Mechanics of Relationships:

Sorrow and Anger

Hiiro x Duo

 

Tawnya Kisaragi

 

 

He had so totally fucked up!

Duo hugged his knees to his chest, desperately trying to make himself as small and inconspicuous as possible as he began to rock back and forth on one of the tiny, threadbare waiting room chairs.  People and carts rushed past him, clattering and shouting mixing together into an impenetrable din that was the Emergency Room.  But he didn’t notice any of it.  He just sat there dumbly, rocking back and forth, violet eyes haunted with shock and fear, his chestnut braid pulled protectively over one shoulder and gripped tightly to his chest with his knees.

“Doctor Matthew…  Paging Doctor Matthew…”

He flinched violently, burying his face in his lap as his hands clamped down over his ears tightly.  He sobbed quietly, gasping for breath though clenched teeth, unshed tears stinging his eyes behind the eyelids.  His entire body shuddered wildly, like the temperature was thirty below.  This was not happening to him, he wasn’t here and any moment now he was going to wake up and all of this was going to be just a bad dream…

God, what had he been thinking?  The mission had been simple enough.  He, Hiiro, and Quatre had been assigned to take out this little rinky-dinky supply depot out in the middle of Nowheresville that was at least a hundred miles from any sort of civilization.  They were destroying it because it was housing several large shipments of data chips for the new Virgo Mobile Dolls.  Hiiro was going to set the place up to be blown to hell, Quatre was going to access the abilities of the data chips and he was suppose to watch out for re-enforcement.  Easy enough right?

Yeah, right, whatever…

If only he had been paying more attention, if only he hadn’t been goofing off quite so bad, if only he had reacted a little quicker, then they wouldn’t be here.  Quatre wouldn’t be laying somewhere, his body so riddled with bullets and shrapnel that it would put Heavyarms to shame.  Hiiro wouldn’t have looked at him with his frosted cobalt eyes and told him exactly what kind of a fucking idiot he was as he tried to keep Quatre alive long enough to reach the hospital.  And he -- he wouldn’t be having this conversation with himself.  He wouldn’t be sitting here in one of his most hated and feared places waiting for Trowa to show up and rip what was left of him to miniscule shreds.

He felt rather than saw Hiiro walk up and sit across from him.  Because of his stupidity, Hiiro had had to set off the explosives early and, like Quatre, had been caught in the blast that ensued.  He, too, had his fair share of bullet wounds, but Hiiro “The Perfect Soldier” Yui was far from the condition the young Arabian Prince was.

And he, Duo Maxwell, the self-proclaimed God of Death, had walked away scot-free…

“Where is he?” Trowa asked, looking around frantically, an equally concerned Wufei behind him.  “What the hell happened?”

Trowa?  Frantic?  That didn’t sound right…  But Duo really couldn’t blame him.  Trowa and Quatre shared a special bond, a special relationship that always sent him on a painful journey down memory lane to the days when he had been a street rat.  Sometimes he actually found himself wishing to back on those streets, away from this God-forsaken war and everyone in it, back to something that he knew and understood.  Then, maybe, people wouldn’t get hurt because of his thick skull.

Hiiro calmly explained what had happened, exactly how bad Duo had fucked up, and what he knew about Quatre’s condition.  Duo watched as the color drained from Trowa’s face and replaced by a dark red fury.  The Heavyarms pilot was out for blood, Duo’s blood.

He had expected as much from the green-eyed pilot.  And he had been waiting for the fist to connect with his head with an almost morbid apprehension.  Still, the blow took him by surprise, the force knocking him cleanly off the chair and about halfway across the room.  He was sure he would have flown farther if the wall hadn’t been in the way.  He hit it with a sickening crack and slumped to the floor, stars dancing before his eyes.  Hiiro and Wufei scrambled to get a hold of Trowa, who began to shout and curse at Duo in a frequency and tone he had never heard before.

Three security guards later, Trowa had been restrained to the point where he could only move his head.  He glared at Duo venomously.  Then he said the words that hurt him more than any physical blow…

“I’ll never forgive you for this, Maxwell.  I hate you.”

Trowa could have beaten him within an inch of his life for the rest of eternity and never inflict as much pain as those ten little words did.  Duo had always known that the others usually just considered him an annoyance; even the kind hearted Sandrock pilot had admitted it once.  But that didn’t stop him from feeling friendship towards them.  It was what allowed him to continue to fight the war.  So far, he had very effectively destroyed any form of friendship from Quatre and Trowa.  He and Wufei had never truly been on equal terms to begin with, but both respected the other and their ability to fight.  Now he’d shot that shaky respect all to hell, too.  And Hiiro… well, Hiiro was Hiiro.

-Well, I’ve got to give it to you.  You certainly know how to destroyed the people around you,- a voice inside his head mocked.

-I’m not known as the God of Death for nothing…-

A short, plump nurse in heavy make-up marched up onto the scene as Trowa finally let himself be dragged away from Duo.  She snorted when she looked on at the four boys, beady eyes sizing them up.

“Now listen here, you young men,” she screeched in a nasal, pinched voice.  “This is an Emergency Room of a hospital, not a Thursday night WWF match.  There are sick and dying people here and we do not need you running around like heathens.  If you want to fight, got to a bar or something.  You will not do so here.”

“Iie, onna-sama,” Hiiro complied.  He gave Trowa a very pointed look.  “We won’t cause you any trouble.”  Trowa refused to respond and continue to glare at Duo, who was frantically trying to disappear into the wall.

“And keep a civil tongue in your heads.  I don’t need you four cussing up a storm.  I have patients that do that enough without you helping,” she continued to squawk, a chubby hand on her hip and waving a pudgy finger at Hiiro.

“It won’t happen again,” the stoic pilot responded.  Hiiro gave the Heavyarms pilot another pointed look.  “”Will it?”  Trowa shook his head, but remain silent.

“Hmmm, I wonder…”  The nurse stalked away with the security guards in tow.

“Trowa, Quatre needs your support right now.  You can kill Duo later, but Quatre needs you more.”

Trowa finally gave up completely, letting his rage subside.  He looked very tired and stressed.  He slowly nodded his head in consent.  What Hiiro said was true, Quatre needed his support more than his anger.  Besides, he still had to figure out a fitting way to destroy Duo.  Simply putting a bullet in his head sounded good at the moment, but he was going to pay Duo back for every ounce of pain he had caused Quatre ten fold.

Wufei took the silence as a chance to stop another pointless fight and suggested that he and Trowa go and find out what they could on Quatre while Hiiro and Duo went and found a rock to hide under.  Since the mission had gone so badly, there was a good likelihood that OZ officers would be out looking for them.  Hiiro agreed and dragged Duo out behind him.  There was a safehouse two towns over where they could stay; a journey to be made in silence.  Duo, who usually made a big fuss when Hiiro told him to hand over the car keys because his driving was terrible, made no comment and simply handed over the keys without complaint.  He didn’t even turn on the radio when Hiiro started the car.

At first, Hiiro was glad for the silence.  Normally driving with the American youth for any amount of time would have resulted in at least ten arguments, a bruised Duo, and the radio blaring at least ten decibels too loud.  But now was not the case.  Soon the absolute wrongness of the silence had gotten to him and he glanced over at the Deathscythe pilot, and very distinctly decided that he did not like what he saw.

Duo just sat there, perfectly still, eyes unfocused and staring at nothing, with his mouth set in a firm line.  None of his usual exuberant energy, none of his jokes, his smiles, his laughter…

It began to rain.  Big, partially frozen drop plopped onto the windshield, blurring the road into an indistinct blob of color.  Lightning split the sky while thunder rolled overhead.  The angry clouds gathered together, blanketing the sky and making it nighttime for the world below.

Hiiro glanced over at Duo.

No change.

He flipped on the headlights and windshield wipers.

He surprised himself when he found himself glancing over at Duo every chance he could.  Once, he almost ran them off into a ditch.  Another time, they almost hit a telephone pole.  Duo reacted to none of this.  Hiiro cursed to himself.  Why the hell was he so worried?  He should be grateful for the silence.  Normally he had to beat Duo into giving him two minutes of quiet, so why was he complaining?

-Because it’s wrong… Because he’s hurt and you want to help…-

The thought actually startled him enough that he nearly ran them off the road again.  Where the hell had that come from? 

The rest of the trip was spent with Hiiro scowling and cursing.

It was pouring in sheets when they reached the mansion-style safehouse.  Quatre had arranged it for all of them to meet there until the next set of mission updates came.  He enjoyed having all of them around, Quatre did.  No matter what happened during the mission, the Arabian youth was always there to make them relax and act like normal kids.  Just like Duo was always there to try and make them smile and lighten the mood with one of his horrendous jokes.

He slammed the driver’s side door and ran up the walkway to the house, unlocking the front door.  Then he noticed Duo hadn’t moved.  At first, Hiiro was inclined to let him just sit in the car in the freezing rain and sulk.  Served him right after everything that had happened that day.  But something inside his heart twisted, telling him he’d hate himself if he left Duo there.

“Duo!  Goddamn it!  Get out of the car and into the house!” he shouted harshly.  Duo very mechanically got out of the car and walked up and past Hiiro, who was very tempted to smack him upside the head.  He closed the door, shutting out the rain, but not the cold.  Quickly, the Japanese pilot found the light switch and the thermostat.  He had to admit that he wasn’t too surprised to see that his partner hadn’t moved from just inside the doorway.

“Why don’t you go change out of those wet clothes?  You’re dripping all over the floor.”  Hiiro was painfully aware of how hard his voice sounded, but could do nothing to change it.  He was still angry with Duo.  “When you come back, we can eat something.”

“Not hungry,” came the hollow, monotone reply.  Hiiro frowned.  Duo Maxwell, not hungry?  Hell must have just opened a new ski resort.  He could usually pack away twice his own body weight in one setting and still complain five minutes later that he was hungry.

“Then go to bed,” he shot back, getting angry again.  Why was Duo acting like that?  Hadn’t he screwed up enough for one day?  And why did he even care?  Hiiro grunted and shoved past the other Gundam pilot, stalking into the kitchen and very pointedly slamming the door shut.

Duo’s orchid eyes came into focus and misted with tears.  He deserved Hiiro’s anger and contempt as much as he did Trowa’s.  But that didn’t stop it from hurting so bad.  He tried to tell himself that Hiiro didn’t know and there for couldn’t possibly understand.

It wasn’t working…

Slowly and quietly, he trudged off to claim a room.  He took the smallest one he could find at the very back of the house.  Maybe the others would just forget all about him if he stayed out of their sight.  Better yet, maybe he’d forget himself, if he was lucky.

 

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