The special project was submitted today (thank the heavens). I should be depressed. So, yay, songfic! Kinda cliche, and in the wrong fandom (because come on, this is obviously a Saiyuki song), but Duo demanded (and Heero grunted his agreement) that I write about them.
Due to me being unable to access any and all sending sites, I can't post a link. If anyone wants the song, I can send it via email.
They made up their minds
And they started packing
They left before the sun came up that day
An exit to eternal summer slacking
But where were they going without ever
Knowing the way?
They drank up the wine
And they got to talking
They now had more important things to say
And when the car broke down they started walking
Where were they going without ever
Knowing the way?
Chorus:
Anyone can see the road that they walk on
Is paved in gold
And it's always summer
They'll never get cold
They'll never get hungry
They'll never get old and grey
You can see their shadows wandering off somewhere
They won't make it home
But they really don't care
They wanted the highway
They're happier there today, today
Their children woke up
And they couldn't find them
They left before the sun came up that day
They just drove off and left it all behind 'em
But where were they going without ever
Knowing the way?
xxx.XXX.xxx
It was still dark when they turned onto the highway, though the dawn wasn’t far off. The eastern skies were brightening already, within minutes the night would be no more.
“Woah. They know how to make roads around here,” Duo exclaimed, staring off into the distance. Heero had to admit he was correct. It stretched out before them, flat, infinite and leading straight into the horizon. A smirk danced about his mouth, as he stepped on the accelerator. The car leapt forward, the double yellow line disappearing between its tyres.
The sun was rising from the end of the highway, turning the cloudless sky pink. Outside their little car the wind was howling, picking up dust off the sides of the road and hurling it across the wide expanses of space on either side.
Duo gave Heero a look, unbuckled his seatbelt and folded the roof.
“Your hair is going to be a nightmare,” Heero yelled, trying to get his point across to the passenger seat.
“Fuck the hair,” Duo yelled back, seating himself on the backrest. His braid danced in the furious wind. Duo held one arm up, the arm holding their only map. He shook it out, so that it fluttered in the air like a flag.
Then he let go.
Heero watched it fly off in the rear-view mirror.
“Sit down, moron,” he said, pulling at Duo’s pants with one hand. “Don’t go chasing it.”
“Wasn’t gonna,” Duo replied, sliding down onto the seat obediently.
They stopped for the night in a decrepit old motel. A horrid place it was, hardly fit for rats to live in. There was an off-licence, which was pretty much a mandatory part of the business - how else was a human being supposed to spend a night in such a place?
Heero and Duo took little notice of the drawbacks. They had dinner in a small diner, owned by an old couple, so ancient they must have remembered the first sunrise over the highway. Grace was griping about the tables being too large for her old back to clean when they entered, as she must have done everyday. Robert served them food that was warm and edible, all they wanted from food after a long day on the road. Nothing gourmet, nothing that couldn’t be spooned onto the plates from a pot the size of a tyre. The meat was chewy, the potatoes too soft and the flavour of both strongly hinted that dust was one of the ingredients, but to Heero and Duo it was a feast.
The off-licence sold three brands of beer, two of vodka and a handful of other spirits. They bought a bottle of house wine. It tasted liked everything here, of heat, dust and the road, of sunrises over the empty highway and freezing nights.
They made love that night, when the wine was gone, in the rusty bed that groaned and squeaked with every move. Duo’s unbound hair, brushed into shine, spilled on sheets, which were probably blue, whenever they were new, and now tried to pass off as white. They stuck to their bodies, as they finally settled in a tight embrace in the still air, cocooning them in their sleep.
The next morning, just before sunrise, they packed the stale bread sandwiches Grace offered and more wine into the trunk, for later. They drove off, waving goodbye to Grace and Robert, the little motel disappearing from view.
They shared a cup of wine ten miles down the road.
Around midday on the third day, Duo pulled over. “She won’t go no further,” he said, slamming the bonnet closed. “We did her in.”
Heero regarded him silently. “We’ll walk,” he said. They packed whatever they could carry into two backpacks. There wasn’t much: a tent, couple changes of clothes, sleeping bags, rudimentary culinary set, some food.
They started walking, down the middle of the road. Duo laughed as the wind picked up his long braid and whipped it from side to side, until Heero grabbed the end and held on to it. Duo’s laugh softened into a smile then and the smile stayed on his face.
The sunrises and sunsets kept coming, turning the road before them golden time after time. It was summer, wonderful golden summer, full of heated afternoons and lazy, warm evenings. Even the nights weren’t cold. The crickets chirped as they set up camp on the side of the highway, foregoing the tent - the sky was too clear, the stars too close to cover them up.
“Are we there yet?” Duo asked dreamily, as they lay intertwined in a single sleeping bag.
“I don’t know.”
“Good. I don’t care.”
Heero smiled. “Me neither.”
The trees cast long shadows when they woke up the next morning, packing again and leaving the little grove they borrowed for the night. “Goodbye!” Duo yelled to the trees, waving his hand, once they were back on the road.
They walked on. Sometimes, rain would fall. They would laugh when it did, laugh as they would race ahead for the safe cover of trees, diners, caves. They would wring their sleeping bags, fall onto them breathless with kisses not yet bestowed. Sometimes, there would be no rain, and they would spend the night watching the stars flicker above their heads. Sometimes, a star would fall and they would wish for the road to go on and on.
The stars were kind.
xxx.XXX.xxx
They couldn’t find them. That’s what started the world-wide hysteria. Two of the notorious Gundam pilots gone, without a trace. Their apartments, on L1 and L2 respectively, abandoned, clean and pristine, as if the occupants planned to never return. Federal search yielded no results. Neither of their accounts was touched, no withdrawals made. No credit card transactions, nothing. The government pulled the other three Gundam pilots from the three colonies they were on. They locked them in claustrophobic interrogation rooms for hours on end, hoping to learn the truth about the whereabouts of Yuy and Maxwell. No such luck.
“The accounts? That’s not saying much,” Trowa said, shaking his head. “Heero could hack his way into any system, and leave without a trace. Duo, I think, wasn’t any less skilled.”
“We don’t care,” the government officials yelled. There were many, one after the other. They all slammed their hands down on the table, at some point, and screamed in the unconcerned faces of the remaining three pilots. No matter. All three had only one answer, which they repeated, together and separately, to whoever was asking.
“You won’t find Duo. He’s made a living hiding,” Wufei told the fuming Preventers’ Chief calmly.
“Well that’s why you’re here! Find Heero! I want him back!”
“I’m sorry, miss Relena. But unless he wants to be found, we have no way of finding him,” Quatre said. His expressive eyes were shuttered, for once.
“Wherever did you go,” Quatre told the empty sky, once the interrogations were done with, when the government realised they had nothing left to say. Trowa and Wufei stood at his side, silently echoing Quatre’s sentiments. “We wish you happiness.”