Mechanics of Relationships:

Sorrow and Anger

Hiiro x Duo

 

Tawnya Kisaragi

 

Hiiro shifted the car into park and turned off the engine, turning to look at his lover.

“Ready?” he asked.

Duo sighed and nodded his head.  Hiiro nodded as well and opened his door.  After catching a few fitful hours of sleep, the two pilots had begun a slow journey to the hospital.  Just as the trip to the safehouse had been made in silence, so was the trip back to the hospital, only this silence was one of anxiety instead of fear and shock.

The Deathscythe pilot soon joined his lover at the entrance to the hospital, a look of dread plastered on his face.  In a gesture of comfort, Hiiro wrapped his hand around the end of Duo’s braid, gently tugging it once.  Duo managed a weak smile.

“I don’t think I can do this, you know.  I’ve always hated hospitals.  Too much can happen in a mere second in one of these places.  Life is so meaningless here, it seems.  It’s so empty.  I can’t stand it.”

“Then concentrate on me.  Just follow me, Duo, and I’ll take us to Quatre.  You don’t have to pay any attention to anything, just follow me.  I’m all that exists in there.”

He nodded, falling into step behind the Wing Zero pilot, eyes fixed on a spot between the Japanese youth’s shoulders.  Adeptly, Hiiro moved in and out of the crowded hospital, leading his charge through the maze of halls and rooms.  They stopped only once to ask which room Quatre could be found in.  Again, Duo halted just outside of the door.

“Hiiro… I--”

“I’ll go in first to make sure everything is all right.  Will you be all right out here by yourself for a while?”

“Ha--hai.  I think so.”

Hiiro nodded and entered the hospital room, closing the door behind him.  The American teen leaned up against the wall and slowly slid down, doing his best to ignore the things going on around him.

-I can do this.  I’m a Gundam pilot, for crying out loud.  Hospitals should mean nothing to me, considering what I do for a living.-  An alarm went off somewhere down the hall.  Doctors and nurses alike rushed by, shouting orders and moving machinery.  -I am such a liar!  This is insane!  I need to get out of here.  I can’t do this.  Oh God, I’ve died and gone to…-

“Duo?”  The warm hand on his shoulder jerked the Deathscythe pilot out of his waking nightmare.  Wild violet meet cool Prussian blue.  “Daijoubu ka?”

“Maama.  Better now that you’re here.”

“Come on.  Quatre wants to talk to you.”  Hiiro hauled the other boy up and pushed him through the open door, quickly shutting it behind him.

At first, Duo tried to look anywhere but the bed where Quatre was.  It was a one-person room that had been painted dull white.  The floor was a mottled white-brown and the single window in the back had brown drapes.  The ceiling looked exactly like the other four walls in the room, save for the dome light in the center and the fact that one couldn’t hang a picture on the ceiling.  Finally, after Hiiro had once again calmly wrapped his hand around the end of Duo’s braid, the violet-eyed boy cautiously looked at the bed.  The edge was as high as his hip with the back pushed up.  An IV and an oxygen machine stood on either side of the bed.

And smack-dab in the middle was Quatre.

They stared at each other for a while before the Arabian youth pulled off his best Hiiro-imitation and said, “Duo.”

“Uh… Hi, Quatre…” Duo replied, his voice shaking.  Silence once again filled the medicated air of the hospital room.  “Um… Quatre?…  I--”

“There’s no need to explain, Duo.  Hiiro has already told me everything that happened.  I’m not angry with you.”

“Then why do you sound so angry?” the American asked, not really realizing he was voicing his thought.

Quatre stared at his friend for a moment before his expression softened.  “Oh, Duo.  I’m not angry with you.  I’m angry with what Trowa’s done to you.  We’re Gundam pilots.  Getting hurt sometimes is just a fact of life for us.  I’m not angry with you.  I’m anything but.”

The two boys matched gazes.  Slowly, tears of relief and joy seeped from Duo’s eyes as walked over and hugged the smaller boy.  Quatre smiled as he accepted and return the hug.

“I’m sorry, Quatre…”

“Duo, I told you--”

“I know.  I know!  I don’t have to be sorry.  But… can’t you just let me say it anyways?”

“…Yes, Duo.  You can.  You can say it if you want to…”

Fifteen minutes later, they were talking as if nothing had ever happened.  Duo still rubbed his eyes at odd points during the conversation, but the ever-present smile was back and firmly in place.  And it wasn’t just his normal mask.  No, the joy he felt was true.

Then all hell broke loose.

Trowa really didn’t have to say anything.  The slamming of the door and Wufei’s cursing said it all.  Quatre and Hiiro glared daggers at him while Duo scrambled to the questionable safety behind the hospital bed.  The Heavyarms pilot didn’t see anything except Duo and red.

Time slowed for Duo as he watched everything transpire.  Quatre started it all when he shouted to Trowa to stop and listen.  Hiiro and Wufei took a more direct approach and jumped their fellow pilot.  With an audible crack, the floodgate the young Deathscythe pilot had placed on his memories overflowed and broke away.

~*~

It was so bright in the alleyway.  Every available flashlight, bulb, lamp, and light had been brought and turned on.  There was no darkness, no patch of shadow to gain relief from the unyielding light.  It was scheme used to blind the opponent so that they couldn’t see the crowbar falling on their head.

A scheme that would have been perfect if Solo hadn’t been the opponent.

Duo shifted uncomfortably.  His hands had been tied behind his back at an odd angle and he was beginning to lose feeling.  Not only that, but it was almost time.  Silently he cursed himself, using words that would have easily left the most seasoned soldier speechless.  This entire mess was his fault.  If he had been messing around in their territory, then he wouldn’t have gotten caught and now Solo wouldn’t be risking his life to come and rescue him.  He shifted again and received a punch in the gut for his trouble. 

“Stop movin’ round so much, punk,” one of his guards hissed acidly.  For once in his life, Duo bit his tongue and remained content to glare daggers.  The guard was glad.  He’d heard the boy’s tongue before, and even though he hadn’t shown it at the time, he was going to have nightmares at the vivid images of death the captive had painted for him. 

Suddenly, a shadow appeared in the light.  It stood in the center of the artificial halo, at ease and comfortable with the light as a rat is with the dark.  One could almost see the smirk on the newcomer’s face.

“Solo!” Duo cried out, lunging forward despite his restraints.  The guard caught him by a lank of his ratty hair and yanked back hard enough to send the youth flying off his feet.

“I said stop movin’!  Now shut up and do as you’re told!”

“Solo!  Go back!  It’s a --”

The next blow shoved his head sent him about halfway through a brick wall.

“Duo!  S’okay!” Solo shouted back, his smirk never leaving his face.  “Calion, let him go!  It’s me ya want.  Me ya always wanted. He’s got nothin’ to do with this.  It’s between you and me.”

A second shadow appeared in front of the first.  “So, the brave and dashing rogue hero Solo finally decided to descend into the deep with the rest of us gutter-trash.  How kind of you, Saint Knight, to join us common folk.”

“Cut it, Calion.  I’m here for Duo.  Give him back to me or pay the consequences.”

“Listen Solo, in case you haven’t figured it out yet, you and your little pet are trespassin’ on my territory.  I call the shots here, not you, and you damn well know that.  And you’re certainly as hell in no position to be making demands.

“However, I am an entrepreneur, and willing to cut a deal with you.  If you leave the brat with us and give up half your territory, then I might be willing to consider lettin’ you live.”

“No deal.  I take Duo and we’re both leavin’ together.  You, on the other hand, might just get your ass kicked in the process.  We won’t go into what will happen to your gang after the fact.”

Calion pulled a knife.  “Then I say bring it on, Saint Knight!”

Before anyone could blink, Solo had brought forth one of his own knives and thrown it.  Calion stopped in his tracks and screamed; Solo’s knife was buried in his right eye.  With an audible roar of anger, the light was flooded with other gang members, all enraged at the fall of their leader.

Lightning split the sky as thunder rolled and soon the ever-odd rainstorm broke out in the L2 colony.  The dirt beneath the brawl’s feet soon turned to mud in the downpour, covering the group like a second skin.  The stinging rain soon brought Duo back to his senses and allowed his to slip from his binds and into the fray.  Quickly he located Solo and dragged them both away.

The storm reached its climax just as the two entered their hideaway.  Instantly, the younger kids swarmed around their elder guardians, eager to know the details of what had happened until they shushed away by some of the wiser members.  Left to themselves, Duo began wiping away the worst of the mud from his friend when his hand hit something super slick and Solo gasped in pain.  Confused and concerned, he peered into Solo’s pinched face before looking at his hand.  Even in the dark and with all the mud, he could clearly see the red stain that covered his hand.

Blood. 

Solo’s blood.

His hand was covered in Solo’s blood.

“S-Solo… I --”

Solo sat up, a hand gripping his side.  “S’okay, Duo.  It’s just a scratch.  Nothing to be worried about..”

~*~

-But it was something to worry about.  I caused you the pain.  I drew the blood from you.  Because of my stupidity, you were hurt.  And maybe if you hadn’t been struggling to heal yourself, you would have survived the plague that hit just days later.  If you hadn’t been hurt that day, the wound wouldn’t have become infected…and you wouldn’t have died…

-It’s all because of me…-

Duo shook his head.  History wasn’t repeating itself.  Hiiro was not Solo.  And Trowa wasn’t Calion.  He wasn’t on L2.  He was on Earth.  He was the pilot of the 02 Gundam Deathscythe with a mission to destroy OZ and free the colonies.  The year was AC 195.

Or was it the other way around?  Was the graveyard of the moon still staring him in the face?  Were the screams of the dead and dying still filling the night sky?  Were the fires at the church and in the ghettos still burning?  He couldn’t tell.  The ceaseless pounding in his head was making coherent thought a non-possibility.  All he could hear was the hammering of his own heart and his ragged breathing.

Then the world turned blissfully dark.

 

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