll be all
right. We’ll get him back. Q-man always was a strong person.” With that he
turned and walked out of the hotel room, silent and stiff.
Heero noticed the half-moon gashes into
the palm of his hand and realized something he didn’t wish to know. Are you telling us that, Duo, or yourself? What happened
between you two, koi? What don’t I know?
Back in the room he and Heero shared,
he stared out the open window that overlooked the postcard scene before him.
Venice was a place of art, of culture, of love, but his soul was empty now. His
koi would be back soon and he would inquire to his determination in this, but
what was he to say? What answers could he give him?
His fingers drifted across the
wooden panes that lined the glass, as if he was caressing the sensitive flesh
of a lover. His amethyst eyes focused on nothing and everything as he began to
speak in a hushed, quiet voice that he had forgotten he possessed.
“I know I haven’t spoken to you
since the church incident, and I’m not going to apologize for it. But, this is
my friend’s life in danger, and if you at all care about the human race, your
fucked up creation, then you’ll spare his life. He was, is, the
kindest person I have ever known, filled with more love than anyone on this
fucking planet, and he doesn’t deserve this shit.”
His voice shook with an angered
pleading, laden with disdain and hatred. The fury he carried with him from the
hardships of his life flowed outward, drifted up into the heavens as his words
grew harsher and harsher. Tears prickled at the corner of his eyes, burning,
despised.
“You have abandoned people who cared
about you! You damned them all! Father Maxwell, Sister Helen, everyone who
believed in you, you bailed on! Well, damnit, show me you’re out there! Prove
to me you’re not really that cold-fucking-hearted and bring Quatre back to us!
To ME!”
His legs gave out beneath him,
forcing his reluctant body to its knees. His silent sobs poured forth in a
torrent of loathing and abandonment, of emotional agony long ago locked away in
the deep recesses of a hardened heart. His outpour lasted for quite awhile, yet
was hushed and forbidden to outside eyes. Smiling and happiness; those were the
things expected of Duo Maxwell, not this sobbing wreck of long-due mourning.
He didn’t hear the door creak as it
opened, nor saw the cool Prussian eyes he was all too familiar with staring at
his back from the beige hotel hallway. Deciding that now was not the wisest
time to intervene, the Japanese boy quietly shut the door and walked away,
heading nowhere fast.