Ne... it's the third in what I've carelessly dubbed the "Travelers" arc, the one that starts with Propinquity. The first half of this story is a retelling of the events in episode 3, when Duo met Heero. The second half takes place three years later, after Propinquity and Distance. I did my best to make it come out unmitigated sap. How'd I do?
Pairings: 2+1, 1+2
Rating: PG for... language. As though I didn't learn all my swear words in the third grade anyway.
Disclaimer: Duo-chan does not belong to me. ::sulks::
Warnings: shounen-ai, bachelor apartment, spoilers for episode 3 (I think) fluff sap fluff
Author's Notes: /lyrics/ from Tori Amos "China"
/China all the way to New York
I can feel the distance getting close
You're right next to me
But I can feel the distance
as you breathe/
"...gonna have nightmares about this," I moan, but still can't stop watching the boy.
He was falling, head down, eyes closed, arms spread slightly as though diving. Head-first towards the rocky beach below. "Dammit, what are you waiting for? Open your chute!" I yell, already knowing that he wouldn't. Wouldn't trust someone else's equipment? Jeez, that's the sort of paranoia that's worse than useless... I close my eyes but for a moment I see, double-vision, the falling boy and the red mess on the rocks that he would make --
"Heero!" screams a voice from above us. I don't look up -- don't have to, since I already know who it is. The girl from the docks last night, who had gotten angry at me when I saved her. I'd shot the guy, and he returned the favor by trying to blow up my Gundam, managing to land himself floating face-down and unconscious; I hauled him of the water only to find that she called an ambulance. An ambulance, for Christ's sake! She might as well have called the police and turned him in as a terrorist!
What's a thief like me supposed to do? I got the hell out of there. Brought his suit along, though; no point in wasting such a nice piece of work. Not as nice as my 'Scythe, but still -- and then, of course, what use is a suit without someone to pilot it? So it was back to the hospital, with a backpack full of explosives and a spare parachute. And the plan went fine, up until the point that he went completely insane.
Oh, *now* he pulls the ripcord. A little late, buddy, don't you think? The 'chute barely has time to fill before he hits the ground and keeps on going, rolling down the cliffside until he pulls to a stop at the beach. What kind of suicidal, moronic -- he's getting up again? I don't believe it. He's limping, but there's no way you can fall fifty stories off of a building and have nothing to show for it but a broken leg. Just... no.
Howard's ship surfaces just as I reach the ground and shut off my own little energy-coptor -- no awkward parachutes for me! It pays to be best buddies with an engineer, let me tell you. Howard's a lifesaver, especially when it comes to suit repair. He's got enough parts to spare for me to fix up Deathscythe, and probably this psycho's suit while he's at it. "What the hell were you doing?" I exclaim as I come up behind him; he's just sort of staring out over the ocean.
"I shouldn't have pulled the cord," he mutters, more to himself than to me.
"Yeah?" I snarl. "If you were trying to kill yourself, could you have picked a little more considerate way to do it? You seriously freaked me out, man!" He's not even listening to me. There's nothing for it but to help him onto the ship. He's not going to ask for my help, even if it means he has to walk on the broken leg. I sigh, and pull his arm over my shoulder. "Look, I know it sounds stupid, but right now I'm the only friend you've got."
He just glares. What a nutjob.
"There's your suit," I sigh. "See? I was even nice enough to retrieve it for you. You could at least show a little gratitude... what's he doing?" I say to myself, turning around to look. He's lying on his back on the deck of the ship, both hands around his broken knee, and -- oh -- ew, *gross*. "I can't take much more of this," I groan. "He rides on torpedoes, he jumps off buildings without a parachute, and now he sets his own broken bones. I'm just glad I've already had lunch..."
He comes up behind me and stares at his Gundam; it's not all that much worse off than mine, but frankly the damage shows up a lot more against the white material, so his suit looks like hell. Well, so does Heero. That was what the blond chick called him, anyway, last night and just now. Sounds sort of Japanese, although I've yet to see a Japanese kid with blue eyes and brown hair. He's kinda cute, actually, or he would be if he did something besides scowl all the time. "You're Heero, right?" I offer as a way of starting some conversation. I grin at him, and offer my hand. "I'm the God of Death, Duo Maxwell -- pilot of Gundam Deathscythe." I jerk my head towards the big black Gundam, just in case he didn't pick up on that.
He doesn't take my hand. He just stares at it for a moment like it's a weapon or a dead rat, before shifting his eyes back up to my face. "How did a clown like you get hold of a mobile suit?" he growls.
My grin twists a little, at that. "The Gundam's borrowed," I tell him, withdrawing my hand and sticking it back in my pocket. "So's the name," I add after a moment's thought. He doesn't respond -- big surprise -- but just walks past me to the crane controls and starts to hoist his Gundam onto the hangar floor. I turn away. Damn. I've barely known him a day and he's getting under my skin.
/sometimes I think you want me to touch you
how can I when you build the great wall around you
in your eyes I saw a future together
you just look away in the distance /
"Hey, Heero!" I have to shout to get his attention; he's perched up on top of his Gundam, half inside one of the open panels. He has to have heard me, but he doesn't stop working, so I wave the package above my head for him to see. "Want some lunch? You've been working on that thing for six hours straight!"
He looks at me, briefly, before turning away and dropping me from his attention with an audible CLANK. Wait, that was his Gundam. "No."
Whoa. Not friendly. I sigh, and walk halfway around his suit so I can talk without shouting. "Look, why don't you just let Howard and his guys fix that for you? Howard kicks ass, man, seriously." He's also the one who designed your stupid suit in the first place, if it's anything like mine, but that's not my secret to share. "I've got some replacements I can lend you, and I hate to break this to you, but you're not gonna get this thing fixed up without spare parts. It's not like fixing broken arms or legs --" ugh, I can still hear that liquid snapping noise -- "Machines won't heal on their own. Are you even getting what I'm saying? Pieces missing. Need more pieces. I have pieces. Capish?"
"I don't want you touching my suit," he snaps, with such force that I back up a step or two.
"Hey, man, I'm just trying to help!" I say in exasperation. He stops what he's doing -- actually stops! -- and turns to glare at me.
"Why?"
"What?" I blink.
"What do you want in return?" he growls. "Are you trying to get some sort of hold over me? There's nothing you could possibly gain from helping me!" He's almost forgotten his Gundam, now, leaning precariously over the edge to fix me with a forceful stare.
This guy is intense. "You're a Gundam pilots, just like me, aren't you?" I try to laugh it off. "Haven't you ever heard of honor among thieves?"
"No."
Okay, no go. I give up the joking attitude. "Because I want to help you," I admit with a sigh. "I mean, it was my fault you got stuck in that hospital... sort of... so now I've gotta make it up to you, right?"
"But why?" He almost snarls, and for the first time since I've met him, I can actually read his face. He's frustrated. He doesn't know what to make of me! It's suddenly funny, and I can feel the grin threatening to cross my face again. "What good will it do you?"
"No good at all!" I tell him, the smile coming back. "I just enjoy helping people."
"But *why*?" he insists. God, he sounds like a three-year old. I get a sudden image of a silent, scowling toddler with a gun in one hand and a teddy bear in the other, and have to fight not to crack up.
"I just do, that's all. It's just the way I am." He's not convinced. "Really. That's the way I'm wired. There's this little psychological quirk I've got -- sort of a Samaritan virus, you know? It gives me this weird glow on the inside -- I completely get off on it. Don't you? Come on, there's no rush quite like saving someone from a tight spot -- it's such a turn-on --"
The strangest expression crosses his face as I talk, and I can't help but smirk -- payback for fixing his leg right in front of me. "Do you believe me now?" I say abruptly. "Are my reasons cynical enough for you to understand yet?"
I'm putting him on, and it's great to see his expression when he realizes it. He makes this little 'hnph' sound of disgust, and turns back to his Gundam, vanishing from sight. I sigh dramatically. "What a jerk," I say to no-one in particular. "I save his life, not to mention his suit. What kind of an idiot am I? Going to all this trouble for an antisocial, uncooperative, phlegmatic, paranoid -- God! If I had his personality, I'd want to kill myself!"
"Hey, you!"
He spoke to me! Miracles. Maybe someday he'll bother to remember my name. "What, you want lunch after all?" I call back, bouncing the sandwiches on my hand.
His head appears over the platform edge. "Could you shut up for a while?"
Jesus!
/China...
you're right next to me
I think that you can hear me
funny how the distance learns to grow/
The whine of engines yanks me out of a half-doze, hours later. I sit up, groggy and disoriented -- it's not *my* Gundam's engines that are firing, so who --
"Son of a bitch," I marvel, as I get to the window in time to see his mobile suit vanish over the horizon. "He got it all repaired last night, after all. What a pilot!"
I guess he'll be all right without my help, after all. Still, I can't shake this strange feeling of -- loss -- I get when I wander into the hangar to attend to my own Gundam; this funny sensation like something's out of place, or missing. No time for that, though; I've gotta get Deathscythe ready for a fight. I climb into the cockpit, and turn it on to run a diagnostic --
I try to, anyway. But the suit doesn't respond, to any of my commands. An awful realization creeps over me, and I lean down to yank out the panels underneath the consoles.
"Son of a *bitch*!"
Empty. It's empty. That was how he'd gotten his Gundam fixed last night; he stole parts from mine! From my Deathscythe, my partner! "That *bastard*!" Furious, I climb out of the cockpit and start circling the suit, surveying the damage. He can't accept my help, oh no! He just waits until my back is turned so he can tear it open and steal what he wants from inside!
No way I'm letting him get away with this. Nobody does this to Duo Maxwell. You are not going to get away with stealing from me, Heero --
-- my heart --
part 2
Back to 'Distance'
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