If I fall...
======================================================
Name: If I fall...
Author: Genji
Part: 1/2
Status: Final
Date: 13 December, 2000
Rating: R/NC-17
Warnings: AU, Rape, Angst, Shounen-ai, yaoi, lime (the rape is lemon-lime...more lemony perhaps) hapless Duo (you don't hate him, but he's always a step behind...)
Pairing: Felan x 1, 2 + 1 (implied)
Disclaimer: I don't own GW. I'm poor. Don't sue. You want a couple tumbleweeds, a bad cold, and a human Popsicle? Come and get 'em.
Notes: This is my first yaoi lemony fic. Sure, I've done shounen-ai, but never anything like this.
-------------------------------------------------------
Flashback in character's head...sorta like the inside voices
-------------------------------------------------------
//thoughts//
~*~ change of scene
======================================================
//He wasn't there. He promised he'd make it in time. How can I trust him again? I almost got killed.//
Duo rubbed his wrists, which were red and chafed. The skin flaked off painfully. A pair of discarded handcuffs lay on the ground. The longhaired teen bent down and picked up the fallen manacles. He held them for a moment, touching the still warm metal with the calloused pads of his fingers.
//He promised...//
In frustration, he threw the fetters at the wall. They collided against it with a resounding 'thunk' before sliding down to rest on the neatly made bed of the absent Japanese pilot. With some satisfaction, Duo noted that there was now a sizeable dent. Still fuming, the youth stormed out into the common room.
The room itself was a vain attempt to look homey and cheery. It didn't hide the fact that for 7 years a prisoner had remained on house arrest.
The unfortunate soul, who had had the ill luck to have been convicted of assaulting an officer of the peace, had been able to avoid imprisonment by remaining within the east wing of this house. Needless to say, before long she was reduced to nothing more than a babbling idiot, but still her family kept her inside to 'save face' instead of seeking help for the condemned woman, thus, inadvertently, damning her to death. One day she was too quick for her captors, and escaped outside. There she took her first steps of freedom before she was shot down like a dog in the road by someone from the department of justice, a force that had been present ever since her incarceration. The crimson liquid spilled into the street and ran in rivulets down into the gutter- tributaries flowing into the River Styx.
There were bars on the windows, left over from that unhappy time in the house's history, but that was one of the reasons it had been chosen. The common room had been painted an appalling yellow, like that of mustard mixed with a hint of ketchup and a touch of mayonnaise. White curtains- they were only new thing in this rundown dump. They were the only thing to distract from the holes in the walls made by head, fists, and feet hitting the wall during the time when such things as sunlight and green trees were merely idle dreams. They hung over the windows, masking the empty eyes of the house in a homely appearance of some sort of country cabin charm. The shades rustled in the draft and Duo shivered. He shuffled over and pulled the curtains aside.
The window had been cracked open, most likely by Heero, who seemed to enjoy living in a frozen environment. The cold winter wind filtered in along with a dusting of powdery snow. The American gazed out, and his eyes met with the offending bars. //I go from one prison to another. Is someone trying to tell me something?// He shut the window, ambled to the worn out couch and flopped down with a satisfied sigh. Heero would know his displeasure when he returned. He flipped on the TV and commenced watching.
Hours passed and Duo shifted uncomfortably. His roommate should have been home by now. The longhaired youth returned to the bedroom and booted up his laptop. He checked his own e-mail, only to find it empty, save for a chain letter. Any other time he would have happily opened and read it. It was from Quatre, of course. The Arab always got them from his sisters, thinking that he might appreciate the letter's juvenile jokes, but it was nice to have one's mailbox contain something other than mission statements ordering him to suit up and go destroy this or that.
Finally, after a good bit of searching for Heero's mission report, since it would be on file for at least a short time after the event, before it was spirited away to god-knows-where by the server, Duo came to the conclusion that Heero had never filed it. Something was wrong. Heero always filed directly after he was finished. That only meant one thing...
~*~
Heero stirred. He was having that flying dream again, and now he was waiting for the inevitable crash, when he would feel the reassuring material of the bed, yet he continued on floating. His raised arms started to hurt, and he tried to move them from above his head, where they were clasped, to his sides, only to find them unmoving. His eyes snapped open.
He was floating; at least that's what it appeared when he looked down at his feet, hovering at least a couple feet from the ground. He looked up to find his hands cuffed together and suspended from a meat hook. The hook itself was attached to a stout rope, which disappeared up into the blackness, most likely attached to a pulley system on the ceiling. He tried to remember how he got there.
"Duo, don't get caught."
"Don't worry about me! Trying to catch me is like trying to catch your shadow."
"Hn. OZ is getting desperate. It's losing to both us and White Fang."
"If I do get caught, what will happen?"
"They'll most likely kill you."
"What makes them want to kill us right now? They've never killed us before."
"We're an obstacle."
"Haven't we always been?"
"Not as dangerous as we are now."
"Yeah, yeah, I know. Two enemies, two fronts. They're trying to narrow it down to one. Well, let's hope they screw White Fang. I'm not in the mood of looking Shinigami in the eye once more."
"Hn."
"So, if I'm caught..."
"We can't afford to lose any assets."
"So, you'll come for me?"
"Hai."
"Promise?"
" Hn."
"Promise me, Heero."
"Hn."
"Cross your heart and hope to die?"
"Let's go."
"Cross your heart and hope to die?"
"Will you shut up?"
"If you answer me. So?"
"If it'll keep you quiet, then yes."
"If..."
"What?"
"It's not important."
"Then don't talk."
Heero had walked away then, walking in the direction of the hanger.
Duo whispered, "If you fall, I'll catch you." He laughed. "Who ever heard of the 'perfect soldier' falling?"
"Are you ready?" an impatient Heero asked, standing in the doorway, intrigued by the sudden outburst of amusement.
"Yeah. Let's get this show on the road."
...end flashback>
Heero sighed. He could feel his shoulder ligaments stretching due to the pressure his weight created, his wrists would have been in poorer shape, had it not been for the fact that the shackles they wore added some support, thus lessening the damage. How long had he hung here, waiting for it all to end- or begin? He couldn't remember. He was about to let himself drift off to unconsciousness, but alert to any changes in his external environment. As he reached the brink, the rope began to swing.
It started slowly, like a swing does before enough momentum has been gained so that one does not have to worry about stopping in mid-swing. He heard laughter. A man was laughing at his startled looked when it had all begun. He was master of his countenance now, but still, that lapse of control could effect what they did.
The rope began to twist, the walls of his prison whirled around faster and faster until they were nothing but grayish-blue blurs in the darkness. The Japanese youth felt totally and completely nauseated, but clenched his teeth, refusing to give his captor any more glee than was possible.
When the rope was unable to twist to the right anymore, it stopped before it unwound, gaining speed with each turn. The spiraling finally slowed, and he jerked up as the length of rope shortened drastically. He heard the pulleys moving, as a man, clinging to the other end of the rope, descended from the scaffolding that clung to the walls.
For a moment, Heero hung, suspended at least twenty feet in the air before plunging back to earth when the man released his grip on the cord. However, in the brief moment that he hung, suspended above the floor, he was able to shift his weight to his left arm. The length of the rope did not run out, so that he did not fall to the floor at a high speed, but was pulled up short, a couple feet from the earth. The ligament that bound arm to shoulder tore, unable to take the pressure, as his body continued to plunge, and the cuffs refused to move. He bounced back up, like a hangman's body after the victim has taken the fall. More laughter; more mocking mirth.
The lights came up, barely, casting a dusky twilight over the stone room. A red haired man stepped into the light. He wore the uniform of an OZ sergeant, but instead of what normally would have been immaculate dress garb, it was soiled and in tatters. He had shrewd green eyes which darted from her to there and there to here, until they rested predatorily on the maimed pilot suspended from the ceiling. He flashed his teeth, like a wolf baring his fangs before he attacks. He circled, keeping a safe distance from Heero's feet incase the teen ever felt the urge to kick. He called out, "Pandora, it's time."
The rope began to vibrate as someone cut each strand of the twine that held him. Within five minutes the proud pilot crumpled to the floor, twisting his ankle as he landed. His arms hung useless before him. The youth heard someone leap to the ground about 10 feet away. A girl stepped into the light. She had the swarthy look of someone from the Mediterranean, perhaps of Sicilian or Greek descent. Her dark wavy hair fell to just below her shoulders. She looked out into the world through dark, gloomy eyes. She spoke, her voice kept low, with an intonation of respect.
"Sir, do you really think this is necessary?"
"You want to prove your innocence, don't you, Pandora? What better way than to bring them a gundam pilot- a shattered gundam pilot, one that will answer all their questions?"
"Yes, sir!" She pulled her gun and retreated into the shadows, her weapon trained on the unmoving youth. Heero sat up, wary of every movement the redhead made.
The man circled once more before pulling out a hunting knife. The cool metallic surface shone in the low light. The teen stiffened as the pointed tracked its way down his spine. The green material slipped off of his misshapen shoulder and collected at his wrists. He shivered slightly as the icy air nipped at his bare skin. He waited- waited for the man to let his guard down so that the knife might be his for a little while. If only his arms would respond! As the man brought his empty hand down on Heero's aching shoulder, the youth turned and bit one of the fleshy fingers.
The man howled in pain; the knife dropped. Heero dove for it. His fingers grasped it, he raised his arms so that he looked at least a little bit threatening. As he held the hunting dagger defensively, he felt the cold metal against the back of his neck. If he were lucky, the bullet would kill him, if not, he'd become paralyzed.
"Drop it." There was the sound of a gun being cocked. Heero looked at the man cursing quietly in the corner, and analyzed his position. No, there was no getting out of this, unless some miracle presented itself. He let the knife fall to the ground.
"Walk five steps forward," was the order edged with steel and backed with lead. Heero struggled to his feet and limped forward, cursing his ankle, his arms, himself in general for being so damn weak. He knew it was over, submit to what must occur and move on. //Just accept it. It would have come to pass sooner or later. Did I think I'd escape this war unscathed? J warned me. There will be time enough to return this 'favor.'// The butt of the gun collided with his head and he sank to the floor, gray stars melded into black, which faded into white.
"Get it over with," Pandora urged in the submissive voice she used when addressing her superior. He heard the young woman walking away slowly; no doubt he was centered as the target. The man got up, glaring at his prey.
With some slight satisfaction, Heero noted that the index finger he had sunk his teeth into was a wonderful shade of purple. From the way the man was holding it, the youth guessed he had at least managed to fracture it.
The knife appeared in the older man's good hand. The wolf approached once more, looking warily at the cornered and maimed buck that he had cut down. Felan buried his bad hand in the silky mahogany waves and pulled the boy to his feet. He plied the knife, and savagely thrust it into the youth's left thigh in retaliation for the damaged finger.
Pain shot up Heero's leg, blinding him, almost making him sink down to his knees, but the Irishman pulled him back up, wrenching the teen from the brink of darkness. The soldier expelled from OZ for his abnormally brutal conduct removed the bloodstained blade and let the sharp point slice away the offending spandex. Felan released his death grip on the Asian's hair, and edged back to relieve himself of his own graying tatters.
Heero mentally prepared himself for what was about to happen, but he couldn't fathom what it would feel like, having only read of it, never experienced it. As much as Dekim had advocated it as part of his training, J had refused. He didn't get long to steel himself for the assault. His crumpled form lay in a fetal position, but the cackling wolf quickly changed that, forcing the teen spread eagle.
It started like it always did, with pain. It tore through him, as if Felan had thrust his hunting blade into the youth's posterior. Each time Felan plunged, whispering incomprehensible things into his captive's ears, waves of agony and shame flooded the youth's senses.
A sheen of perspiration broke out over his body, as the predator continued to pound into him. Sweat mixed with blood that flowed from his thigh as well as from the invaded orifice. Felan loved the feeling of the tight heat that the gundam pilot's passageway offered him. He panted, his breath catching, as his seed exploded within the lithe body. For one moment he was lost in liquid pleasure, the next he was simply lost.
His limp body fell against the fatigued victim, drenching the slick skin with crimson blood. Heero simply wanted to let the darkness claim him, but pride refused to allow him such. He attempted to slide out from under the fallen body of his rapist, but was unable to move, due to the weight resting on his back and posterior, and the amount of blood that had already seeped out of his system, sapping his normal Herculean strength. The teen closed his eyes and waited for the end or for release from this hellish place.
~*~
Duo observed from the shadows, after having emptied the rest of his gun into the older being's body. He watched as the Japanese boy struggled and failed to dislodge the 200 some pound weight. Then American saw something he had never dreamed he would see- Heero closed his eyes in defeat.
Abandoning all other thoughts, he raced to the mound of bodies and disentangled the two, savagely ripping Felan out of the youth's body. The boy tried to be impassive as the emptiness filled him, but still, he grimaced though it was more at the thought of anyone seeing him in such a degraded state.
With skilled finesse, Duo picked the lock on the manacles that bound the Asian's wrists together. Heero's left arm hung limply at his side. With his good arm, he pushed himself up. The youth stood unsteadily, ignoring the protests that his legs were sending, racing up his spine. They moved, slowly, painfully, but he was in command of his limbs once more. The teen made his way to the pile of clothes Felan had discarded. However, halfway there, he tripped.
Outside there were shouts. The braided youth recognized the deadly voice of one of his captors. Duo'd be damned if he'd let anyone see the pilot of Wing in this state. //To hell with his fucking pride.// The American pulled Heero up from his lowered position, from which he was attempting to rise once more under his own steam. He swung the Asian's body over his shoulder, grasping him at the knees and scurried into the shadows underneath the scaffolding.
The wall next to him had a metallic coolness to it, letting the cold traverse through it and into the building. Duo rested his flaming cheek against it, cursing himself for rendering his gun useless. Pandora's sprawled body was too far away to risk trying to get the weapon flung in front of the prostrated cadaver. Heero's ragged breath was warm and moist against the small of his back. Duo paused and wondered if the moistness was caused by blood. He didn't have much time to worry as three hulking silhouettes appeared in the doorway. The body he was carrying tensed, though Duo knew that Heero couldn't see them in the position he was in. How the pilot knew that trouble was near was a point that could be pondered at a later date.
The first of the three soldiers ambled in, gun drawn, but obviously not expecting anything. He called, "Felan, come on out. I have order to bring you in front of Colonel Une. Felan, this is your one chance for a reprieve. Come ou- KISAMA! Now it's personal, Felan." A warning shot was fired, and two remaining guards took a couple paces in.
"Marx, Stalin- come, I've found him. Felan, get up. You've had you're fun. Get up, you son of a whore! Pandora's..."
Duo did not wait for the sergeant to continue, but fled out of the door as fast as his feet could fly over the treacherous land. The snow hid the rocks and uneven terrain. More than once he stumbled over such obstacles.
There were shouts behind him, and, like spurs digging into his flank, they urged him on, driving him faster, lest he and his cargo become captured once more. The forest offered some cover, but the snow left tell tale tracks. However, Duo worried less about their being found than finding some sort of clothing for the shivering youth, doubled over on his shoulder.
Shivering? No, it was a controlled clenching and unclenching of all the muscles, none of the spontaneousness and irrepressibleness that shivering implied. //Where is Deathscythe when you need him? I know I have a blanket in there. Now I've gotta hotwire a car and worry about hypothermia.//
The teen searched for a snowless spot, a patch of brown on a calm sea of white. However, none was available and the hounds were closing in. Heero struggled, muttering something about being able to stand on his own two feet.
"Hell no! You aren't going anywhere."
"You. Go. Leave. Me." Heero ordered, through clenched teeth.
"Not on my watch, buddy."
Heero arched his back, putting some distance between his torso and his captor's back. He repeated his demand, but the American stubbornly refused. In retribution and to drive his point home, Heero let fly a sharp punch from his good appendage. Not that it hurt Duo that much, mind you, but the Asian continued, "No. Use. Both. Captured."
Duo understood, but the idea of leaving his current roommate to the wolves was not an appealing notion. However, that would be the only *reasonable* thing to do at the moment. The American walked to the edge of the clearing and cleared away a conspicuous place. He laid his burden down into the snow.
In his half conscious state, the pilot of Wing curled up into a ball to preserve what little body heat he had. Duo couldn't so leave anything of his, since his escape would have led to his face being plastered on every tree, on every computer that belonged to OZ. No, it was best to make it seem as if Heero was simply a hapless victim of a dead man's lust. Duo took off into the brush in order to watch exactly what would befall the naked teen in the clearing.
Crunching snow and low voices heralded the soldiers' approach. Upon seeing the huddled mass beside the trunk, the sergeant halted. He pulled his gun and shouted, "You, there! Get up!"
Heero didn't move, as he danced the fine line between light and dark, night and day, here and there. And he'd be damned if he chose here.
The sergeant marched up, and rolled the slowly freezing body over.
"Shit! It's only a kid. If Felan weren't dead already, I'd show him a thing or two..."
~*~
Heero awoke screaming. It was the first time, but it wouldn't be the last. He pushed his soaking bangs up, away from his face. His breath came in short, quick gasps as he struggled to contain his fear. When he closed his eyes he could see the red hair, the mocking smile, and the laugh. It was the laugh that sent chills through his body.
As he regained his senses, he took note of his external surroundings. The first thing he noticed was that the pain was still there. It hadn't been a dream. As he looked about him, trying to decide if he were in the hands of the enemy or not. He rubbed his sweaty right hand over his chest, trying to get the scent of fear out of his system. He fingered the buttons that he found there. //Buttons?!? Why am I wearing Duo's shirt? No, this isn't that...it's an old private's uniform. K'so! It's OZ make. I gotta get outta here.//
He tried to push himself into a sitting position with the other, only to find that a thousand needles had replaced it. He took one look at the swollen shoulder and the awkward angle, and swore. That would keep him out of the pilot seat for a while. For the moment, however, he needed a sling. The idiots, whoever they might be, certainly didn't know first aid. Nor did they know who he was *exactly*, and that was fine by him. He swung his legs over the bed, and attempted to stand up, only to find some fool had applied a tourniquet like bandage over his left thigh.
He pulled the oversized shirt up to reveal an almost purple piece of flesh. //Bakas// He loosened the bandage until some semblance of circulation returned to his foot, which had gone numb. He had been lucky in the sense that it had not been tight enough so that this lower appendage died due to lack of nourishment over the night. Heero thanked whatever force was up there for small favors.
His ankle had been overlooked, and as well as the grime that had clung to him since the episode. He knew it was probably too much to ask for a shower, plus, the idea of at least three other could-be defilers on the other side sent shivers running down his spine. For the first time, he was truly afraid.
He hobbled across the frozen ground, wrapping the army blanket he had found himself covered with around him. His left arm dangled crazily, and he set about fashioning a type of sling for it from a pile of rags in the corner. It was too late when he discovered exactly whose rags they were.
The smell of his defiler overwhelmed the teen as he tied the last knot, thus securing the bandage to his torso...
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Do you know how it feels in here, pilot?"
"We can do this anytime, for as long as it takes for you to talk."
"Don't talk much, do you? We can change that."
"I wonder what kind of reception you'll get back at HQ."
"You'll thank me later, you'll only have to deal with me, not anyone else. Not like I'd share you."
"You know what they do in there?"
"You're lucky it was me who found you. Others wouldn't be so gentle."
"Has anyone told you how tight you are?"
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Heero froze, encased in his memories. He only returned to the present when one of his captors was shaking him.
"You ok, kid?"
Heero wrenched away from the restraining touch. Warily he turned his gaze into brown eyes. The man before him was probably the owner of the shirt he was now wearing.
The Asian stared at the man stonily, thrusting his fear to the back of his mind. Or so he thought. Upon recognizing the uniform, a sergeant's uniform, he started to tremble, unable to control the terror that surfaced at the reminder. It was as if Felan was there once more. Laughing.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
"You think I'm done, boy? It's just getting started."
Felan laughed, his cold, heartless laugh.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Snap out of it kid. Personally, I'd like to kill the guy who did this, but he's dead. I don't blame you for killing him. Even Pandora was asking for it, though I guess that ruins any plans of marriage we harbored. I had no idea she was hanging around with such scum. To do that to a civilian..."
The man continued on, but Heero mused simply on the fact that he had been thought a civilian. That would explain a lot. //If he knew who I am, he'd just as happily send me off to some high security base ASAP.//
"Don't talk much, do you?"
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Don't talk much, do you?"
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"What'd you say?" A new voice entered into Heero's consciousness. He had blacked out, it appeared, since he was flat on his back, and he had a killer headache. The beginning of a migraine, even. He massaged his temples with thumb and forefinger, trying to banish the tumult that was going on inside his cranium. The equivalent of a hurricane wreaked havoc on every sense, on every emotion, and he felt totally drained. He had one focus, despite all the commotion, within and without. Escape. That much was clear.
~*~
Duo heard the screams. He had positioned himself by the regiment's camp. It wasn't a large faction, but still it was large enough for there to be someone who might actually recognize either the runaway or the screaming youth for what they actually were. However, the soldiers that remained, near what Duo deducted to be Heero's lodging, didn't appear to be worried about their captive's escape, but more about his welfare.
The regiment itself was one of those ragtag groups you found in isolated areas. The thought of picking up a gun and fighting, no matter the cause, was enough to drive the local yokels to sign their natural life away. They were the rural poor, slow to change, and steadfast in their ways. The ways of the world meant little to them, as long as they got to march around and look important.
However, there were some from the more urban areas in this troop, more notably the ones in the higher ranks. Almost all the privates were of the same sturdy country cloth. The same went for the sergeants, and lieutenants. However, within the ranks of captain, and lieutenant colonel, there became an increasing amount of the educated urbanites. The rank was ruled under a colonel, who, at the moment, it appeared, was gone, and one of the aristocrats had stepped in.
The atmosphere around the camp was lax. No one knew the magnitude of what they had found. Duo waited until nightfall before he made his move. He snuck into camp, and made a beeline for the specific tent. He ducked inside the darkened area, and hurried over to the bundle of huddled blankets. He gathered the sleeping figure into his arms. However, upon contact, he felt the youth go tense.
"Heero, it's me. Relax, man."
But Heero only relaxed slightly.
"Put me down," he ordered. Duo complied reluctantly, and motioned the teen outside. The Asian wrapped the blanket firmly about himself before following the fleeing American. Almost immediately the alarm was raised.
"SHIT!" Duo swore, leaping over fallen logs, and racing on as fast as he could.
Heero followed at a slower pace, hindered, it seemed, by his injuries. However, this time running through the woods was different. Duo had a destination to run to. The American had staked out a military jeep not too far from camp the night before. He had sought shelter within the vehicle after making sure his wearied and frozen roommate was not going to fall into depraved clutches yet again. Once settled within the mobile shelter, Duo had set about stripping the wires before falling asleep in the backseat.
The reached the road where this means of transportation lay, abandoned on the side of the road. Duo dove for the car, and tried to open the door. It was locked.
"SHIT!" The American swore fluently in every single language he knew, as he pulled a pick from his hair.
"It was a trap," Heero remarked as the youth jimmied the door opened. The teen leaned over the passenger seat and unlocked the door to let a barefooted teen into the car. The blanket was gone, having been used as a decoy, and gratefully, the Asian slipped in beside the harried American. The boy gunned the engine and they left the emerging soldiers in a cloud of white.
Duo laughed as he saw in the rearview mirror the men brushing the snow and slush off their soaking uniforms. While they cursed, the warriors did not chase the fugitives and that made the Deathscythe pilot uneasy.
His unease was rewarded when he went by a fork in the road on his way from the camp. As he passed, a jeep gave chase. The lieutenant colonel leaned out of the open window and with his sidearm, tried shooting out the tires. Duo swerved sharply and floored the gas; the other vehicle followed suit and at one point the pursuers were so close that the American could see the whites of the gunman's eyes.
Duo veered sharply to the right and the branches of an overhanging tree scraped along the canvas roof. The other jeep hit a patch of ice and spun out of control into the same tree. A ball of flames exploded from the accident, devouring the aged tree along with the vehicle and its occupants.
"Finally!" Duo exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear. "You know, I haven't had that much fun since, I don't know when...Man! They sure don't know how to drive."
The Asian didn't respond, but merely looked out the window and into the moonlit woods that lined the side of the road.
~*~
Heero stepped out of the jeep, ignoring the chattering teen, stalked down the sidewalk and up the steps, where he waited impatiently for Duo to catch up and unlock the door. Duo fumbled with the keys, trying to fit it into the lock. Irritated, Heero grabbed the keys from the bumbling American, flinching slightly at the touch of warm skin, and jammed the key into the open orifice. Upon opening the door, Heero stormed away, leaving the door open and the keys in the lock.
Stunned, Duo watched him as he turned down the hall and into their room, presumably to type up a mission report. //It's like he's never been raped before. Unreal. The 'perfect soldier' not prepared? Caught off guard? I never thought I'd see the day when he actually ran. Well, not exactly, he stalked off, but he sure was in a hurry. What did I do when it first happened? I'm lucky I could fall back onto something semi-stable. What does he have backing him? Nothing. Perhaps I can reciprocate for what Father Maxwell did for me.//
Duo pulled the keys from the lock and ambled in, marveling that as little as 48 hours ago, he had been *this* close to telling the Japanese pilot off for not helping him escape. //Heck, it shoulda been me setting the explosives. But of course, he doesn't need any help from little ol' me. I wonder what would have happened if he had taken me up on my offer. Would it be my arm in some sling?//
Duo walked to the window, and saw the sun's rays breaking over the city skyline- the promise of a new day.
© 2000 by Genji. Please do not remove without permission.
