[fic] The Phantom, Part I
All my stuff is on AO3 now, but because this is a companion fic to The Drowned, which is on here, I wanted to post it here too, for completion's sake.
Title: The Phantom, part 1
Pairing: 1x2
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Heero POV, lemon, language, angst
Notes: Sequel/Companion to The Drowned.
I sit at the bar for almost an hour before I decide that he hasn't noticed me yet and, at the rate he's going through beers, in another thirty minutes he won't be noticing much of anything at all. I managed to locate his place of employment earlier in the week, but when I headed over there today and asked to see the young guy with the braid, they told me he had already been let go. I can't say I'm surprised. In the few days I've been watching him, he's barely seemed able to bother to show up. I'm guessing the recent turn of events is what's caused his current attempt to drink himself delirious.
He clears another bottle and pushes it rather forcefully across the countertop, but the bartender doesn't seem to notice or mind. I get the sense Duo is a regular fixture here. He leans across the bar with the ease of familiarity, his shoulders hunched, broader than I remember. Everything about him is bigger, actually, taller, more filled out, and the youthfulness of his face has recessed somewhat, leaving those wide eyes somehow even bigger. There is almost no trace of the child I used to know in his appearance.
It makes me wonder just how much has changed in myself.
Ever since the heady exhilaration of finding him again passed, I've been trying to think of how to approach him. It was not something I gave much thought to in the early days of the search, but the longer time went on and the more Duo's whereabouts eluded me, the more I began to think that simply appearing on his doorstep with a duffel bag might not be the most tactful way of announcing myself. After all, he and the rest of my former acquaintances believe I'm dead. I originally intended to find him at work, but with that out of the question, I've followed him to this place and have been mulling over the best way to make my presence known.
Unfortunately, tact has never been a strength of mine, and the longer I have been sitting at the far corner of the bar and debating with myself, the more inebriated Duo has gotten. He's to the point now that I think tact might not even be necessary.
It's with that thought in mind that I signal the bartender and ask him to send a drink over. He asks me what kind of liquor and I remember that Duo used to have a soft spot for gin, so I ask for that with some tonic water splashed in. I sit with fists clenched in my lap as I wait for it to get to him, for him to see me.
I watch the bartender pour the ingredients with all the flair of a stage magician, throwing an unnecessary lime into the glass for good measure, before taking it over to where Duo is perched unsteadily on his stool. I watch him slide the glass into Duo's hands, watch as he points me out, and then Duo is staring at me, his eyes shadowed in the dim light of the bar, but there's something pointed there, in that gaze. Recognition. He lifts the glass, his eyes never leaving mine, and takes a long drag.
He remembers me.
I feel a strange mix of emotion, that I suppose I should be prepared for, but I'm surprised at the intensity. After all, it's been ten years since I've seen him. I've been looking for him nearly that entire time, but I still didn't expect it to feel like this-- like I'm launching into outer space. Like the bottom of the floor has dropped out under me. Like we are the only two people in this room, on this colony, in the universe.
But we're not, and as my whereabouts return to me, I'm aware that my gesture has attracted some attention from the other patrons. I don't care, but Duo lives here. I don't want to draw undue notice on him. He's been on this colony for a while, I've discovered. Perhaps something about it suits him. Too much attention, and he'll run again. That much I've become very aware of.
Even so, I find I can't stop staring at him. This new, adult look to him is fascinating, but it's the gaze he draws on me that keeps me pinned. He must be surprised to see me alive, or perhaps that surprise is because I look different, too. Suddenly, I want very much to see the color of his eyes, that blue steeped in purple that is so uniquely his. I'm up off my seat and circling the bar to him before I'm fully aware of it. His gaze breaks away as I approach with a quick glance around at our surroundings. I understand the implication.
“Is this seat taken?”
He shrugs, and turns to look at me as I sit beside him. There it is, that flash of indigo-blue, that I've waited so long to see. Ten years. Much too long.
There is so much I want to say to him, most of it still a disjointed swirl in my head, eluding the words to describe it. We're not in the right place for any of it, though. There will have to be a bit of a show for the rest of the customers before I can get him alone.
“Thanks for the drink,” he says, his voice deep and so familiar.
“What's your name?”
“Jake,” he replies. “What's yours?”
I wonder for a moment where he gets all these names from. I could have saved myself years of trouble if he had just used Duo Maxwell in half of the places I eventually traced him to. He was going by “Bill” on the last colony. And before that it was...
“Malcolm.”
He looks at me. I feel almost embarrassed for a moment, wondering what came over me to use a former alias of his, but thankfully he doesn't seem to recognize the name.
“What do you do?” I soldier on with the performance.
Strangely, he looks annoyed at the question.
“Do you really want to know, or are you just asking?”
“I really want to know.”
Maybe he knows I was looking for him at his old job today. Well, he does seem pretty upset at getting fired. Maybe I should have avoided the topic altogether.
He takes a long sip of his drink. Yes, definitely should have avoided it.
“Mechanic. You from around here?”
I shake my head. And where is he from?
“Nowhere. You?”
Nowhere. I have to smile as I repeat it.
After a while, anyone who might have been listening has long since lost interest. No one even looks our way anymore. Duo turns to finish his cocktail and I take the moment to drink in the sight of him again. That braid hangs right down to his ass now. I'm not sure which one I'm staring at.
Damn. I didn't know I would feel like this, after all this time.
Duo turns and suddenly his hand is resting far up on my thigh, his thumb tracing a warm circle against the fabric of my pants, and I'm staring into the purple of his wide eyes, my heart hammering against my ribs.
“You want to head back to my place?”
Is this his version of discretion? If so, I guess I shouldn't have wasted my time with the fake name.
We throw money on the counter and head out into the warm air outside. Any semblance of control I had over the things I wanted to say to him, whatever I had rehearsed in my head in anticipation of this meeting, has been thrown into disarray, and I find myself silent alongside him. I'm still reeling from the warmth of his hand on my leg, from my body's instantaneous reaction.
I expected... well, I don't know what I expected. I wanted to find him so badly, for so long, but I never expected to feel so viscerally drawn to him. I want him. I would reach for him right now, see just what he meant by that touch in the bar, but we're entirely out in the open, even if it's late enough that the street is deserted. I have to wait until we're out of plain sight.
“You okay with dogs?” he says eventually. It's the only thing he's said since the bar. Indeed, he's strangely preoccupied with something. Whenever I look away, I can feel his eyes on me.
I shrug. Even if I wasn't, it wouldn't matter. Not after ten years. Nothing could stop me from following him home now.
I already know the way to Duo's apartment, have run a little surveillance around the area long before I ever engaged him, and I can tell he picked it because it allows him to be anonymous, to come and go without ever having to run into another person. I understand that desire very well. I went to much more drastic lengths to achieve it, after all.
I listen to the pounding of my heart in my chest for a full flight of stairs before I decide to find out whether Duo's hand on my leg was an invitation or not. Ten years ago, I would not have recklessly pushed Duo against the wall and slipped my tongue into his mouth, but I find it incredibly easy to do now. Almost alarmingly so, as I run my hands down his hips and feel his body shift beneath the fabric of his clothes-- not the thin, skin-on-bones body of the boy I knew, but the broad muscles and thrumming strength of the man he's become in the time it took me to find him.
He lets me kiss him, his mouth damp and sweet with alcohol. When I break away, he opens wide eyes to stare at me, and that indigo gaze pins me to the spot.
Years ago, adrift after a war that had left me gutted and empty, I had stood on a bridge on Earth as the sun began to set over the river it crossed and contemplated removing myself from a world that no longer needed a killer like me in it. The sky had turned from violent orange to the most serene violet-blue I had ever seen. Something had made me step away from the railing then and turn around. Staring into Duo's eyes now, I realize I recognize that same color.
Somehow, I recognized it all along.
I want to tell him, but I don't know how. I wait instead for him to speak.
“Let's go upstairs.”
Title: The Phantom, part 1
Pairing: 1x2
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Heero POV, lemon, language, angst
Notes: Sequel/Companion to The Drowned.
I sit at the bar for almost an hour before I decide that he hasn't noticed me yet and, at the rate he's going through beers, in another thirty minutes he won't be noticing much of anything at all. I managed to locate his place of employment earlier in the week, but when I headed over there today and asked to see the young guy with the braid, they told me he had already been let go. I can't say I'm surprised. In the few days I've been watching him, he's barely seemed able to bother to show up. I'm guessing the recent turn of events is what's caused his current attempt to drink himself delirious.
He clears another bottle and pushes it rather forcefully across the countertop, but the bartender doesn't seem to notice or mind. I get the sense Duo is a regular fixture here. He leans across the bar with the ease of familiarity, his shoulders hunched, broader than I remember. Everything about him is bigger, actually, taller, more filled out, and the youthfulness of his face has recessed somewhat, leaving those wide eyes somehow even bigger. There is almost no trace of the child I used to know in his appearance.
It makes me wonder just how much has changed in myself.
Ever since the heady exhilaration of finding him again passed, I've been trying to think of how to approach him. It was not something I gave much thought to in the early days of the search, but the longer time went on and the more Duo's whereabouts eluded me, the more I began to think that simply appearing on his doorstep with a duffel bag might not be the most tactful way of announcing myself. After all, he and the rest of my former acquaintances believe I'm dead. I originally intended to find him at work, but with that out of the question, I've followed him to this place and have been mulling over the best way to make my presence known.
Unfortunately, tact has never been a strength of mine, and the longer I have been sitting at the far corner of the bar and debating with myself, the more inebriated Duo has gotten. He's to the point now that I think tact might not even be necessary.
It's with that thought in mind that I signal the bartender and ask him to send a drink over. He asks me what kind of liquor and I remember that Duo used to have a soft spot for gin, so I ask for that with some tonic water splashed in. I sit with fists clenched in my lap as I wait for it to get to him, for him to see me.
I watch the bartender pour the ingredients with all the flair of a stage magician, throwing an unnecessary lime into the glass for good measure, before taking it over to where Duo is perched unsteadily on his stool. I watch him slide the glass into Duo's hands, watch as he points me out, and then Duo is staring at me, his eyes shadowed in the dim light of the bar, but there's something pointed there, in that gaze. Recognition. He lifts the glass, his eyes never leaving mine, and takes a long drag.
He remembers me.
I feel a strange mix of emotion, that I suppose I should be prepared for, but I'm surprised at the intensity. After all, it's been ten years since I've seen him. I've been looking for him nearly that entire time, but I still didn't expect it to feel like this-- like I'm launching into outer space. Like the bottom of the floor has dropped out under me. Like we are the only two people in this room, on this colony, in the universe.
But we're not, and as my whereabouts return to me, I'm aware that my gesture has attracted some attention from the other patrons. I don't care, but Duo lives here. I don't want to draw undue notice on him. He's been on this colony for a while, I've discovered. Perhaps something about it suits him. Too much attention, and he'll run again. That much I've become very aware of.
Even so, I find I can't stop staring at him. This new, adult look to him is fascinating, but it's the gaze he draws on me that keeps me pinned. He must be surprised to see me alive, or perhaps that surprise is because I look different, too. Suddenly, I want very much to see the color of his eyes, that blue steeped in purple that is so uniquely his. I'm up off my seat and circling the bar to him before I'm fully aware of it. His gaze breaks away as I approach with a quick glance around at our surroundings. I understand the implication.
“Is this seat taken?”
He shrugs, and turns to look at me as I sit beside him. There it is, that flash of indigo-blue, that I've waited so long to see. Ten years. Much too long.
There is so much I want to say to him, most of it still a disjointed swirl in my head, eluding the words to describe it. We're not in the right place for any of it, though. There will have to be a bit of a show for the rest of the customers before I can get him alone.
“Thanks for the drink,” he says, his voice deep and so familiar.
“What's your name?”
“Jake,” he replies. “What's yours?”
I wonder for a moment where he gets all these names from. I could have saved myself years of trouble if he had just used Duo Maxwell in half of the places I eventually traced him to. He was going by “Bill” on the last colony. And before that it was...
“Malcolm.”
He looks at me. I feel almost embarrassed for a moment, wondering what came over me to use a former alias of his, but thankfully he doesn't seem to recognize the name.
“What do you do?” I soldier on with the performance.
Strangely, he looks annoyed at the question.
“Do you really want to know, or are you just asking?”
“I really want to know.”
Maybe he knows I was looking for him at his old job today. Well, he does seem pretty upset at getting fired. Maybe I should have avoided the topic altogether.
He takes a long sip of his drink. Yes, definitely should have avoided it.
“Mechanic. You from around here?”
I shake my head. And where is he from?
“Nowhere. You?”
Nowhere. I have to smile as I repeat it.
After a while, anyone who might have been listening has long since lost interest. No one even looks our way anymore. Duo turns to finish his cocktail and I take the moment to drink in the sight of him again. That braid hangs right down to his ass now. I'm not sure which one I'm staring at.
Damn. I didn't know I would feel like this, after all this time.
Duo turns and suddenly his hand is resting far up on my thigh, his thumb tracing a warm circle against the fabric of my pants, and I'm staring into the purple of his wide eyes, my heart hammering against my ribs.
“You want to head back to my place?”
Is this his version of discretion? If so, I guess I shouldn't have wasted my time with the fake name.
We throw money on the counter and head out into the warm air outside. Any semblance of control I had over the things I wanted to say to him, whatever I had rehearsed in my head in anticipation of this meeting, has been thrown into disarray, and I find myself silent alongside him. I'm still reeling from the warmth of his hand on my leg, from my body's instantaneous reaction.
I expected... well, I don't know what I expected. I wanted to find him so badly, for so long, but I never expected to feel so viscerally drawn to him. I want him. I would reach for him right now, see just what he meant by that touch in the bar, but we're entirely out in the open, even if it's late enough that the street is deserted. I have to wait until we're out of plain sight.
“You okay with dogs?” he says eventually. It's the only thing he's said since the bar. Indeed, he's strangely preoccupied with something. Whenever I look away, I can feel his eyes on me.
I shrug. Even if I wasn't, it wouldn't matter. Not after ten years. Nothing could stop me from following him home now.
I already know the way to Duo's apartment, have run a little surveillance around the area long before I ever engaged him, and I can tell he picked it because it allows him to be anonymous, to come and go without ever having to run into another person. I understand that desire very well. I went to much more drastic lengths to achieve it, after all.
I listen to the pounding of my heart in my chest for a full flight of stairs before I decide to find out whether Duo's hand on my leg was an invitation or not. Ten years ago, I would not have recklessly pushed Duo against the wall and slipped my tongue into his mouth, but I find it incredibly easy to do now. Almost alarmingly so, as I run my hands down his hips and feel his body shift beneath the fabric of his clothes-- not the thin, skin-on-bones body of the boy I knew, but the broad muscles and thrumming strength of the man he's become in the time it took me to find him.
He lets me kiss him, his mouth damp and sweet with alcohol. When I break away, he opens wide eyes to stare at me, and that indigo gaze pins me to the spot.
Years ago, adrift after a war that had left me gutted and empty, I had stood on a bridge on Earth as the sun began to set over the river it crossed and contemplated removing myself from a world that no longer needed a killer like me in it. The sky had turned from violent orange to the most serene violet-blue I had ever seen. Something had made me step away from the railing then and turn around. Staring into Duo's eyes now, I realize I recognize that same color.
Somehow, I recognized it all along.
I want to tell him, but I don't know how. I wait instead for him to speak.
“Let's go upstairs.”