Disclaimer: Don't own them and don't make any money off of them. (Wah!)
Warning: Guy/Guy sex. Graphic. Violent. Language. Heero.. what's up with him?
Duo awoke with a start. Confused, he tried to make sense out of the slow turning of a wicker ceiling fan overhead and the odd rattan and bead board construction of the ceiling. Memory twitched, the wrong memory; a time when he had gone to South America on a mission. Deep in the jungles, he had huddled for days in an old hut, fending off biting insects and enduring ceaseless rain. It was a long moment before Duo remembered that there hadn't been a ceiling fan there, or even electricity to power such a thing.
Soft sheets. A good blanket. A queen size bed with tall posts at each end. The smell of orchids. Warm sunlight filtering onto hardwood floors from a clear, picture window. For a moment, Duo was relaxed and free of worry, admiring his surroundings and wondering, on the edge of consciousness, whether this was heaven and if he had died without knowing it.
"Yeah, right," Duo whispered sourly from a dry throat. "I must be alive because Shinigami isn't going to Heaven!"
Duo tried to sit up and regretted it. True memory washed over him as a stab of pain from his ribs warned him not to move again. Of course, he thought, this must be the bungalow Zechs had talked about. It bothered Duo that he couldn't remember being brought there. How much time had passed? What had happened while he had been sleeping? He remembered Zechs' intense, blue eyes and his strong arms as the man had carried him.
Duo experienced a strange double emotion, an odd, warm feeling and a crawling sense of trepidation. Both of those emotions centered on one thought and that thought meant different things depending on which emotion Duo thought about it with. That thought was this; Zechs could have done anything to him while he had been unconscious. That double meaning, and that tug of war of emotions, confused Duo badly. It felt like an assault and he fought back in the only way he knew how, by shoving the thought, and the accompanying emotions, down deep, viciously refusing to acknowledge them.
A doctor came into the room slowly, balancing a cup of tea gingerly on a saucer, eyes intent on the task. He settled, with exaggerated care, into a chair behind a simple desk, and sighed as he sipped at the hot tea.
"Watching over the dead?" Duo whispered.
The man looked up, startled. Duo didn't remember seeing him before, but the man looked kind and concerned, open face and baby blue eyes disarming as he smiled in relief and put aside his tea. He came to Duo's bedside, automatically checking the machines and Duo's vitals as he did so.
"You're a strong, young man," the doctor said in a voice as kind as his face. "Determined and stubborn too. You could have regained consciousness a lot quicker if you had allowed me to administer fluids and medications." He finished with the machines and then bent to look closely into Duo's eyes, checking for alertness. "How do you feel?"
"Disoriented," Duo replied. "Throat, dry as a bone. Stomach, nauseated. Ribs, agony. I feel like fifty Gundams used me for target practice. Is that a good enough description?"
"Ah," the doctor said with a small chuckle. Duo didn't see the humor, but he supposed the man was trying to reassure him with good bedside manner. "I could give you some mild pain relievers."
Duo gritted his teeth against saying yes. He had to stay sharp until he knew what the situation was. "No... thank you."
The doctor looked unhappy, not liking a patient in obvious pain, but he nodded, bowing to Duo's wish. That made Duo relax somewhat. If he wasn't going to be forced into taking medication, then perhaps Zechs had meant what he said. Duo decided to test his freedom immediately.
"I want to be taken to a hospital, now." Duo kept his voice firm and reasonable, despite the fact that it was still only a whisper.
The doctor actually brightened. "Really? That is a wise choice, young man. A hospital can treat you properly. I'll call for a car immediately." He began to walk away.
"Do you have to clear it with Zechs first, I mean Milliardo Peacecraft?" Duo asked quickly.
The doctor stopped and reassured him. "No, sir. I was told that you were in complete charge of your household and your care. Whatever you wish, shall be done. There won't be any delay."
The doctor began to leave again. He was almost to the door when Duo finally reacted. "Uh, wait a minute! I've changed my mind." The doctor paused, confused and disappointed. "I, ah, wasn't sure what was going on here," Duo explained. "But if I'm really in charge-" The doctor nodded, "then I guess I'll just stay put and let you take care of me." Duo gave the doctor his best grin. "Knowing Z- uh, Milliardo, I'll bet you're the best doctor there is."
The doctor actually blushed, pleased by the compliment. "I'd like to think so, sir," he replied modestly.
"Then I'm in very competent hands," Duo told him and relaxed back into his pillows. "Can I get something to eat and drink, doc?"
"Yes, of course," the doctor replied. "I'll see to it, though, I'm afraid you'll be restricted to soft foods until your stomach is in working order again. You've been on fluid nutrients for a long while."
Duo made a face, but managed to keep on his smile. "I can handle it. I use to have to eat much worse when I was out on missions."
The doctor looked almost shy. He stared at the floor for so long that Duo became slightly nervous. Finally, the man looked up and his blue eyes were shinning. "I just wanted to say, sir, something that can't be said often enough by the colonists and by the people of Earth..."
Duo blinked, confused. "What's that?"
"Thank you for your sacrifice. Thank you for helping us be free and at peace."
The man was embarrassed now. He ducked his head and left the room. Duo stared after him. After so much indifference, and after meeting so many who just wanted to forget about the war and Gundam pilots, Duo was amazed and touched by this one man's gratitude. He covered his eyes with his shaking hand and tried to breathe deep and not cry.
"What's this?" Zechs raised eyebrows as a man put a ragged box on the table in front of him. The table was already full of paperwork and glowing palm screens, all vying for Zechs' immediate attention. The Winter Estate was warm and comfortable , usually reserved for vacations, but Zechs' duties never ceased. If he hoped for any time to visit Duo Maxwell that afternoon, he had to make some inroad into the work load. He didn't need to be interrupted by nervous servants with strange boxes. "Well?" he prompted irritably.
The servant bowed slightly, "Sorry to interrupt, sir, but this came by one of your transports from the Peacecraft home in the States."
"By transport?" Zechs was shocked and ready to be angry. "Who authorized that? What could be so important as to waste that kind of fuel and manpower?"
The servant flushed uncertainly. "That wasn't it's only cargo, sir. It was delivering new parts and supplies as well."
Zechs relaxed, anger cooling, but the box was still presenting him with its irritating presence. He opened it with sharp movements, ripping tape impatiently and then laying open the worn, cardboard flaps. Staring inside cautiously, suddenly thinking about Yates and maybe more subtle forms of attack, Zechs relaxed when he saw the dark clothing. He pulled them out with a scowl.
"Clothes. Maxwell's clothes, I believe," he muttered. He had already ordered servants to provide some clothing to the young man. These few, worn rags didn't warrant space on a transport.
Zechs almost shoved the box aside, but then caught sight of the edge of something colorful. Reaching under the clothes, he pulled out several manga, a few odds and ends, and a journal.
"That will be all," Zechs said to the servant and then promptly forgot about the man as he took hold of the journal and retreated to his library. Settling in an overstuffed chair in the light of a window, Zechs propped his long legs on a footstool and began to read, ignoring the soldier in him that complained about the unfinished work. Zechs shrugged off that inner voice. Work could wait.
The Journal of Duo Maxwell:
First Entry: This is so lame. I can't believe I'm even doing this. Quatre is such a girlie man for even suggesting it. Maybe I'm a girlie man for letting him talk me into it? He thinks, because I don't want to talk to anyone about the war, I should talk to myself by writing stuff down. Well, here goes. I must be desperate or stupid. Probably both.
Nope, not going to date anything. I hate that. That's Heero's style, methodical, boring, by the book. I wanna be free and easy, hm, I guess that's my whole problem in a nutshell... naw, nothing's that simple. I better keep writing. Anyway, It's after the war, but I know that, so why am I writing it down? Maybe I just need to hear it enough times before I actually believe it....
Today I got up, ate breakfast, exercised, went to my job with the Preventers, ate lunch, made fun of Heero, pretended to do paperwork, made fun of Heero again, went home with him to our apartment, ate dinner, read manga, and now I'm going to sleep. Fascinating. Maybe I'll win a Pulitzer for this stuff?
Zechs skipped at least ten like entries, wondering why Duo was bothering and then realized that it was a form of rebellion. Duo was going to do as Quatre suggested, but he was going to be sarcastic and show that he didn't like it. Childish, Zechs thought, and pointless since Duo was the only one to read it.
Entry Twelve: Got up, ate breakfast, went to work, shot teenage drug dealer to death, ate lunch, made fun of Heero, quit job, got beat up by Heero, missed dinner. Bleeding bad. Soldiers should never outlive the war. They make terrible roommates.
There was a smear of blood on that entry and it was scrawled shakily. Zechs felt a chill. There were some scribbled drawings after that, aimless, as if Duo couldn't bring himself to write again, and then,
Entry Thirteen: Yeah, I let this go, but Heero wouldn't bring me my stuff in the hospital. He hates hospitals as much as I do. He didn't even visit me, the bastard. He could at least have called me. I had to crawl out on my own and get a taxi. Heero didn't even say hello, just grunted at me when I made it home and went back to his work. Oh, he did say one thing, "Get a job or get out." Nice. He didn't even care that he gave me internal bleeding. I hate him. I'm moving out of here as soon as I can.
Entry Fourteen: Had a nightmare. I keep having nightmares. Heero just tells me to shut up. He doesn't care that I dream about the war. He doesn't want to listen when I try and tell him what the dreams are about. He just hates the screaming. I guess I can write it down here. Pretty pathetic that I have to talk to a book. I should have friends to listen to me. Lots of them. Why don't I? Guess they wouldn't want to hear it. They wouldn't understand anyway. Maybe that's why I don't have them. They would be talking about the wife and the kids or soccer practice and I'd be yakking about blowing up Ozzies or how I used to watch them die when I cut their suits in half in space. Yeah, that's what the dreams are about, their faces. I always see their faces. They always looked so surprised right before they died.
Entry Fifteen: I have a job, but it isn't working out too well. I don't know why I can't pay attention, why I can't bother to show up on time, why I can't see the point. I'm an adult now. I'm supposed to be responsible and pay my share of the bills. Maybe I just need to get laid. I don't know why I've waited this long. Guess I'm a late bloomer. I was just too busy with the war to bother before, but now I should be screwing ten times a day like a normal guy, right? I don't know. None of the girls I work with seem interesting and Heero's women are sluts. I don't want them. Just my luck to be messed up in the head and picky.
Entry Sixteen: Heero keeps walking around in these stupid shorts. I wish he would stop. It bothers me. I made a joke at work that I was so desperate for some sex that I'd lay my roommate if he didn't have a gun. They didn't get it. Neither did I. Why did I even say that? Maybe I am desperate enough to get weird. Heero is built for a guy and he does have this pretty, pouty face. Those shorts are just too tight and he doesn't even look uncomfortable. Why am I writing this? Maybe as my last will and testament. Duo Maxwell: killed by roommate when hormones overpowered him. I do need to get laid. I'm thinking really weird shit now. Maybe that receptionist at work. She liked me.
Entry Seventeen: Can't sleep, can't make any friends except for a cold bastard who likes to beat me up, and now I can't date. She had her hands all over me and I just couldn't do a thing. I hate myself. There's something messed up. Something from the war. Maybe I'm damaged from all those chemicals, Gundam grease, and being in space without shielding. I tried to talk to Heero and he just glared at me. He told me I was lucky not to have sexual urges distracting me from my work. Bastard. Why don't I leave? He's not my friend. Why do I keep thinking he is? Why do I want him to be? Maybe because he's the only one who understands me.
Entry Eighteen: yeah, I know, it's been a long time. A lot of stuff happened. Heero caught me staring at him when he came out of the shower. I was just looking. All guys look, don't they? Just comparing, ya know? He had a really big dick. It was amazing, so I stared. He didn't have to beat the shit out of me for it. Bastard! Woke up in the hospital with tubes everywhere. I hate hospitals. I got myself out of there double time and went looking for Quatre. Yeah, I was desperate. Quatre is so nice and proper. He has a wonderful life, he has his head on straight. Maybe he has nightmares too, but he doesn't let it affect him. It hurts to be around him. It hurts because I can see how much I DON'T have it together compared to him. He makes me feel like I'm six or something. Stupid Duo he has to take care of. Only I didn't get to see him. I met Zechs instead. I had dinner with him. Isn't that weird? We talked. I mean, really talked. I don't remember the last time I did that with anyone. He listened, completely listened to every word and he looked at me like, I dunno, like he cared or something. That sounds so stupid! Like an idiot, I drank too much. I woke up in a hotel room and then went crawling back to Heero. He just grunted like he hadn't almost killed me and told me I could stay if I got a job and kept it. Same old rant. Back to nobody caring or listening to me. I wonder what Zechs thinks of me? Did I make a complete idiot out of myself? He probably- God! Why do I even fucking care? I sound like I was on a date or something. This is so stupid! I'm not going to write stuff anymore!
Zechs flipped through the empty pages and then closed the book. Going back into his office, he tucked the book back under Duo's clothes and then taped the box closed again. He smoothed hands over the top and stared at nothing. A warmth had spread through him when he had read that Duo had wondered what he, Zechs, had thought of him. That warmth wouldn't be stifled. The entries portrayed a mind in confusion with leanings towards real mental instability. That should have made Zechs cold, warned him away from the young man. Instead, he felt drawn more strongly to Duo by their shared pain and inner darkness.
Zechs sat down and began on his paperwork, moving through it as quickly as he could, eager to see Duo as soon as possible, not only to return his things to him, but to see Duo with the new perspective Duo's journal had given him.
Heero Yuy went over the plans of Zechs' estate. Spread out on the hotel bed, along with items he would need for infiltration of the site, he was prepared for the mission he had set out for himself. Now, he only needed to check his information with some reconnaissance and to lay out the plan of escape.
Not much longer, Heero thought. Soon he would have Duo with him again and he could return home. Duo would be his annoying self again, filling up the empty space in the apartment and filling up that distracting part of Heero that he could never rid himself of, a part that kept him from being perfect, a part of himself that was human and needy of companionship. Duo was not perfect in any way, but Heero had a plan for him as well. He would mold Duo. Make him less of a distraction. Heero planned to teach Duo to fill the spaces in his life yet not distract him from his work and his goal of rising to the pinnacle of perfection.
The thought of teaching Duo, of making him obey once and for all, of molding him into exactly what he, Heero needed; companion, roommate, and sexual partner, made Heero hard. He tried to ignore it. He hated this part of himself. He had often considered chemical castration, but that would have been a weakness, an admission that he couldn't control himself. Heero was simply too proud for that. Instead, he went about the business of relieving his need so that he could return to his mission.
Heero lowered his black, spandex pants. Standing by the bed, staring down at the map, he stroked his cock while he studied the layout. He knew that Duo was in one of the bungalows. He had to discover which one and in what sort of shape the young man was in. It wouldn't be logical to break into the estate now if Duo was too ill to travel.
Heero thought of Duo's long hair, spread out around him, that long, slender waist, and those rounded globes of his ass. He grew harder. He would break down Duo's reluctance, he thought, and teach him to relieve both of their sexual needs quickly and efficiently. Duo would see how beneficial it was and agree once Heero broke through his odd aversion.
Heero suddenly grabbed a pillow and rolled it so that it stuck up enticingly. Leaning into it from the side of the bed, he braced his hands on either side of the map and stuck his cock into the pillows' softness. Heero imagined another rounded softness instead and began a rapid pumping motion. He groaned as a mental image of Duo, writhed in pleasure beneath him, supplanting all thoughts of the mission. He was pumping into Duo's ass, imaging it tight and deep, warm and welcoming. Heero leaned over further, imaging wrapping his arms around that slender waist, breathing in Duo's sweet scent, biting that slim neck: predator claiming its prey. Heero pounded hard, rutted like a beast, and then exploded into the pillow.
Heero straightened, panting. He backed away from the pillow, staring, trailing cum, confused by what had just over taken him. Sex to him was mechanical and necessary. He had never had a fantasy like that one. It was weakness. Wrong. His mind tried to bring itself to order and failed. He pounded a fist into a wall and broke through the flimsy wood. Again he punched, Again he broke through. His knuckles bled. The pain traveled down his arm, shocking him. It allowed him to think again, pull himself back from a brink he hadn't realized he was so close to falling over.
Heero sat on the floor, tucking his legs up so that he was siting cross legged. He composed himself for meditation. Sexual frustration had broken through his training, he thought. He couldn't allow that to happen again. A few days of fasting and pain training would put his mind back into order and allow him to complete his mission without the distraction of unwanted emotions and urges. He would not allow Duo Maxwell to do that to him again. Heero intended to use Duo. He was to be a tool, nothing more. Heero would teach him to be a perfect tool.
Duo leaned back into the pillows of the wicker divan and grimaced as he sipped at the nutritional drink the doctor had prepared for him. Three other glasses were lined up on the small table beside him, all drunk with equal distaste. The proteins and vitamins sat heavy in Duo's shrunken stomach, threatening to come back up again if he didn't keep very still. The drinks were a compromise he had to endure in exchange for not being hooked up to I.V.'s. After four glasses, Duo was almost ready to change his mind.
On a wide porch, stretched out on the divan in a pair of loose, cotton shorts, slippers , and a thin robe, enjoying a slight breeze and a view of a carefully manicured jungle of greenery, Duo could almost forget his injuries and his troubles. After two days of obedient servants, an obedient doctor, and an absent Zechs, Duo finally began to trust Zechs' word that he was indeed on his own. That freedom would have tasted sweeter if he hadn't been an invalid and dependent on so many people to take care of him.
"Feeling well?"
Duo started, almost dropping the glass. He stared at Zechs with wide, amethyst eyes, as the platinum blonde Peacecraft Prince mounted the steps to the porch and slowly approached Duo with a box in his hands. Duo recognized it at once.
"Hey, that's my stuff!"
Zechs looked down at the non descript box in his hands in surprise. "How can you tell?"
Duo managed a grin, trying to fake confidence. "Me and that box go way back. I'd know it anywhere!"
Zechs smiled, amused. That smile made him beautiful. Duo blinked, even his faked confidence evaporating. The sunlight coming down from under the eve of the porch struck Zechs just so, making his white hair shimmer and his eyes seem like clear, blue crystals. His clear complexion was flawless, his sensuous mouth ready to kiss.
Duo melted into the divan. Why was he even thinking things like that? He wondered. This man used to be his enemy! This was the man who had tried to kill him and a good portion of everyone else! If he was beautiful, it was the beauty of a devil! Besides, he was a man! Men weren't supposed to be beautiful. A small voice deep down whispered evilly, 'and other men weren't suppose to notice when the were.'
Duo felt his face go red. Zechs didn't seem to notice as he cleared off the glasses, placing them on the floor, and then put the box in their place on the table. That done, he lowered himself into a chair on the other side of the table and looked Duo over in interest. That made Duo blush even deeper. He was well aware how awful he looked. Next to Zechs' military crispness, he felt like a bum.
"Your hair is tangled," Zechs said at last as Duo opened the box and began rummaging inside, trying to hide his red face. "You should have a servant comb it out for you."
"I need an all over grooming," Duo agreed as he lifted out clothes and brightened at the manga and some of his personal effects. "Doctor won't let me take a bath or a shower yet. He just lets me sponge. I hope I don't stink too bad."
Zechs was politeness itself. "Not at all," he lied. "When will he allow you to wash thoroughly?"
Duo laughed. "I believe Quatre calls that 'tact'. How did you get my box of things?"
"It was sent here by a servant," Zechs replied, wondering that himself. "I'm not sure how he came to be in possession of it. "
Duo thought it over and could only come to one conclusion, as unlikely as it seemed. "I called Heero Yuy and asked him to send my stuff to me. I never expected that he actually would. Heero doesn't bother himself with favors. I'll have to thank him."
Zechs frowned, perplexed. "Why?"
Duo looked up, startled. Zechs' eyes were warm and... no, he wasn't mistaken, they were showing concern for him. "Why?" Duo echoed.
Zechs looked uncomfortable. "After the way he hurt you, I can't imagine why you would want to speak to him ever again. Boxing a few of your things, and sending them to you, hardly makes up for-"
"He didn't box them," Duo mumbled as he began searching the box again. "I never unpack. It's an old habit. This is all I own, right here, in my favorite box." He blinked, "minus some clothes, of course. Heero must have forgotten them."
Zechs blinked, stunned. "You own so little."
Duo grimaced. "Pretty pathetic, huh?"
"Only if you don't want it to be that way," Zechs replied. He leaned so that he rested his elbows on his knees, staring at Duo earnestly. "Sometimes, I wish my life could be reduced to a single box."
"What's stopping you?" Duo wondered. He felt the innocence of the question as it left his mouth and he was embarrassed again. Zechs wasn't that much older than himself, yet he seemed twice Duo's age in experience. He watched Zechs smile and go distant, as if he were actually considering leaving everything behind and only taking a few things in a box to a new life.
"I have responsibilities, unfortunately," Zechs replied sadly. "Duties that, if I'm not there to do them, will cause people's lives to be disrupted. They depend on me."
Duo went bitter, looking off into the garden. "Yeah, people used to depend on me too. Now they just want to forget about me."
"There are many ways to be useful, to have people depend on you again," Zechs pointed out.
Duo shook his head and his hands busied themselves with the box again. He found his journal and fingered it. He didn't want to talk about his problems. He couldn't make sense out of them himself. On the one hand he wanted to be a Gundam pilot again. He wanted to be the hero and have everyone depending on him. On the other hand, he wanted what had been stolen from him, his childhood, his innocence. He didn't want to wake up, dripping with sweat, from nightmares of killing people. He didn't want to have panic attacks whenever he heard an alarm or a noise that sounded too much like a gun or a bomb ticking over to deadly. He didn't want to talk to a man and remember that they had both killed and that he had been his enemy.
"What are you thinking?" Zechs asked.
Duo chewed on his bottom lip and then let it go. "I was wondering how many people have read my journal," he lied.
"I assure you-" Zechs began, the lie easy on his tongue, ready to reassure Duo that his privacy hadn't been violated, especially by him. He stopped himself just in time. He reminded himself that he wasn't talking to a child. Duo's level eyes on him, told him that Duo was ready to chew Zechs to pieces if he dared to treat him that way. "I'm sorry,' Zechs finished at last.
Duo frowned. He hadn't expected the truth. He almost wished Zechs had lied to him. Maybe, he thought, he could have forced himself to believe it. He said, trying to sound flippant and uncaring, "Guess a person has to expect that to happen when they write stuff down. Heero probably read it too. I'm surprised he's not here now trying to shove my journal down my throat."
"Why do you stay with him?" Zechs wondered.
Duo shoved his box to the end of the divan, ignoring the catch in his ribs. He sat back, wrapping his arms around them and frowning. "Zechs...," he sighed and then almost angrily. "What game are you playing with me? I'm sure you have a lot better things to do than to sit and talk with a scabby ex pilot who can't keep himself from getting the shit beat out of him."
Zechs frowned to, but persisted. "Tell me why, Duo."
Duo swallowed hard and found the button holes of his robe suddenly interesting. "He puts up with me," he replied. "He tries to help me."
"Help you?" Zechs said curiously. "How?"
"I never had a normal life," Duo replied. "I had a street gang once, an orphanage for a short time, and Dr. G for a few years. None of it was permanent or close to normal. I don't know how to cook, clean, or do much more for myself than keep clothes on my back and scavenge for enough food to keep me alive. I try to work. I try to live like everyone else, but... I dunno. Heero tries to keep me in line, tries to teach me how to be on time, pay my share of the bills, and pick up after myself. I do fine for awhile and then I..."
"Don't see the point any more?"
Zechs' words chilled Duo to the bone. They had cut to the heart of his problem. He blinked, feeling tears. He looked away and said through gritted teeth. "Yeah."
Zechs nodded, eyes distant, looking inside at his own pain. "I am kept 'in line' by schedules and duties that can't be avoided," Zechs explained. "but often I don't see the point either." His eyes focused on Duo and they were very intense. "Beatings can't help you find it Duo."
Duo was startled by Zechs' revelation. He kept talking, saying things that he hadn't been able to say to anyone else, Zechs' openness, his caring eyes, dragging it out of him. "I know Heero can't really help me, especially by trying to beat me into line. I think, that last time, after he...," Duo grimaced and then went on, hoping that Zechs hadn't noticed his stumble. He didn't want to talk about what Heero had almost done to him, "after he attacked me, I realized that I was being an idiot for putting up with it. I realized that I had to stop depending on other people. I thought, if I gave myself a backbone and made my own way, I'd have to be responsible to survive." Duo smiled tightly. "I didn't have long to try out that theory."
Zechs nodded thoughtfully, but then said, "Being responsible is only part of it. If you don't have a goal in life, a reason for getting up in the morning, you won't succeed, Duo."
"That's kind of what the Doctor said," Duo murmured.
"Which doctor?" Zechs wondered.
The psychiatrist, Duo thought with alarm, but he covered it with a shrug. "Just someone I met," he replied, not wanting Zechs to know he was screwed up enough to need THAT kind of doctor. "He told me nearly the same thing. I can't wait for that though. I need a patch until then. Not starving to death seemed a good enough motivation."
"Fear of death," Zechs said, pushing a long lock of white hair out of his handsome face absently and leaning back in his chair. "You didn't think that Heero would kill you? He came close to it."
Duo didn't want to talk about that either, so he said quickly. "He didn't mean to. He's not good at dealing with emotions, that's all, and I pushed his buttons one to many times."
Zechs stood up, face furious. Duo flinched and felt for a weapon he didn't have. Zechs said, with incredible intensity, "Don't ever say that again! Don't ever blame yourself for what he did to you!"
Duo could only stare, shocked, mesmerized by Zechs' molten blue eyes. The man was just so very handsome, a small part of Duo's mind thought within a roil of confusion. Zechs looked almost supernatural, white hair a tangle over his blue eyes and chin set hard. He seemed unnaturally tall as well and unnaturally commanding. Lightning Count, Duo thought, and understood then that the name had more to do with Zechs' personality than any speed.
"Uh, okay," was all Duo could manage to get out. He blushed. "Okay, relax, man. I didn't mean to make you upset and all."
Zechs took a deep breath and let it out. He pushed his hair back from his face again, unruly locks at all odds with his otherwise impeccable appearance. Duo wondered if he allowed them to remain like that on purpose. Zechs' wild, long hair gave him an edgy, dangerous look. If he had been too perfect, his men might have thought him an armchair commander, a man who didn't get his hands dirty. The effect those disordered bangs had on Duo was more personal. Duo didn't find them a reassuring mark that Zechs wasn't a complete elitist and too distant to talk to, instead he found them... uncomfortably appealing. Duo refused to think of them any other way, though, deep down, he had a stronger word than 'appealing'.
"Forgive me," Zechs said at last. "I have grown to hate violence of any kind. It makes me less than understanding."
"No, you're right,' Duo replied uncertainly. "I shouldn't blame myself. Heero shouldn't have pounded on me, no matter how much I messed things up. I know that." He picked at his robe again. "I don't know why I even said all of that. You just wanted to know how I was feeling and I just said a bunch of stupid stuff. Sorry. I feel fine. Healing good. You can go about you business now."
Zechs sighed, exasperated at Duo's sudden withdrawal. "I didn't come here because of duty."
"No?" Duo scratched at his nose and then favored Zechs with his innocent eyes. Maybe if he played it right, he thought, Zechs might finally tell him what was really going on.
"Why did you decide to live with Heero?" Zechs asked abruptly.
Duo replied truthfully enough. "I guess, because we had shared the same experiences. We understood each other."
Zechs nodded and then said, "That's why I'm here, Duo Maxwell. I need someone to understand me too."
Duo blinked, surprised and wide eyed, not sure how he felt about that revelation. "Are you suggesting that we be friends, Zechs?"
Zechs half smiled as if he wished the moment to be serious and solemn and couldn't manage it in the face of Duo's comical astonishment. "Yes, friends," Zechs replied, leaving it at that for now. It was all that he was willing to admit to himself at the moment.
Duo was hardly believing his ears. He wanted to say something funny, biting, sarcastic, anything to stop the moment they were having. It was making him too uncomfortable. He didn't know if he wanted Zechs to get that close to him. He was still trying to figure the man out.
"Okay," Duo said finally. "I think you're just suggesting we get together and talk about old, times, right, not any kind of, 'let's hang out and have a few beers' kind of friendship right?"
"You don't drink," Zechs pointed out, his smile coming more easily.
"Yeah, " Duo found himself smiling too. "Well, you know what I mean."
"I don't think a plan can be made for this kind of thing," Zechs replied. "We will talk from time to time-"
"And see how long we can tolerate each other?" Duo wondered. "Just let me know when you get to the punching stage. I can be pretty annoying."
Zechs' smile dropped and he replied angrily. "I will never hit you, Duo. Believe that."
Duo felt embarrassed by Zechs' intensity. "Uh, okay. That's good. I'm glad."
Zechs nodded and then he suddenly walked into the bungalow. Duo looked after him, surprised by his sudden departure, and then was even more surprised when Zechs returned with a hair band and a hair brush.
Zechs pulled his chair close to Duo. He showed Duo the brush and the hair tie and asked politely, "May I? If you let this go much longer, it may become so tangled you may have to cut it off."
"You want to brush my hair?" Duo was dumbfounded. "Why?"
"Why do I wish to do it?" Zechs wondered. Without waiting for Duo to give his approval, he began unbinding Duo's very long, chestnut braid. "I suppose I hate disorder, but I have my own long hair and I know much care it requires. Since we are to be friends, in a matter of speaking, I will assist you in a friendly manner. I know that you are unable to lift your arms to do this yourself."
"Um, thanks," Duo managed to say as he blushed to the roots of his hair. Zechs' strong fingers were touching him. It was only his braid, but for some reason Duo refused to understand, it was making him warm and giving him an odd, fluttering sensation.
Zechs was unaware of Duo's discomfort, his attention fully on the large rat nest knots in his hands. Duo was glad when he began pulling the strands of hair apart. It hurt. That pain distracted Duo from the sensations coiling up inside of him. As separating the knots became an actual battle, Duo groaned and winced. Now all he could think about was wishing that Zechs finished soon.
Zechs didn't have the comfort of distracting pain. He realized, almost at once, that he had been weak and foolish to take on the task of brushing Duo's hair. After their intimate talk, he had been unable to stop the sudden desire to touch the young man in any manner he could manage. Brushing out Duo's tangles had seemed like an excellent excuse. Now, with the silky, chestnut strands in his hands, all Zechs could think about was Duo's soft, moist, warm mouth on his cock and the feel of Duo's privates in his hand. The tightness in his groin warned him. Zechs let a fall of Duo's untangled hair drop into his lap, covering the rise there in his pants. Zechs hurried with his task. He had to stop soon or he would forget himself, he was certain. He could see the creamy line of Duo's neck in the corner of his vision, and the young man's pink lips worried between fine, white teeth as Duo winced and hissed in pain.
"Easy man!" Duo finally said in protest. "You aren't wiring a trench fence! That's attached to my head!"
Zechs grimaced and slowed. "Forgive me, " he whispered. "I didn't realize it was so tangled. I do have duties to attend to."
Duo felt those words sting him. "Okay, you don't have to finish. I can get someone else... I really don't like anyone touching my hair though. I think I can finish up myself." Duo's face flamed as he realized what he had just said. He was letting Zechs touch his hair. What did that mean? He hadn't even thought to protest.
Zechs forced himself to relax and slow down. Duo's obvious hurt at his words forced his erection to cool. "I finish what I start," he replied and then, with a deprecating smile, "A soldier should have short hair, but it's a family tradition that the heir to the Peacecraft name have long hair."
"Is that why Relena has long hair?" Duo wondered.
It was Zechs' turn to feel the sting of words. He looked up, eyes hot with anger. Duo's expression stopped him. It was open and interested. He wasn't insulting Zechs on purpose. "I did give the ruling seat to her," Zechs acknowledged, pushing through his anger to understand Duo's question. He finished the last of the knots and began to brush out the silken mass of Duo's hair. "Why do you keep your hair so long?"
Duo was very quiet. The sound of the brush running through his hair was loud in that silence. "I don't want to talk about it," Duo said at last. Zechs saw the distant pain of memories in his eyes.
"That's all right," Zechs said quickly. "You don't owe me any explanations."
Zechs braided Duo's hair and then tied it of with the black band. Standing up, he cracked his back and sighed. "Back to my duties."
"Thanks, Zechs," Duo said, running the perfect braid through his fingers. "This makes me feel much better. Once I have a bath..."
Zechs wrinkled his nose and chuckled. "Yes, I think I'll curtail any indoor conversations until then,"
Duo broke into a laugh, hugging at the pain it caused his ribs, but unable to stop himself. He quieted after a moment, breathing a little raggedly, he said, only half serious. "I don't want to like you Zechs."
Zechs nodded, frowning. "I know."
"I don't want to owe you anything."
"I know that too."
Duo scowled. "I certainly don't want to be kept here like a bird in a cage, waiting around until you feel like talking to me. That's a rich man's game. I'm not playing. You can't buy me. I won't be your friend because you pay me to. I'm going to get out of here as soon as I can. I'm going to work. I'm going to try again to make it on my own."
"Of course," Zechs agreed. "You're free to come and go as you please. If you want to return to the States, I'll prepare a shuttle for you."
Duo shivered unconsciously. "Well, I kind of like the sun here. I don't think I'll be wanting to get back to the cold any time soon. Maybe I need a change of scenery to change my life, get away from old habits and-,' he stopped himself before he said Heero. "I'll try this place out before I decide what to do."
"Good," Zechs said, feeling inwardly pleased. He wasn't sure how he would of reacted if Duo had suddenly decided to leave. The darkness was still in him. It was still capable of doing unpleasant things. He didn't want to give it the chance, especially where Duo was concerned. "I must go, Duo. We'll talk again. Please, don't hesitate to call on me if you need anything."
Duo relaxed. He hadn't been sure about Zechs' reaction to his words. He was relieved to see that the man was accepting them and remaining pleasant. "Thanks, I will. See ya later."
Zechs nodded and began stepping down the stairs, long legs graceful and hair flowing gently in the breeze. He said over his shoulder casually. "I didn't think that you were an idiot that time at the restaurant, Duo." and then he was striding away into the manicured jungle, his confession about reading Duo's journal made. He could hear Duo splutter something, but he thought it best not to witness Duo's embarrassment.
There was a cage of different colored parrots. Zechs noticed them as he passed by on pea stone path, thinking about Duo's words; his wish not to be Zechs' caged bird, his entertainment when the mood struck him. Those words had troubled Zechs, reminding him that he had treated Duo that way already, taking what wasn't offered, using Duo as if he were a pet, less than human, a sexual amusement. The guilt of it gnawed at Zechs. It drew him to the birds. He almost longed to atone somehow by setting them free.
Standing by the cage, Zechs put his hand on the door. He almost unlatched it, watched by curious bird eyes, mesmerized by sunlight on iridescent feathers, when a lack of color caught his attention. One very dead, snow white parrot was hanging from something attached to a perch. A shoelace, Zechs realized, as his stomach twisted and his hand reached for his gun. He looked wildly about him at the greenery. Anyone could be hiding in it.
Zechs reached into his pocket and hit the button on his touch pad to call for security. It was obvious that the bird was a message, a message meant for him. A white bird. Zechs' white hair. Someone was not pleased with him. Someone wanted him dead.
TBC
Kracken is going to take a week or two off to write a Shingami's Lover fic and a Fake fic so she made this one longer than usual. Take deep breaths. Don't panic. Sometimes I write very fast and I might get another one done before then.
Thanks so much to everyone who bought my book. (Big Hugs and Smoochies!)