Comforting
        Story III of "Chasing Down the Moon"
Rating: PG13
Series: Gundam Wing
Genre: General
Pairings: 1+2+1
Spoilers: ..? Not to my knowledge
Warnings: budding shounen ai, suggested NCS, violence, blood, minor language
By Moon Faery
Archived: Moon Faery's Garden (http://www.geocities.com/moon_faerys_garden/); FFN (http://www.fanfiction.net); Kiss of Death [my new site!] (https://www.angelfire.com/gundam/kissofdeath/); anywhere else that asks nicely.

Disclaimer: A statement created solely to save one's ass from becoming lawn for the proverbial legal mower. I do not own Gundam Wing, nor does anyone I know own it. However, this story line and plot are MINE. (Holds fic close to her.) Grrrr....

Author Notes: Bwhahahahaaa!!! The attraction starts! And I actually tried to include some actual action/adventure stuff for once. Quatre's a bit more... violent than I'd usually give him credit for, but I think it suits him well in this particular case. ^^;; I appologize for any mental trauna suffered by reading this fic. Especially to the guys.
***
        Seated at the kitchen table, Duo measured distance between two points on a map, doing some quick math. A stick of men's pocky stuck out of one side of his mouth, teasing the strands of hair that had escaped his braid to curl around his jaw and cheek. At his elbow a digital clock beeped out the hour.
        "What time is it?" Quatre mumbled, raising his head up from his own work. His dark teal eyes were rimmed by red, evidence of a long night hard at work. On the couch Heero didn't even bother to look up from his laptop, which was steadily pumping information from OZ's most secret files.
        "Just turned three, Quate," Duo answered, raising his arms in a spine-cracking stretch. His cropped tee shirt rode up on his stomach, showing a large amount of lower ribcage and milky skin.
        "Tell me again why I insisted on this?" the little blonde asked, taking a gulp of his coffee, which had long since gone cold.
        "You wanted to get the information at night, when the guards manually monitering the system would be paying the least attention," Heero reminded him, jaw tensing slightly as he fought the urge to yawn. "I've got the guard rotation schedule printing out."
        "Mmhm," Quatre nodded, blinking fuzzily, eyes a little unfocused. "Oh-kay, now all we have to do is..." He trailed off, yawning hugely. "Um, what was I saying?"
        Duo poked him in the ribs with a pencil. "Maybe you should hit the sack, Quate," he suggested gently.
        The blonde blinked, letting his head sink down until it was pillowed on his crossed forearms. "Oh, no, I just need a to rest my eyes..." He went limp.
        From his perch on the edge of the sofa, Heero raised an eyebrow. "Should we leave him?" he wondered softly.
        The braid waved as Duo shook his head negatively. "No, he'll get a crick in his neck." Carefully, he picked the sleeping pilot up, performing some manuevers that had even Heero impressed in his attempt to avoid bumping into anything. The little Winner sighed and shifted his weight, snuggling into Duo's side. The braided Death smiled gently, eyes strangely soft as he looked down on the sleeping boy. For some reason, a shiver ran down Heero's spine, and his heart began to beat a bit harder. "Hey, Heero, get the door for me, will ya?" he whispered.
        Heero did as he was asked, frowning a little as Duo slid through the entryway sideways with that same off look on his face. The covers on the twin sized bed were already pulled back, so Duo laid Quatre down and pulled off his shoes before tucking the blankets around him. The little blonde smiled and relaxed more, snuggling into the covers up to the bridge of his nose. Duo ruffled Quatre's white-gold hair and kissed his forehead before slipping silently out of the room, leaving pilot zero-one to shut the door behind him.
        Back in the main room of the apartment, the Japanese assassin eyed the braided one out of the corner of one blue eye as the other boy started to organize the papers that were spread hapahazardly over the kitchen table. Duo moved the smooth grace that people tended to use when trying to keep from waking another person. He finally recognized the look on his face. It was pure serenity, a look he'd never seen on any person in their particular group before, even on Quatre.
        "You liked putting him in bed?" Heero asked quietly, feeling the obscure need to know more that always seemed to plague him when he was around Duo Maxwell.
        Duo looked up from straightening the last stack of papers, almost as though he had forgotten Heero was there. "Sure I did," he replied, cocking his head to the side curiously. "Haven't you ever tucked someone in?"
        Heero thought about that for a moment, eyes narrowing in thought. "No, I haven't."
        Duo smiled again, his eyes getting that soft look that twisted something inside the stoic Japanese pilot. "You should try it sometime. It's..." He paused, searching for the word. "It's comforting."
        "For who?"
        "For you." The look on Duo's face took on a mysterious aspect. "Good night, Heero." He set down the papers and vanished into the shadows of the hallway. Heero was left staring into the darkness, battling that feeling that he'd missed something. Again.
***
        Bright noontime sunlight streamed in through the north-facing window as Heero poured over the blueprints that they had printed out the night before. He silently wished that Trowa or Wufei were there instead of him. Hightly trained though he was, he had never quite mastered the art of picking out easy entry-ways like the other pilots had. But Wufei was taking out a certain official in old Russia, and Trowa was spot checking OZ security from within, leaving Heero to deal with the maps and guard rotations. He would have had Quatre do it, but the Winner heir was busy planning their attack, and Duo was locating supplies on the black market.
        "Hey, man," a soft voice said behind him. Something in a large brown paper sack was set down on the carpet. "Need a hand?"
        "Hn," he grunted, ignoring the tempting length of braid that swung before his nose as Duo leaned over him. Instead he shifted on his stool, making a mental note that the kitchen table was more comfortable than the breakfast bar.
        "C'mon, I thought we had you all the way to to sentences!" the American teased mercilessly, draping himself over Heero's shoulder, cheek brushing against Heero's temple. "You're regressing again, pal."
        Heero's shoulders tensed minutely at the contact. Warmth pooled in his stomach, which began to twist in an emotion he realized was embarrassment. A blush crept up his bronze-toned skin, but it was ruthlessly squashed. "I don't need help," he clarified, casting a baleful glare at the other boy out of the corner of his eye.
        "Ah, a whole sentence!" Duo crowed, giving him a quick hug and the patting his head like a dog. "Good boy. Wanna treat?" Something appeared under Heero's nose so quickly that his eyes crossed. He grabbed it from the braided one, studying it closely.
        It was a small earring in the form of a gold loop wrapped carefully in similarly tiny bubblewrap. It was configured oddly, like it was designed to hug the earlobe rather than dangle under it. "An earring," he commented unenthusiastically.
        "Yup," Duo said, boucing up from his position on Heero's shoulder. Only quick reflexed saved Heero from being slapped in the face with his braid. "I've got one too, and so does Quate. We've even got attachments!" He held up a large mailing envelope, cuddling it to his body like it was breakable.
        "Attachments..." Heero raised an eyebrow, swivling around to stare at the other boy intensely. "And why, exactly, were you out buying jewelry that none of us can wear?"
        "I asked him to, Heero," Quatre called from his bedroom. Apparently he'd been listening in to the conversation. "Duo, explain it to him, I'm a little busy!"
        The self-proclained God of Death rolled his amethyst eyes. "Yes, mother."
        "I HEARD that!"
        Heero grinned as Duo's face took on a sullen, pout expression. "Spoil sport." His face immediately brightened back into its usual grin as he settled down on a stool at Heero side, thigh barely brushing the other boy's. Heero shivered, unconciously pressing into the contact. "We each got three different attachments," he explained, pulling three pacakges out of the yellow envelope. "One of them is hollow; it can be filled with a poison of choice. That's the sunburst design." He held up a tiny gold sunburst, etched with silver. "Mine's a starburst, 'cause it's silver. Then there's a recorder; it sends audio back to base for saving." This time, he played with three small crosses, each with tiny differences in the engravings, besides the obvious silver of Duo's against the gold of the other two. "Then we've got the hoops; they're the real useful ones. Scrambling device; they'll confuse anything from heat sensors to dogs. The base earring's a tracker; sends back to the same device as the 'bursts."
        Heero eyed the jewelry with distrust. "None of use have pierced ears."
        Duo's grin grew wider. "I know," he purred, pulling an earring gun out of the paper bag and brandishing it like a weapon. "Hold still Heero, this'll only hurt for a second."
***
        The next week was spent racing from one side of the city to the other, contacting the leaders of various underground organizations and collecting what they needed to complete the mission. False information was planted in the OZ databanks, new identities assumed and plans laid out. After what seemed like months of endless work, everything was finished and the mission was begun.
        Heero shrugged deeper into his leather jacket, fighting the urge to scratch at his ear, which was just beginning to heal from its piercing. The tiny cross that dangled from the cuff clinked as he hopped down a pair of dirt-covered staired three at a time. His knees flashed through the ragged rips in his black jeans, which had been artfully slashed over each thigh and beneath his buttocks as well. Depicted in a flashy siver iron-on patch over his heart was a stylized eagle and dagger, the symbol of one of the more troublesome gangs in the area. Specifically, it was the exclusive property of the gang that helped OZ control the streets of the area. The eagle-dagger logo was also etched on the back of his jacket, reflecting even the limited light from overhead lamps.
        Behind him jogged Quatre, looking odd in his black on black outfit. Not even the black, silver and blue streaks in his hair or the realistic tattoos that climbed his arms took away from his gentle appearance. However, the large handgun he carried more than made up for it.
        Above the grimy alleyway, Duo ghosted from rooftop to rooftop, covered from heat to foot in mottled shades of grey. He blended into the darkness almost perfectly. Even Heero was having trouble tracking the slender pilot's movement.
        "We're almost to the base," Quatre murmured from behind him, his voice barely audible. "Ready?"
        Heero just nodded, eyes narrowing. They turned a final corner, coming face to face with a pair of OZ guards.
        "Hey! What the hell are you two punks doing here?" One of the guards demanded, eyeing the symbol on Heero's jacket nervously. "This is a restricted area!"
        Quatre blew a strand of blackened hair out of his eyes, which suddenly looked hard. He stepped in front of Heero, smirking. "We got passes," he claimed arrogantly, voice rougher than normal.
        "Sure," the second guard snorted. "And I'm Queen friggin Victoria. Get outta here."
        "Really," the blonde insisted. "Show 'em our passes, my man." He waved at Heero and stepped aside. The next thing the OZ soldiers saw was a flash of metal as Heero fired.
        The Japanese boy restrained the urge to glance upward for Duo, knowing that he couldn't give away his position. "Which'ne's de'd?" he demanded, slurring so badly that any accent was impossible to pinpoint.
        The petite Arabian nudged one of the fallen men in the ribs. "Mark this one."
        Kneeling down, Heero pretended relutance as he slid a knife out of his heavy army boot and carved a simplified version of his patch on the dead man's chest. "Dun like da b'sses o'ders," he complained loudly. "Leevin' bodies 'n' sitch alivin'."
        "Just do what you're told," Quatre snapped. "I'm in charge, don't forget it."
        "Gotcha," the blue-eyed teenager nodded, finishing his work and standing. Blood stained his black leather gloves. "Le's go. 'M dun."
        Quatre just growled and strolled past the bodies and into the military compound. Once they were a decent distance from the gate, he slowed down and let Heero draw even. "Do you think the cameras caught that?" he questioned nervously, toying with the sunburst that dangled from one earlobe.
        Heero nodded. "They'd better have," he grunted. "Or OZ seriously needs some systems upgrades." He tugged his jacket, which felt at least three sizes too large. "If I went through this for nothing, I'm killing someone."
        The blonde grinned and tucged a piece of blue hair out of his eyes. "I know."
        "Are you guys going to go kill ol' prince what's his face, or do I have to babysit you while you sit here and chat?" a voice asked from out of nowhere. Duo's face appeared in front of them upside dow. He was hanging by his knees from an out-of-comission overhead lamp. "Ya know, I have some things to blow up, but I guess I could change my plans if you really need me to..." His eyes were dancing, glittering wickedly in the darkness.
        Two icy glares attempted to send the American thief up in flames. "Go away," both Quatre and Heero hissed sharply.
        Duo shook with supressed laughter. "Whoa, stereo effect," he grinned. "Fine; I'm off to make some chaos. See ya later." He folded upwards and vanished into the shadows.
        The heir to Winner Inc. grinned widely. "That's Duo for you," he commented. "Let's go frame some people, shall we?"
***
        Duo skulked through the shadows around the warehouse, slipping between piles of boxes and high explosives. Here and there he attached a small device, tapped a sequence on the miniature keypad and moved on. So far, dozens of the devices had been planted in various places in the compound. He armed the last one and adjusted his earphone. 'C'mon, guys. Don't let me down now.'
        A footstep from behind him broke the silence. "Hey!" A body slammed into him, sending the ex-streetrat crashing to the floor. His head cracked loudly against the cement, making his vision blur, but he managed to roll out from under his attacker and kick him him the kneecap. The man went down with a curse. Pinning the other man against the flor, Duo snapped his neck.
        The braided one stood shakily, leaning on the boxes beside him. He waited a few minutes, and then dragged the body out of sight. Corpse hidden, he made his way out of the complex, head ringing.
***
        His Royal Highness, the Prince Edgin of the Unified American Continents (only five times removed from the throne, if it still existed) woke up to find a knife pressed to his throat. He froze, extra chins quivering in his attempt to stay still. His plaything of the evening had been tied up by one of the oddly concientious attackers. She watched from a corner of the room, blankly uncaring. One of her large brown eyes was nearly swollen shut from a just-purpling black eye, and a cut on her cheek had cracked open to drip blood onto the sheet that one of the attackers had thrown over her for modesty's sake.
        "You didn't say anything about her," Heero hissed at Quatre while holding the knife. Edgin, who didn't speak ancient Arabic, couldn't understand a word of it.
        Quatre glared at Heero. "How was I supposed to know he'd have a girl in his room?" he demanded in the same language, grimacing as he worked his tongue around the unfamiliar sylables. He'd never been very good at speaking dead languages. "Muchless have one handcuffed to the bed?"
        "She's a witness," Heero insisted hotly. "We'll have to eliminate her." The knife slipped a little, drawing a line of blood from the fat man's neck. Edgin whimpered and tried to press down deeper into the bed.
        "After everything she's been through?" The blonde shook his head irritably, slamming a fist down on the hostage's stomach, hard. His Royal Highness grunted softly at the impact, starting to tremble in terror. "She deserves the right to watch him die."
        "We should kill her," the Japanese freedom fighter repeated. "She's-"
        "You- you're going to kill me, aren't you?" a small, frightened voice asked from the corner. The girl was looking at them sadly. "It- it's alright. I don't mind."
        Quatre glowered at Heero for a moment before turning to face the captured girl. "Not if we don't have to," he answered softly, kneeling down to look her in the eye. "We weren't sent to kill innocents."
        A growling sound came from Heero. "Any time now."
        The girl shook her head. "I- I'm no innocent," she whispered brokenly. "If I stayed hidden like Momma told me to, he wouldn't've..." She gulped and started shaking. "He wouldn't've killed 'em. They- they're all dead, 'cause've me... It's all- all my fault..." Tears rolled down her battered cheeks, but the words kept pouring out. "And- and the-then he-he..."
        Quatre's vision flashed red. Slowly he stood up and drew his knife. "Don't let him make any noise," was his only comment as he ripped the sheet off the fat old man's nude body. What he did next made even Heero blanch and wince in imagined pain. Edgin tried to scream, but Heero had a lock on his throat, preventing even a whimper from escaping. The now unconected body part was flung off into a corner, and Quatre wiped the blood from his hands into the sheets. "Kill the bastard," he ordered bluntly. He turned his back as Heero finished it.
        The raped girl smiled weakly at the blonde boy. She had watched the castration hungrily, and now sagged back against the wall. "Thank you."
        "He deserved it," the pilot of Sandrock told her. "I'm sorry about this." So quickly that she was couldn't have seen it coming, he tapped her on the forehead with a fist, and she sank into the relaxation of true unconciousness.
        The two slipped out the door and into the currently unguarded hall. As they set aside the manhole that covered an old aqueduct Heero tapped a button on the side of his watch. The manhole was covered, and the two vanished from the OZ base.
***
        A half mile outside the base, Duo heard a series of beeps in his ear. For a second he thought it was the ringing coming back, but it continued onto to play the opening bars of Moonlight Sonata. He grinned and pressed a button. "Boom."
***
        When Duo got back, Quatre was scrubbing himself down in the shower, doing his best to get the coloring out of his hair. Heero had set aside his jacket was digging through the refridgerator. He hadn't changed his jeans, so slim flashes of bronze skin winked at Duo from behind the rips as he walked into the apartment. He stood there, staring blankly for several minutes, dark eyes glazing slightly. Eventually, the image began to double, and he realized that he'd forgotten to breathe. The braided Death tottered inside and collapsed onto the sofa, making a loud 'whuff!' come out of the worn cushions. He shook his head, digging his face into the couch. 'Oh, man, I was NOT just ogling Heero's ass,' he told himself. 'It's only the knock on the head. I WAS havin' trouble standing up on the way home. That's got to be it.'
        Something cold dripped down the back of his neck. Duo grumbled and turned his head enough to glare up at Heero with one violet eye. The Japanese pilot was standing over him and letting the condensation from his glass drip, smirking. "Tired?"
        "Hhhnnnn," Duo groaned, reburying his face into the cushions. The movement joggled something in his brain, making him turn green. It could have been the not-breathing of the minute before or the knock on the head, but all Duo knew was that he did NOT feel well. "Ugh, don't ask."
        Heero's grin was replaced by well-hidden worry. "Injuries?" The cold drink vanished, and his hands were immediately performing a quick once-over on Duo, who would have blushed if his head hadn't started pounding again.
        "Just a lil' banged on the head," the American told his partner. "Nothing big."
        "You should be in bed." Heero's lips twitched downward in a slight frown. "You might have a concussion."
        "Naw, I've had those b'fore. They're worse than this," Duo told him glibly. "I- Whoa!" Heero had picked the smaller boy up and was carefullt carrying him back to his room, carefully dodging around the doorway like he had seen Duo do with Quatre.
        "You should rest," he told the other boy sternly. Genuine worry created a crease between his eyebrows as he set Duo down in the bed.
        "We only just met," Duo joked weakly, trying to sit up. Heero pushed him gently back down onto the bed, scowling. He picked up the blankets and tucked them around Duo's slender frame, ignoring the protests that came from his pacient.
        "Go to sleep," he insisted, sitting on the edge of the bed farthest from Duo. I'm not leaving until you do."
        "And then you'll wake me up every hour," the braided one complained, but he relaxed into the pillow.
        Heero just shrugged, not feeling that a response was needed. He would do what had to be done, even Duo could appreciate that.
        Duo glared at him, but his eyelids were already growing heavy. "I'll get you for this," he warned, but a yawn cut off anything else he was going to say.
        The pilot of Wing watched as Duo slipped off to sleep. He was well aware that Duo hadn't been following his usual sleeping patterns since they had relocated. Now that the other boy was relaxed totally he noticed the strain that lined his face. Heero felt a twinge of guilt, knowing that he had caused some of the sleepless nights, just by not understanding what had been upsetting the boy from L2.
        Duo mumbled something and shifted, a curl of hair brushing his cheek.
        'You should try it sometime. It's... It's comforting.'
        'For who?'
        'For you.'
        He looked down on Duo's still face, watching all the little imperfections blend away into a picture of peace. It wasn't necessarily a beautiful face in the classical sense. His chin was a little too delicate, and his nose was turned up at the end in a way normally associated with anime girls. But it was one of the loveliest things Heero had seen in a long time. This was what he was fighting for, this feeling of belonging and the minute perfection of the moment. Smiling softly, he leaned down and brushed a kiss across the sleeping teenager's forehead.
        "You were right, Duo," he whispered, knowing that the other boy couldn't hear him. "It is comforting."
***OWARI***