Absolute Zero

by Cassima

Disclaimer: I put them through crap, so they refuse to belong to me, damn them.

Warnings: Angst, shounen-ai, nothing graphic (except perhaps language).

Pairings: 1+2, 1+5

Rating: PG-13 for oh-my-goodness, that would be a swear word! And another, and another, and...

Summary: While Heero and Duo are on a mission, something goes wrong.

Story Notes: This is part one of the Trilogy "Survival". The parts include:

I. Absolute Zero
II. To Build a Fire
III. January Thaw

ABSOLUTE ZERO: The name comes from the temperature scale Kalvins (K), which is used in scientific measurement. It represents the Celsius scale plus roughly 273 degrees, or
K=C+273.

This measurement is used for calculations involving temperature because the absence of all heat--absolute zero--is different than simple "cold". Absolute zero does not occur naturally on Earth, but space is this cold all the time. Now that you've had your science lesson for the day, on to the fanfiction!

I started out with nothing and still have most of it left.

Two to the left, three to the right, but clear straight ahead. Heero snuck a glance up at his partner, who looked a bit odd. "Ready?" he mouthed.

Duo nodded and gave a cheerful thumbs up from his position on the catwalk. Holding up a pen-shaped detonator, he pressed the shiny red button with a certain amount of undisguised glee.

A rushing BOOM resounded through the base, and the soldiers stood up straight and looked at each other with surprise. "Fire in Area B-23," crackled a voice on their radio. "All available hands report."

"Group C-9, acknowledged," the tallest of the three on the right confirmed, and the group shouldered their firearms and trudged off.

"C-8, roger that," one of the other group responded as they joined their comrades. "We're on our way."

"Acknowledged, C-8," the voice crackled again.

"Over and out."

Like taking keys from an Oz guard, Heero thought rather smugly before pulling himself out of the shadows to examine the cargo. Sending a self-explanatory nod to Duo, he began to move, panther-like, towards his prey: the giant wooden crates spread out pell-mell around the warehouse.

Duo landed with a light thunk on the crate to his right. "Heh, heh, heh," he chuckled throatily. "Putty in my hands." His voice was a little rough.

Heero glanced at him warily, but Duo was too busy hopping to another crate and reading the tag to meet Heero's eye. "You take this section," he said, turning around.

"Anything you say, Yuy," the other responded cheerfully, chuckling a little.

Curbing another urge to stare at the Shinigami pilot, he turned his mind to the task at hand. He would not stare at Duo Maxwell. He would not fret about Maxwell like a baka mother. He would stick to the task, and finish the damn mission, and go back to their temporary home and try not to think about killing Relena Peacecraft, or the whirlwind that was Duo Maxwell. No, he was going to find the damn weapon, and blow it up with a vengeance, and wait for Wufei to zap the sensors and swing by to pick them up. Yes, he, Heero Yuy, would wait.

Patiently.

Maxwell was unnaturally quiet.

Heero resisted looking back to make sure he was still alive. "It's not over here," he said reluctantly.

No response.

With a stoic face perfected from long practice, he turned. "Well? Did you find it?"

Duo shook his head, silently dropping off his current crate to the floor. His face seemed unnaturally pale in the fluorescent white overhead lights.

"Hn," Heero responded, eyes flickering around the room for suggestions as to the placement of the weapon.

"If I were a 20 ton laser capable of some serious death and destruction, where would I hide?" Duo mused absently, looking around.

Heero glared at him.

"Not here, that's for sure," Duo continued, oblivious to the Death Glare Version One-point-Three. "Virgin Islands, all the way. None of this snowy sub-zero crap. When this war is over, I'm going to buy a nice island in the Caribbean and stay there with three hula dancers and couple dozen monkey-butlers to serve me piña coladas with little flowered tissue-paper-and-toothpick umbrellas until I die of alcohol poisoning." He sighed happily, picturing it. "That's the life."

Heero blinked at the bizarre image of Duo being served anything by monkeys in little tuxedos. Masking his confusion behind impatience, he glared again. "Stop chattering; you're giving me a headache."

Duo stuck his tongue out at him. "Fine then, I won't invite you to my Paradise," he replied huffily, and jumped up on a nearby crate to sit.

Heero growled deep in his throat. "Omae o korosu."

The other boy smirked. "If you say so."

There was a pause as Heero considered what the hell they were going to do now.

"Ne, Heero?" Duo asked quietly.

Heero implemented Yuy Death Glare, Version Two-Point-One.

Duo swung his legs absently, unperturbed by Heero's ill nature but still somber. "You think this was just a decoy? Maybe it's already there." His voice was hoarse again.

"Impossible," Heero denied. "The carriers leaving here after the project was finished were all too small to hold it, and a fighter would be too conspicuous."

There was another pause. "Ne, Heero?"

Yuy Death Glare Three-Point-Five.

"Maybe they disassembled it."

"Their scientists are all still here," Heero pointed out grumpily. "We saw them on the way in, remember?"

There was another short pause. "Ne, Heero?"

Yuy Death Glare Four-Point-Two.

"Maybe they have it loaded up already. You know, in preparation for shipping?"

"The carrier arrives tomorrow."

"I know, but what if that one is a decoy? I mean, they received their bi-monthly order of beef yesterday, right? So, it could be going out in that, couldn't it?" Duo watched Heero's face for any signs of agreement or disagreement. "They wouldn't be *that* stupid, would they, Heero?"

Heero was already making his way towards the shipping lot. He could here a muttered curse behind him as Duo scrambled to catch up, pulling himself back onto the catwalk, and after that only the light smacking of the Shinigami pilot's tennis shoes on the thin metal surface above him.

But, honestly, who would've thought that Maxwell baka would have a good idea?

When they arrived at the Holding, Heero easily identified the airship by the reek of bloody meat. The carrier was being rinsed out in preparation for the carefully sealed bomb a couple hundred meters away.

"Man-oh-man," whistled Maxwell softly as he dropped with feline agility from the catwalk. "That is one big mother of a bomb!"

Heero frowned at this intrusion of his thoughts. Through the screen of Yuy Death Glare Version Four-Point-Seven, he watched his fellow pilot. He was panting--too out of breath for his condition--and the slightly glassy look in his eyes made Heero want to purse his lips with thought, but that was too out of character, so he didn't.

Heero settled for turning his mind back to the explosives equipment in front of them. It would be simple to--

"Ne, Heero?"

He quickly perfected Yuy Death Glare Version Five-Point- Two.

"Does it seem odd to you that they keep their most powerful weaponry out in the middle of their loading docks where any half-decent terrorist could get it?" He wiped at the light sheen of sweat on his forehead with the back of one hand. "Man, it's cold in here."

"Hn." Heero rolled his eyes. The people were idiots. If Maxwell could figure out their plan... "You create a diversion, I'll set the trigger. Give me five minutes. I'll meet you at the contact location."

Duo flashed his trademark evil grin before spoiling it with a wink. "Give me three minutes to set up, and one more after I begin." Snickering to himself, he jumped up, melded with the shadows, and was gone.

Heero snorted almost silently before turning his attention back to the carrier. Minimal security, too. Idiots, all of them.

Heavily armed idiots, though. And if Maxwell's suggestion hadn't been a last resort for Heero, he never would have found out about it. ...Maybe the secrecy was their plan. Or, maybe they had a secret weapon.

He narrowed his gaze at the soldiers and growled silently. It would be just like Maxwell not to plan for that contingency.

He carefully began to plan his route to where he would plant the explosives. Of course, it would all depend on the diversion Maxwell planned, but it was always good to have a plan. He could come up with backup plans, too.

Hell, if Maxwell didn't start soon, he was going to start his own little diversion. Heero looked at his watch, feeling his characteristic ornery nature rear its ugly head. If Duo didn't start soo--

"How dare you?" A deep, rough voice spoke softly, resonating through the speaker system.

The soldiers aimed their guns in various directions, searching for the source of the disturbance. Duo no baka! "Kisama!" Heero hissed softly. What was the idiot doing?!

"How dare you?" the deep voice spoke again with a touch of anger. "Petty children."

"Who's there?" one of the more bold guards said into the silence. His voice broke the brittle air, and a certain tension entered Heero's opponents. "Show yourself!"

"Who are you to demand anything? You have murdered. There is blood on your hands."

"Spy! Show yourself!"

A deep, raspy chuckle. "You hold sacrilege on your neck. You murder and pray for the sins of others. Where is your sin, my son?"

"You're not... you can't be--"

"Put down the gun and go home, Andrew."

The man frowned nervously. "This is Jacobsin, isn't it? Stop messing around, Jacobsin."

"Go back to St. Petersburg."

"Jacobsin, I'm going to kick your ass. Get off the intercom."

"Go back to your family."

"I swear, Jacobsin--"

"Put down your gun and be a father to your child."

Heero began to sneak around the crates.

"JACOBSIN, SHUT THE FUCK UP NOW!" Andrew shouted, sweat trickling down his face and gun trained on the observatory window where officers directed traffic.

"Don't let your child grow to be murderer, too, Andrew."

The panicked man let loose a volley of bullets at the window, shattering the glass.

"Kisama!" Heero spat again, diving for cover under the bomb, eyes wide with panic. Duo no baka, going to get them both killed!

The large darkened panes crashed to the ground, slow-motion like, only to reveal an empty room.

"You can't kill me."

All the soldiers were sweating now, beginning to believe in their fellow soldier's God. The silence was deafening. They looked around for the source of the voice. Suddenly, as one, they began to cover the area with gunfire, desperately working to stop the ragged chuckles.

Duo must have a hell of a hiding place, Heero decided, finishing the touches on his bomb and rolling silently out from underneath the bomb. Finished, damn Duo's methods. Was he trying to get killed? Was he trying to get Heero killed? If it happened, it would be solely by accident at this point.

The guards stopped shooting, looking around the room for any sign of the intruder, but the shipping bay was still.

Suddenly, the gunfire returned from all sides; this time, however, the guards were the targets. Ammunition from all over the room began to come to life--and just barely skimmed the shaking soldiers.

"You can't kill me," the raspy voice continued, hoarser than before but not lacking the amused undertones.

"Who are you?!" one of Andrew's companions demanded in a squeak, flinching as a bead of sweat just missed his left eye.

"I am Shinigami."

The three guards gulped.

Overhead, a thick cord snapped and electricity crackled dangerously. "I am the Great Destroyer." The lights flickered into emergency mode as three more cords were cut by something and began to sizzle with electricity. "I am the beginning and the ending. Alpha and omega."

Heero nearly rolled his eyes with impatience. "Note to self," he decided, "don't let Duo do anymore distraction missions."

"Put down your weapons and get on the carrier."

With a clatter, the guns fell to the floor. The youngest man looked as if he were about to wet his pants. Gulping shallow breaths, they herded themselves onto the carrier.

"Live your life," the voice told them as they shut the door.

With a gentle hum, the carrier, still filled with melting animal blood, took off. Duo jumped down from the catwalk to land lightly next to Heero. With a slight cough, he began picking small dust bunnies out of his hair, and grinned at Heero. "You can plant the bomb now."

With a deadpan expression, Heero lifted the detonator and pressed the red button right in front of Duo's face.

"SHIT!" Duo yelped, diving for cover amidst the explosion. "When did you--never mind." He shook his head, a mixture of awe and disgust in his eyes. "I don't want to know."

"Ninmu--"

"Kanryou," Duo chanted with him with a grimace and a shiver, "and all that jazz. Yeah, whatever. Let's go."

His disgruntled, ruffled appearance made Heero smother a grin. The stupid shit was so cute at times.

Heero blinked, stupefied. Where did that thought come from?

He began to pick at the lock again, just for something to do. What had possessed them to hide in the freezer? Heero wondered again. And, of course, the damn handle was only unlocked on the *outside* of the door. Hadn't these Oz clowns ever heard of public safety? There were regulations against freezers that locked people up together, the sadistic bastards.

Plus, that damn Maxwell was acting funny again.

But, enough of that baka. He'd already thought too much about the long-haired--

Resolutely, Heero began to calculate the placement of the knife. He had ignored the coughing fit Duo had burst into as soon as the door swung shut. He had ignored Duo's whining about the temperature. (Of course it was cold in here! It was a freezer, damn it! That was its design!) He could ignore him now that he was just sitting quietly. Wufei was due to swing by and pick them up in--he checked his watch--two hours, three minutes, and twelve seconds. Perfect. Two hours with a bored Duo Maxwell. Wonderful.

And so, Heero worked at the lock to the sound of Duo shaking and shivering back in the corner. For the love of... it wasn't that cold!

After a while, the noises stopped. Stupid attention-seeking American. Hadn't he learned yet that Heero could steel himself against such dumb tactics?

But now there was no sound coming from the corner of the icy meat freezer, except for some slow, shallow breathing that began to worry Heero's conscience, small as he liked to pretend that conscience might be. "Duo?" he broke the silence. There was no answer.

With a sigh of exasperation to cover up his concern, he turned. "Duo?" He stopped at the sight of Duo's still body, pale face, and blue lips. Walking over, he shook Duo once, nice and hard, and considered smacking him across the head. "Duo!"

The other boy's lids slowly opened, and violet eyes struggled to focus on his friend's. "Heero?" came the strained voice from before. His dark purple lips managed a small smile. "I'm not cold anymore."

"Hn." Heero grimaced, somehow unnerved.

"I'm warm." His eyes began to slide shut.

Warning bells chimed the hour in Heero's head. "Duo?"

Duo's eyes paused halfway down. "Hn?"

"Duo, don't fall asleep."

"But I'm tired." The voice lacked the usual plantative whine those words would have brought forth. And, in fact, the normally strong voice was breathy and faint.

"Don't fall asleep." There was an uncharacteristic note of pleading in his voice. "Please, Duo. I need you to stay awake. Talk to me."

Duo's eyes struggled back open, but they looked a bit glassy. He was trying to focus; he could sense Heero thought something was wrong. "But I annoy you."

"No," Heero denied, propping him up and pulling him away from the vent the other boy had collapsed next to. He positioned himself behind Duo, trying to share body heat. Duo's body was like ice. "I'm not annoyed."

"Even Quatre's annoyed."

"Quatre's never annoyed," Heero told him, unsure of how to comfort someone. "He doesn't get annoyed."

Duo began to cough, the sound wet, tight, deep, and painful. Holding him, lending support and balance to him seemed surreal to the Japanese boy, who frowned uneasily with worry. And when the attack ended, Duo's breathing was shallow and thick, as if every breath was a struggle.

What could he say? "Are you okay?" "You're sick"? "Duo no baka"? He finally settled on, "What's going on?"

Duo chuckled briefly. "Enjoy the ride... Heero-my-man. I don't have a fucking clue."

Heero pulled the shivering body closer to him, frowning at the beads of sweat freezing on his temples and neck. "Symptoms?"

"Cold--" he began coughing again, eyes clenched shut tightly in pain. Heero wrapped one arm around his chest to keep him from collapsing, the other hand wrapped tightly around the cold braid. When that fit was over, he lay back gratefully onto Heero's strong chest, listening to the other boy's heart beat and his own wheezing breath.

"Symptoms?" Heero asked again, though he'd mostly figured them out by now. He had to keep Duo awake.

Duo's voice was strained, his words a little slurred. "Cold. Dizzy. Can't... breathe. Cough... hurts..."

Heero wrapped his arms around Duo, trying to keep the heat in. They couldn't leave the freezer; people were banging around in the kitchen. But, could they afford to stay? Duo's skin was pale and his breathing ragged. Small details began to pull themselves together, completing the picture. Duo's lack of breath throughout the mission. His odd speech lapses, as he muffled coughing. How he tired so easily while running. The strangeness that surrounded him. So he was sick... but with what?

He plucked the strings gently; the tuning was perfect, and he only had to wait for Trowa to finish assembling and tuning his flute. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the words "new virus" printed on the screen, and laid down his violin. With a frown, Quatre turned up the volume on the monitor.

The anchorman's voice rose into audible range. "...so far, the victims of this strange, deadly disease are residents or former residents of the L2 colony, though only a few people have been affected. Symptoms may include unusual sensitivity to temperature, sweating, nausea, coughing, fever, and excessive phlegm. Doctors say it is not contagious, but may prove fatal within twelve to twenty-four hours if the patient does not receive medical care. Doctors are strongly recommending former residents of colony L2 displaying three or more of these symptoms in severity to see a medical professional immediately. In other news, fires swept the once-prominent Chicago area over in the U.S.A. a few hours ago..."

Quatre turned off the screen, eyes sad. "How horrible. Do you think Duo'll be affected, Trowa?"

The man in question studied his flute with the one eye visible from underneath his bangs. "I'm sure he'll be fine."

The blond Arabian smiled gently and picked up his violin. "I'd like to start on measure 51, please. I'm having a little difficulty with the syncopation." Still, though, he wasn't sure. Something felt odd.

Wufei chewed on his lip to distract himself from his unease. Something was going on in that Oz base... Yuy had sent the all-clear signal, but an unauthorized takeoff from the landing bay left him suspicious. Oz was getting cagey; after this mission, it would be wise to take a vacation to a hidden valley or tucked-away retreat somewhere. Of course, that would mean being locked up for three months or so with that irritating Maxwell, but Wufei found he didn't mind the other gundam pilots so much as before. In fact, there were some he found rather--intriguing.

But, all the pilots had their good points. Yuy wasn't the cold bastard he liked to pretend he was. Maxwell was a bit hyper, but his antics were occasionally amusing. Trowa could be killer at poker, and accredited Wufei with a certain respect that the Chinese pilot found acceptable in a comrade. And Quatre, of course, under the weak facade, was an interesting conversationalist, and fairly knowledgeable. It could be a worse group of people, he supposed.

He was always a sucker for the wounded soldier, though; he would have to be on his guard. He couldn't afford to become attached to any one of the pilots. Wufei was the odd man, the loner. Wasn't he?

He frowned, and made a mental note to worship Nataku after the pickup.

Time had passed slowly. Duo's voice had become weak and lethargic, and Heero finally decided to screw the hideout. Something was dangerously wrong with the baka. He wasn't talking, or being a pest, or acting like a pogo stick on speed. He was lying still and quiet.

"Maxwell," he said shortly. "Get up."

"Wha...?" the other boy murmured sleepily.

"We're leaving."

"'Fei's here?" Duo asked as he tried to sit up. His eyelids drooped, and he paused to rest.

"Change of plans." Heero put his hands under Duo's arms and pulled him up, lifting one arm around his shoulders.

Duo didn't challenge this; his silent acceptance was scary almost by itself.

Heero shifted his grip down around Duo's waist. "Hold on," he warned. He felt Duo's arm tighten around his neck, and he easily took most of the other's weight. "Ready?"

"Not really," Duo mumbled, and allowed Heero to lead him out of the freezer, through the kitchen, and down the long hallway. It bothered him a little, that he couldn't hold his gun and support Duo at the same time, but Duo was incapable of holding one upright in his current state, and it only crossed his mind once to kill the boy and leave him behind.

It seemed his days of being a cold bastard were numbered.

In any case, the gun was close at hand in case of an emergency, and Heero was the fastest draw in an area far bigger than "the west"; it would have to do.

They waded through the hallways as quietly as possible, and neatly evaded the patrols--thanks to Heero. Duo continued to shake, and soon his body was covered in sweat, even as he whispered responses to Heero's demands for a "status report": "Cold..."

Heero had never been more pleased to see Wufei in his life.

They took off as soon as the pilots were inside, and, after strapping Duo in, Heero sat down in the co-pilot's seat next to the Chinese boy. "He needs to go to a hospital."

"What's wrong with him?" Wufei asked, but Heero could see him re-setting the course of the airship.

"He's got some sort of virus," Heero replied. "Make sure there's a good doctor on hand."

"I know where Sally Po is," he responded. "We'll go there."

In the back left bucket seat, Duo began to cough again.

"Duo's from L2?" Sally asked, looking at the x-rays.

"Yes..." Wufei answered suspiciously. "Why?"

She sighed, and looked back at the test results in the folder in her hand. "Don't you kids watch the news?"

"Onna, if you don't tell us what's wrong with the damn baka--"

She bit her lip, trying to remind herself that Wufei was very stressed at the moment, worrying about his friend. "L2 is a very poor colony," she finally said. "They don't have a reputation for following health codes all the time. The Department of Human Rights has a certain set of regulations that a colony must follow to remain fit for human habitation; this involves flushing waste, water purification, and so on.

"Recently, it has come to public attention that certain areas of L2--the more inner city ones--don't change the air filters regularly. A virus mutated in a few of these filters eight to ten years ago and caused a plague, wiping out a great deal of the population living on the streets before doctors could come up with a vaccine."

She sighed and set down the files. "A mutation of this virus has been incubating in Duo's lungs for quite some time. Cases like this have been popping up all over L2 recently; I had a doctor friend of mine there fax me a copy of all the information he has on it. It's not contagious, but that won't help your friend."

"Can you cure him?" Heero asked, mouth tight.

"I don't know, Heero," she responded. "Time and medication should be able to clear his body of the infection, but the virus is resilient. He'll probably have a few relapses." Sally pointed to a few spots on the x-ray. "You can see here and here that there's damage to the lung tissue; if you'd been half an hour later, he'd be coughing up blood right now."

"Prognosis?"

"He'll probably pull through. He's young and otherwise healthy."

Duo's chest rose and fell slowly, and Heero was sorry he hadn't rushed more. The oxygen mask covering the American's mouth and nose looked strange on the boy, as did the IV bags hanging around him, and the monitors behind the bed. The pallor of his skin, accompanied by the light sheen of sweat across his face, did nothing to allay the Wing pilot's fear that something was dreadfully wrong with this picture of the normally vibrant Shinigami.

He allowed one hand to touch Duo's bangs, brushing them off the boy's forehead; a tender look at the sleeping boy, just this once. Duo... Duo was special. Leaning over, he gave into his urge to kiss the waxy skin of Duo's cheek, right next to the edge of the oxygen mask.

It was a mere brush of the lips, but Heero felt something electric move up his spine. "Duo..." he whispered, and shifted the mask aside to get a better look at those lips.

Duo shifted a little, and sighed as the oxygen mask shifted. "Hilde..."

Heero froze. He could feel something inside him grow cold and hard, lodging itself in his stomach.

What an idiot he was.

Replacing the oxygen mask, he silently turned and left the room.

Right outside the room, he bumped into Wufei. Great. Someone to pity him.

"What's wrong, Heero?" the other boy asked quietly as they stood just outside the doorway to Duo's room.

"Get out of my way," Heero said, just as quietly.

"It is not weakness to have feelings," Wufei said. "Nataku taught me that."

Heero did not feel like learning about Wufei's baka gundam. "I'm not weak. Step aside."

Wufei, instead of listening, put a hand on Heero's arm. "Maybe, what you could not find with Duo, you could--perhaps--find with me."

Heero swallowed and looked up from the hand on his arm to his eyes, into his eyes. Did he know the pain of loneliness, too? Was he tired of the cold? Could he and Wufei...?

With a sigh of acceptance, he took the other's hand from his arm and held it in his own. The feel of Wufei's fingers tingled slightly in his own; Wufei had pleasant hands. They were hardly a match made in heaven, but it would do to keep out the cold.

Back in the hospital room, Duo shifted uncomfortably in his sleep.

Read To Build a Fire, the sequel.

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