Maxwell has always been, 'One of the boys', to Milliardo. A child who, along with the other ex Gundam pilots, had never been allowed to be children, who were, even now, trying to navigate their way through the adult world of Preventers. Suddenly having that image turned on its head, in a most brutal fashion, caused Milliardo to freeze, rather than voice his outrage when he discovered Maxwell, and the requisitions master, at the back of the equipment lock up. They were engaged in an activity that no stretch of the imagining could have termed, acquiring mission ordinance.
Maxwell was not a child, was Milliardo's first thought. That naked back, muscles bunching and releasing as rounded hips pumped, and shoulders solid and capable as they flexed and rolled to keep the man he was dealing with firmly in place, were used to long missions in less than ideal locals. They were as mature as the activity both men were now engaged in.
The requisitions master wasn't a young man. Hair graying at the temple and a face only a mother could love, he was every opposite of Maxwell. Milliardo wasn't going to make the mistake of thinking that the larger man was necessarily in control of the situation. Maxwell had been trained in hand to hand combat at a level that Milliardo was still trying hard to comprehend. He had yet to see the ex pilot bested by anyone and that included himself. That made it a possibility that the requisitions master was an unwilling participant. Maxwell's hand across the man's mouth, clamped hard enough to show the white's of his knuckles, and his other hand planted firmly on the wall, upper torso pinning the larger man, put doubt into Milliardo's mind.
Maxwell bucked savagely and the requisitions master made strangled noises. Maxwell was grinning, though, eyes half closed and handsome face set in pleasure. When Milliardo said, "You will stop, now." He didn't. When Milliardo clamped down on a bare arm, he could feel Maxwell's shudder and quiver of orgasm. The man blinked, sucked in breath, and then swiveled large purple eyes to regard Milliardo.
"Bad timing, sir," Duo managed as he released the requisitions master all at once and stepped back. The man fell to his knees, panting, and then was scrambling up and yanking up his pants, belt buckle rattling.
The display was graphic, one man realizing consequences and afraid for his career, and another not alarmed in the slightest, who was looking down at himself and then around for something to clean himself with. He found a rag in the back pocket of the requisitions master, yanked it out, and began using it as the man came to attention, face pale.
"Daniels? Explanation?" Milliardo demanded.
The man's mouth worked and then firmed as he replied, "Maxwell forced me, sir! He's insane!"
Duo chuckled as he finished cleaning, tossed the rag at Daniel's, so that it hit him on the chest, and then began pulling up his pants. "Let's see, I think you said, 'I bet you're just as hot in bed as you are out on the field. I wonder what it would be like getting drilled by the best?' I just obliged."
The requisitions master went red and spluttered before saying, "I-I was... I didn't want..."
Duo sighed. "You found out that I was gay and wanted some. Nothing wrong with that. Did I meet expectations?"
The requisitions master swallowed hard. Milliardo tried to take back command of the situation. "Maxwell, you have just been accused of rape. Until these charges are investigated, you will be confined in the brig."
"Daniels?" Maxwell asked with raised eyebrows. "Are you really going to destroy my career to get out of a red mark on your record? I have lots of them. Hasn't effected me, one bit. Come on, it's not like you're going for a command position. You're almost retired."
Milliardo could see the older man thinking about that career, about saving face, about whether he had really wanted Maxwell drilling his ass. He swallowed hard again, and said, almost inaudibly, "I... I willingly participated, Commander Peacecraft."
"Good, man," Duo said with relief and then winked at him. "You were very good, by the way."
Daniels smirked, remembered himself, and then looked at Milliardo with fear again.
"You're both on report," Milliardo snapped furiously. "I would suspend you Maxwell, pending a hearing, but I need you on this mission. That doesn't mean that I won't consider it, afterward."
"Yes, sir," Duo replied and his reply lacked cockiness. He looked serious. It was that reaction that allowed Milliardo to calm himself.
"Finish the acquisition list," Milliardo snapped. "I came to make certain that the trigger bombs were packed correctly for the terrain that we will be experiencing. I wasn't expecting a porn show. This incident has set our time table for dust off, back. That will be part of the report."
Duo nodded, lips set hard, and began gathering their weapons. He hadn't replaced his green camo tank top. His dog tags were rattling with every motion. His long braid was swinging, caressing an extremely well defined upper body that was a road map of older injuries and a display for several tattoos. Boom! Boom! God of Death. Fly you friendly. The small of his back kept appearing whenever he had to bend to grab equipment. His tan stopped at his waistband, telling Milliardo that he was habitually without a shirt.
He smelled like sex. Not a good thing where men were concerned. Milliardo tried to ignore it as he checked the packing on the bombs, but then couldn't any longer. "Shower, Maxwell, and have yourself on the flight deck on time. If you're not there, you won't be a Preventer agent any longer."
And that would have been like discarding a beam cannon before a pitched battle, Milliardo thought. It wasn't an empty threat, though, and Maxwell's sharp reaction told Milliardo that he didn't consider it one. Worse than not having a decisive weapon was having one that a commander couldn't control. They both understood that.
Duo left his work and went without protest. The requisitions master, eager to reform himself, stepped into his place. The smell wasn't any less on him, but at least, Milliardo thought, he didn't have to be on a jump ship with him.
"Sorry, sir," the man tried. "I really hadn't planned-"
"It was rape, then," Milliardo snapped, glaring at the man as he carefully closed the case on the bombs.
"No," Daniels replied anxiously. "I did want him just... well... Just not here. I can't say I put up a fight, either. He only put his hand over my mouth because... it was really good. I couldn't keep quiet. Uh, you didn't want to hear that, sorry. I suppose I should take my red mark and shut up."
"Yes, you should," Milliardo ground out. "I won't tolerate unprofessional behavior, especially when it impacts one of my missions."
"Yes, sir."
"I want the equipment on the ship, now," Milliardo ordered. "I'll personally take the bomb case."
"Yes, sir."
Milliardo walked out, case securely under one arm and clasped tightly. His anger was boiling under the surface, but he needed to stay in control, and to put it aside. He couldn't help the image of Duo's flexing muscles and his pumping hips popping into his determination to mentally go over the mission, point by point.
The fact that Maxwell was definitely not a child any longer made an uncomfortable interest begin in Milliardo, one he wanted desperately to ignore. After his disastrous attempt to have a relationship with Noin, and his return to Earth from Mars colony, in defeat, he hadn't attempted to do anything other than submerge himself in his work. Men, certainly hadn't been on his menu since he and Trieze had gone their different ways. A short fling with the still lamented Otto, didn't count in Milliardo's thoughts. That had been relief, just, as he suspected, Duo's liaison with Daniel's had been. The fact that a more mature Maxwell might consider such a liaison between them, was enough to make Milliardo's uniform pants a bit uncomfortable.
It was out of the question, though, between a commander and a subordinate, especially one that was going to be on a mission with him. Milliardo didn't intend to forget that or to have anything mar his record. Besides, he thought, irritated at his own thoughts, he wasn't at all interested in a man as lacking in discipline and morals as Duo Maxwell.
---------------------------------
"You're out of uniform," Milliardo growled as he finished the straps on the bombs that held them securely in the carrier hold.
Six men and two women were seated on both sides of the jump ship, weapons stowed, and combat uniforms correct. There was some personal style among them, here and there; a button, a cross, or a few stickers proclaiming different things on helmets, but none of them had their uniform khaki shirt over one shoulder, necklaces that looked to be bone and shell knotted on rough cord, around their necks, or bracelets and rings that sported skulls, crosses, and what looked like three rosaries twisted around a gun harness. Duo Maxwell seemed to have dressed like a rock star, or someone who very much wanted to piss off his commander.
Duo flipped his shirt off of his strong, rounded shoulder with an apologetic grin, as he began to put it on. "Just wanted to dry off, first, commander." His jewelry flashed and swung, as he moved, even his dog tags, but none of it rattled together. It looked as if he had specially knotted everything for just that effect. Milliardo had time to notice a knife strapped to his belt across the back of his pants and a gun tucked up tight on his left, before he covered it with his uniform and began shrugging into heavier harness.
It was the standard, all purpose harness, the one that either held a man in his seat, or hooked onto a parachute in case of emergency. It could also be used to drag a wounded man or his corpse, if things went very badly. It said Duo Maxwell in marker across one shoulder. Duo was by far the shortest man in the room. Standard issue was never going to fit him. He had his equipment specially fitted.
"I don't know what you think you're doing, Agent Maxwell," Milliardo growled as he grabbed handholds, as the ship began taxiing, and leaned almost in the man's face,"but this is my mission. If you step out of line, one more time with your theatrics, I will send you home. Since we'll currently be in the heart of a jungle, your walk home would be long and very difficult. Do I make myself clear?"
"Very clear, sir," Duo replied and gave Milliardo a stiff salute, as if he were perfectly serious about obeying Milliardo's orders. He took his seat and buckled himself up.
A heavy set agent, with big arms, and a five o clock shadow on his lantern jaw, was taking up some of Duo's space. Duo elbowed the man irritably. Speaking over the sudden roar of engines, he said, "Do you mind Hawkins?I don't usually get this close to a guy unless we're fucking."
"Shit, Maxwell," the man replied sarcastically,"If you want to sit in my lap, and rotate, go right ahead. It'll pass the time."
"Good one," Duo snorted.
"It is, Maxwell," the man smirked. "It definitely is."
"Can that kind of talk!" Milliardo barked with a glare as he sat down and buckled up.
Duo looked apologetic and shrugged. He then sank down into his seat and closed his eyes, as if he had decided that sleep was the only thing that was going to keep himself out of trouble. Milliardo found himself staring at Duo, especially at the way that his camo uniform pants tented over his crotch. It made him remember sharply, exactly what was under that cloth.
Milliardo growled under his breath and yanked out his flat, handheld computer. He brought up mission specs and began shouting out a checklist, each man or woman shouting back what had been their responsibility. It should have been completed before take off. Maxwell had distracted him. It was an embarrassment, now, and it hardly calmed Milliardo's anger when he discovered, at the end of the checklist, that not even Maxwell had forgotten anything.
Milliardo checked weather reports, then, and any updates for the area, keeping a constant flow of information in front of him. There wasn't much that had changed, to warrant that level of vigilance, but Milliardo never liked to leave anything to chance or leave any agent dead on the field because he had failed to monitor a simple weather report, or satellite feed.
Deep jungle. Light, constant rainfall. Temperatures ranging from damned hot in the lowlands to biting cold in the high country. People avoided that area as non productive to farming or living a long life. Milliardo imagined that there were still pockets of difficult terrain that no one had managed to explore. Somewhere deep in that inhospitable land sat a crashed piece of terrorist equipment, and the ship that had been carrying it to a destination that had already been raided and taken out.
Leave it, had been Milliardo's recommendation to Commander Une. Why risk lives when the chances of anything having landed intact, or where anyone could salvage it, were almost nil? Almost, Une had replied angrily, and then she had called Milliardo lazy. That insult still burned even though he knew that it had been calculated to goad him into taking the mission. He was her best agent in the field, or off of it, and she knew it. His record was beyond reproach when it came to pure heroism and doing what it took to complete a mission.
So was Maxwell's, Milliardo thought as he checked, yet again, to make sure that the mystery device was still pinging the Preventer satellite. Though he hadn't, personally, worked with the man, he knew his reputation as well as his own. All of the ex-Gundam pilots were exceptional agents, which is why they rarely worked together. Une made certain that their abilities were spread out among the mission teams and used to best advantage. Maxwell, though, had been the only one that Milliardo hadn't personally seen since the end of the wars.
Deep mission expert, Milliardo read as he checked through the files of his agents. Maxwell took more undercover, more long term, imbedded, missions than anyone else. Jungles were his specialty. Only the big man, in the seat beside him, Hawkins, had nearly as much experience. Notes left by previous mission commanders were full of grudging respect, noting that even though unconventional, Maxwell was a natural leader and a dependable man to have on any mission.
Natural leader? Milliardo glanced up to study the man. He did seem to be completely asleep, chin on his chest. If he was such a natural, then why hadn't he at least tried for captain? He was still in the same position as when he had joined Preventers. Basic field agent. With his expertise and abilities, Milliardo couldn't see Une not forcing him to take at least a low level command title.
The rest of his team were veterans mixed with first mission newbies. Milliardo couldn't complain about any of them. Une was an expert at judging agents and Milliardo had never found any fault when she chose his teams. One newbie was impressive. Jean Levitz. Top of the line Preventer academy agent, she had an impressive record with many commendations from training staff. She also had an impressive lineage. Milliardo remembered that her father, and her grandfather had both been generals during the wars. She was definitely someone to rely on.
Milliardo glanced over at her. A tall, slim brunette, with a narrow face and hair cut short, she was sitting in her narrow seat, as if she were at attention, spit and polish, and eyes frowning ever so slightly at Duo Maxwell. She look as if she, like Milliardo, was finding it hard to deal with his insubordinate behavior.
The men and women around Jean were another matter entirely. Milliardo was very aware of the hero worship and awe that went hand in hand with being who they were. He, Milliardo, had earned his respect, the frightened, sometimes hateful attitudes that he often found in his agents. The Gundam pilots, he had found, were another matter entirely. People seemed willing to forget how much death and carnage they had dealt during the war, and were more than willing to elevate them to a status that would have better suited demi gods. It was in the looks, now, that the other agents were giving Maxwell. The man didn't need a command title, Milliardo thought sourly, those men and women were primed to follow any order that he cared to give.
Milliardo had been in that same position with Heero Yuy and Wu Fei Chang, but at least, in their cases, they had chosen not to take advantage of it. Both of them captains, they had still deferred to Milliardo's command automatically. There had never been a time when Milliardo had doubted that he would be the one giving the orders. With Maxwell, he didn't feel that assured. It made him determined to take a hard line with the man, to make him understand that Milliardo wasn't going to allow any second guessing or undermining of his command.
Duo jerked awake suddenly, hand going to his gun under his shirt with an ingrained reflex. He froze, though, eyes adjusting and brain taking in his surroundings. Milliardo saw him remember where he was and then he was relaxing and closing his eyes again. Milliardo hadn't missed everyone's sudden fear, including his own. He locked it down and said loudly, "That safety had better be on, Maxwell!"
"On," Maxwell said without opening his eyes.
"I doubt that," Hawkins grumbled.
"I don't lie, you know that," Duo snorted.
"On, can't be a lie," Hawkins protested. "It's just one word."
Duo, still without opening his eyes, took out his gun and held it up. The safety was on. He reholstered it and then made himself more comfortable.
"Stop acting like a shit, Maxwell," Hawkins growled, as if he could keep his voice low enough where Milliardo couldn't hear him. "A big dick isn't going to win you points with the commander."
Duo smiled. "Did with the last one."
"Acting like a dick won't either. Fly right, Maxwell," Hawkins demanded."I hate when you act like you have something to prove."
"I do," Duo said cryptically and then seemed to go to sleep again.
Hawkins gave Milliardo an apologetic look and Milliardo felt Hawkin's nervous respect for him.
Milliardo rubbed at his suddenly aching forehead and went back to studying his mission specs. At least they weren't up against a fighting force, he thought. Jungle terrain wasn't going to care about one man's attitude. Still, there were dangers inherent in any mission that included inhospitable country. A failure to follow commands could still kill a man.
That was the reason that Une had felt it necessary to pair Milliardo with Maxwell. Maxwell's loose cannon behavior might be excellent for one man, or even small team infiltrations, and search and destroy missions, but carrying out heavy equipment took planning and organization, something that Maxwell had proven, time and again, wasn't his forte. Milliardo would plan and implement. Maxwell was his jungle guide, his expertise in operating in those conditions paramount to carrying out the missions as much as Milliardo's careful planning. They needed to work together, Milliardo thought, not start conflicts before the mission was even underway.
It took long hours to reach the drop point. As the ship neared their target over the one area that it had found clear enough to manage a drop, they were already suited up and loaded down with equipment and weapons. The bay door was open, the wind from the turbines buffeting them all strongly and the heat of the jungle rolling in along with it.
Milliardo checked each agent before slapping them on the back and allowing them to exit the jump ship. He kept Duo for last and the man was already grinning when he reached him, knowing what Milliardo intended.
"Hawkins was right," Milliardo shouted over the noise. When Duo looked confused he continued, "You have to have more than a big dick to impress me, agent. I expect you to follow orders and to pull your weight."
Duo's grin widened. "Are you sure, commander? You've been looking at my dick through the whole trip."
Milliardo reached for a strap buckle on Duo's harness and jerked it tight. It was intimately wedded to Duo's crotch. Duo gasped, bug eyed, as his privates were squeezed, before he was flailing as Milliardo shoved him out of the ship. Milliardo saw him land better than he had expected, and then he was joining his team on the ground.
"Maxwell!" One of the men was shouting in alarm as Milliardo's feet hit jungle growth. He was attempting to release his parachute in the next instant, and struggling to keep his feet, as it tried to drag him backward in an unexpected rush of wind.
Something was wrong. As his parachute was whipped away and into the trees by the wind, Milliardo was already checking his team. The crises was already over, taken care of by Duo. Milliardo strode up to where the man was still gripping severed parachute cord with one hand and his hunting knife in the other. Levitz was attached to the other end of the cords.
"Report!" Milliardo bellowed as his medic scrambled along side him and then beyond him to check on the woman, who was face down in the forest loam and just beginning to lever herself up, looking dazed.
Duo simply rolled onto his back, panting hard, and then said to Milliardo, "I lost some skin, but everything else feels A-okay."
"My chute wouldn't release, sir," Levitz was saying shakily as the medic helped her sit and began his examination. "Maxwell saved me from being lifted into the trees."
"Good work, Maxwell," Milliardo said curtly and then, without looking at Levitz,"You are on report, Levitz, for not checking your equipment properly. Medic, Agent Maxwell is under the delusion that he has a medical degree. Please check him thoroughly as well."
"Yes, sir," the medic, a short blonde grinned at Duo as he worked on Levitz, as if he had won some sort of bet and was already counting his winnings.
Duo sat up, pulled at his mangled uniform shirt to look at the dirt and the rips. "Well, that's over with," he said as he took it off and then tossed it aside. "The damned things never do last very long during jungle missions."
Milliardo could almost believe that Duo had orchestrated the entire sequence of events to get rid of his uniform. Milliardo chose not to give him the reaction that he was surely seeking, turned on his heel, and began rounding up his team and making sure that their equipment hadn't suffered any harm.
"Set up the GPS pad," Milliardo ordered. "I want formation and forward movement in ten minutes agents!"
An agent unstrapped a tripod from Levits's gear, sprung open the legs, and then stabbed the sharp points on the legs into the ground. Hitting a switch, Milliardo was relieved to see the green light begin blinking, an clear indication that it was up and running and hadn't been damaged.
"Just admire the trees for a second Levitz," Duo's voice said. "There you go, sweetie. See that one? I think it's a ficus-"
"Shit!" Levitz's curse of pain spun Milliardo around in time to see the medic brandish metal tweezers and a long sliver of wood.
"See not that bad at all. She'll live, right doc?" Duo joked.
"Maxwell!" Milliardo snarled. "Stop holding hands with Levitz and get communications checked."
"Okay, but I really don't think that the logistics and explosive's expert should be carrying the lifeline of the outfit as well," Duo muttered as he left Levitz and began digging through his equipment.
"When commander is in front of your name, Maxwell, then it will be your strategy and your orders that will be followed," Milliardo snapped back.
The older agent, that had been seated next to Maxwell on the transport, gave Duo's foot a slight kick. A friendly warning to shut up. Duo didn't acknowledge it and kept working, but he was silent after that.
The parachute drop had been risky, Milliardo knew, but drop lines from a hovering transport would have been dangerous as well, considering the tricky terrain. A bird in an intake, or the suctioning up of jungle growth into bottom engines, had been a real possibility considering the densely packed canopy of jungle. Even their small clearing had a litter of forest debris. Milliardo had calculated less risk in a tight parachute drop. The compact shutes were specifically designed to cut down on updrafting and that made Levitz's mishap even less forgivable.
It was regrettable, Milliardo thought, as his people checked and loaded equipment. It showed a lack of attention to detail, that Levitz had made a mistake like that one. He had been harboring high hopes for her career .A black mark on her record, at this point, would probably ruin her chances to get far in the command structure.
All of the equipment checked out, and they moved off into the jungle. The stationary GPS would mark their entrance and give them signal boost for communication, but they wouldn't return to that spot for pick up. Instead, it was a marker for rescue, or replacement agents if they failed that miserably. Their exit strategy, entailed a very long hike, through dense jungle, towards a mountainous region to the north of their position, where pickup with heavy equipment would be quick and effortless. Getting them there depended heavily on Maxwell's deep jungle experience.
Hawkins was his back-up. Often paired with Maxwell, the man, for all of his lack of military finesse, still had high marks for completing missions. His file had profiled him as a follower, though, not command material. His last mission commander had a made a note about his abysmal sense of direction and his penchant for 'finding trouble'. He needed a keeper, Milliardo thought, and he had found that keeper paired with Maxwell.
Even now he followed behind Maxwell, one man looking pantherish, strong, and in his element and the other over large, clumsy, and struggling with balancing his equipment. His eyes, Milliardo noted, were always on Maxwell as if waiting for even the subtlest cue to perform some action. The man had jungle experience, but Milliardo didn't want to rely on him unless absolutely necessary.
Levitz was next in line, looking like the perfect soldier even with a uniform shirt soaked with sweat and covered in dirt. Her hair was a tangled mess that she had pinned back from her face and a bruise on her cheek and smeared dirt was a reminder of her mistake. From the grim, tight bunch of her jaw, Milliardo read a determination to redeem herself.
Tamins was their weapons expert. He was red haired and freckled faced, barely old enough to drink, but old enough to sign up for Preventers and, maybe die like the rest of them. Whip cord thin, he was all hands and feet, his blue eyes on the ground, and looking concerned, as if he were afraid of snakes.
Diaz, Haskins, Pauly, and Krimmins were the four 'muscle' of the mission. It was their job to carry the weapon. They all were newbies,and, like Tamins, far too young in Milliardo's estimation.
The medic, Sheffield, or 'Shef', as everyone seemed to call him, was a veteran. Calm, quiet, and competent, just the qualities needed for a man who often had to work on wounded men during fire fights.He had only one warning blip. He had spent some time in an enemy camp and had experienced torture. While the Psyche hadn't seen any mental breaks from the ordeal, his warning that flash backs might occur had been duly noted by Milliardo. the man was whistling slightly under his breath, just then, eyes a little unfocused, as if he were thinking about something a million miles away and far more pleasant than walking through a bug infested jungle.
Milliardo turned on his personal repellent, a small round clip at his collar that emitted a slight buzz that bugs found distasteful. It didn't stop them all, but it made things more bearable.
"Hey barbecue!" Duo called out.
Shef blinked back to the here and now and moved forward in the line. "What's up?"
Barbecue? Milliardo was puzzled as Duo rotated an elbow, winced and then said something low to Shef. The man nodded, checked the elbow, and then replied, "Tough it out, Maxwell. It's still in the socket, just bone bruised. I'm saving the medicine for more than paper cuts."
"Thanks for the compassion, Barbecue," Duo replied sarcastically. "I'll remind you of your awful bedside manner when I can't save your ass by throwing a micro grenade properly."
"Save me from...? A big mosquito?" Shef shot back. "This is a mop of mission, Maxwell, not combat. Stop being a baby."
He moved back to his place in line and Duo muttered a curse and tucked his injured elbow in close to his body as he stayed at point. Milliardo moved up the line to ask Shef, "What did he want?"
"A cortisone shot," Shef replied with a frown. "You're not questioning my medical competence are you, sir? I assure you that Maxwell's elbow will stop hurting after a few hours. He's always worried about being in perfect physical condition during missions. A bit of obsessive behavior, if you ask me."
"I trust your judgment," Milliardo told him.
Milliardo could understand Duo's obsession. A man who relied on his body to keep him alive, and who often had to judge life or death situations by knowledge of his own abilities, wouldn't want a calculation off because of any physical impairment.
"Why did he call you 'Barbecue' ?" Milliardo wondered.
Shef smirked. "Oh, that? Well, you've probably read that I was tortured, at one point?"
"Yes."
"They used a barbecue grill to heat up the iron that they burned me with," Shef said as if it were funny, rather than the horror that it must have been.
"I'll add it to my report when we return to headquarters," Milliardo told him angrily.
Shef snorted. "You don't have to do that, sir. It's funny. Sort of takes the sting out of it, making it a joke like that. I suppose that I can't explain why, but its worse when everyone tip toeing around the subject and or acting sick and horrified for me."
"Noted," Milliardo replied and found that other words weren't forthcoming. He dropped back to the end of the line, instead, to keep an eye on his agents and to go over the logistics in his mind, one more time. Like an intricate dance, everything had to come together perfectly.
"Look, a tiki bar!" Duo exclaimed and everyone laughed at the joke.
"Maxwell!" Milliardo shouted, but it lacked heat. They were
still early on in the mission. He wasn't going to insist on strict behavior
just
yet. He intended to tighten Maxwell's leash, though, and bring him to heel
properly, before things did heat up.
----------------------------------------------
Everything stopped and Milliardo heard a loud, "Shit!" that was Maxwell.
"Report!" Milliardo barked, when his team tangled, the ones nearest him looking ahead, puzzled.
Milliardo pushed through to where Duo was leaning against a tree with one leg raised, while Shef lifted his pants leg and observed the blood flowing freely from a deep wound. It had marred a tattoo there. A scythe with black roses.
"Hold still," Shef growled as he squeezed at the wound, pried slivers of something out, and then sprayed it with a foam. The bleeding stopped as he eyed it critically.
"Christ, Maxwell!" Hawkins exclaimed. "did you revert back to rookie?"
"Ha, ha," Duo growled and then gritted his teeth as he put his foot down and leaned his weight on it.
"I asked for a report, Maxwell," Milliardo snarled. "I don't expect to be ignored."
Duo gave him the briefest look from purple eyes before he was looking down at the wound again. "Slid down some mud right into a pointed stick." He looked embarrassed. "Stupid accident."
Milliardo made a frustrated sound and asked Shef, "Well?"
"It's deep. There's mud. A good possibility for infection," Shef replied. "The antibiotic foam should take care of that and keep dumb ass from bleeding to death, but there's always a chance that I'll have to amputate in the field."
"You're a real riot, Barbecue," Duo said sarcastically as Shef put on a bandage and then yanked Duo's pants leg down.
Shef grunted as he straightened. "I wasn't joking, Maxwell." He took three bottles out of his med bag. "Need some happy pills? Take your pick. Mild, fluffy feeling, or I can't feel my head, pill?"
"None, because they don't make me happy," Duo snorted as he took a few, limping test steps. "They make me hurl."
"They do," Hawkins agreed looking sick at some memory. "Projectile hurling. You don't want to see it, trust me."
"I'll deal," Duo told Milliardo. "This won't slow me down."
"Is that a valid assessment or macho shit that I can't trust?" Milliardo demanded to know.
Duo seethed for a moment, jaw working, and then he let out a breath and shrugged. "Macho shit, I guess, sir."
"Thank you for your honesty, Maxwell. Back of the line." Milliardo ordered. "Macho shit doesn't have any place in an operation, agent. Understand? I need clear assessments."
Duo nodded and gave up his place to Hawkins. "Don't get lost," he muttered and Hawkins only grunted and took point.
"Stay with Maxwell, Sheffield," Milliardo ordered. "I want to know if he downgrades, understand? We may have to leave him behind for later evac."
"Yes, sir."
Carrying equipment and Maxwell at the same time was not in any of Milliardo's plans. He felt an angry burn that his best agent, whether he wanted to admit that or not, might not only become sidetracked, but become a liability as well.
Hawkins moved slower, taking a great deal of time watching his instruments to keep them going in the correct direction. It added to Milliardo's irritation. Their timetable was being blown to hell and that was going to be a mark on his record.
"Sorry," Duo said from behind him.
Milliardo glanced stiffly over one shoulder and then gave his back to Duo. "Sorry does not cut it, Maxwell."
"If you can explain to me, sir, how I could have seen a sharp stick, hidden by undergrowth, pointed at my leg, while I slid down what was just stable ground... well, I'll make certain to use your expertise to never do it again."
Milliardo grunted, understanding that Maxwell was more than correct, but too angry to concede.
"I'd be pissed too, sir," Duo tried again. "This was a lock step mission and I stumbled."
"This doesn't improve the situation," Milliardo warned him, "Or my temper."
Duo was quiet then, the limping sound of his footsteps a counterpoint to everyone's smooth, regular rhythm of walking. Milliardo knew that kind of silence, knew what it promised. A man like Duo, like himself, wouldn't compromise any mission because of stupidity or carelessness. Milliardo had been correct to put Sheffield on watch. He was sure that Duo intended to complete the mission, whatever the personal cost, to redeem himself.
"Don't," Sheffield suddenly said.
"I was just keeping my balance, not trying for sexual harassment, Barbecue," Duo sighed.
"Your hands like to roam, Maxwell."
"Sheffy, you are NOT my type. I don't think you're anyone's type, actually. Now, big and blonde...." he said the last under his breath, but Milliardo had excellent hearing. He was startled by his own blush and scowled to counteract it.
"Like a Chihuahua humping a Clydesdale," Sheffield snorted and then sounded ill, "Thanks, Maxwell. Now I have a weird image in my head."
"Now, I'm all hot and bothered," Duo lamented.
"Then definitely keep your hands to yourself."
"I told you, not my type," Duo snorted. "I wouldn't mind them somewhere else, though."
"If that's a hard on, Maxwell, I'm getting a needle out," Sheffield complained. "I have a lot of shit that will knock your sick little libido out for the count."
"It's NOT little," Duo chuckled.
"Says, who?" Sheffield scoffed.
"Yuy, Winner, Hawkins... your father."
"Your mother," Sheffield shot back.
"Can it!" Milliardo barked, but he heard Duo's chuckle of amusement.
Milliardo's irritation went up a notch when he realized that he was trying to conjure up an image of Maxwell, naked, and his large... "Hawkins!" Milliardo put some space between himself and Duo. "This isn't a stroll! I need more speed!"
They camped under mosquito netting, their gear piled around them and bedrolls almost elbow to elbow. They ate rations, checked everyone for dehydration,bug infestations, and exhaustion. The newbies were holding up, youth and excitement at being on their first mission, keeping their spirits high. Levitz was quiet. She didn't seem to mind a bedroll at the center of her male comrades, but she looked over heated, hair clinging to her with sweat and face red and bug bitten. Sheffield was checking her over, and making a comment about an allergy to the bugs.
Maxwell was sitting next to Hawkin, injured leg stuck out to one side into someone else's bedroll. He was ignoring the irritated agent as he tried to explain the finer points of the GPS system to Hawkins. Any thing to get the man to move quicker, Milliardo thought.
"It's your fault, Maxwell," Hawkins complained. "If you hadn't been such a prima donna about taking point in every mission, I would know this shit."
"If you were any good at it...," Duo grumbled, but then shrugged and continued his explanation. Milliardo was surprised that they weren't merely speaking about locations, but high level calculations that Maxwell used to pinpoint obstacles and distances. "See, use this number, this number, pan over to this spot, and then let the nav triangulate. See?"
"No," Hawkins admitted, "but I'm not the kind of guy who can navigate without a computer in space, either, ex-gundam pilot Maxwell."
Duo made an exasperated noise. "It's not that damned hard, Hawkins."
"For you, not for everyone else," Hawkins protested. "I'll just follow the map and the coordinates, thanks."
"And what happens when the map doesn't line up with the coordinates?" Maxwell wanted to know sarcastically.
"This was made by Preventer satellites," Hawkins protested as he took back the instrument. "It's right. You're just being paranoid."
"Have you seen many errors?" Milliardo cut in.
Duo turned his head to look at him and smiled. "Not often, but when it happened, it was a disaster."
"Once?" Milliardo clarified.
"Isn't once enough?" Duo wanted to know.
Milliardo thought about that and then nodded. "If it costs a mission, or men's lives, I would agree."
"It did," Duo replied and looked shadowed for a moment. His smile turned stiff, a mask that was unnerving. "Better safe then dead."
"Recheck the map, now," Milliardo ordered. "and then it's lights out. You, especially need rest."
"Yes, sir," Duo said as he took the instrument back from an annoyed Hawkins.
Much later, when sleep had refused to come to Milliardo, he rolled over and sat up. He was on the outer edge of his agents, and it was easy to stand, stretch, and pick up a light. Personal business needed tending.
Walking out a little into the jungle, Milliardo began to open his pants. It was then that he heard it, a low gasping whine that was almost rhythmic and then Duo's hushed voice complaining, "Quiet!"
Stepping towards the sound, Milliardo saw someone else's light. He switched off his own and didn't have to approach another step. Someone was stretched out on the ground with Duo stretched out on top, both of them with their pants down to their knees. Duo was thrusting with vigor and looking on the verge of orgasm. The man underneath had his shirt jammed into his mouth to stifle his cries. Red hair. Agent Tamins.
The slap of flesh on flesh, Duo's back and shoulder muscles bunching and releasing along with his butt muscles, and the much slimmer Tamins slightly contorted so that he could reach his own excited member, was an erotic sight that kept Milliardo rooted and silent for the full minute it took Duo to snarl an exclamation behind gritted teeth as he came and for Tamins to buck and jerk in his own orgasm.
"Thanks," Duo panted into the man's ear. "I really needed that. Sorry if, uhm, well, it hurt a bit. Can't help the size..."
"Okay," Tamins managed as he spat out his shirt and they began to separate.
"You are both on report," Milliardo said, a dangerous fury over taking him. He kept his voice as cold as ice, though, as he said to Duo,"Since you are able to indulge in insubordinate behavior, you will take point tomorrow. Put that misspent energy to better use. Get your cock out of Tamins, Maxwell, and both of you get back to camp. If it see it out of your pants again, I'll make sure Sheffield follows up on his threat to chemically emasculate you."
"Y-Yes, sir," Duo stammered as if he wasn't sure whether to laugh or to remain serious.
Tamins hissed as Duo pulled out, but Milliardo didn't stay to watch. He was angry, furious, seething and he didn't trust himself a second longer in Duo's presence. The man had to learn, he swore to himself, there wouldn't be another incident like that one.
----------------------------------------------------------------
Tamins wasn't walking any steadier than Duo the next day. Another irritation that Milliardo didn't want. The other agents joked and he blushed and ducked his head, but Duo seemed completely unrepentant. He even gave Tamins a wink when their eyes met during the midday break.
"What's different, this time, Maxwell?" Milliardo asked point blank as Duo hitched up his pants leg and checked his wound. They were sitting a little away from the others, Duo's tanned upper body gleaming with sweat, and his tattoos seeming to writhe and move as his muscles flexed.
"Sir?" Duo asked without looking up.
"I don't have any reports of this type of behavior from previous missions. Why are you choosing to act with such insubordination, such lack of professional-"
"Sir," Duo cut in. "I've always had a randy libido, but having you around is making it even more... active. Just the thought of having you on the mission was enough to get me primed. In case you weren't aware, Commander, you are one hot man in every way that I can think of. Even your brilliant mind makes me hard."
"Let me spell this out for you, agent," Milliardo said harshly, "We have as much in common as rocks and water. We have as much chance of being together as rice paper and a diamond saw blade. If you value any part of your career, you will, from this moment forward, concentrate solely on this mission. Do I have your attention, now? If I turn in my report, nothing, not even your status as an ex gundam pilot will induce Une to allow you to work with her agents any longer." He paused and then leaned close as Duo looked up at him with hot, angry eyes. "Besides, I top, agent, and I always will."
Duo's grin was dangerous. "Maybe you just haven't met the man who'll make you want to bottom, sir."
"You're right," Milliardo replied. "I haven't."
Duo was frowning now, stung by rejection. "My leg is infected," he announced as if they had been talking about that subject all along. "Barbecue!" he called out and the medic hurried to his side. "Do something with this, will you? I need to stay in front and I can't do that if I end up with one leg."
Duo tied a black scarf around his forehead and wiped at his sweating brow. Shef checked his temperature. "A little high," he announced. An injection, more cream, and a fresh bandage was applied with expert speed. He tapped Duo's water bottle, strapped to Duo's belt. "Keep drinking."
Duo looked worried. "You didn't just give me...?"
Shef looked disgusted. "Maxwell, regs state that I am not to inject or use treatments that are not approved by Preventers and the medical board without your authorization .While I would like nothing better than to castrate you, I'm not allowed to."
Duo looked green and put a hand protectively to his crotch. "Did you have to use the term, castrate?"
"They say it makes them more docile," Hawkins quipped and Duo tossed some forest debris at him with one hand.
"Can he travel?" Milliardo demanded, cutting over their joking.
"Not advisable, but, yes, he can," Shef replied with a shrug.
Duo made a motion of 'Why not?' and levered himself up. He took the lead and everyone rose wearily to follow him without any order from Milliardo.
Milliardo couldn't say anything without looking ridiculous. He had been about to order everyone to move. Making a point of that, now, would only make him seem like a prima donna.
"You're too quiet, sir," Shef said as he packed his equipment and slung it into place on his back.
Milliardo raised an angry white eyebrow at him.
"I don't know where he's been in his life, but no one managed to get him to listen without either taking him out and punching his lights out, or doing a drill sergeant routine on him for a solid day. He's physical, basic, impulsive. He's never going to respond to mild persuasion or someone stating regs at him."
"Physical and mental abuse is against regs, medic," Milliardo replied.
Shef sighed."Yes, sir." He paused and then said, "Our last team commander tied him with his hands behind his back... in a tree... and let him hang... for an hour. Duo gave him a lot of respect for that. He was good for almost the entire mission. What I'm trying to say is, the man is completely wound up at all times, always thinking, always in motion. He needs a strong, physical consequence to keep in mind to short circuit those behaviors." he gave Milliardo a look and said carefully, "You don't actually have to hurt him, just make him think that you might... convincingly."
"He needs a stint with psyche," Milliardo growled, "or medication."
Shef shrugged. "All of those quirks make him the best. They're just not good when there isn't any action to keep him focused."
"He did a mission with Heero," Milliard remembered. "How did he handle a fellow Gundam pilot?"
Shef blushed and rubbed a hand over his face. "Well, it's just rumor, you understand, and some things Maxwell's said? Seems Yuy took him out into the woods and had two kinds of strategy."
"He pushed my face into an ant pile and then, when he got his point across, we fucked like rabbits," Duo interjected with a smirk as he leaned into their conversation. "That man can definitely top from the bottom. We have a problem, Commander."
The sudden change in subject stripped Milliardo's mental gears, he went from whitely furious to tight concern in an instant. His head throbbed with the effort. "Report," he ordered.
"The GPS isn't picking up the target any longer." Duo waggled the GPS control at Milliardo. "Either someone's managed to get there before us, and cloak it, or something has disabled my GPS. My money is on the first scenario, especially since the weapon gypped left before I lost contact."
"Weapons ready!" Milliardo barked to his team. "We may have a situation. I want everyone alert for action."
"It's only two clicks away," Duo agreed. "They could have scouts out, knowing that we're going after the thing."
"Get us there, quickly, Maxwell!" Milliardo barked right into Duo's face and grabbed a tight hold on the braid at the back of Duo's neck. He twisted hard. "No jokes, no detours, no insubordination. Quiet, fast, and by the book. Do you understand?!"
"Yes, sir," Duo said with a tight, pained expression. "Got it. Let go."
Duo limped back to the front and Hawkins took point, gun ready, in front of him. As they moved out, Shef looked awed.
"Yes, medic?" Milliardo wondered sharply.
"He must like you," Shef replied.
"Why do you say that?"
"You grabbed his braid, and lived," Shef said. "Nobody touches his hair. Nobody. He's put men in the hospital for less than what you just did."
Milliardo didn't have time to consider that information or the fact that he had liked touching Duo's hair. He had liked that moment of meeting his eyes and exerting some control over that explosive personality. Something in Duo's expression had told him that he had liked it as well.
He had a mission to complete, a mission that had suddenly developed dangerous complications. He couldn't allow for confusing attractions, or insubordination from agents any longer. It was time to focus.
-------------------------------------------
Arriving at the site, guns ready, they found what they had expected, shattered debris, drag marks that led off into the forest, and no sign of their target. Duo attempted to pinpoint it to no avail.
"Follow the marks," Levitz said as she hefted her equipment more securely on her shoulders.
"Could be a false lead," Hawkins growled, in the same tone of voice that he would have used to call her stupid.
Milliardo crouched by the marks, examined them, and then moved into the forest to examine broken undergrowth and more tracks. "They didn't have much time," he said, almost to himself. He was surprised when Duo appeared by his elbow, eyes narrowed as he followed the track into the jungle.
"Ambush or trap," Duo decided. "They can't hide their trail, so they'll try to cripple us.
Milliardo nodded, agreeing. "I need a possible exit point."
"They won't exit," Duo said with firm assurance, but then he was frowning as if his mind was clicking away and had stopped on something that didn't make sense. Suddenly he was shouting, "Stop! Nobody move! Pressure bomb!"
Everyone froze, eyes wide. No one questioned Duo, including Milliardo.
"Even if they used a sled, they won't be moving fast," Duo told them. "Making traps takes time. They probably set a big one, gambling that we'd set it off before any animals came across it."
Milliardo nodded. "Diaz?"
A black haired agent left off staring hard at the ground for the slightest clue of where the bomb was, to look over at his commander. Milliardo suppressed a bark of irritation, keeping his voice level as he reminded the man, "You have the detectors, agent."
The man started in embarrassment and then carefully reached back into his pack to pull a device out of it. His pack unexpectedly slid off of his shoulder and the weight carried it heavily to the ground. Heartbeats ceased for a count of seconds and then the man was taking a shaky breath and looking about apologetically.
Maxwell was bagging his GPS and waiting expectantly as Diaz scanned the ground around them with a black, handheld device. "There," he finally pointed out, along the drag tracks.
Milliardo and Duo exchanged tense looks, realizing how close they had come to blowing everyone up, especially when Diaz moved confidently to point at a spot between their matched footprints in the dirt.
"Any more?" Duo asked.
Diaz made a careful sweep, black brows down low over amber eyes. "Only one," he assured him.
"Here, anyway," Hawkins muttered.
"Clear out people," Milliardo ordered. "Scan the trail ahead, Diaz, and everyone follow him. Disarm the bomb, Maxwell."
"No time and not necessary," Duo replied and then at Milliardo's angry frown. "I got it handled, sir, don't worry. Everybody keep moving out."
"May I remind you, agent-" Milliardo began, but Duo cut him short in his usual maddening way. A shrug of a strong, rounded shoulder and a cocky grin.
"We're falling behind, sir. Disarm takes fifteen to twenty minutes," Duo explained. "We got that kind of time?"
"We can't leave it here," Milliardo ground back. "If someone else were to go through this area- "
"I told you, I have it handled," Duo snorted as he reached out to pluck a twig from Milliardo's bound hair. It seemed both intimate and guaranteed to anger Milliardo at the same time. "Trust in my expertise, sir. That's why I was assigned on this mission."
"You will not circumvent my authority, Maxwell," Milliardo warned, "You of all people should know how important chain of command it."
"I didn't go to military school," Duo replied. "I was taught by a terrorist, remember?"
"That doesn't mean that you can't learn, Maxwell!" Milliardo snarled and smacked his hand away.
"Times a wasting, sir," Duo reminded him as he rubbed his hand ruefully.
"And I've made my decision. Disarm the bomb, Maxwell," Milliardo ordered and motioned with both hands for the other agents to keep moving. He followed them into the jungle, trusting that Duo would catch up to them.
"Maxwell was right," Hawkins said to Diaz as he followed at the man's elbow while he scanned. "A bomb expert shouldn't be carrying the GPS, as well. What if he blows himself up?"
"He won't," Diaz replied impatiently.
"How do you know that?" Hawkins wondered.
"He's a Gundam pilot," Diaz replied simply, but then made a motion for Hawkins to be quiet. "Let me do my job. I want to get us a safe distance so that I can change my shorts."
Hawkins grimaced in distaste and fell back a few steps.
The sudden explosion had them all falling to the earth and covering their heads. While the debris rained down on them, Milliardo was already up and running back to where he had left Duo. Duo met him in under six strides, coming out of the jungle and raking a hand rapidly through his hair to dislodge debris.
"Bomb disarmed, sir," Duo told him with a calm, unrepentant air.
Milliardo was panting, his heart racing. His fists clenched even as he looked Duo over to make sure that he was uninjured. "How?" Was all that he could manage.
"Well placed rock," Duo chuckled as he examined a small bleeding cut on his shoulder. "I have a good throwing arm."
Duo limped past him as everyone rose to their feet. When he had passed them as well, he said airily, "Well come on, Diaz, scan the road."
Diaz looked to Milliardo, who nodded stiffly.
"That's not good for your blood pressure, sir, holding it all in like that." Shef said as they walked behind the team.
Milliardo glared at him.
"If you have something planned for him that includes severe bodily injury, I should be prepared," Shef continued as if they were talking about the weather.
"This isn't the war," Milliardo snapped back.
"And you wish it were, so that you could take a pound of flesh out of him?" Shef wondered.
"Something like that," Milliardo agreed.
"He hasn't done anything to endanger the mission or the team," Shef mused. "I don't think filing a report, after all of this is over with, and watching him get slapped on the wrist, is going to satisfy you at this point."
It wouldn't, Milliardo thought. He couldn't leave the man behind or court martial him on the spot with a pistol bullet. He needed Duo.
"You know," Shef went on, ignoring Milliardo's irritation, "He did us a favor by blowing that mine up, however you look at it. Now whoever took our target will think that we're either incapacitated or down by a lot of agents."
"I realize that," Milliardo retorted.
Shef studied him for a moment and then smirked and said nothing else. It implied that he knew something that Milliardo didn't. Milliardo felt like grabbing him and demanding what it was.
Duo's tanned back, his swinging braid, and his determination to keep at the front, despite his injury had everyone in the group, including Shef, admiring him.They were going to listen to him and allow an awestruck admiration of his loose cannon attitude, put them in danger, eventually. Duo had lived a life making decisions that didn't include survival. He wasn't command material.
Duo looked back at him as if reading his thoughts. His smile was warm and... understanding. It told Milliardo that he was sorry for being what he was, yet also sorry for not being able to be anything other than that. When he turned back around, Milliardo wondered how he could see so much in those purple eyes.
Be strong, take charge, master the situation, Milliardo told himself. Maybe Duo was counting on him doing those very things? Maybe he realized his own flaws? Maybe....
Milliardo sighed and rubbed at his aching forehead. "Shef," he said softly and the man looked at him quizzically."I want you to keep a shot of tranquilizer on hand, ready to use on my command. It needs to be a shot strong enough to take a Gundam pilot down in seconds."
Shef looked grim, but nodded, "Will do, sir."
Failsafe, Milliardo thought. Always have a failsafe when dealing with dangerous materials.
________________________
Duo was staring at the tracks, everyone piling up behind him. He wiped at his forehead. He looked pale and his hand was shaking. Those were two things that Milliardo noticed first when he faced the man and demanded simply, "Agent?"
"Something's changed," Duo said as he pointed at the tracks.
Milliardo studied the deep grooves and the sunken imprint of combat boots all around them. "Explain?"
Duo blinked as if he were having trouble staying awake as he motioned at the tracks and said, "Not as deep."
Milliardo raised his eyes to examine his agent and saw Hawkins concerned face over the man's shoulder. He and Milliardo exchanged a look and Milliardo's mouth went into a hard line as he made a decision. "Hawkins, take point. Maxwell, give him the GPS. You'll fall behind with Shef and continue at your own pace."
Duo scowled. "I'm not sick! I know what I'm talking about. This is some sort of trick!"
Milliardo studied the tracks again, and didn't see anything different. "The earth is more hard packed here, that's all. Think, agent, we are close on their heels. They won't have had time for any evasive maneuvers."
Duo shook his head. necklaces and dog tags swung, along with his braid, as he turned and surveyed the surrounding forest. "You have to listen to me!"
"I have listened,"Milliardo replied calmly as he nodded at Shef. "I've also made my decision. You will follow my commands, Maxwell."
Shef was taking Duo's temperature and then looked into his eyes. He grunted at what he saw. "Something's not right. This isn't infection. Feel like shitting or hurling?"
Duo shook his head and staggered a bit as if it had disoriented him. He rubbed hands over his face and said, "Feel hot... tired... dizzy..." He firmed his stance. "I'm not out, though. You gave me the juice. It should take care of all of it, right?"
Shef grunted as he pulled the GPS out of Duo's hands and handed it to Hawkins."I'm not God, Maxwell, of course it doesn't take care of everything. If you've picked up parasites, Tapai fever, or sepsis, a couple of shots in the ass won't make much of a difference."
"Witch doctor," Duo grumbled.
"We're out of range of a pick up, Duo," Shef said bluntly. "You better hope I'm not anything like a witch doctor."
Milliardo felt worry for Duo wash over him and it was difficult to control it, especially when he had to tell Shef, "Stay with him. We must continue on."
"Yes, sir," Shef replied and tugged at Duo's arm. "You heard him, Maxwell."
Duo stared at the tracks, blinked rapidly, again, and then looked at Milliardo. "Maybe... I might be wrong.... I'm really not thinking all that hot." His confession surprised Milliardo.
"I am in command," Milliardo told the man. "Rely on my experience."
Duo raked a hand through sweaty bangs, and gave a nod, but then he was smiling weakly. "You really turn me on when you take command, like that. After this is done, we have to hook up, seriously, all right?"
"Can it, Agent!" Milliardo snapped. "The only personal time you will be getting from me will be if I have to follow Yuy's example of pushing you down to get you to obey me."
Duo managed a grin. "I lied about that. He really just cold cocked me in the face and told me he'd cut off my balls, and use the things for paper weights, if I didn't follow his commands. I knew he was serious." Duo rubbed at his crotch protectively.
"So am I," Milliardo retorted. "Don't doubt what I'm capable of if you compromise people's lives."
Duo's humor banked and he looked serious, for once. "I won't do that."
"You won't plan for it, " Milliardo corrected, "but I doubt planning has little to do with any of your strategies. Fall back."
Milliardo motioned Hawkins to proceed and the agents began walking again. Duo stood still until he was the last man and then he and Shef fell in behind them. Milliardo waited only long enough to make certain that Duo was capable of the pace, and then he was moving up the line and taking his position.
He was right, Milliardo told himself. This wasn't a trick. Their targets were just up ahead. They had to be ready for combat. He couldn't let Duo make him doubt that. "Levitz," he ordered. "We're close. I don't want us walking into anything."
"Understood," she replied. She handed her pack to Tamins and pulled out her pistol. Hurrying ahead, she disappeared into the jungle.
Milliardo didn't have to command silence. Even his newbies were checking their weapons and staying alert. They didn't have surprise on their side. Their targets were going to be ready to open fire. Milliardo could only hope that they would have the advantage that Duo had given them, an advantage that he had ordered against, but now appreciated. Their targets believed that they were wounded, reduced in number, or totally decimated. A full force was going to be their only advantage.
It was two hours before Levitz returned, full of dirt and leaves and looking pleased with herself, but nervous about Milliardo's reaction as she reported, "Disabled the sled, sir. The targets are half a click up ahead and trying to make rapid repairs."
"How did you...?" Milliardo had a hand wrapped in her collar before he could stop himself. He forced his fingers to let go, and kept walking as he demanded, "Report."
She swallowed and tried to keep up with his longer stride as she said, "It was an opportunity, sir. They were attempting to leave another trap for us and left the sled and the weapon unattended. I was able to slip in and jam the treads. They have to drag it, now, just not pull it. I doubt that they will manage it."
"Did they complete the trap?" Milliard asked.
"Yes," she replied, and described the trigger. They hadn't given her much time to disable the sled. Milliardo decided that she had made the right decision.
"Good work, Levitz. Describe our targets and the sled."
The target was a match of their own, Milliardo decided when she was done reporting. Skill was going to be the deciding factor and good command decisions.
"Team," Milliardo called, not loudly, and brought everyone together. Duo was leaning on Shef, now, and looking paler. The man lowered him onto a fallen tree trunk and Duo sat with his head bowed, breathing hard.
"Our goal will be to disable the sled permanently. It has minimal anti grav units, and it relies mostly on treads." Milliardo looked each agent in the eye, gauging their nervousness, especially the newbies. "I want us to be moving targets. Fast in and fast out, with specific shots fired. A series of these moves will soften up the target enough for a decisive final attack."
Milliardo looked to Shef, who shook his head firmly in answer to Milliardo's unspoken question.
"Maxwell," Milliardo ordered, bracing himself for an argument, "You will remain here for pickup, later."
"Yes, sir," Duo replied simply.
Everyone stared. Duo raised his head enough to show them an amused eye from under his bangs.
"I know when I'm down and out, sir," he told Milliardo. "I'm a liability."
Milliardo narrowed his blue eyes in suspicion. "I'll leave Shef with you-"
"I'm a big boy, sir," Duo protested. "You'll need Barbecue with you, in case someone gets seriously hurt. I can take care of myself. Now, go get the bad guys."
"Under cover, agent," Milliardo ordered tersely.
Duo made a shaky salute and Shef helped him find a comfortable hidden spot to wait for them.
"When they moved out again, Hawkins was looking back with a frown. "Why don't I trust that?" he said almost to himself.
"Maybe he's really bad off, enough to die?" Tamins wondered anxiously.
Shef said sourly, "Let's not get hysterical, little girls. He'll be fine. I wouldn't have left him, otherwise."
"Which makes me even more... suspicious," Hawkins said. "If he's not on death's door, then I can't see him staying behind."
Milliardo couldn't fault his logic. He was thinking the very same thing. Since he hadn't known Duo to use subterfuge to do as he pleased, he concluded that Duo was worse than he was letting Shef know. Milliardo eyed Sheffield. Or Shef wasn't telling him the entire truth.
"Since when do you follow his orders?" Milliardo ground out, furious.
"Since you became emotionally attached to him," Sheffield replied unapologetically and knowing exactly what Milliardo was alluding to. "We thought it best that you were focused on the attack and not on him back there."
"He needs care," Milliardo guessed.
"We should make this quick," Sheffield agreed.
Milliardo swore under his breath, but speed had been in his plan all along. He simply had more of an incentive, now, than the acquisition of a contraband weapon.
Emotionally attached? He wanted to scoff at that, but he was honest with himself. Duo had the ability to draw people to him like a moth to a flame, sexually and otherwise. Milliardo wasn't immune to it. The man wanted him and Milliardo was certain that he rarely didn't get those he chose to favor.
Milliardo gave his agents their orders and they moved to take positions. One man down and an evenly matched force up ahead. Everyone's life depended on Milliardo making the correct decisions, on orders being followed quickly and competently. Game time, he thought, and gave the order to move in.
-----------------------------------
"Stay alert," Milliardo ordered. "They expect us. It's possible that there may be new traps or men who circle around and try to attack us from protected positions. Every direction may harbor an enemy."
He saw veterans nod and new agents look around nervously. Hands were white knuckled on weapons. The jungle was almost impenetrable, though. It's dense foliage was as much an enemy as the men they were after. Any sudden sound or move was going to get shot at.
Tamins was suddenly walking by Milliardo and looking nervous.
"Tamins?" Milliardo questioned, his eyes on the jungle.
"Uh, sir, I just wanted to say... well," Tamins struggled and then firmed his resolve. "Maxwell thinks a lot of you. I wanted you to know that. You never know what might happen, and I didn't want you to think what me and Maxwell did was any more than a quick... you know... Just to let off pressure. He's not... well, he is, kind of... a well... He takes it where he can get it, but emotions aren't attached, if you get what I'm saying sir? I'm pretty sure what he wants from you has all the emotions attached."
Milliardo's jaw clenched. "Anything else, Tamins?"
Tamins cleared his throat self consciously and then added. "Use a lot of lube, sir."
"Thank you for your concern about my opinion of Agent Maxwell, Tamins, especially in the midst of a possible fire fight, "Milliardo replied coolly, "I'm sure such concerns reported on your records will speed up any possible advancement."
Tamins jaw went hard and he moved up to his position. Cold bastard, was probably the least of what the man was thinking, but Milliardo couldn't acknowledge his lack of discipline any other way. He certainly couldn't tell the man that his assurance of Maxwell's interest had made a part of him relieved.
Ridiculous, Milliardo thought. Maxwell was years younger than himself. He lacked every quality that Milliardo admired in a man, except his expertise. He was a top, not the bottom that Milliardo desired, and it didn't seem that he was willing to compromise that position. Not that he, Milliardo, should even have contemplated the thought about a subordinate.
Maxwell might die, a part of him argued. He might die. They might all die. Tamins had been concerned about death taking along emotional baggage. Though Milliardo could fault him for his timing, he couldn't fault him for the sentiment.
The agents ahead went low and motioned them down. Milliardo crouched and quietly moved to come even with Hawkins. He could see, through the jungle, men scrambling over a sled carrying the weapon, trying to get it through jungle growth that had blocked their path.
Rapid shots rang out behind them. Milliardo tensed, but nothing came through the jungle to attack them. He turned his attention back to the main force and saw them looking relieved, believing that things had improved for them, somehow.
Milliardo couldn't take the chance that whatever was happening at their backs, might compromise their element of surprise. He wasn't about to be caught between two forces.
Milliardo had all eyes on him. He nodded and lifted his gun. They understood. He made a single motion forward and everyone burst out of the jungle, firing rapidly.
Milliardo was proud of his team. They took everyone out expertly, quickly, and had command of the area with minimal orders from him. Hawkins was the one to crawl over the weapon and destroy its firing matrix before bullets even ceased flying. Maxwell's job, Milliardo thought with a mingling of sour feelings and anxiety. Hawkins didn't have the expertise to destroy the weapon beyond all repair without triggering it. Taking out the firing mechanism would have only bought the Preventers time if they had lost to the enemy.
"We need a pickup point," Milliardo ordered Tamins as the man took the GPS. "I want this weapon moving, now, I'll take Diaz and Barbecue with me to collect Maxwell. Levitz, you're in command until I return."
"Sir," she said with a smart salute.
Milliardo didn't realize that he had used Duo's nickname for the medic until the man chuckled.
Duo wasn't far and neither were the dead bodies. They found him sitting on a fallen log, head bowed and gun lax between his legs. He was breathing heavily, sweat dripping off of his nose. Milliardo motioned Diaz to check the bodies while he crouched with Shef to check Duo.
"Report?" Milliardo ordered almost angrily.
Duo smiled shakily and lifted his chin enough to give milliardo an amused look from under sweaty bangs as Shef took his blood pressure and checked his wound. "Decided there were too many damned biting bugs to sit, so i thought i would save you the return trip and get to you at my own pace. That's when I saw these sneaky bastards try to come around behind you. They didn't expect another sneaky bastard to come up behind them." he chuckled and then swayed, hand going up to wipe at his eyes. Shef fended the dirty hand away.
"Don't," Shef ordered. "Don't touch anything. You're filthy. Did you play in the dirt before you decided to play hero?"
"Something like that," Duo replied as Milliardo steadied him with a hand on his bare shoulder. "I wasn't walking all that good."
He was covered in bug bites and new scratches mingled with the dirt. That part of his story was true. Fever and sweats could have been a powerful attractor to insects. Milliardo couldn't fault him for at least that insubordination.
"Did we secure the weapon?" Duo asked Milliardo, hopefully.
"Yes," Milliardo replied. "If you feel able, I require you to render it a pile of useless parts."
Duo gave a shaky salute. "Will do, sir. I'll need some assistance, though."
"You have it." Without thought, Milliardo pulled Duo into a fireman's carry and straightened. The man didn't weigh much and they needed to rejoin the main group as quickly as possible.
Duo's braid swung against Milliardo's back as he gripped at Milliardo's uniform for balance. "Still top," he quipped in amusement.
"For now," Milliardo growled and began walking with the others close behind him.
------------------------
Spectacular, professional, and everything Milliardo had come to expect from a Gundam pilot. It was too dangerous, now to extract the weapon. There might be more of the terrorists waiting to reclaim it. Duo, despite his weakness, had measured out tolerances, optimum safe release of fuel rods, shrapnel patterns, and explosive weights all in his head as he had dug through his packs and muttered equations under his breath. Sitting on the ground, long braid coiled like rope, and full of dirt, he had looked like a little boy ready to play a practical joke. The end result, though, had been a neat blast zone and melted slag at its center. No one would be reconstruction any part of the deadly weapon.
"Good job, Maxwell," Milliardo offered. "You have earned your pay, for once."
Duo grinned weakly and then fell over onto his back, arm shading his eyes from the dappled sunlight through the canopy of jungle. "Does this mean that I won't get reported once we get back to civilization?"
"Hardly," Milliardo retorted. "I will expect you to survive the return trip to face formal charges relating to your behavior on this mission."
"I'll try, sir."
Milliardo shot a look at Shef who shrugged in return as he knelt by Duo and checked his vitals. Milliardo took that to mean that Duo's chances were unknown. In the field, Shef had a very limited options for treatment.
"Make a stretcher," Milliardo ordered and Kimmens and Levitz began stripping debris and plants to make one.
Hawkins sprayed Duo with bug repellent copiously as he stood over him, "You always did attract flies, Maxwell."
Duo squinted past his arm at the can. "That's my repellent, Hawkins."
"Borrowed it," Hawkins grunted as he finished and tucked it back into his pack.
"This mission is a complete wipe," Diaz muttered as he checked his instruments.
Milliardo grimaced, feeling the truth of that statement. Une wasn't going to accept destruction of the weapon as anything other than the tail end result of failure.
"We didn't fail," Duo said waspishly and pointed a stern finger, that shook, at Diaz. "We kept the weapon out of bad guy hands. That's more important than getting the thing back to base so that they can poke at it."
"When we're all scrubbing bathroom toilets with toothbrushes we'll remember your take on the mission, Sunshine up our Ass," Hawkins grumbled.
Duo was quiet for a long moment, hidden under his arm and then he surprised Milliardo by saying, "Sometimes, you gotta say, screw what the commanders think and do what you have to do."
"That might look good on my resume for my next job," Levitz sighed as she finished her end of the stretcher. "It only works for people like you, Maxwell."
"I thought it worked for you, ms, 'Take them all on by myself.', " Duo snickered, but then he went quiet and lax, as if talking had exhausted him. It alarmed Milliardo.
"Duo?" He said, not able to help a bark of concern.
"Ah, you called me by my first name," Duo said, almost under his breath. "Progress at last."
"Hardly," Milliardo growled and then impatiently, "Is that stretcher ready?"
"Ready sir," Levitz reported as she moved away to let Hawkins and Krimmins take it and move it close to Duo. Duo dutifully rolled onto it and then seemed to give up his tough guy act, all together.
"Keep the bugs off me," he slurred and then passed into either sleep or a faint. Shef checked him over worriedly.
"The asshole is my best friend," Hawkins told Shef gruffly. "I'd appreciate it if you kept him alive."
"That's always my aim," She replied. "Ready for transport."
Which Milliardo assumed meant, nothing else to be done, rather than that Duo was all right for the journey.
"Salvage complete?" Milliardo asked as everyone began shouldering equipment.
"Complete," several voices responded.
Milliardo walked the site, just to be certain, and then nodded. "Let's move out. We should get dust off clearance in six miles."
"Of jungle," Diaz grumbled.
"Communication silence until then," Milliardo ordered unnecessarily.
That made Levitz nervous. "You suspect more unfriendlies, sir?"
"Always being prepared keeps you alive, Agent," Milliardo told her. "We have no way of knowing if we managed to get all of the terrorists. There isn't a formal head count, after all."
She looked embarrassed. "Yes, sir. I mean, no sir."
They moved out and travel became a game of , don't break a leg, as the soft earth turned to rocky outcroppings, treacherous crevasses, and tangled roots trying to find purchase on ground making a steady climb upwards.
Krimmins took the rear, quiet, but his expression in firm determination that nothing was going to get by him and threaten his fellow agents. Milliardo knew that look. Agents who wore it often didn't live long. A strong protective streak often lead to agents falling on live grenades or running head first into nests of unfriendlies, blazing away, in an almost instinctive urge for self sacrifice. The stuff that heroes were made of, Milliardo thought grimly, dead heroes.
Milliardo could almost make the same assumption about the Gundam pilots, but they had been choosy about their final target, their final act of sacrifice. There was a difference between unthinking sacrifice and cold calculated searches for targets that would inflict the most damage on an enemy.
Pauly was more solid. The small, dark man was just as determined, but he held his gun with a tense caution that made Milliardo's decision to put him on point a sound one. He would keep them out of trouble, not run headlong into it to protect them.
Haskins he kept to the center. The beefy, 'firemen's' shoulders the man owned made him as good as a anti grav sled. The man was shouldering the parts of the demolished weapon easily enough.
"Fuck me, Maxwell!" Tamins snarled as he maneuvered his end of the stretcher awkwardly, to get his end through a close stand of jungle growth and slippery rocks. "Lose some weight!"
"I did fuck you, already," Duo's faint voice snorted, "and don't make me your excuse for being a ninety pound weakling."
"Ninety two pounds, asshole," Tamins retorted.
The man was tall and very slim, but Milliardo doubted that he weighed less than the smaller Maxwell.
"Shut up, Maxwell," Hawkins growled as he decided their route. "I still think you orchestrated the whole injury thing to get out of walking."
"I wish... 'cuz I feel like shit!" Duo suddenly dropped his good humor act and sighed.
"Go the hell to sleep, then, and let us worry about not dropping your ass," Tamins retorted, but he sounded more worried than angry. It wasn't like Duo to admit to any weakness.
Duo's braid had slipped off the stretcher and was dragging the dirt. Milliardo stepped forward, snatched it up, and secured it under Duo's side. The touch of warm flesh, the surprised purple eyes, and Duo's soft, weary smile reached down deep into Milliardo and took hold of a part of himself he hadn't known existed. Cold, hot, shaky. Those terms described Milliardo, just then, not Duo. He felt like a teenager, a rush of hormones making him dizzy.
The stretcher moved onward and Milliardo stayed rooted in place, looking after it. How could it happen? How there could be something inside of him that wanted Duo, all of Duo, physically and emotionally, after a simple touch, a simple meeting of eyes was beyond his understanding? His brain wanted a logical explanation, a switch that had been thrown by repressed sexual need. How long had it been since his last lover? Ages. Of course a touch against the warm body of a very sexually magnetic man, like Duo would hit that switch, would want...
Milliardo felt wooden as he began walking again, images of Duo's muscles rippling under sun browned skin, the Fly Me friendly tattoo flexing along with the Boom, Boom! as they... Milliardo couldn't imagine someone has feral as Duo rolling in white sheets and roses. More likely they would be leaning against a depo corrugated wall while rough, calloused hands stained with gun grease roved and demanded... but that really wasn't what he was thinking about at the moment, so it put the lie to his theory that it was only sexual. He was worried about Duo, wanting him to be all right. He wanted to transport them, then and there, to a hospital. He wanted to care for the man, to drop his damned commander air of unfeeling indifference and help pull that stretcher straight up the mountain faster.
Millliardo didn't expect to get his wish between one confused breath and the next.
"No, good," Hawkins ground out. "We can barely get ourselves through. The stretcher won't go. We'll have to try another route."
Only Milliardo knew that there wasn't one. His decision was split second. It was time to put all of his hard training in the gym, and out into the field to the test.
"I'll take him," He said and strode forward. Duo blinked up at him.
"Baby?" Duo muttered, not looking terribly lucid.
Was that for him or someone else?
"Hey, blondie, decide to do me in... leave me behind. You gotta make the tough decisions, Baby. That's why you have the rank."
Baby was meant for him. Milliardo felt a blush even as he hauled Duo up onto his back to carry him like a child. Duo obediently wrapped arms and legs around him.
"Tie him on," Milliardo ordered.
There was hesitation and then his agents were coming forward and binding what they had together and then around himself and Maxwell. They made a sturdy back sling and then stood back.
Hawkins was the only one who dared voice his opinion. "It's too far. Too rugged. The air will be getting thin as we get higher."
Milliardo felt a kiss on the back of his neck. "Told you I would top," Duo snickered.
"Can it, agent!" Milliardo snapped back, but his reprimand lacked heat. He shrugged Duo until his shoulders didn't ache so much under the strain, and then he started his climb with his double burden.
--------------------------
He concentrated on the burning in his legs, the muscles that protested that he had over worked them and that there would be hell to pay later. Duo was surprisingly heavy for someone much smaller than himself, or anyone in that group, for that matter. Solid muscle weighed more, Milliardo decided and all of Duo's jewelry, dog tags, and weapons probably hidden on his person.
The man seemed to be dozing against him, body slack and breathing uneven. Milliardo wasn't certain whether that helped his progress or not. Without Duo's chatter, he was focusing too much on the climb still ahead of him, the danger they might be facing from enemies they might not know about, and his worry about Duo's health. Each step was an act of determination, sweat rolling down his face and body, and his eyes narrowed to tunnel vision.
The click of Duo's gun started him into freezing in his tracks. "Don't move!" Duo barked in his ear.
"Maxwell?" Milliardo said, and then saw the man in hiding himself, tucked into the low undergrowth and rocks. His agents weren't far behind in drawing their weapons and shouting at the man to drop his.
The man stood up with something in his hand, eyes wide and obviously terrified.
"Pressure bomb," Duo whispered in his ear. "Meet you terror group's demolitions expert. Get ready to drop me and duck down. He's still far enough away where shrapnel might be survivable. It's gonna be ugly, though."
"Don't fire!" Milliardo snarled back, but it was too late. Duo's gun sounded in Milliardo's ear.
Falling flat was an exercise that was impossible. Milliardo managed a sideways collapse with Duo on his protected side. He felt Duo's legs and arms dig into him as the terrorist dropped dead with a bullet neatly between his eyes and his pressure bomb went off.
It was ugly. Blood and terrorist splattered everywhere along with parts of the forest. When everything had settled to the ground again, Milliardo said to Duo, who was panting in his ear as if he had run a mile, "The report that I plan to make on your misconduct, Maxwell, is going to be very long," Milliardo gritted out.
"Put me in jail for twenty years, just... just get off my leg," Duo replied in obvious distress.
Milliardo felt the shock as he realized how he had landed. Protecting Duo had not included being careful of the man's injuries. He struggled up and onto his feet, as shaky as a newborn colt, and barked at Shef, "Check Maxwell, now!"
"Injuries?" Shef called out as he climbed to his feet and strode over to Duo.
A few agents called out that they had cuts and scrapes, but nothing dangerous, Milliardo was glad to hear. The terrorist had been holding the bomb high enough to reduce any flying rocks to a minimal. They were all covered in gore, though, and no one was immune to being shaken by that fact. It was one thing to kill a man and another to be forced to carry the proof.
"Bleeding," Shef announced as he hurried to treat Duo's leg wound. Milliardo tried to see but he couldn't turn enough and keep Duo's weight balanced.
"Uh, something for the pain, Barbecue," Duo said as if he almost couldn't get enough breath to say the words.
Milliardo smelled antiseptics and heard spray bottles. Packages were being opened and he heard Duo grunt, probably from an injection. "Dirt in the wound. I cleaned it out as best I could in this situation," Shef announced, and then, "Good to go, sir. Hope we get a dust off quick."
"Keep moving, then," Milliardo ordered and ignored the uncertain comments and groans of people stressed to their limits. He took point, head down and Duo's weight dragging at him, and they were shamed in to following without any more complaints.
"Why would the moron blow himself up?" Hawkins wanted to know as he trudged beside Milliardo. "Why not just set the bomb and back off?"
Milliardo paused, considering that very thing, and then moved forward more cautiously. "Look for trip wires. Get up front Diaz, with the scanner."
The man nervously moved forward, scanner out.
"That was probably the only charge he had left," Duo said after long moments. "Can't throw it. Last act."
"Fanatic," Hawkins grumbled as he shook an arm to free it of things none of them wanted to think too hard about. "I suppose a million little pieces won't ever tell us what a man's willing to die for."
Milliardo could almost feel Duo smile against his back. They had both been fanatics to their causes and they could understand a man's last act to give his life for it.
When they reached the top, finally, and began clearing brush and smaller trees for pickup, Milliardo found a log to sit on while Shef unstrapped Duo from his back. He stretched Duo out on the ground and checked his pupils and pulse. "Out," he announced at last. "We really need a hospital, sir."
"Make the call," Milliardo ordered. "Get these trees cleared quickly. We'll have to have an air lift, so I would appreciate if the pick up ship doesn't get branches in it's machinery and crash land on us all."
They were all exhausted and looking gruesome as the sunlight slowly filled the space that they were clearing with urgent enthusiasm. Milliardo stretched his aching legs in front of him and sat with bowed head, trying to recover enough energy to stand and help them.
"Your Leg muscles are shaking, sir," Shef observed. "You're in pain."
Milliardo gave a short nod. "Nothing can be done about it, now."
"I hear a ship," Tamins shouted.
"Too soon," Milliardo grunted and then allowed that their people might have been searching for them and waiting for their call. "Make sure equipment is secure," he ordered and then tried to convince his legs to stand up. He didn't want to be seen sitting and waiting for anyone.
"Wrong noise," Duo muttered, coughed, and then louder as he stirred, blinked, and tried to sit up weakly, "Sounds all wrong!"
Hawkins cocked his head skeptically, to listen and then began scrambling towards Milliardo. "He's right! Not our ship!"
"Get under cover!" Milliardo barked and adrenaline had him on his feet. "Grab Maxwell! Levitz! Hawkins! Everyone under that lower outcropping of rock."
Duo was almost dragged between the two agents as Milliardo stayed until the last moment to make sure that all of his agents were out of the clearing and under cover. When he threw himself downhill, hit the ground hard, and then rolled to put himself under the rock, he heard a spray of bullets pepper the entire clearing as a jump ship topped the rise. The jungle growth on either side bowed down low a engines revved and then cut down power to get the ship in closer.
"On my signal!" Milliardo shouted to be heard over the engines, "We fall back and split up into the jungle."
"Keep your head down, baby, I've been keeping this one for a special occasion," Duo panted as he scrambled out from under cover and stood up.
As if tapping reserved of energy from deep down, Duo stood tall, laughed, and then flung back an arm. It rammed forward in the next instant like a catapult as bullets began spraying all around him. Something shiny and cylindrical arched upwards into the sunlight.
Duo was down and scrambling for cover, then, with Milliardo reaching out to grab him. Seconds, heartbeats, had been all that it had taken, but every heart beat had seemed an eternity to Milliardo as Duo crashed into him and they were both pulled back by the other agents.
A whoomph sound and then the force of an explosion hit them. Screaming metal, fuel tanks exploding, and then the sound of heavy metal parts slamming into the ground, proceeded a fire ball. the heat of it felt as if it was burning Milliardo's skin as he tucked down tight around Duo and put hands over his head.
"Fanatic," Milliardo said in Duo's ear, angry and appalled. He heard Duo's raspy chuckle in reply.
The engines of another jump ship followed hard on a sudden silence.
"Ours," Hawkins confirmed. "Must have seen the fire fight and used the boosters."
An illegal move down planet, but Milliardo wasn't going to fault them for it.
The air did smell like jet fuel, besides scorched plants, now, the air roiling with heat and smoke. The new ship hovered guns swiveling menacingly and made the jungle flatten.
Milliardo untangled himself from Duo, left him in Shef's care, and stepped out into the clearing. He raised his arms, but his white hair was a perfect beacon for his identity. The ship heeled over and began dropping lines.
Finally, rescue. His agents, and especially Duo, were going to get out alive. What ever failures Milliardo had to claim, that would not be one of them.
-------------------------------------------------
"Close thing," Sally said as she pushed along on her padded stool to reach a desk and checked a floppy chart. She pushed off again to another desk, retrieved another, and then rolled to where Milliardo was sitting.
Milliardo nodded wearily, eyes glazed, and mind blank.
Sally looked him over, sighed, and then made a mark on his chart. "You know," she said casually, "There's medical proof for dumb ass in love syndrome. It's called a mental disease, though, and it's often linked to depression, low self esteem, and a tendency for self flagellation."
Milliardo blinked. "What?"
"Exactly." Sally snorted in disgust as she made another note. "I have now officially diagnosed you. My treatment plan consists of some real sleep, solid nutritious food, and a declaration of love to your object of worship. Administer in any order that you would like."
Milliardo rubbed hands over his face and then managed, "I have reports to fill out for the inquiry."
"Not at Preventer hospital, you don't," Sally pointed out, "You've already been given a two week leave. Apparently Preventer brass doesn't view the mission as the complete disaster that you seem to."
"I can't imagine why," Milliardo replied acidly.
"Everyone is alive. Sloppiness, as you put it, can be forgiven when you've been set down in an impossible situation and you still manage to complete your mission." Sally tapped Milliardo's knee with his chart. "The only person being critical is you."
Milliardo rubbed at his eyes and let out a long sigh. He shrugged finally and levered himself up from his chair as if he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. "I can't think any longer. I'll return to self flagellation once I've had some sleep."
"Progress, I suppose," Sally replied sourly. "Have someone drive you, though. You're in no shape to operate a vehicle."
"I'll find an empty bed here," Milliardo began, but Sally cut him off.
"You need real rest. I refuse to authorize you a hospital bed. Go home."
Milliardo tried to stare her down, but Sally only laughed at him.
"Don't," she warned. "or I'll sedate your ass and have you shipped off to the mental ward."
"For what reason?" Milliardo wondered irritably.
"For fixation on one object that is interfering with my patient's health," Sally replied and there was a firmness in her voice that convinced Milliardo that she was serious. "Duo is resting. Duo is safe. Duo has an entire hospital staff to attend to his every whim. He will be here, safe and sound, under my care, until you rest and return. I promise."
Milliardo grimaced. "Duo's whims may include bedding your entire male staff."
"Female staff as well," Sally smirked. "I know his libido very well, Milliardo. He could be on death's door and still want one last boff."
"Boff?" Milliardo mused at the world and then shook his head, almost falling asleep on his feet.
"It's something you'll have to get used to if you're going to be with him," Sally warned. "I've seen his relationships crash and burn enough times to know his routine. He's a creature of the moment. If that moment includes a willing body, he's humping it. You can imagine that most people can't tolerate that kind of behavior."
"Humping. Boff." Milliardo felt as if his head was spinning. "Is this a friendly warning?"
"I suppose it is," Sally snorted. "Call it, concern for your mental health."
"Duly noted," Milliardo replied and slurred his words. He blinked and rubbed at his eyes, again.
"Home, sleep," Sally reminded him.
Milliardo nodded. "Yes, sir."
"I never liked that stupid military insistence on non sexual titles," Sally grumbled. "I'm a ma'am."
"Ma'am," Milliardo corrected, saluted her, and managed to leave her office on his feet.
Milliardo didn't summon a driver immediately, though. Stumbling down the hall, and ignoring the curious looks of the hospital staff and patients, he slowly made his way to Duo's room.
The man was still fast asleep, the lights turned down low, and the best of medical equipment beeping along with his heart rate and pumping fluids and antibiotics into his depleted system.
Milliardo had managed to clean up and dress in generic green military jump suit. His hair was a tangled, white tail down his back, tied hastily on itself to keep it out of his way. He looked worn, he knew, beaten and hung out wet to dry. He really didn't want Duo to see him that way.
So, too, Duo probably would rather Milliardo not see him stripped of jewelry, dog tags, and dignity. His relaxed face was blue in the light of the machines. He looked as pinched and worn as Milliardo felt. They both needed rest and recovery. They needed it in different places, though, and Milliardo had to allow Duo at least dignity in how Milliardo saw him. No one liked a potential lover top see him at his worst.
There, he thought blearily, he had finally admitted it. Lover. He did want to be that man's lover. He did want those rough hands on him and those wide lips kissing a hot trail along his neck.
Milliardo shivered and tried to control a libido that didn't care about weariness or injuries. They would have time. Milliardo had decided to follow Sally's advice. Duo would be at the end of that list, though, when they were both rested and well, and able to discuss their feelings on even ground.
Milliardo almost reached out and touched Duo's rounded cheek, but then, didn't. It would have felt like a betrayal of trust, he knew. He wanted Duo's permission.
Milliardo stumbled out of the room and pulled his cell to call for a driver. It wasn't easy to leave that man, when everything inside of him wanted to curl up beside that bed and wait for his recovery, but Milliardo was a soldier. He was used to decisions that didn't take into account what he really wanted. He knew what was best. Going home, for now, was best.
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"Why do I have so many sex partners?" Duo blinked in surprise and then smirked. "Can I come in, first, before I answer that?"
Milliardo stepped back and let him step inside of his home. Perched on the mountain side, overhanging a crystalline lake surrounded by forest, he had sent away servants and a few relations, to have this time with Duo alone. Now he felt nervous and he wasn't liking it one bit. He wanted to be calm and in control when he broached the subject of having a relationship with Duo.
"Drink?" Milliardo asked politely.
"And make you wait even longer for your answer?" Duo chuckled as he shucked off his long, black coat and tossed it onto the back of a red leather couch before a fireplace. He was dressed in a white T-shirt and jeans, black combat boots breaking up his relaxed attire. He looked around appreciatively. "Nice. It was worth the drive out here."
"Thank you," Milliardo replied and then Duo looked at him and grinned and he found himself blushing.
"Relax," Duo told him and then answered his question as he roamed the large living room and its rustic, log cabin like decor. "My life really sucked. Lots of pain, disappointment, and just trying to survive. Sex is great, fantastic, good even when it's bad. Of course, I want as much as I can get."
Milliardo nodded, "So, you're looking for something that feels good and makes your life... not so tragic?"
"It feels really good, Milliardo," Duo corrected.
Milliardo smiled, even though he was thinking hard about what Duo was saying. "Sex is your... escapism?"
"Like a good book, you mean, or a movie?" Duo replied thoughtfully.
"Only better?"
Duo nodded, agreeing. "Only better."
Duo's eyes were roving over Milliardo, now, speculatively. "You asked me here because you're shy? You want sex, but not just anywhere? You're worried about diseases? I have been regularly checked out and I do use condoms." Duo dug a few out of a pocket, along with a few packages of lube, and waggled them at Milliardo. His smile was predatory, now. "I'll be gentle. Where's the bedroom?"
"Can we have a conversation and a drink, first?" Milliardo wondered as he moved to light the fireplace and turn down the lights a little.
"Well, in case you haven't heard, I'm easy," Duo pointed out with a frown. "Can't we skip the foreplay?"
"If I said, no?"
"No?" Duo was genuinely puzzled, now. He adjusted his crotch and then sighed and flopped down on the couch, one arm slung along the back. His booted feet went on an expensive lacquer coffee table. "You sure know how to give a guy blue balls. Okay, let's drink and talk."
Milliardo poured a fine, aged whiskey into two tumblers and sat beside Duo, with an appropriate amount of space between them. As Duo took his drink he eyed the space and sighed again.
"How are you feeling?" Milliardo asked.
"Aside from horny, all right," Duo replied testily and then took a large swallow of whiskey appreciatively. "Good stuff." He smacked his leg. "It's a bit stiff and sore, still, but it'll be ready for duty when the next mission comes up."
Duo eyed Milliardo. "What about you?" he asked.
"Me? I wasn't injured," Milliardo replied coolly.
"The fuck you weren't," Duo retorted. "You did carry me up the side of a mountain."
"Muscle strains," Milliardo said dismissively and sipped his own drink.
"I can do awesome massage, if your muscles need it?" Duo informed him with a leer.
Milliardo met his eyes for a long moment and then said, speculatively, "Sex is more than about pleasure, isn't it? It's an emotional safety valve for anxiety. You're nervous and unsure, and you don't like that, so you screw the nearest willing body to get rid of it."
"If you say so," Duo replied with a shrug. "Sex is my cure for post traumatic stress syndrome? As long as it gets you in the sack with me, I'll play along."
"That's exactly what I don't want," Milliardo retorted, stronger than he had intended.
Duo looked startled and then relaxed again, taking a drink and looking away as if he had suddenly found the fireplace interesting. The light from the flames lit his face and made his eyes look like pools of amethyst.
"If I'm not here for sex, then why am I here.... sir?" Duo wanted to know.
Milliardo stared down into his drink, hand tight on the glass of the tumbler. "I'm interested in you, as a man, not as a sexual fulfillment," he replied carefully. "I find you frustrating and insubordinate. You are intelligent, yet also boorish, crude, and promiscuous to the point where I doubt that we can ever achieve any sort of meaningful relationship. I don't want to be, 'sir'. I want to be more to you than a chance to get off."
"Sounds girly," Duo grunted, tossed down the rest of his whiskey and then levered himself off the couch. He staggered until he regained his balance, scowling at his own ungainliness. His leg was giving him more trouble than he had been willing to admit. "When you find your dick, give me a call."
Milliardo caught his wrist, acutely angry. "What are you running from? Is the idea of staying longer than it takes to boff, so abhorrent to you?"
Duo smirked, but his eyes were hard. "You've been talking to Sally. She probably told you all about me, so I'm not sure why you're even asking questions like that one. I am Duo Maxwell, screwed up ex Gundam pilot, who loves screwing everyone in sight. I don't have any morals and I don't want them. I just want some pleasure out of this shit for a life. If you're not giving it to me..."
"I want to give you more than that," Milliardo insisted.
"Why?" Duo wondered harshly. "What about me makes you want more than a chance at my ass?"
Milliardo struggled for the answer but couldn't find one. "I don't know," he replied honestly.
Duo laughed outright, put down his glass on the coffee table, and strode for the door, his limp controlled until it was barely noticeable. It must have been painful. "When you know, call me and tell me," Duo called back to him and then he was through the front door and was gone.
He had left his coat behind. Milliardo put a hand on it as he swore softly. What did he see in that reprehensible man? Sex was part of it, but there was so much more bubbling under the surface. Milliardo couldn't give it a name, couldn't pinpoint why he had suddenly decided that Duo was someone he wanted long term. It didn't make any sense and Duo was right to question him. Why should Duo turn from his normal behavior when Milliardo couldn't make an argument to do so that was valid?
Milliardo fisted the black coat and pulled it towards him. He draped it over himself and thought long and hard as Duo's scent, from the material, made him wish that he had taken up Duo's offer of sex.
--------------------------------------
Milliardo finally stirred, after an hour. He berated himself for foolishness, for allowing himself to feel for Duo with the unbridled passion of a callow youth. Where was his self control? Where was his maturity? Duo couldn't be won by hanging onto his ankles and begging him to open up and have a relationship. No, Duo was like a well defended steel bulkhead. Only a clever, well planned out assault was going to win the day.
Milliardo shook out Duo's coat, smoothed wrinkles, and then went to hang it in a coat closet. He had his standards and his own pride, he thought firmly. He wasn't going to throw them to the wind for love. He wouldn't bow to sexual needs or accept Duo's promiscuous behavior.
The coat closet was by the front foyer, a large, picture window overlooking the sweeping drive and subtle manicuring of nature on the front lawn. The porch was clearly visible and so was the man perched on an expensive railing looking peeved.
Milliardo felt annoyance as his heart throbbed in relief and fairly leapt out of his chest at the sight of Duo Maxwell. It didn't care that he was too old for passionate, unwise attachments. It wouldn't let him walk away and pretend that he had never seen the ex Gundam pilot. It made him open the door and step outside.
Duo was looking at the landscape intently. He didn't turn his head to look at Milliardo. "It's been almost an hour." He sounded accusing.
Milliardo felt even more annoyed at himself. He'd sat, hugging Duo's coat, for almost an hour? "You thought that I would come running after you? That I would reconsider?"
"That you would at least come and give me my coat." Duo finally looked at him, purple eyes snapping. "I guess I lost my magic somewhere back in the jungle."
"I don't want a fling," Milliardo insisted. "I don't live that way and I am not going to start. That isn't negotiable, no matter how charming you are."
"I've never felt this way before," Duo admitted more soberly. "I've always had experience to back me up."
"You can't learn?" Milliardo wondered acidly. "Where's your vaunted Gundam pilot ingenuity?"
Duo smiled and it didn't hold much humor. "What? I'm supposed to treat you like a mission? Infiltrate Milliardo's sex zone, penetrate, and capture?"
Milliardo raised pale eyebrows. "Capture? Not slip back into the shadows with your information and report back to headquarters?"
"They don't need to know, do they?" Duo snorted as he slowly stood up and took a step towards him, his hands stuffed into his pants pockets. "And, yeah, capture seems to be part of this mission. I think a long term incarceration of the target is definitely called for."
"There's still a problem though," Milliardo pointed out. "You can only capture one target until you decide what you want to ultimately do with him."
Duo waggled an eyebrow. "I thought what I wanted to do was obvious?" He sighed when Milliardo frowned and added, "It's not like you're the only one with demands, here."
"What are yours?" Milliardo wanted to know curiously.
"I top. Period," Duo stated firmly.
"Afraid for your masculinity?" Milliardo sneered.
"It's just what I like," Duo insisted. "If you want to be exclusive, then you have to make it worth my while. I like sex... a lot of sex. I'm not sure about your libido, but I can already guess it's not like mine."
"I have a theory about that," Milliardo said, closing the space between them by taking a step towards Duo.
Duo rolled his eyes. "I've already heard it all, Mill."
"Have you?" Maybe you haven't agreed with them because you've never found someone to make you stop?"
"Stop? Stop fucking everyone?" Duo grinned and rubbed a hand down to an obvious erection. "I don't think this guy responds to anything but warm, tight places. It's not really all about my childhood traumas."
Duo finally closed the space between them and tentatively took hold of a bit of Milliardo's shirt. He fisted it and then looked up into Milliardo's face. "I'm not looking for Daddy... or Mom... or Love never achieved. I'm just looking to relieve this really bad need that I always seem to have."
"There are medications for that," Milliardo replied blandly. "And they do say fixing tom cats makes them stay home."
Duo looked uncomfortable at the mention of 'fixing'. "Sorry. I stay natural, if you know what I mean?" He sighed, then and gave Milliardo's shirt a tug. "Look, when I thought that I was in love with Heero, man of steel, emotionless bastard, mission face, a smart guy told me, 'if you go in trying to change someone then he wasn't the guy you really wanted.'. I agree with that. I'm might tone it down, but I am who I am. If I see a round ass, and I want it, it's going to be hard not to grab it. Doesn't mean I don't love you, just that my dick has no conscience."
Again Milliardo felt that constriction of his heart. "You love me? Isn't it rather soon to know that?"
"Is it?" Duo wondered.
"No, not really," Milliardo admitted. He couldn't deny how he felt.
"Then we have a problem, Fortress Barge," Duo quipped. "The docking bay doesn't have any running lights."
Duo let him go and strode back into the house. Milliardo followed him, at a loss.
"Where's my coat?" Duo wanted to know.
"In the coat closet." Milliardo supplied.
"You have a closet just for coats?" Duo chuckled as Milliardo retrieved the coat and handed it to him.
Duo smoothes it over one arm thoughtfully and then tossed it back into the closet. He said, as if he were making a hard decision, "Tell you what, I think you are important enough to..." he searched for the words and then found them, "make me try and control myself." He lifted a hand. "I, Duo Maxwell, do hereby swear, to try my best... not tap every available body that I come across."
Milliardo considered that and then asked, "And your demands for good behavior?"
"That you try it on the bottom, right now, and decide whether you can settle for that."
"Settle?" Milliardo grimaced. "I don't want to settle."
"That was a wrong choice of words." Duo agreed. "See if you like it? I'm told I'm amazing. You might find that you've been missing out all this time and that you could foresee a future under me?"
"Not likely," Milliardo grumbled, arms crossed over his chest.
Duo considered the problem and then lit up. "Hey! Why don't you find someone who likes to bottom and you can tap him when you feel you have to?"
Milliardo reached for Duo's coat. Duo caught his hand and pulled him away from the closet. He was surprisingly strong for his size. He seemed to use Milliardo's long legs against him as he managed to lead him towards a bedroom.
"Okay, I didn't mean that," Duo backtracked. "I don't know what I mean, actually. I just want this settled between us. You're that important to me."
"Important because I have a warm tight hole?" Milliardo growled. "Is that why you're taking me to my bedroom?"
"Do you?" Duo asked with a glazed look and then shook his head as he opened a door and smiled at the large sitting room and the wide bed that he could see in an adjoining room. He turned to face Milliardo.
"I've already told you that this isn't just about sex," Milliardo reminded him.
"It's all about sex," Duo countered. "My way of having sex. Here's the cross roads Mill. You make the call. I can tone it down, but I'm not going to change. You're not going to change either. I get that, too. So, what we have to decide is, can we accept that about each other? As far as I can see, the only unknown variable, here, is whether you like getting under me. We should find that out right now. It might be the final deal breaker."
"Deal? We're making a deal?" Milliardo wondered sourly. "I was just deciding that I wanted a few dates, first."
"Dates?" Duo sighed as he pulled Milliardo towards the bedroom. "We spent how long in the jungle with me on your back? Isn't that long enough to get to know one another? I think you're being shy."
"I have standards, Maxwell," Milliardo protested but he wasn't stopping Duo from sitting him on the bed and bending down to take off his shoes. Duo flipped each one over his shoulder, and then started removing Milliardo's socks, as if he were a child. he kept darting amused looks up at Milliardo's face, as if wondering about permission to continue.
"Standards, " MIlliardo tried again.
"I have standards, too," Duo replied. "My standard says I make this as enjoyable as possible for my partner. Where's the condom and lube?"
Milliardo felt a blush, but Duo was already headed for the bathroom. Milliardo heard things opening and then closing as he unbuttoned his shirt slowly.
What was he going to do? Why was he going along with this? Did he think that Duo was right or did he think a relationship between them was so impossible, that he was settling for just the sex. Something was better than nothing?
"I'm going to hate myself," Milliardo muttered.
"What?" Duo asked as he came back into the bedroom with his acquired items. he tossed them on the bed, smiling appreciatively at Milliardo's now bared torso.
"Nothing," Milliardo bit back and then watched Duo undress. The man didn't have any modesty, he decided, and he definitely wasn't small in a certain area. Milliardo felt a moment of intimidation.
Duo stroked it and then let it bob free. "Wanna touch?"
Milliardo did, badly. He swallowed hard. "I'm not sure about this..."
"I'm not going to force you," Duo said as he stretched out on the bed beside Milliardo. "Just putting it out there."
It was in easy reach, now, and Milliardo simply couldn't resist. Duo caught his breath a little as Milliardo wrapped his hand around it. It was warm and hard, but the head was soft to the touch and already leaking fluid.
His hand left it to travel over the war marked body that went along with it. Hard muscles, scars, tattoos, even a few burn marks. When his hand went to Duo's face, cupping his cheek, he slid to look him in the face and study Duo's expression.
"You have a smart mouth, but your eyes tell me what you're really feeling," Milliardo informed him.
"Don't diss my mouth. It's talented," Duo told him with a chuckle and moved to show Milliardo that talent.
He was... talented, Milliardo admitted as Duo went down on him expertly. Milliardo wasn't surprised when Duo's hand went lower and made moves to prepare him for what Duo really wanted.
Why was he allowing it? Was he compromising himself? Was he doing just what he had promised never to do, letting Duo use his charm to manipulate him?
Milliardo turned so that Duo's fingers slid out of him. "On one condition."
Duo looked unnerved, losing his focus, his sexual needs wanting release. "What's that?"
"You try it as well."
Duo frowned. Milliardo reached and stroked his erection. Duo bit his lip. It felt like dirty pool, but the man should not insist on something that he would never agree to.
"Only if... if you stop... if I say so," Duo insisted.
"As long as I get the same consideration," Milliardo replied.
"Done."
Did he end up liking it? After a protracted preparation, some pain, and many abrupt halts where he was cajoled into continuing, Milliardo, filled with Duo Maxwell's hardness to the hilt, hips raised submissively, and Duo's loosened hair cascading all around him, had to admit that he wasn't miserable. When Duo felt confident enough to start pumping slowly, his opinion changed to tolerable, and an awareness that it might be enjoyable after some practice.
Milliardo gritted teeth and let Duo finish. The man kissed his back, caressed him, and then reached underneath to jerk Milliardo off. He shrugged and rolled, hissing as Duo slid wetly out with a definite burning sensation. He was going to be very sore.
"Okay, lover?" Duo wondered anxiously, but then went grim when Milliardo began rolling a condom onto himself. "Now?" Duo stretched out onto his back, looking well satisfied, but sighed when Milliardo applied lube and approached him.
"I'm not a virgin, you know?" Duo told him.
That gave Milliardo pause. He was already taking hold of Duo's ankle and reaching for a pillow to put under Duo's ass. "So, you really don't like this?" Milliardo asked and then considered something darker. "You weren't...?"
Duo didn't reply to either question. He simply said, "Stuff happens and people suck. He wasn't good. Maybe you're better?"
Milliardo felt a weight settle on his shoulders. "How long ago?" he wondered.
"Ancient," Duo replied and then lifted his legs. "Stone age. Lots of therapy and fucking and I'm over it."
"Are you lying to yourself, again?"
"The best kind of lie," Duo replied with a smirk. "It gets you through life."
"You won't tell me?"
"Nope."
"I'll be careful," Milliardo promised.
"Of course you will," Duo agreed.
Milliardo saw Duo close his eyes and his shoulders grow tense. One hand closed on the sheets hard. What would you do for someone you loved? Sacrifice.
Duo's eyes snapped open as Milliardo straddled him. His hands cupped Milliardo's ass, making him go very slow as Milliardo impaled himself on Duo's erection.
"What about...?" Duo was almost afraid to ask.
"Maybe, in time. Not now," Milliardo replied.
They came together, Duo jerking him off in a strong hand and coming hard deep inside of Milliardo. When they lay together, after, panting as they recovered their breath, Milliardo felt that Duo had helped him make a right decision. His standards were still there, but for love, he had to understand that some people were only human, and that they had to come at those standards in their own way.
"It's hard for me," he finally said, "to accept that I might find you screwing the pool boy, one day, or the chauffeur in the back of the limo."
"I don't do boys," Duo retorted.
"That's just a title," Milliardo replied. "My pool boy is sixty eight."
"Older men can be exciting," Duo chuckled and then sobered as he pulled Milliardo into his arms. "I can't say what I'll do. I'm probably bound to disappoint you."
"Maybe, but it's up to me to decide whether I can still maintain my standards and accept you as you are."
"It could be that I was really just looking for love," Duo tried. "Your love? Maybe you'll be enough, now?"
"We stopped believing in fairy tales," Milliardo replied. "If we ever did believe in them."
"Sad, but true," Duo agreed and then kissed Milliardo deeply. "Whatever happens, can we keep loving each other?"
"Always," Milliardo assured him.
"Then I will do my best to remain... monogamous... as long as you keep putting out...often.... very often," Duo told him. "I mean, sometimes, hourly..."
"I need to teach you what your right hand is for," Milliardo replied sourly, but then relented. "We'll try to make this work."
"Together," Duo promised as he rolled Milliardo under him. "If you're not to sore...?"
"You really did mean, hourly, didn't you?"
"I try never to lie," Duo laughed.
End