Storm Clouds over Europe

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“Sit down, Heero.”

Before the command leaves her mouth, she’s sitting down as well, and now I notice the silver gray laptop in front of her. A small pile of glossy paper lies next to the laptop. I’m dying of curiosity, the nerves dying down completely. This is either going to be a really huge mission or she’s going to tell me something so important my ears will ring.

“I haven’t invited Duo for a reason.” Just like Wufei, she’s to the point and curt. Her shoulder length hair holds almost the same chestnut tones of Duo’s- why did she have to remind me of him in such a way?

“I would like to know that reason,” I answer. There isn’t a single trace of nervousness in my voice or on my face. Every word this woman speaks makes me more curious to what is really going to be said.

“You will learn the reason.” Her hand moves to the right, picking up the small pile of glossy papers. I notice that Wufei is sitting next to me, face completely neutral. He laces his fingers together, his elbows resting on the table.

“Do you remember these?”

She shoves the pile towards me, and I reach forward to take it. They’re pictures- I don’t recognize the first one; it’s from a man.. a decapitated man. I turn pale.

“Dimitrije Sudzukovic,” Une’s voice floats through the room. “Prague, Czech Republic, AC 200. He was arrested during a shooting in a café while Duo was in the middle of making a transaction…”

I nod, the memories surfacing again. “Our officer on duty there... Sedlacek… provided Trowa with some information. I had to go with Duo to the hospital because of his shot wound in the shoulder.”

The pictures are morbid, but strangely fascinating. I remember vividly that night when I was holding watch over Duo, and Trowa telling me the man in question was dead. I pull out the one underneath it and suppress my gag reflex. I don’t want to show weakness in front of Une, nor in front of Wufei.

“The bin is over there,” she says, knowing what these pictures must do to me. “I threw up as well.”

Sudzukovic was decapitated, and they’re still busy collecting the other player’s limbs.’ These are the pictures of how much there was collected of him; I close my eyes, forcing myself to breathe, to remain calm, to not give into the bile that wants to work its way out.

“Why?” I ask, hating myself for sounding like a kitten that’s just been beaten with a stick. These pictures work better than any torture method; I’m nauseous. It’s a good thing I didn’t have breakfast after all.

Une doesn’t answer me, but motions with her head: continue. I flip through the pictures, not recognizing any of them. I suddenly stop. The carpet and a piece of furniture on this picture is familiar. A 16th century divan, to be exact. The security guard.

“Harold Johnson, Eastbourne, AC 202,” Une says. “He worked as a security guard at the charity ball held by James Masterson, a well-known philanthropist at that time..”

“… and arrested for larceny, high-treason and blackmail, after it had been exposed that he bought and sold information…” I fill in the blanks.

“It was a narrow escape for the ESUN, as certain agents and coworkers were compromised,” she picks up on my words, displeasure clearly visible. “That’s not the point, Heero. Continue.”

I reach the last one on the bottom, thanking every deity known to me. This is getting on my nerves after all, and the pictures leave a horrid taste in my mouth. These people were murdered- no, slaughtered, and whatever mistake they made, no one deserves to end like this.

I don’t know if I’m to give the pictures to Wufei, so I leave them right in front of me, the bizarre image of a headless body imprinted on my retina. I swallow a few times. Une looks at me, sympathy in her eyes- but not for long.

“You’re wondering why I’ve called for you, why you’re here, and why I’ve shown you these pictures, and why I haven’t sent for Duo as well.”

“Exactly,” I answer, glad to find my voice in its usual stoic tone again. My mind is already busy filing the horror of the pictures away- for future reference, however bizarre that may sound. It’s information, plain and simple- I store information like no one else. Thinking back to Eastbourne, I remember my surprise concerning the strange behavior of Duo at the time of the mission. He claimed he hadn’t been spotted by the guard, only to change his statement later that he knocked him out- and Quatre…

“These are different pictures from those that Quatre has shown me.”

She smiles, a bit wearily. “These aren’t hardcore enough for you, Heero? I’ve selected the least offensive.”

I incline my head a little, offering her my silent apologies for my brash behavior. Either she doesn’t notice or doesn’t take offence, because she starts talking again.

“I think you’ll be interested in hearing about how they met their demise. What did you see, when looking at the pictures?”

“The murder weapon had to be extremely sharp, and the murderer had to be extremely precise and proficient in wielding that weapon. Trowa mentioned to me that Sudzukovic had been decapitated-” I swallow again, “- in one swift motion.”

“Go on.”

“The cuts appear to be too smooth to be a mere knife,” I say. “Besides, a knife is too short to make such a cut in one swing. I’m thinking of another weapon- a sword, a katana, a wakazashi?”

Wufei taps on the pictures, his sudden movement almost startling me. “We’ve investigated these cases, and used several weapons to imitate the swing of the cut. We used dummies, of course.”

“Of course,” I repeat dryly, wondering why Wufei of all people is involved in this. What are they both going on about?

Une leans back into the chair, her hands placed palm down on the table. The harsh light isn’t really flattening her; due to the shadows cast over her face, she suddenly looks predatory and vile. “The murderer didn’t use a contemporary weapon.”

“A samurai sword?”

“No,” she says, her voice taking on a brusque tone. “Like Wufei said, we’ve investigated these cases, and employed considerable quite some time and effort to find out what the murderer has used.”

“Why?”

“The murder weapon is a scythe.”

Duo?

Her posture doesn’t change, she just looks at me. Neutrality at its finest; I can’t make out any emotion on her face. Her red lipstick seems to mock me; it’s ironically a color that resembles fresh, spilled blood.

I blink. My thoughts are racing with unimaginable speed through my mind.

“Interesting that you call out his name,” Une finally speaks. “I haven’t named him, nor uttered any suspicion about his involvement.”

“But you do believe he’s involved,” I protest, though not too strongly.

The silence is overwhelming. I look from Wufei to Une and back again, only to be stared back, right in the eye. They’re serious. Serious as hell.

“Preposterous!” I slam my fist on the table- now at least Une has the decency to blink with her eyes. “Only because his Gundam had a scythe, you suspect him of murders apparently committed with a scythe?”

“It’s not ‘apparently’, Heero,” Une snaps back, “we’ve had several teams research this, and they all reached the independent conclusion: it was a scythe, judging from everything- the swing, the impact, the sharpness of the cut. I didn’t give this to quacks or simple research assistants, should you doubt our work.”

“I don’t doubt the outcome of the tests,” I answer. “I don’t argue with facts and hard, clear evidence. I just doubt that Duo has anything to do with this. Once again, because his Gundam had a scythe, you suspect he’s involved with this?” The horror in my voice increases with every word. “Duo’s not capable of doing this to any human being.”

“Shinigami is,” Wufei mutters under his breath, but I hear him.

“Quit that fucking stupid Shinigami thing!” I raise my voice, repressing my urge to hit him in the face with the pictures. “Duo isn’t the God of Death! He never was and he never will be! Don’t tell me you believe in what he claimed to be? He was fifteen, he was in the middle of a war, he had blood on his hands like we all did and do, and claiming to be Shinigami was his way of dealing with the horror thrust on him!”

“Duo had difficulties distinguishing his own beliefs and ideals after the war. He wasn’t prepared for a time without fighting and started to ask himself what he had done, and if fighting in the name of peace justified the sins he committed.” Une’s eyes never leave mine, and I know what she’s talking about.

“If he told you that in confidence, I’m not the one you should be telling this to,” I answer, voice clipped.

“It’s in his file, Heero. I’ll admit that we waited on purpose to recruit him the last. We of course knew that you would want to work together with him, and we were quite surprised that he was willing to sign on.”

“What’s the difficulty here? You know what Duo is capable of. Why did you wait?”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Heero. We don’t. We don’t know where he’s capable of.”

My original curiosity is turning into irritation. “Will you please be so kind as to cut the crap? Either accuse Duo of something so I can disprove it, together with him, or tell me what’s going on, plain, simple and easy.”

I turn my head, looking at Wufei. That he uttered the word “Shinigami” has taken me most by surprise. I don’t consider Wufei as being superstitious or believing in the concept of the God of Death for that matter. He and Duo never talked about it- they never had much interaction to begin with.

“What’s going on, plain, simple and easy.” Une repeats my words, and I don’t miss out on the sarcasm she endorses her voice with. “As you wish, Heero. You have a right to know it, of course. It’s as simple as that. Deaths, murders, seem to follow your cases, and the cases tie themselves together. The two card players that died in Prague, part of that smuggling organization you were about to arrest, featured on Masterson’s list of people he was busy buying himself into. Some of the cases of the past four years, always cases you and Duo were working on, can be tied to deaths in the same style as you just saw on the pictures- even months later. Someone is systematically killing people involved with your missions, and though not everyone involved ends up dead, the key figures do- and always with minimum knowledge, only known by you, Duo, and maybe two or three others who can be simply excluded. Why? Because the murder weapon is a scythe, that yes, automatically links us to Duo Maxwell.”

She pauses to take a deep breath. I know my eyes are wide; they’re hurting from the way I widen them in amazement, listening to the woman I respected… respected for her ability to deal with everything with dignity and grace, not for her absolutely crazed idea that my Duo is a killer. I forget all about Wufei, though I hear him breathing a bit erratically. Most of this is probably new to him as well, and I refuse to give it a second thought. She tilts her head, a minimum of movement.

“Plain, simple and easy, Heero. We suspect Duo Maxwell of having either lost a grasp on reality, believing that he kills the ‘bad people’ in name of justice and peace, or having developed another personality as the God of Death, and is killing for the sheer fun of it.”

“Listen… just listen to yourself.”

My voice is barely audible; but the acoustics in the room are good enough for everybody to hear. “Just listen to yourself,” I repeat. “This is Duo Maxwell we’re talking about. Gundam pilot, friend, fighter…” I almost choke, as I wanted to say “lover” as well, “… he was standing by us through every ordeal, he came through for any one of us. How could you even consider thinking of him this way?”

Une nods, and just now I realize she’s not wearing glasses. What happened to her glasses? Contacts, my mind informs me, and I suppress the urge to shake my head. Now is not the time to focus on such details.

“This isn’t something that came to pass over the last few weeks, Heero. This has been a process of years, and still I’m reluctant to believe it. You don’t know how much effort it takes me to even pronounce these words, to face what I have explained to you. I don’t know Duo as well as you do, and that’s maybe for the best, as I can keep an objective...”

“Objective?” I fairly scream. “What do you mean, objective? You accuse Duo of being a murderer! You think he’s got a second personality- what are you talking about?”

“You know very well what I’m talking about, and if we’re dealing with a split personality, I certainly am the person to talk about it.” Something flickers in her eyes, a flash of sadness and remembrance, immediately replaced by a little anger and grief. I don’t care. Whatever she did in the war, in the name of peace, in the name of Treize Khushrenada, I didn’t hold anything against her.

People make decisions, and sometimes they’re wrong. People make choices, and sometimes they’re wrong. We all make mistakes- no matter how many people will tell me that I’ve been nothing but the awful “Perfect Soldier”, I have made mistakes as well. Marshall Noventa. My less-than-stellar suicide attempts. Rebuking Relena. Thinking that I could do everything on my own, all by myself, only to feel empty, alone, unwanted- until Duo came along. I close my eyes. Duo didn’t exactly ‘come along’, he was just always there. In the background, patiently waiting for me to see that he was there, all the time, offering his hand, his shoulder, his life, everything. I curse the time it took for my eyes to finally see him; for my mind to finally acknowledge him as so much more, for my heart to finally admit to love him. He moved in with me after I told him that I loved him, and we never looked back. It was a tumultuous time as we needed more adjusting than we originally thought, but there was always something.. that thing there that kept us together. Love? The essence of our very souls? A bond beyond breaking, founded in critical days? Whatever it was, whatever it is, whatever it will be; it holds us together stronger than anything I’ve ever seen or ever experienced. Duo Maxwell is mine, not Shinigami’s, not ESUN’s, not Une’s, not Wufei’s... not anyone else’s. Mine.

I ignore Wufei sitting next to me and I stare Une right in the eyes. She meets my glare, unfazed- like I’ve noticed before- this woman is not to be trifled with. I know -I can see it- how much she believes in what she said, in the accusations she just flung around the room. I also know that Une isn’t the person to lightly accuse someone of something; it has taken a process of years. A process of years that led her to reach this conclusion and think about my Duo as a murderer.

“Innocent until proven guilty.”

“Heero.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“Heero. The... what I said, is of course not something to be taken very lightly. We’re talking about your significant other, your friend, and our esteemed colleague. Still, you’ll have to admit there are certain changes visible in Duo, changes that convince me more and more of the theory I just explained to you.”

Changes in Duo? I hear her words, but they don’t seem to stick around in my brain. In one ear, out the other. This isn’t true. They’re just telling lies. My Duo is nothing like they’re imagining him. They’re not the ones who live with him.

“Maxwell has cut his communications shorter over the last periods of time,” Wufei starts talking. “His tone in his vid-mails has changed significantly in the time he’s been sending them.”

I haven’t noticed Wufei putting another small pile of paper on the table; apparently print-outs of the vidmails correspondence. “I’ve analyzed his speech pattern from these vid-mails, and a harsher and less compassionate tone is clearly noticeable.”

“I didn’t notice you kept up with vid-mails so well,” I snap. “You’re not exactly the one to invite for tea and biscuits either, Wufei.”

“I’m not the one who goes from “Hey Wufei, how’s it hanging” to “Chang, everything well” and leave larger time gaps when maintaining contact,” he defends himself. He taps on the paper. “It’s just a minor example, but when investigating, I’ve researched every lead and option possible.”

“You’ve been investigating Duo? Why wasn’t I told?”

“Exactly because of the way you’re reacting now,” Une tells me, voice curt. “Heero, he’s your significant order and you’re hardly objective when it comes to him. That’s understandable, of course, but it clouds your perspective on the case. We also base our actions on the facts, not on the emotions involved.”

“The deaths of those people are undeniable,” Wufei continues. “They’ve been killed with a weapon that has been indisputably identified as a scythe. The swing of the weapon, the cleanness of the cut, the impact. No arguments possible.”

“It can be someone else. Duo doesn’t wield a scythe. He uses knifes when in danger, or guns on a mission, whatever the situation requires at the time.”

“The choice of a scythe as murder weapon is indeed a very eccentric one,” Une admits, her eyes never leaving mine. I get a bit tired of her scrutinizing gaze. Is she testing me? Does she want to know if I can handle a particularly stressful situation? If so, she certainly has chosen a painful subject: my only weakness, my Duo. No, Duo is not my weakness- he’s my strength. He’s the one beside me, in front of me, behind me, next to me. He’s everywhere, enveloping me in his exuberance, his warmth, his kindness. Duo isn’t a killer- certainly not a meaningless one. The casualties at his hand were just that- casualties in war, victims for a greater goal. I swallow. Am I already running in circles, running to his defense?

“We have no reason to suspect Duo if it weren’t for the victims,” Une continues, her posture still rigid. “Every one of the victims was in some way tied to your cases. The ones you and Duo did together. You are level 8 agents- information about those cases are top classified, and the contribution of others is restricted to a minimum. Level 8 agents are working solo, without any back-up, without any support of the ESUN should they be apprehended.”

“I know my level and Duo’s as well.” I try to remain as curt as her. I can play the same game, if that’s what she wants. “I’m not the one to talk to about this. Have you ever considered talking to Duo? It seems to me that he’s the one most involved, and yet we’re talking about him without him present.”

Wufei shifts in his chair, as if he’s feeling uncomfortable. I ignore him yet again. A faint feeling of betrayal is settling into my stomach - I’d never have expected one of us to work against us. I still consider us five as something different, as a band of brothers, an entity outside of the larger whole, an exclusion to the common rule. Chang Wufei has always been a loner, but he was involved as well in the war, and there’s something between us unmistakably; him investigating my Duo feels like a stab to my chest.

Une leaves her hands on the table, fingers a little splayed. The silver laptop matches well with her business suit; efficiency and calmness all around. I narrow my eyes. Something is really off about this; her calm tone of voice, her perfect composure. She’s already condemned Duo.

I drum with my fingers on the tabletop. “The accusation is preposterous. A scythe is not Duo’s exclusive weapon, there could be many others picking up on that idea, however revolting that may be. I’d rather investigate the ranks and conduct in the ESUN before accusing one of your valued level 8 agents.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Wufei asks, picking up on my growing irritation.

“Exactly what I said. The Masterson’s list was crawling with names of ESUN agents and clerks who were willing to blab about missions and policies for the right amount of money.”

It’s a low shot, but it has its effect; even Une is frowning, inclining her head a little. “The people mentioned on the Masterson’s list were low-key, and have all been replaced or reprimanded. The information they sold was from closed or cold cases, and has not harmed any of the running cases at that time. No agent higher than level 4 has been compromised.”

“Low key or not, if Duo didn’t get that list, Masterson would’ve worked his way up higher and who knows which high-placed officials he would’ve bought.”

“The list isn’t of any importance regarding this,” Une cuts me off. “The ESUN has had enough exposure thanks to the Masterson case, and we don’t need to rake up all of this. We’re talking about Duo here, or at least about a murderer with a scythe. That guard is dead, Heero, and he was killed unnecessarily.”

“Duo didn’t kill him,” I grit my teeth.

“You mentioned in your report about the Masterson case that he gave contradictory explanations, and in his own report he hardly mentions the guard at all. We’ve monitored Duo’s evaluations, and we discovered the same tendency as Wufei did with the vidmail correspondence; he answers more harshly, less compassionately, with a more crude use of language.”

I have no answer but to shrug. Every agent, low ranked or not, has to submit himself to an evaluation after every three or four missions, depending on the intensity of the mission. Higher level agents are more often evaluated than anyone else, if only to monitor their psychological development- after being exposed to particularly radical missions, some people tend to react strangely… sometimes they become numb after seeing too many deaths, or develop ‘invincible’ feelings after having survived a precarious situation.

I don’t hate those evaluations; I know how to deal with the events resulting from missions- my military training gave me the ability to do so. No matter how much I abhor certain aspects of my training, some things that I learned from it give me the capacity to cope. With Duo by my side, he gives me the strength it takes to cope, always. I never discuss my evaluations with Duo, not does he discuss his with me. I don’t know why, we just never talk about it. Psychology isn’t Duo’s forte, or mine- what we discuss, is up to ourselves. We respect it if the other doesn’t want to talk yet. It always comes out, sooner or later, one way or the other.

“Heero, we’re not looking for a scapegoat or someone conveniently around to place the blame on. This is a real problem we have on our hands here. People are killed, and those people are tied to cases you and Duo exclusively work on or have worked on. The pattern has become more visible in the last few months; though some of the deaths can be linked to years back.”

“You have to talk to Duo about this,” I repeat my words. “I’m not the one to talk to about this. What is it that you want from me- admit that he’s been Shinigami all along and that the God of Death will come for us all?”

Wufei shakes his head. “You know very well how Maxwell reacts to someone referring to him as Shinigami.”

“You both know how Duo reacts to accusations,” I bark.

“He’ll take it very personally and will go to the very limit to prove the accuser wrong. And when Duo goes to the very limit, he...”

“Stop defaming him! You’re talking about him as if he’s some kind of monster! Listen to you! Listen to yourselves! You’ve already accused him and condemned him- do you know already how you’re going to execute him?”

“Heero, don’t be ridiculous,” Une retorts, her eyes spitting fire. “We’ll do everything to prove there are reasonable explanations behind this, to solve this matter objectively and efficiently. You’re pulling everything out of proportion. We only have the facts to base our investigation on, and you have to admit that some things are not measuring up very well.”

“You’ll do everything to prove there are reasonable explanations behind this? So far, I’ve heard nothing else but accusations at Duo’s expense, claiming and believing that he’s either the God of Death or a scythe-wielding killer, lots of pictures of gruesome deaths, and nothing that you’ve actually investigated beyond this. You’re assuming that he’s the killer, not weighing any other option.”

“The fact that the majority of the victims are tied to your cases narrows it down.” Une doesn’t mask the impatience in her voice, her tone like a schoolmaster addressing a stubborn child. “Heero, I want this solved to everyone’s satisfaction, and Wufei will tell you how we’re going to do that. Disregarding Duo in this matter, you must admit that the killings are very strange.”

“I can’t believe that you didn’t inform me,” I answer stiffly, not about to give in. “I understand about the personal involvement… but this was too… bizarre to leave me out of the loop.”

“You get another chance. Or rather, Duo gets another chance to redeem himself, without him even knowing that. The mission I’m about to discuss with you is for our ears only- me, you, Wufei, Duo’s. Nothing of this mission has been put to paper or has been recorded in any other way. It’s non-existent except to us four.”

My ears are pricking up at the word “mission” and the secrecy, adrenaline already running through my body. I don’t like Une’s tone of voice though, nor the way she talks about getting another chance”, implying that I need to shut up about the previously discussed topic. How am I going to keep it a secret from Duo? He immediately knows when I’m not telling him everything, and he’s going to ask tons of questions when I return- even though he pretended not to care, I know he’s really hurt that I was the only one to be invited and not him as well.

“You, Duo and Wufei are going to make contact with Salvatore Benedetti, of the Benedetti-Lardanzare steel and iron manufacturers. Their main headquarters and largest factory are just outside of Florence. They produce the larger iron and steel works; train tracks, construction sites, rigs, you name it.”

She taps on the keyboard of the laptop and turns it around, showing me the screen with a picture of an Italian who confirms the stereotype of the mafia; small, shady, with a mustache and a cigar, a Stetson hat drawn low over his head so his eyes are hardly visible -if that were possible from behind the large Ray-Bans- and jewelry on his fingers. Gold and platinum, as far as I can see.

“Salvatore Benedetti,” Wufei repeats, “is being suspected of rebuilding mobile suits without an official ESUN contract and selling it to the highest bidder. The increasing shipments of certain parts were noticed by some of our contacts and everything points to this man.”

I snort. “Mobile suit plans and designs aren’t public, and engineers capable of constructing them have all been registered. I thought ESUN was keeping an eye on them?”

“We are,” Une answers, slightly smiling. “We have them on a very short leash. We want to put a stop to his plans before he can put them into effect. Wufei is going to be in charge of the latest shipment of titanium. A shipment of titanium for a steel and iron factory.”

“He’s either incredibly stupid or incredibly bold to openly laugh in the face of ESUN,” I admit. The man doesn’t look exactly bright to me- maybe he thinks he can get away with massive shipments of steel and titanium for his factory and whilst secretly constructing mobile suits for the highest bidder.

“Does he have bidders already?”

“That’s up to you to find out,” Une moves the laptop back, knowing that I’ve had enough time to memorize the man’s face. “Mobile Suits are currently used for some peacekeeping missions on the colonies” -a hint of… melancholy in her voice?- “and at the moment, not involved in any warfare or disputes.”

“What about Duo?” I ask.

“I’m going to pick you up this afternoon,” Wufei answers the question, “and we go together to Benedetti. With a bit of luck, we can get a tour of the factory- where you will use your eyes and ears, of course. You’ll return late in the night to fix things.”

Explosions- Duo’s going to love this one. I forcefully refrain from showing my sour look- this mission has another side without him even knowing it; his innocence in a murder case is on the line. I don’t know what’s happening, but what I do know is that Duo’s never going to leave my side.

Never.

I return to the Hotel Brunelleschi as miserably as if I have lead in my shoes. My excitement about the new mission is completely overshadowed by the ominous words of Une, her implied accusations, her whole manner of depicting Duo as some God of Death... and Wufei sitting there and not once, not even once, sticking up for his friend. Is Wufei really that objective? So objective that he can even turn his back on his fellow pilot, who fought right next to his side in two wars?

The porter greets me in a friendly way and it’s purely automatic that I return the greeting, my mind occupied with Duo. What am I going to tell him? He’ll be glad about the new mission, especially because of the potential of explosions being involved, but he’ll see right through me, and asking me what’s going on.

I stab the button for the elevator. Damn Une, damn Wufei! How dare he sit right next to me and talk about Duo as if he was some cold-hearted killer? The victims were related to our cases, and our cases were classified… that narrows it down, just like Une said. Why didn’t they assume that I could be the killer? Because of the scythe? Is my Duo so associated with something as... repulsive as a scythe that they automatically pinned it on him? I step into the elevator, stabbing the button again to go up. Duo was very proud of his twin scythe of his Gundam; he didn’t call his Gundam ‘partner’ for nothing. I guess we all developed some kind of bond with our Gundam, whether subconsciously or not. I didn’t shed a tear when my Wing Zero was destroyed, but if it were to be rebuilt, I’d give my left arm to fly in it again.

The elevator opens and I make my way over to our hotel room, the plastic card functioning as a key already in my hand. When I insert it into the slot, I briefly wonder what’s behind the door- what am I going to find in our room? Shinigami with a scythe in his hands, or my Duo waiting for me, preferably with open arms?

It dawns me that Une has made me doubt him... made me doubt the one I love and care enough for to die for. I don’t know who I hate the most at that brief moment; Une for making me doubt, or myself, allowing Une to make me doubt. There’s no God of Death behind this door, only my Duo, and he’s life incarnate; with his vibrant eyes, his rambunctious laugh, his warmth, his everything.

I open the door and silence greets me. For a split second fear grips my heart- he has left me. It’s never this quiet with Duo in a room; maybe he went for another dive in the pool? My hand reaches for the cell phone in my back pocket while I walk through the large suite. I spot him soon enough; he’s asleep on the bed. Something that stems from his war days, a routine I usually adopt as well; when the opportunity presents itself, get some rest. Especially in those hectic days we needed every single bit of rest we could get, even if it was for only fifteen minutes. It allows us right up to today to be able to sleep whenever we want, wherever we want. Duo sleeps as easily for half an hour curled up in a chair as eight hours straight in a king size bed. The quality of the sleep may be a little bit less, but it’s sleep and that’s what counts. Some habits are hard to unlearn, and in our line of work, it’s better to hold on to certain habits instead of abandoning them. This isn’t exactly a nine-to-five job.

“Duo,” I softly say. Never disturb a sleeping soldier. He’s silent as a grave and just when that thought flitters through my mind, I shiver. Shaking my head, I take a few steps forward. “Duo,” I repeat his name, louder. He lies so still, so frighteningly still. I can barely see his chest heaving up and down- he’s breathing, isn’t he?

“Duo!”

To hell with the ‘never disturb a sleeping soldier’, if he doesn’t respond to another call, I’m going to shake his shoulder, and shake him good. He lies on his side, hands tucked under the pillow -a soldier is never far away from his weapon-, face uncharacteristically devoid of any emotion. I’ve watched Duo sleep often enough, and I’ve been amused pretty much with his facial expressions during his sleep. It’s almost like a play- he scrunches his nose, wriggles his nose, bites his lip, flicks his tongue out, and sometimes moves his hand up to pluck at his ear. He never makes a sound in his sleep, though- a good soldier is a silent soldier.

“Duo! Wake up!”

He finally moves, rotating his shoulder a little. He draws up his leg, stretching the other. Slowly, he retracts his hands from under the pillow. “Hmm.. Heero?”

“Good afternoon sleepyhead,” I say. “I’m back again.”

Duo makes a noncommittal sound, not opening his eyes. He lifts his hand, extending it to me. A bit baffled, I accept his hand, only to find me pulled on top of him the next second, his large eyes looking right at me.

 

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Chapter 7 | Chapter 9 |