Disclaimer - Gundam Wing is not mine. Duh.
Voices tellin' me that I should get some sleep, because tomorrow might be good for somethin'
Heero wasn't exactly in the mood to go around and grab anything that had been left over in the safehouses, but he wouldn't
argue. This, too, was necessary to get peace underway. Just another step. Quatre had dispatched all of the Gundam pilots out
to clean up the safehouses and grab everything that had been left there. So far, Heero had gone to three in the past two days,
and had found nothing but an old sock. He could easily guess whom it belonged to.
In honesty, he hadn't seen the braided baka since Maremaia had come through. That had been five months, 23 days, and - he
checked his watch - 6.28 hours ago. He shook his head and came upon the first bedroom.
Heero had always claimed the first bedroom, wanting to be the first in attack position if enemies came in pursuit. He never
left anything behind. But, the other occupant of the room, unless on a completely separate mission, always seemed to be him...
Duo. The guy with the most loose jaw in the universe. The one who would constantly nag and talk and whine and complain and...
and always not care about how many times Heero tried to scare him off. He didn't listen to Heero's orders. He was the only
one. If Heero told Duo to shut up, his voice would rise to a crescendo. If Heero told Duo to leave him alone, he'd start poking
Heero until he finally swiveled around and Duo could talk to the his face.
Heero let himself smile. Duo had shown him all sorts of things. He had made the war somehow bearable. He had made Relena bearable.
He was also a huge slob.
So, Heero cautiously opened the door and stepped silently inside. There were two small beds and a tiny dresser on the far
side of the room. The walls were white and the carpet an ugly tan that did nothing to soften the floor's surface. He went
over to the dresser that he remembered sharing with Duo and opened the drawer. He never used the thing, but sometimes Duo
would place meaningless objects inside.
And, sure enough, there was a black shirt in the second drawer. He picked it up, feeling the smooth texture, smelling the
scent of Duo that still lingered. Duo kept saying that Heero wasn't at all human, but whenever the long-haired boy had come
close, he had always felt like it. All of him did.
And he reacted now. It was a churning need that almost made him groan. He buried his head into the shirt and breathed deep,
allowing himself the luxury that he had never thought to take during the war. Duo. He found himself needing the baka with
every day he spent away from him.
His gaze was drawn back to the drawer then, and he gasped despite his training. There was a small diary lying in the drawer,
right below where Duo's jacket had been. Why had Duo left it there?
Then he remembered what had made them leave the place. It was one of the times when having the front bedroom had been a good
strategic decision. Enemies had barged into the safehouse, and he'd been the first to open fire upon them. They had barely
escaped, but they had received minor injuries.
They'd left without packing.
His hand moved of its own accord to pick up the small book. It was definitely some sort of journal. On the front, a single
word had been written in Duo's slurred handwriting.
He flipped it over, but the other side was clear of words. He scanned it, seeing dates at the top and snippets of sentences.
OZ isn't going easy...
If only I had...
The thing was only about halfway full. Heero, dead curious, opened it to the first page. It simply stated that the journal
belonged to one Duo Maxwell. He turned the page again, telling himself not to read it. His eyes moved just the same.
A.C. 195, March 6
This was wrong. He was invading Duo's personal privacy. These were things that Duo had never dared tell anyone, that were
his soul's words.
But maybe it would help him understand the beautiful pilot...
He decided to worry about morals after he read the thing and sat down on the floor to begin.
A.C. 195, March 6
I've finally headed out on Deathscythe. You should feel it. The freedom of space, the comfort of the Gundam... the power that
comes with this strength. I feel like I could do anything. Like I could go out and destroy OZ in one mighty swoop.
But that's impossible. Right now I need to focus on my first mission. I fear to write it down. That would be more than a little
Heero silently agreed, then took a double take when he realized that the foolhardy pilot that he'd stayed with wasn't the
idiot that Heero'd thought he was. There had been at least a modicum of intelligence behind that ridiculous grin.
Professor G said that I need to focus on staying alive and meeting the mission objectives. No offense to the prof, but
I know I need to focus on the damn mission. I just don't see the need to worry about my worthless hide in the process.
Yeah, yeah, I know, I know, happy, bubbly Duo can't possibly be depressed. He can't possibly be feeling anything but goofy
happiness, because doesn't he always smile with that dumb expression on his face?
Heero snapped the diary shut then, unable to read more. What Duo had just written summed up what he'd constantly thought of
the pilot. The main reason, other than the war, that he had never pursued any type of alliance with the man. He had thought
the guy foolhardy and oblivious to the war, mission, and world in general. Because Duo had ignored proper procedures and had
always seemed so damned jovial and light-hearted, Heero had immediately assumed that, like Doctor J had said, he was like
the average civilian, innocent to the war and unaware of the devastation clouding the colonies.
How wrong had he been?
He had quickly finished checking the rest of the safe house, glad that there was nothing else to find. He had then caught
a plane and found himself unable to sit still, which would normally be no problem at all. He found himself thinking of Duo,
and couldn't stop the upswelling of tense, bitter emotion. He'd been a fool for leaving Duo. He was going to rectify that
His hands reached for the journal without his knowledge, and he found himself holding it in his lap. Dare he open it again?
Dare he venture into the boy's mind once more?
But the unexplainable urge to know about the real teenager and not just the baka he pretended to be tugged at him horribly.
He'd been wrong in his calculations, and that just didn't happen with the Perfect Soldier. How had Duo managed to fake it
He found himself opening the journal to find a specific date – April 29. The day the two of them had met. The day he'd
been shot by Duo. The day he had tried to shoot him back.
And he found it. It was underlined a dozen times and started out saying, Holy God, Journal. Heero found himself reading
it without another thought. I feel like such an ass. I met this guy today, this man who had a gun pointed to a girl. He
has dark blue eyes and wild brown hair and a body that... my God. Or at least I wish he were mine...
I shouldn't have left him. I shouldn't have. I shot him, too. The first time I felt remorse for doing it. My heart aches just
thinking about him. His green tank top and black, spandex shorts don't hide much, either.
Heero found himself blushing from the comment. Apparently, all those insults Duo made about his fashion style didn't really
bother him. That made him blush even harder.
Then he realized just what that meant.
Duo liked him. Or at least thought he was good-looking. His heart raced uncontrollably at the thought.
I'm gonna dream of him tonight, Duo continued. All I can see is his hard blue gaze as he turned to me, the flash of
pain that ripped through that emotionless wall when I shot him... and his still body lying in the water. Oh, God. What if
he's dead? What if he drowned? It would be my fault. All my fault. I don't want to lose the guy, and I don't even know
his name. He'd probably want to kill me if he ever found out what I was writing.
Oh, how wrong he was. Heero couldn't think of doing that to Duo. Maybe he had before, but... no, he never really did. So why
had he been such an ass?
That is, if he's even alive. I know I've never believed in God, or ever prayed, and I'm sure as he. . . heck not a great
guy, but please, please don't let him be dead. Don't let him be dead.
Duo went on to say about how he had looked, kneeling on the ground, actually fucking lying in his own fucking blood,
and how Relena had rushed up to save him, even after he had tried to kill her. How's that for devotion?
Heero couldn't stop for his life. The next day, Duo had written, was helluva boring, and I haven't been able to find anything
out about... him. It went on to say other things. Heero stopped at one part. He read it slowly, then read it once
more. It made his body weak and his heart to fill with leaden fear.
I want to die. If I had the courage, I would do do it this fucking minute. Every day of my life is torture. First I live
my fucking childhood on the streets, then my only home gets fucking burned to the ground because of something I
did. Then I'm trained for war, to kill mercilessly. Now this. I'm filled with shame and guilt. That guy... I seriously don't
know what I'd do if he died... because of me. Even though he's the dumbass that decided to jump onto those torpedoes and let
them fly while he was on them. Maybe I should've just let him kill the girl. I may not have been able to see his eyes,
but at least... at least he'd still be... shit. I'll write in you later.
That was all that was in there. Heero slumped in the seat, staring at the open page. His breathing was laborous. "I have to
find him," he whispered, making the woman on his left look at him for a spell before turning back to her book. But he was
determined. He had a mission, and that was to find Duo and let him see that he was worth too much to die. And that he'd be
more than happy to prove it.
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