Mechanics of Relationships:

Sorrow and Anger

Hiiro x Duo

 

Tawnya Kisaragi

 

With that settled, Hiiro went to the task of moving his things into the new room.  He went downstairs rarely now, too afraid of leaving Duo in the grip of his memories.  He even went as far as to move half the kitchen up into the room, bringing up food, a portable stove and silverware.  He made extra sure that the knives were hidden away.

It took a couple of days, but the fever finally relinquished its grip on the American pilot.  Hiiro was grateful, for with the fever went the soul-wrenching screams and pleas of Duo’s voice against his nightmares.  But he was disappointed as well.  He actually enjoyed helping the boy eat.  More often than not, the only way to get the Deathscythe pilot to eat was for Hiiro to take a mouthful of soup, press his lips to Duo’s, and let the warm liquid drip from his mouth into the others.  It was a feeling he found himself missing more often than he liked to admit.

It was insane actually, the way he felt towards the other pilot.  He was the perfect soldier, bred to be nothing more than a kamikaze mobile suit pilot.  But in a single month, his world had changed from that ideal to a world of conflicting emotion, from considering Duo nothing more than an obstacle to almost admitting that he loved that orchid eyed angel that called himself Death…

Hiiro was fixing lunch when Duo stepped out of the shower.  He wasn’t exactly sure how he felt about everything that was happening.  One the one hand, he was glad Hiiro had stopped him.  He was glad Hiiro had decided to stay with him, at least for the moment.  But on the other hand, he was still very depressed.  He couldn’t figure out why the psychotic Wing Zero pilot was acting like he was.  He was being almost… human… instead of a damned machine like his precious laptop.  Still, he kept it all to himself inside his head, as always.  Better to pretend nothing had happened than to face unwanted questions.

With a sigh, he wrapped his hair up in a towel, slipped on a pair of boxers and walked out into the sunlight room.

Hiiro nearly choked on his sandwich when he saw Duo step into the room.  He swallowed hard and looked back down at his plate, suddenly very glad he was sitting down.  If Duo said anything as he came in, he missed it completely.  The only true sound Hiiro heard was the rushing of his blood in his veins.  Icily, he told his body to take a cold shower, but his mind was having too much fun with the sight of a certain, near-naked Gundam pilot.

Duo, on the other hand, missed his partner’s reaction to his entrance completely.  He curled up on the end of his bed and began rooting though his things, looking for some clean clothes.  He frowned.  He needed to do laundry, badly.  Dumping the bag’s contents into his lap, he absently began sorting it into different piles, checking his pockets for anything of value that he might have stuffed in there and forgotten about.  When all was said and done, he found seventeen dollars cash and thirty-two cents, a few candy wrappers, a half eaten pack of chewing gum and two necklaces.  He held the necklaces up, examining them while the sun glinted off their golden and silver surfaces.

“What are those?” Hiiro inquired as he cleaned up his lunch.

Duo licked his lips.  That was one of those unwanted questions.  “…They were presents…”

“May I see?”  After a little hesitation, he held them up for the Japanese pilot to inspect.  Hiiro took them in hand and studied them carefully.  Without looking up, he asked, “Who gave them to you?”

There’s unwanted question number two.  “The cross was given to me at Christmas by a man named Father Maxwell.”  Hiiro arched an eyebrow at the name.  “He said it had been in his family since before people even dreamed of living amongst the stars.  The Saint Christopher was given to me by a very close friend… just before he died…”

Hiiro sat down across from Duo, handing back the two gifts.  “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.  Shoot.”

“Who’s Solo?”

The Deathscythe pilot stared at him for a moment, then began rummaging around for his hairbrush, nervous.  Hiiro was certainly very inquisitive today.  So far he had hit the very core of everything Duo did *not* want to talk about.  He hissed as his arms began to ache where he’d slashed them.  The Japanese youth patiently stood and found the brush for him.

“You need to be careful and not pull out those stitches.  Sally went to a lot of hard work putting them in,” he said as he settled down behind Duo and removed the towel from his hair.  Damp chestnut locks fell into his lap as he gently began to brush away the tangles.  He was amazed at the luster and texture of his friend’s hair.  It was so fine and silky to the touch, with a near-permanent wave to it because it was always in a tight braid.

“So, are you going to answer my question or not?” he asked, separating the hair into three sections before beginning to braid it.

Duo sighed.  Aw, hell.  Why not go for broke?  “Solo was my best friend on L2.  He was the one that gave me my name.”

“What do you mean?”

“…I don’t have a real name, Hiiro.  I just sort of appeared the streets of  L2 one day.”  He shivered involuntarily at the memories that surfaced.  “I… I would have never survived if Solo hadn’t come along.  I didn’t have enough power to backup my big mouth, so I got into a lot of trouble.”

“Hn.”

“Solo wasn’t his real name, but everyone called him that because he was the best of the best out there.  He… picked me up one day, told me to do as I was told and to stick close to him.  And just like that,” he snapped his fingers, “I wasn’t touched.  I guess Solo made it perfectly clear that anyone who touched me would die.

“I learned everything I know basically from him, about the art of distraction, breaking and entering, thieving, subterfuge, being a street rat.  Even though he wouldn’t admit it, I surpassed even his abilities.  We made a fantastic, unstoppable team.  Soon people started calling me Duo… and it sort of stuck.

“Then the plague came… Solo got sick… Security got stingy with the antidote… and he…”  Duo paused, blinking back his tears.  “And he died, in my arms.  Before he died, he gave me the Saint Christopher, and told me that if by some miracle I survived, that he wanted me to go to this church and live there.”  Hiiro finished the braid off and began searching for a tie.

“And did you?” he asked, finally locating one in the mess on the bed.

“Well, it wasn’t for lack of trying.  I pretty much gave myself up for dead after that.  But I never caught the thing.  So I had no other choice, I had promised him.

“I spent a little less than two years there.  It was crowded and in desperate need of repair, but Father Maxwell and Sister Helen were nice enough people.  They were the ones that taught me to smile, even when it hurt.  That’s when I got the cross.

“Then the military began to crack down even harder and the church…”  Again, he had to pause before continuing.  “…the church was burned to the ground, along with everyone in it…

“I wasn’t there at the time, so I was the only one that survived.  That’s when I took the name of Maxwell as my last name.  So that when I fought with Deathscythe, then I’d be avenging everyone they killed.”

A callused hand traced the shadowline of Duo’s shoulder.  He stiffened and the hand removed itself.

“Gomen,” Hiiro mumbled before moving off the bed.  Whether he was sorry for Duo’s past, or for the touch, Duo had no idea.  But he found that he really didn’t care, either.  It just thrilled him that Hiiro cared enough to at least comment.  That in itself was a large accomplishment.

-Maybe,- he thought, turning around just in time to watch the Wing Zero pilot disappear out of the bedroom.  -Just maybe, he would understand…-

Hiiro walked downstairs.  He needed to get away from the Duo.  Though he had managed to stem most of the confusion in his head, their little talk had managed to let loose the floodgate.  So he was semi-relieved when he happened across the sight of two bare feet sticking out on the other side of the counter that separated the kitchen from the dining room.  Closer inspection showed that the feet belonged to a sprawled out Wufei, and a very exhausted Wufei at that.

Two ebony eyes opened as he approached.  “Please tell me there is a break in mission updates, Hiiro.”

“There is a break in the mission updates, Wufei.”

His eyes closed and sighed.  “Thank_the_Gods!”  There was a beep from his left.  The Shenlong pilot groaned and cracked open one eye.  “There’s no justice in the world!!  I knew I spoke to soon.  Now I understand why Duo complains about that damn machine.  I think I can learn to hate it too…”

“Hn.”  Hiiro stepped over Wufei and tapped the laptop.  “Why don’t you go to bed, Wufei?  I’ll take care of this.”

“What about Duo?”

“You’ll still be here.  And Trowa and Quatre aren’t that far away if anything serious happens.  You need sleep.  Don’t worry about it.”

The Shenlong pilot was too tired to really argue and stumbled off to find his bed and some well-deserved rest.  Hiiro sat down, still clicking, checking the details of the mission profile.  If he left right away and the mission went off without a hitch, he’d only be gone a few days.  Plus this was an excellent time for him to get away from a certain Gundam pilot and analyze the conflicting emotions in his head.

“Ninmu ryokai.”  He clicked off the laptop.

“You… you’re leaving?”  Hiiro looked up to see Duo standing in the kitchen doorway.  His eyes were clouded with confusion and hurt.  He clenched his jaw and took a few steps forward, only to have his knees give out beneath him and tears streak down his face.  Hiiro reached out to help, only to have his hands slapped away.

“Damn it, Yui!  You *promised* me!” he sobbed.  Hiiro reached out again and hugged the fragile body to him.  The braided pilot buried his face in the dark-haired youth’s shoulder, his fist pounding on Hiiro’s chest.  “You promised you wouldn’t leave me alone!”

“I’m not leaving you alone, Duo.  Wufei is here.  But he’s tired.  He needs to rest for while.  It’s not fair that he gets stuck doing all of our missions.  I’m strong enough to pilot, so I need to do this.”

“Screw what’s fair!  When has life ever been fair?!  Please, please, Hiiro, don’t go…  Don’t leave me…”

“Gomen, Duo, but I’ve already accepted the mission.  I’ll be back as soon as the profile allows.”

“Hiiiiro…”

“Gomen.”  Hiiro struck a pressure point in Duo’s neck, causing him to pass out.  He gathered the boy in his arms and carried him back upstairs.  There was going to be a dark bruise where he had struck, but there was nothing to be done about it now.  The Wing Zero pilot quickly packed his things, taking what he really needed.  He was going to go there, complete the mission, and get back.  He wrote a quick note to Duo and to Wufei before slipping out of the house, locating his Gundam, and taking off.

-Duo, I have no choice.  This is my life.  This is the only thing that I know is real.  This is the only way I know how to live…-

Duo woke up about an hour later, the Wing Gundam Zero and its pilot long gone.  He had a dark bruise forming where he’d been struck.  He found his note and crumpled it before throwing it at the door after reading it. He sank back down to the bed again, crying quietly, his faced buried in a pillow and his entire slight frame shaking spasmodically. 

“Damn you, Hiiro!  Don’t you get it?  Don’t you understand anything that has happened between us?  We aren’t fighting all the time; this damn war won’t last forever!  You say you can’t live any other way, but we were human beings before we were Gundam pilots!    There are lots of people who live perfectly happy lives.  So why can’t we?

“Can’t we start a new life somewhere, together?”

 

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