Fic, Chasing Wings: Part IV
Title: Chasing Wings
Warnings: Graphic violence, strong language, mild sexual undertones, AR
Notes: Thanks to Startirs for beta-ing. Standard disclaimer applies.
MAIN POST
.Part IV.
Heero dreamed of the tank in the laboratory.
His world was suspended inside, where there was neither breath nor movement. What was outside, he could not see through the film of blue, the distortion of the cylindrical shape, the thick glass. He felt cool, liquid gel on his skin. He felt vibrations through the glass.
He felt pain.
***
Duo spent the next day tinkering around under a very heavy-looking hunk of metal he called a doxycarburetor, alternately humming, cursing, and talking to Heero without seeming to care whether Heero was actually there to listen or not. By evening, though, he seemed to have fixed whatever the problem was without half the parts he should have needed and a few he probably shouldn't have.
"Where are we going?" asked Heero when they were on their way.
"Laughing Dabby's."
Heero frowned. The term did not compute. "What is a Laughing Dabby?"
Duo snickered. "A pub."
"And we can get the information we need there?"
"Well, it is a pub. And it is where Flora works nights, so yeah, I hope so," drawled Duo as he shouldered the door open.
The inside felt like the hull of an antique naval vessel, with concave walls and ribbed supports. Etchings of airships and propellers decorated the walls. It was quite full, due to the rush of workers getting off shift and stopping by for a few rounds before heading home. There were several serving girls flitting from bar to tables and back, who, in their short, full skirts with bustle and petticoats, and whale-bone, under bust corsets, resembled a set of dancing flowers in the midst of their waltz.
Heero trailed quietly behind Duo as they cut through to the bar. Duo must have had the favor of some alcohol-minded deity, because he caught the attention of the bartender right away, much to the consternation of the five men who'd obviously been attempting to do the same to no effect.
"I need to talk to Flora."
"Who's askin' for her?"
"A friend of her brother. Name's Duo Maxwell."
The barkeep stared him down for a moment, and then set down a tumbler on the counter. Not breaking eye contact, he poured it full of thick, near-black liquid from a jug with no label.
"Look, I'm not gonna cause trouble for her or anything," Duo told him.
Without a word, the bartender struck a match and lit the drink on fire. He nodded to Duo, just slightly to the side. A challenge.
"Fuck," muttered Duo under his breath. He lifted the drink, took a deep breath, and slammed it back. A slight wince showed his opinion of its strength.
Satisfied, the barkeep pointed to one of the serving girls dropping off drinks at a far booth, and Duo tapped the bar twice, nodding his thanks.
The girl was a freckled strawberry blonde, hair pinned up but coming loose in messy ringlets. She was built like a trumpet, with long, reed-thin legs, no hips to speak of, and a full bosom that overflowed from her chemise. Like the Underground workers, she had on chunky mid-calf brown boots and leather spats.
"Hey, Flora, right? I'm Duo, I'm a friend of Rocco's. You got a minute?"
"Sorry, we've a rush on, and I really can't afford to lose out on tips..." began the girl, big, honey-brown eyes anxious and apologetic, but Duo cut in.
"Yeah, I know... it's sort of why we're here," said Duo. "Promise it's worth it."
She looked between them, a faint trace of worry and desperation in her face, countered by a certain guardedness in her stance. "Yeah, alright. Pila?" she called to another serving girl. "You think you can cover me for a bit?"
"Got it, love," chirped back the other girl, spinning by in a flurry of crinoline and lace.
Flora led the way to a curtained booth obscured in the back. Setting her tray down, she offered them the frothy mugs of ale she'd just picked up. Duo took one and set another in front of Heero.
"Duo, as in Doz? Mechanic, yeah?" began Flora, taking a sip from a third tankard. "Rocco speaks of you; says you're right good."
Duo smiled, and it was almost shy. "They're a good bunch of guys, down there. Don't mind my buddy here; he doesn't talk much... Look, I know you're in a hurry, so I'll get to it. We heard about you and your boyfriend being in some trouble, needing to get off-colony quick-like."
"And you think you can help?" she asked, her once-friendly voice small but wanting to sound big. "How? Why?"
"Well, two Sweeper ships dock in the next few days, and I can get you on one without having to put money down. You're Rocco's sister so I want to help you out, but, honestly, we only heard about your situation because we've been looking for information about that compound thing yesterday, and we heard your boyfriend might know something about it."
She went slightly pale, her splashes of freckles standing out starkly on her skin. "How'd you hear that?" she asked faintly. Her fingers clutched tightly at the mug.
"River," replied Duo honestly.
"River trusts you like that?" she asked, half-incredulous, half-wary.
"Yeah. He really didn't have to say much. I guessed most of it."
"What is it you think Danny knows?" Her suspicion spilled over into desperation as she went on, voice hitching, "Because he doesn't know anything! He just worked in the boiler room, he didn't know about anything going on in there!"
"Hey, look, we just want to talk to him. We're not accusing him of anything, and we really don't want him in trouble, okay? So calm down, we want to help. I bet you didn't even tell Rocco, did you?"
"No. Not yet." She looked down, her hands releasing their grip on the drink to worry in front of her. Her eyes flicked up, piercing with their naked hope. "Can you really get us out of here? Because I love him, I mean, really love him, and I'd just die if he..." she hiccupped, trying to keep the emotion in. "Nothing can happen to him."
"Yeah. I can really get you out of here," said Duo, voice soft. "I even can get you papers, too, so you can settle down wherever you get to."
The hope in her eyes collapsed, her whole body following as she curled in on herself, burying her face in her palms. "But it's too late. Oh, God... We couldn't see any way. We just didn't have the money. And Danny..." Her eyes were red. "Danny's already on slot... as a Challenger."
"...Fuck," said Duo, dumbly. He attempted to regroup. "Okay, he's fighting tonight?" At Flora's nod he continued, "We're just going to have to go to Chiu then, and talk Kal into letting him out of his contract."
"But Kal doesn't let people out of their contracts," said Flora faintly.
Heero spoke up. "Isn't that in the place we're not supposed to go? And doesn't he want to kill you?"
Duo sighed. "You're so negative."
***
Kal was... cute.
He looked young, with short, downy, dusty-brown hair stuffed under a newsboy cap. His wide-set eyes were very dark and very round, his cheeks full, plump, and rosy. His mouth was small and low beneath his little, blunt nose. He might have looked like a child's stuffed rabbit, should that rabbit happen to have been Raggedy Anne's pimp daddy.
He sat at a small chess table across from a man in a worn bowler hat and a monocle over one eye. A gaslight lamp hung above, illuminating their game, which might have claimed ancestors in chess and cards. The pieces on the checked board looked like bits of scrap.
"You... want a favor," said Kal, tone caught between dubious and amused. "You."
"Yup. Pretty much," said Duo, trying for flippancy. The man in the bowler hat lifted his brows, but wisely said nothing and moved a piece instead.
"You stole something from me. I don't like it when people take what's mine."
"I didn't --"
"Yes, you did. Don't be silly and don't be stupid Duo. We both know you did." Kal crossly flipped a card and made a move accordingly, the piece -- a screw -- tapping loudly against the board. "I don't like it when clever people act stupid. It's tedious."
"What makes you think --"
"Duo. Don't be tedious." To the man he was playing, he said, "Checks. You lose. Leave the key and we're square."
"But it's worth far more than I owe --" tried the man.
"Leave it and get the fuck out."
It was notably quiet as the man pulled the brim of his hat down and reluctantly set down a key that looked like an antique replica. Quickly gathering his coat, he skittered from their sight.
"Stupid fucking tits," sneered Kal, picking up the small key and studying it. "'S a game of strategy and skill, of fucking intellect. Where's the bloody challenge when it's not even two layers in and they're done already." He palmed the key, pointing emphatically at Duo. "You'll play me for it."
"What, for the favor?" said Duo, wary.
"You want this guy, the Challenger, out of his contract? Fine. Beat me and it's done, but I win, and you give me back what's mine."
"Right. Where's the catch?"
"I don't lose. Is that a catch?" At Duo's raised eyebrow, Kal shrugged. "Well, you can't just leave me a Challenge without a Challenger. I've need of a body to take his place." At Duo's guarded look, Kal said preemptively, "Not you." His eyes flickered over to Heero, whose cold stare had been chilling the room by several degrees from behind Duo's shoulder. "...He'll do."
"No way," said Duo, bristling, at the same time that Heero said, "Done."
Kal allowed his smirk to grow, feeling that the return of the item he sought was very close indeed. "Yes, I think he'll do quite nicely," said Kal with the knowledge that, even if for some unearthly reason he were to lose, he'd rid himself of a sub-par fighter and gained a hostage against Duo, as well as a favor owed from him, all in a single move.
"Excuse us," snapped Duo, pulling Heero roughly aside. Voice dropping, he said, "What are you doing? You don't know what you're getting into."
"You would have done it," pointed out Heero, unconcerned. "You'll explain later."
"It's that or nothing," said Kal from behind them, replacing pieces on the board until one covered every space -- copper metals on the red squares, iron on the black -- save one of each in the center.
Duo's jaw clenched and he glared at them both, caught without any other choice. "Fine." Flipping the vacant chair around, he sat down, tipping it forward on two legs and leaning in on his crossed arms. "What's the set?"
"Five and two," said Kal, expertly shuffling cards. "Black or red?"
"Black."
"Excellent. Deal."
"No, you deal. I'm not going to get accused of cheating if this doesn't go your way."
"Don't think you know all the tricks, Doz," said Kal, a steely smile on his face as he laid out seven cards, faces down, one row for each of them, "or you'll find you've missed something."
"Are we talking about me, Kal," wondered Duo, turning the first card in line, then sliding the first piece -- a rivet -- into the empty black square, "or you?"
"Not playing dumb anymore, are we?"
"I always play smart."
"So you think," said Kal, moving a broken chain link. "Or you wouldn't have left something of yours behind when you took my data."
"I didn't," said Duo, unfazed, as he flipped a card and swapped a nut for a pin, "because I wasn't there."
"Maybe you didn't," admitted Kal, equally unfazed, as he made a move in return, "but you were there. Maybe nothing showed up on the cameras, maybe no alarms were triggered, but you were there."
"Sounds like an inside job to me."
"None of the useless sods would know what it was or what to do with it. But it's common knowledge that Duo Maxwell is quite interested in cybernetics."
"Oh, is that what's missing?" was the blase reply as Duo took his turn.
"Cute," remarked Kal as they continued to play, flipping a card before each move. When they had all been turned, Kal dealt again.
"Second layer," noted Kal, beginning the next stage of the game. "You know what's interesting? VK appearing, messing about in other people's business... didn't happen 'till you turned up here, then did it?"
"Your timeline's screwed. I'd been around for months before VK."
"You mean before people started calling him VK. Alliance soldiers had three incidents before that matched his style, and it sure as shit weren't one of mine. I'd know who did it, and I don't -- which makes my timeline dead on."
"You're reaching."
"Am I? Because I happen to know where you get the name Maxwell."
Duo went very still, hand poised over the board mid-move. The air seemed to dry up around him. Slowly, his eyes lifted to meet Kal's. He said nothing.
"You know, you and VK have a lot in common, Maxie," went on Kal as he moved a piece of his own. "You both use names that aren't really yours. VK seems to have something against the Alliance, and given your history, you fucking should as well --"
"Stop," warned Duo, voice low, but Kal kept on.
"-- not to mention your little obsession --"
"Stop."
"-- and given the latest item to mysteriously disappear --"
"Enough!" Duo pushed back abruptly, standing with his fists clenched, the muscles in his forearms defined with tension. The chair clattered as it settled back on all four legs. More quietly, he said again, "Enough."
"Was that all it took? Don't disappoint, Doz, I thought you'd put up a bit more fight. Especially since you can't even --"
"Fine," growled Duo, anger buzzing beneath his calm. He opened a flap on one of his utility belts, pulling out a skeleton key and tossing it on the table with resignation. The key, engraved with an I, as well as being larger and more embellished than the one the man in the bowler hat had left, spun in place between Kal's hands. "You want to use that shit against me? You just can't wait? Fine, have it back. It's useless, anyway."
With one finger, Kal drew the key towards him. "Sit down, Duo," said Kal, smirking openly. "We've not finished."
"Oh, did I forget to mention?" said Duo, and, suddenly, the undertone of anger was gone as though it had never been there. He tapped the last card with one finger, slid his rivet forward, which knocked a piece of copper from the board, bouncing it into Kal's lap. "Checks."
"...What?" Face snapping down, Kal looked at the board in confusion. He mentally retraced the last few moves, lips moving as he tried to figure out how that piece could have possibly moved there. "...How?"
"Your end?" reminded Duo.
"Yes, right... your boy's the new Challenger, the other one's out," muttered Kal, distracted. "But how did...?"
Duo took a piece and repeated the route it had taken.
"That -- that's..." sputtered Kal, watching how the piece had snuck through his defenses and strategies with the expression of one witnessing the crumbling of mountains. The realization hit him in a near-physical blow, that Duo's every move, every lost piece, and every maneuver of Kal's own in return, had been made to construct that last play, to let that one piece through. It was brilliant.
"Not so tedious now, is it?" said Duo as he turned, taking Heero with him. For the first time, Heero regretted not having memories. It seemed unfair that Duo should have so many identities, he thought, when he didn't really even have one.
***
It was dark here, in what was known to any colonist as the Zone: an empty buffer between the colony and its outer shell; the last protective layer against the ravages of Space. It was the largest uninterrupted space in any colony. Small blue lights dotted the vast walls that bracketed what seemed an endless ravine of darkness.
There, in all unlikelihood, hung a cage in the center of nothing; an octagonal cube of banded black iron. It was circled by a broad, scrapped-together catwalk that linked back to the colony wall. People already lined the catwalk, milling about in hungry anticipation.
"So all I have to do is take this person's place and fight opponents in one-on-one combat?" asked Heero as he studied the cage.
"No, that's not fucking all. You don't know what weapons you'll get in the draw, the cage isn't stable ground, not to mention the fucking -- look, I need you to understand how dangerous it is," said Duo. He grabbed Heero's chin to force eye contact.
Heero took hold of Duo's wrist with a grip stronger than steel, eyes intent on Duo's. "I understand."
Duo actually growled. "I really don't think you do. You see that red line on the catwalk? That's a goddamn splash zone. An actual zone where you can actually expect to be splashed with blood, teeth and stray body parts. These guys, they don't fuck around. They're knives, they're sharp, and they'll stab you just to see if you're strong enough to heal. Blood doesn't spill in there; it sprays. I won't be able to help you."
"You won't need to."
Roughly, Duo let go of Heero's chin. "Heero, you're going to be a Challenger. No Challenger has ever come out of there with all his pieces because being a Challenger means you fight anyone who wants a shot at you. If they beat you, they automatically win the whole thing and good percentage of the prize money, but you have to beat everyone, one after another, until no one's willing to take you on. They can just keep throwing people at you for days, until you're so exhausted a baby could take you out. And don't put it past Kal to do something nasty, because he's gonna be pissed when he can't find that key I gave him."
At this, Heero paused. "...What?"
Duo opened his palm to show the skeleton key, along with the other, plainer key. He looked a little sheepish about the second. "He put them in the same pocket," he explained.
***
Duo was still angry, but he wrapped Heero's hands for him, and told him all about Dread, reigning champion and unbeaten legend. Then Duo told Heero what he had to do to win.
"Why are they so desperate?" Heero asked, his eyes on the crowd that simmered and stirred, ready to boil over into savagery.
"You remember what River said, about how steam colonies are hotbeds for alternative technology? Well, Alliance didn't catch on to that for a while, and now that they have, they don't like it much. They don't like anything that's different from what they want. So they're trying to shut it all down. They've already started converting two colonies like this one to conventional energy sources. None of the workers knows how to do anything but steam and spring, so it's Alliance people who get the new jobs, both construction and making the colony run smooth on the new system. That's the choice; lose your job or go Alliance and get trained to do things their way. It's a pretty sneaky way of getting colony folk to fall in line, and people here are feeling the pressure real tight, because they're talking about trying it on this one, too."
"But why are they fighting each other like this, and why are they entertained by it? It's not a logical way to solve the problem. Shouldn't they be fighting the Alliance?"
"Some people do. They don't bend over for Alliance or gangs. But most just don't know what to do, and the rest are trying to find a way out before they're forced out. Thus the challenges. Gangers like Kal found out a good way to make a lot of money is to offer some poor sucker a chance to get out with start-up cash. The guy never wins, so they keep most of their money and make a lot more on the betting, because that's what hard-working guys like to do when they feel stressed and vulnerable: they gamble and watch people beat the crap out of each other."
"So... I'm the poor sucker, correct?"
"In this case, yes." Duo patted his wrapped hand. "Try not to get killed, Mental. You're kind of growing on me. Like moss. Scowly, obsessive, moss. It would be a shame to lose you."
There was no ceremony when the participants drew lots for weapons, just one hard-muscled opponent after another. Heero watched them from inside the cage, leaning back against its side with his arms crossed. The crowd on the catwalk was loud, casting bets and taunting each other's choices. Duo had moved there among them, hands braced on the rail, watching Heero with his trickster eyes. There was something comfortable about seeing him there, and for some reason, Heero didn't think he would like it very much if Duo were out of sight. It was similar to the feeling he had studying his tattoos, to that fondness. But this feeling was stronger. There was an immediate response to the thought, a mental hiss at the idea. Whatever was in his head did not like the emotion, not at all.
"Shut up and listen, you stupid cunts!" yelled a tall, beefy man from a raised platform. "Since the dawn of time, men have gathered to test their mettle against each other. Tonight, we put them to shame. Here, we seek blood." He pointed at Heero. "The Challenger!" He pointed to the line of participants, and over the crowd he roared, "His worthy opponents! Begin!"
With that, the first opponent was locked in. Heero's weapons were a pair of cestuses -- battle gloves that went all the way up his forearms made of heavy metal plating that went down to the second knuckle of each finger. The opponent charged him headlong with a rusted, flat blade, which Heero didn't bother avoiding, just caught between his metal-plated fists. The blade made a shrieking noise and then crumpled between his knuckles, irreparably warped. Heero let it clatter to the cage floor, then fall through to the abyss below. Without a beat he slammed the opponent square in the nose, not bothering to put any weight behind his fist.
Still, the man flew back, catching his arm through the bars when he landed. His opponent trapped, Heero put a boot to the man's throat.
"Yield!" sputtered the man immediately, blood spewing from his nose. The noise from the crowd exploded and Heero glanced over, catching Duo's eye.
Don't overdo it! mouthed Duo, but Heero only shrugged and waited for the next fighter.
The next three opponents came at him with a pair of crude butterfly swords, a welding torch, and a rough-hewn bracer and cut-off bar of pipe. Deciding Duo's advice meant he should find a medium between exhausting himself and risking the wrath of the crowd for ending the contests too quickly, Heero slowed down, taking several near-hits and using the full realm of the cage to work with. Those first few left with their dignity but the fourth was not so fair-minded. Or fortuitous. He had drawn nothing but a small welding hammer and, after wasting it on a futile throw that Heero dodged easily, the man pulled an illegal knife from his boot. Only then did Heero oblige those in the splash zone with their thirst for blood and stray teeth.
After that the opponents became steadily more difficult, the bouts prolonged. Duo had been right about the environment. The cage swiveled and dipped with every movement, making footing precarious. There were also flame-shooters hidden in three different corners, timed to go off sporadically. Both elements diverted his attention from his opponents, all of whom had obviously fought there before and had acclimated themselves to the conditions.
It was one after another after another, until an awkward movement to avoid a burst of fire and the opponent at the same time took Heero off balance enough that the other fighter was able to land a solid hit to his ribs. The next match, the sharp pain there led to the next fighter managing to corner him too close to a flame machine; the subsequent burn on his arm led to a slice across his chest that sprayed dramatically, leaving the cage floor slick with his own blood as well as his opponent's. They seemed to get steadily better as his energy steadily depleted, and it wasn't hard to fake the effort it took to bring them down anymore as he racked up injuries like trading cards.
It felt like days and a hundred men later that Heero stumbled to the side of the cage. Panting heavily, he slumped back against the banded wall as yet another fighter was dragged away unconscious. He wouldn't have more than a minute's rest before the next one came in, fresh and primed. He spared a glance at the crowd, half of whom hadn't been there when the fighting had first begun. His eyes flicked to Duo, who flashed all ten fingers, letting him know he'd been fighting for ten straight hours. He could feel every minute in every aching, bruised, trembling muscle, in the lightness of his head and in the heaviness of his limbs. With no chance to rehydrate or rest, he wasn't sure how much longer he could keep this up.
There was a sudden stirring from the crowd, and from the reaction, Heero knew the next fighter had to be the one they called Dread. The man entering the cage had broad, sculpted cheekbones and skin the color of creamed mocha. He wore his hair in dreadlocks, infused with feathers and wrapped in thread and thin copper wire, bound back out of his face. Lean and cut, he moved with the controlled grace of a predator, sweeping into position with the chain whip he'd drawn. His dark, exotically slanted eyes seemed to recognize something in Heero -- skill worthy to match his own.
There was an intense hush, in which the entire crowd seemed to hold their collective breath. Heero could hear his own heartbeat, his labored breath, the creak of the cage as it shifted, and then, suddenly, they were locked together in the center of the cage, one of Heero's fists caught in the chain, the other gripped around Dread's fist. They were still for a moment, tense, both looking for an opening. Heero's muscles, stiff and shaking, strained to gain an upper hand.
They moved again. Heero twisted around, freeing himself, and Dread used the movement to loosen Heero's grip on his fist. Heero dropped, striking out with both feet, but Dread had moved already, leaping high to grab hold of the top of the cage. A flame shot between them; Dread lunged back down, chain flashing. Heero dodged, aimed with two hard knuckles at a pressure point; Dread twisted away, the chain snaking back around towards Heero, who grabbed it and pulled. Rolling with the motion, Dread used the momentum to pull Heero further in that direction, forcing him to let go to regain his balance on the slick, unstable floor. Heero's bruised ribs screamed at the abuse.
As Heero straightened, a pained grunt forced its way from his lips. Bracing himself, he moved back in. Dread dodged, leapt high and to the side, rebounding down off the wall to aim the curved blade at the end of the chain whip at the back of Heero's neck at an angle. The cage spun as Heero dropped to avoid the blade, managing to land a hit to the back of Dread's knee as the fighter landed. Dread folded down into a kneel, spinning with the cage and striking out with a kick Heero only barely avoided by flipping himself backward. He landed gracelessly, the cage rocking suddenly when Dread jumped high to pull down a corner, upsetting the balance deliberately. Again, Heero rushed him, blocking the attempt to duck and dodge and locking onto a pressure point in Dread's wrist, making him drop the chain from that hand. Heero used his other forearm to brace against Dread's throat, but a flame shot out, forcing him to lose his hold and advantage.
They continued to trade passes, each move flowing into the other's, flowing into the next. Hits were solid, each managing to mark the other; the curved blade at the end of the chain whip left thin slices in its wake, as did the sharp edges of the plates making up Heero's cestuses. At each show of blood, the crowd dissolved into frenzy.
Though exhausted and, for the first time, vulnerable, Heero did not falter. He doubled his tempo, caught Dread off-guard, got two strikes in, breaking a rib, and then spun a roundhouse to the back of his head. Dread stumbled forward, rolling into a crouch to protect his side. The chain struck out, but Heero leaned out of its way, though his body protested every movement. The chain came back around, this time aimed at his legs. Again, Heero moved smoothly out of its reach, but had given Dread enough space to regroup and strike.
Two of the flame machines shot out at once, one of them close enough to singe Heero's hair. The short burst of intense heat blurred the air. Suddenly, Dread was there, right in front of him. The chain was tight around Heero's neck and Dread had the advantage. Heero's body was wrecked, trembling and weak, but this was the moment he had been waiting for.
His fingers managed to wedge between the chain and his neck, and then, the chain firmly in his grip, muscles of his neck taut against it, he pulled. For a moment, he wasn't sure if he had enough strength left; he felt like a kitten trying to squirm from the grasp of a python. But then his effort redoubled just long enough for the chain links to snap spectacularly; they seemed to hang for a moment before flying everywhere, bouncing off the bands of the floor and walls.
The crowd gasped as Dread's favored weapon broke to pieces and Dread staggered back at the unexpected loss of tension. Heero snapped a kick to the inside of the same knee he'd struck earlier, then kneeing up as Dread went down, catching his chin and snapping his head back. Taking a low stance, Heero added two solid hits, one to the center of Dread's chest and the other to his vulnerable side, sending him down in a broken roll, vision spinning, muscles seized, and ribs broken. Hand around Dread's throat, the grip tight enough to let him feel the strength of it, but not tight enough to crush down, Heero waited. Now the crowd was silent, as they waited, too.
"Give them all a good fight," Duo had told him, "let them see you can go toe-to-toe with Dread, and then beat him. Beat him so hard no one else will want to fight the guy that was able to take down Dread like that."
Head lolling, Dread tapped out.
***
Later, back in the Underground break, Duo tenderly pressed an ice pack to Heero's side, which was already dappling darkly with bruises. Duo's hands were warm against his skin, which was cold and clammy from the ice.
"Shit," muttered Duo. He hissed at the burns, bruises and cuts. "I shouldn't have let you even go in there, even if you do heal freakishly fast."
"It's fine," said Heero, softly. It could have been either the injury or the way Duo knelt so close that made his breath hard to retrieve.
Duo looked up at Heero through his lashes, fierce heat in his eyes. "It's really not," he said, and went back to what he was doing.
The air around them seemed changed as Heero looked down at Duo, whose hands were so sure and firm. Duo glanced up again; their gazes caught and slid away just as quickly.
"Good show," said River, from behind Duo, surprising them both.
"The fuck, man. Who the hell let you down here?"
"Took credit on getting Flora out of her mess. Rocco likes me quite a bit right now."
"And you came to let me know because...?"
"Came up on something you need to hear," said River, sobering. "Acquaintance picked it off Alliance." He showed Duo a brass recording device and clicked a button.
"What part of stab him in his heart did you not understand?!"
"I did, sir! I swear! The knife went dead into his breastbone!"
"It was supposed to go IN THE TATTOO!"
River clicked the button again. "Now, I don't know what they're on about, and for you, I don't care. But if they are talking about your boy here, you're sure to have serious problems."
"Shit," said Duo, half-heartedly.
"Fucking right, shit," said River, tossing the device over. "Apparently whatever happened at that lab has them tearing the colony apart, strip by strip to find him. Just as well you were Underground all today."
"Shit," said Duo, with more feeling.
"It gets worse. The Specials seem to have caught on; they've people on the way here right now, all the way from Earth. If I were you, I'd skip colony right sharpish."
"...Fuck."
***
PART III *** PART V