[gw fic] Surfacing 2/2 (Duo/Hilde)
Surfacing
2/2
Fandom: Gundam Wing
Ships: Duo/Hilde, vague Trowa/Quatre
Summary: When Marie Maia Barton-Khushrenada declares war upon the Earth and Space Colonies, the colonists seek to re-arm themselves. With the Gundam pilots away, can one civilian make a difference?
A/N: Approx. 9,100 words (this part). I got pretty ambitious with this story. A couple of characters from my previous fandom (Voltron) make an appearance, though you don't need to know who they are to get what's happening. I also drew plot points from previous mobile suit series.
Part 1
If anything happens, Duo had said, I mean if more fighting breaks out for some reason, promise me you'll stay out of it. Promise me you'll stay HERE. You're my rock, Hilde. Promise me.
I did promise, but did that mean I was supposed to just sit around while the thing I had fought for fell apart? But what else was I supposed to do? I ached to strap on a mobile suit and fly out there to confront Marie Maia myself. That was what I had been trained to do. My hand clenched and unclenched spasmodically. At the same time I thought about Duo, and the weariness I'd sensed in him after he took Deathscythe to Quatre. That weariness came from being a Gundam pilot, not giving it up. He had to stop sometime and so did I.
I got off the bed, went to my dresser and rummaged through a drawer until I found Duo's crucifix. I hadn't looked at it since the day he'd left. I fastened the chain around my neck and dropped the crucifix down the front of my shirt. It was cold against my skin, but then, I hadn't really expected it to start radiating power. Still, I felt a charge, not from the crucifix but from someplace inside me. I was juiced, as we'ds said when I was in training. I was raring to go.
By the time Howard arrived fifteen minutes later, I'd rounded up the things I needed and was in the midst of setting up shop.
“Hello, the house,” Howard called as he walked up the drive, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets.
“Hello,” I called from my perch on the garage's roof.
“Yo.” Howard tilted his head back, shaded his eyes with his hand. “What are you doing?”
“Stringing lights.” I held up a strand.
“Christmas was yesterday, I thought. And what's all this stuff?” He pointed at the carton of supplies--flashlights, more Christmas lights, a strobe light--Duo's purchase--paints, bed sheets, the portable stereo, CDs, extra batteries, and my sax.
“Hang on.” I clambered down the side of the garage (there's a gnarly, stunted pear tree that grows against the side of the garage that makes shimmying a breeze). When I was on the ground again I explained my plan.
“You think it'll work?” He sounded skeptical.
“It depends,” I said with a shrug, and grabbed another handful of Christmas lights. “On who's right--me or the Council.”
“I hope you're right, Hil,” he said, picking up a string of lights that was dragging on the ground and handing it to me. “God, I hope you're right. But I really don't know if this is the ticket.”
“Frankly, neither do I,” I said. “But, honestly, I couldn't think of anything else.”
The sun went down and it got a lot colder. Howard--who was still wearing his sunglasses because of all the lights I'd set up around the house and garage--made coffee and brought a thermos and two large mugs out to where we'd set up camp in front of the garage. Loki followed him.
“Black,” Howard said, flashing me a smile. “None of that lame decaf.”
I took a mug and let him pour, while Loki put his paws on my knee and demanded attention. I brought the mug up to my cold, chapped lips and inhaled deeply. “Smells great. I'm freezing and falling asleep. This is just what I need.”
He sank down beside me, cross-legged, on the picnic blanket. “I'll make some more as soon as this is gone.”
“We'll be peeing all night,” I couldn't help laughing.
“Yeah, well. That'll keep us awake, too.”
“Do you think anyone will actually come?” I wondered.
“This party'll be for nothing if they don't.”
“Yeah, but...” We lapsed into silence. I looked up at the sky. Because of all the lights I couldn't see the stars. I wondered, if I shut off the electricity, would I be able to see little starbursts against the black sky, starbursts that were really mobile suits exploding in space? Had the battle between Earth and Marie Maia's forces begun already? Where was Relena Darlian? I'd witnessed her handle some tough situations--Hell, the first time I met her was when I was infiltrating the Libra where she was held prisoner--but so many people looked to her as a guiding light--even more so than President Brussels--so what would they do without her? And where, in all of this, were the Gundam pilots? I hoped that they were staying out of the conflict, but I couldn't imagine them doing so. What could they do without their Gundams? They were all so strong, but what could they do against Marie Maia's mobile suits? And they'd done enough, all five of them. It was our turn.
“Howard, tell me about Peacemillion. You said it was designed for space exploration. Was there ever a real plan to explore more of Outer Space? I know there was a Department of Space Exploration and Colonization, but...”
“That's ancient history.”
“History repeats itself. Why else would you build Peacemillion?”
“True enough.”
I looked over at Howard. He was looking up at the stars.
He said, “The SEC was formed in UC 0050, after emigration from the Earth to the Space Colonies halted. The Earth was heavily polluted and overpopulated and the Colonies were meant as kind of a quick fix. ‘Cept they worked a little too well and began developing the means to break away from the Earth completely. I'm talking about resource satellites and solar paneling and the Jupiter Energy Fleet that was able to extract helium isotopes from the atmospheres of the outer planets. You know all about the rise of the Duchy of Zeon and all that, right?”
I nodded, scratching Loki.
“Good. Well, you know it was always kind of a plan to develop another completely autonomous world that was self-regenerating the way the Earth was. Mars was an option, but it had to be terraformed and a lot of folks didn't like that it was so close to Earth and the Colonies. So they made the SEC to start exploring deep space. ‘Cept it never really took off because Earth went to war with the Colonies.”
Loki climbed into my lap and butted his head against my chin. I pushed him away gently but he came back, purring loudly. “I know all that,” I said. “But I mean why did you and Doctor G build Peacemillion before the end of the war? You couldn't have known how things would turn out. Could you?”
He sipped his coffee and shrugged. “No, we couldn't. Well, we hoped. There were some idealists on Earth and the Colonies that I guess always dreamed of resurrecting the SEC. Yuy, Peacecraft, Noventa, Darlian, and toward the end, Catalonia.”
“They were all assassinated,” I said glumly, surprised to hear General Catalonia listed. He'd been the leader of OZ, but stepped down--and was shot near his home in Spain--the year before I joined the service. He'd been a brilliant commander in his heyday, but they say he went soft toward the end. I'd seen his daughter once--when I was infiltrating Libra--and recognized her by her weird eyebrows. She seemed like quite the little warmonger. “They were rich, too,” I said after a little more reflection. “Well, not Heero Yuy, but he knew rich people...like the Winners.” I raised my eyebrows questioningly.
“Yeah, we got a bit of off-the-books funding. Obviously we lost support with each assassination. When Darlian died...and then Noventa pretty much right after him, and then Winner...” He shook his head. “It was too sad. We'd all had this dream, see, of a team of Colonists and Terrans building a new autonomous world that relied on its own resources. Total idealism.”
“And Duo was going to lead it?”
“G and I wanted him to be a part of it, yeah.”
“But the project was mothballed, Duo got Deathscythe, Milliardo Peacecraft got Peacemillion, which he left for Libra, and then Sally and Noin wound up with it.”
“You got it.”
“Damn.”
“That's the way it had to be. You gotta adapt your ideas or else you get nothing. Go with the flow of things.”
“No, I mean someone's coming.”
We both jumped to our feet. Loki whined as I spilled him onto the cold ground. I pointed with my flashlight. I'd been right; there was a flicker of movement just outside the pool of light from the house and garage.
“Come on, we see you,” I called, hating the way my voice cracked. I was scared. Maybe this wasn't such a hot idea after all. Duo told me once that I had just the kind of intensity and bravado that gets people killed. I'd almost proved him right twice. Would the third time be the charm?
Sometimes things seem to happen in slow-motion. Like when you're being shot at in a mobile suit battle. You can see the energy beam coming at you and you know you're about to die. It feels so SLOW, you have time to THINK about it, but at the same time you know you don't have time to dodge.
They seemed to move so SLOWLY. It felt like a full five minutes before they had come close enough for me to really see, but I knew it was only a few seconds and there was nothing for me to do except stand there helplessly until the moment passed.
They were young guys, maybe in their twenties. I didn't recognize either of them.
“You're Hilde Schbeiker, right?” one of them said.
“Yeah.”
“What are you doing?” We could have been back in training and they could have been asking me what I was doing Friday night.
“Well, what does it look like?” I replied. Realizing the answer probably was not at all obvious I added, “We're having a peace rally.”
“Just the two of you?”
I almost said, idiotically, “Three,” meaning Loki, but I saved myself in time and admitted, kind of lamely, “I didn't know anyone.”
There was a pause. Then the one who had first spoken pointed at his chest. “Lance Turniev. And Keith Hawkins. Now you know two more people.”
“You joining us or what?” Howard challenged.
“Don't know yet,” said Hawkins. “We were soldiers, too. Alliance first, based on the Colonies, then White Fang. We were wondering what you were doing, especially since you knew the Gundam pilots. If you were going to fight...”
“Has the Council decided anything?”
“Not yet,” said Turniev. “They're dragging their feet, waiting for Earth to do something. No word so far. That kid hasn't made another statement, but you'd think someone from Earth would have said something by now, like the Vice Foreign Minister or President Brussels. But it's been quiet. It's really spooky. Did you know Treize had a kid? Whose is she, Une's?”
“Iron Panties Une? How should I know? Look,” I said, deciding to lay all the cards I had on the table, “Relena Darlian's missing. Council thinks she's been captured by Marie Maia. Either that or there's been an accident no one knows about, because she'd have said something by now. I haven't heard anything from Duo. Derecha wants me to hand over the scraps I have in the garage, and I told him no. I agree that it's human nature to fight, but there are other ways of fighting. I won't lift a weapon until someone threatens my life. Dammit, I'm tired of this. So are the Gundam pilots. They were trained as soldiers and so was I. So were you. Marie Maia seems to think we're not capable of being anything else and she's appealing to our sense of purpose. But enough is enough. I want to prove her wrong.”
“We can't just do nothing, though,” Turniev said uncertainly.
“We're not. I mean, I'm not. I'm not going to just hide under my bed and let her take over in Treize Khushrenada's name. I'm going to let her know I don't want her. But she won't get me to fight another war just by telling me it's in my nature.”
“Call it passive resistance,” Howard put in.
“So what do you guys think?” I demanded.
“What do we think? This is what we think.” They started forward.
Howard and I took an involuntary step back, but there was nothing threatening about the way they approached us. Hawkins, I noticed for the first time, walked with a very slight limp.
They stopped a few feet from us. “Look at this,” said Hawkins and yanked up one pant leg. His leg had a plastic sheen--it was clearly artificial. “I'd kind of like to enjoy the rest of my limbs.”
“Right,” said Turniev, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I mean, yeah, we were trained to fight, but we had a purpose. We wanted order and stability. And peace. Last year I kind of thought we'd achieved that. I think enough people have died. We're not the only ones who think that way, either. We need to show that little brat, and you're right. Come on. How hard can it be to scare a kid?”
“I doubt she's alone,” said Howard. “She's someone's puppet.”
Turniev's hazel eyes flashed. “We're not, though. Children or puppets.” He turned to me. “Can I use your phone? I know some guys who'll agree.”
Howard grinned at me. “Coffee, anyone?” he said.
It turned into a real rally. Between them, Turniev and Hawkins knew about twenty ex-soldiers. “Some guys” indeed. And they all knew people, one of whom was in broadcasting, and it wasn't long before we had reporters and a television crew. It was unbelievable. Howard was brewing coffee for fifty by the time Councilman Billy Archer roared up on his motorcycle.
“Just how big a party is this, Schbeiker?” he bellowed. “I'm supposed to let you know, from Derecha, that you need a permit for this kind of gathering.” He grinned down at me, his teeth very white against his dark face. “That duty discharged, what can I do?”
He made a brief statement, which we broadcast, which probably had the Council hopping since, Archer told me later, they still hadn't come to a decision on what to do about Marie Maia.
“It's about time they did, isn't it?” Turniev barked, his words punctuated by the white puffs of his breath. “I mean, what are they waiting for, someone else to make the decision?”
I turned to Archer. “Is the Council still in session?”
He nodded.
“So we march!” said Turniev. “Let's get this mob scene organized.”
We marched. It was three and a half miles to the city center, and freezing, but we were excited about what we were doing, and energetic, and it kept us warm. Some people had stayed behind to finish making banners and round up supplies. They joined us in their cars about an hour later. It was after eleven by the time we made it to the city center. We were loud. We wanted to motivate the people who weren't doing anything yet, and of course we wanted to show the Council that we were serious. I don't know how many people joined us once we were in the center itself. Different news crews have given different estimates, but I couldn't really see so I don't know which estimate is the most accurate. I'm short. It was all I could do not to get trampled.
My cousins--all of whom are a lot older than I am--used to tell me they remembered watching the rallies that took place after Heero Yuy's assassination. The way they described them it was no surprise a lot of people from the Earth thought the Colonists couldn't govern themselves. But then, most of my cousins wound up fighting on the Earth's side--as I did for a while. Anyway, what they described wasn't anything like what took place outside City Hall the night of December twenty-sixth, AC 196. Maybe it was because our cause was different. We didn't want autonomy. We just wanted there to be no more fighting. Maybe it was because we'd already reached another period in history. By the time Heero Yuy was assassinated, conflict had been brewing on the Earth--and subsequently the Colonies--for almost two hundred years. All the frustration and resentment reached its climax last year. Now we were just tired. Maybe that's not completely right. If we were just tired I don't know that we'd be doing anything. Maybe it would be more accurate to say we'd finally received our wakeup call. We'd finally woken up. I'm not an historian or a political analyst. I don't know.
At any rate, I'm proud of what we did. We marched straight up to the doors of City Hall and demanded a resolution from our leaders. And we made it pretty clear what kind of resolution we wanted. We did it by shouting. (Hawkins is surprisingly eloquent. I mean, a quarter of the things he said were clichés, but he said them really well and we didn't care.) We did it by singing. (Howard knows a surprising number of protest songs. I tried to play along on my sax, but I'm really not that good yet.) We did it by just being there. (There were a surprising number of veterans. Parents came with their children. There were old people, young people. It was amazing.)
At midnight Councilwoman Johnston appeared to tell us we were rushing to conclusions and not to be so hasty. President Brussels and Colonel Une were attempting to communicate with Marie Maia, so far with no success. The situation was very delicate, she insisted, confirming our fear about Relena Darlian's whereabouts. We had to wait and see what happened next. She told us to go back to our homes. It was cold out. There was nothing we could do.
We didn't go home.
A few people who had apartments on the streets opposite City Hall kept their televisions on and their windows open and shouted the updates down to us. At one-thirty we heard the news that Marie Maia and her followers were on the move; they were heading for Earth, and with Relena Darlian as their hostage no one was going to stop them. There'd been a brief skirmish on L3-X18999, but no mention of who exactly had been involved. There had been hostages, but they'd been released. My heart began to beat very quickly at that news. I remembered the undercover organization Councilwoman Sheridan had mentioned, but I didn't know anything about them. I thought, The Gundam pilots must be involved! Who else could have gotten in there and succeeded? I wasn't sure what to feel. On the one hand I felt better, believing they were doing something. On the other hand I was angered that we still depended on them to fight our battles.
It got colder. The older people and the children and anyone who was sick were instructed to go back inside. Most of them did, but some didn't, and just about everyone else remained. Blankets appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. There weren't nearly enough for everyone, so people huddled together. I found myself wedged between Lance and Billy.
It got quiet. We all knew we had to stay active and stay awake, but we were tired.
The minutes went by very slowly. More than once I had to pinch myself to keep from falling asleep. My feet were frozen; they felt more like hooves than feet, as though I had no toes at all.
I don't know what time it was when people began to murmur that fighting had broken out on the Earth. A mobile suit battle... Marie Maia was laying siege to the Brussels Presidential Residence. No, Marie Maia and her followers were inside the Residence, and two unknown mobile suit pilots (not the Gundam pilots) were leading the siege. No one was certain.
Where are the people on the Earth? I thought, biting my fingers to bring back feeling. Where are they? Are we alone?
I'm sorry I can't describe what happened on L2-X34 with greater detail. I kept drifting in and out of a kind of half-sleep. I heard snatches of conversation, pockets of song. I remember my head falling back and looking up at the stars with a kind of mad understanding. (Looking back now, I'm not sure what it was I understood so perfectly. War, peace, the universe, love? All I can think now as I try to record this for you is, “My God, I was freezing to death.”)
Then I really was falling. “Oh my God,” Billy muttered as he caught me, “I'm such an idiot. Where the fuck is my motorcycle?”
The motorcycle was found and I was handed to Lance.
“Where are you going?” I mumbled.
“The weather generators,” he growled as he revved the engine. “Son of a bitch!”
I wriggled out of Lance's arms. “I'm coming with you!”
“You're not,” he snapped, shoving me away. “For once in your life, Schbeiker, obey orders! Get her inside, Turniev.”
But I got on behind him and wouldn't let go. I must have been truly mad. He was furious. He called me a few things I'm not going to repeat here. But in the end he had no choice but to let me come.
It was so cold! His body shielded me from the worst of the wind, but I don't think I've ever been so cold in all my life. Still, the ride woke me up.
“The generators!” I yelled over the engine's roar and the screaming wind. “Derecha--or someone--ordered someone to lower the temperatures.”
“What else? They think they're going to get us out of their hair that way.”
“That's, that's--” I couldn't even put my outrage into words.
We didn't say anything else until we reached the generators, which are about fifteen minutes outside the city center.
“I'm going to use your hard head to knock down the door if it's locked,” Billy informed me as we parked.
I practically fell off the motorcycle. “I won't vote for you if you do,” I muttered as I hobbled after him.
Two security guards stopped us at the door. “Councilman Archer,” one said in surprise.
“Let us in,” said Billy with authority. (He cut a really striking figure just then, I have to say. More like a Sioux warrior than a bureaucrat.)
One of the security guards said, sounding somewhat reluctant, “We have our orders, Councilman, five seals attached.”
“People are freezing to death!” I snapped.
The men ignored me. “People are freezing to death,” said Billy.
“If they go inside, they won't freeze.”
“They're not going inside. Whoever gave you that order forgot that the L2 Charter, ratified in AC 131, gives citizens of the L2 Colony Cluster the right to rally peacefully in a public space. Whoever gave you that order doesn't want to draw attention to L2-X34 in the event of another war. We're trying to prevent another war. Whoever gave that order--”
--Oh, say it Billy, say it, I wanted to shout--
“--is going to be in serious trouble come election time if not sooner.”
God, he's cool.
Well, they let us in and we went straight to the poor lone tech on-shift and ordered him to raise the temperature. He did, with little need for encouragement. I bet he was hoping someone would rescind his order.
After that we waited a few minutes to catch our breaths and warm our utterly numb extremities. Then we were back out in the cold, speeding back to the city center, where the protestors were still gathered.
So that's where we were when people in their apartments began to shout down to the people in the street that three Gundams had joined the siege on the Presidential Residence: Deathscythe, Heavyarms, Sandrock. Duo, Trowa, Quatre, I thought. But where were the others?
It wasn't long before we knew the answer. The emerald Gundam--Shenlong or Nataku or whatever it's called--showed up, but it didn't join the siege. There were people all around it, we heard--lots of people. Hundreds, it looked like, or maybe more. They were unarmed, but they were protesting, too.
No more fighting. The cry was taken up by the crowd on L2-X34 and grew louder. End this!
Then broadcasts started coming in from the other colonies.
Rallies on the colonies of the L-4 Cluster. On L-1. L-5. L-3.
No more fighting.
We're doing it, Duo, I thought. Can you hear it where you are? We're finally picking up the slack. You won't have to fight any more. Then you can come home and lead a normal life, finally.
Day was breaking, the sky lightening when Wing Zero arrived to end the siege. It blew the roof right off the Presidential Residence. And that was it. The end of the fighting. It took us a while to realize it was over. But once we did the singing and the shouting resumed, full force, only now there were cheers, too. And relieved, weary laughter. And hugs. Billy picked me up and swung me around, then practically tossed me to Lance, who did the same. I felt like a beanbag. All I cared was that someone would catch me, because by then I was far too tired to manage my own landing.
Sometimes I'm rather proud of the human race.
That was two weeks ago. It's taken me this long to get it all down because I've been busy. Billy's been dragging me to council meetings, and I've been interviewed by the press. Really, I don't feel I did all that much, but...they seem to think I did. Derecha thought I was so influential (imagine, since you're reading this and can't hear me, that my words are dripping with sarcasm) that he wanted to send me to L3-X189999 with L2-X34's other representatives. I told him, no. I gave him a bunch of excuses, but really, I just wanted to be here in case Duo came back.
Derecha and a few other Councilors are in trouble. Billy accused them of severely abusing their power and of endangering the lives of the people who were only exercising their Charter-given rights. Derecha responded that every person who rallied that night had a home and, it was hoped, the commonsense to get inside when the temperature dropped. Well, those weren't his words exactly, but it's the gist of what he said. He knows he's out. Billy's already working on his campaign for Derecha's seat.
Duo's not back yet. Don't imagine me pining away in my lonely little room. I've been out of the house. Actually, I made some friends at the rally. Lance and Keith are good guys. Lance, especially, makes me laugh. I like hanging out with guys. I was pretty much raised by my big brothers, so I've always been a tomboy. Anyway, I was busy.
I'm not sure what's happening on the Earth, now. I mean, I know basically what's happening: representatives from all over the Earth and the colonies have flocked to what's left of the Brussels Presidential Residence and Charles Noventa's leading that team of representatives on L3-X189999, trying to stabilize that colony. Relena Darlian, President Brussels, and Lady Une have been giving speeches and there's been a lot of footage of soldiers throwing down their arms. Oh, and the Gundams are gone. There wasn't any footage of that, and the pilots weren't interviewed. Relena made a statement--and that was it.
I wonder what he's doing now. I wonder what time it is on the Earth right now, if he's even there.
Two weeks since the fighting stopped, and still no word. Howard says Duo likes having a home base and it's not like him to stay away so long. He told me about the job he'd come to offer Duo. I hope he gets back soon, or at least sends word. I'm starting to worry.
Oh, there was news on Marie Maia Khushrenada, finally. She was injured in the assault on the Presidential Residence, but she was released from the hospital a few days ago, in Lady Une's custody. I wonder if she'll wind up raising her. What kind of mother would Une be? She's not that much older than the kid herself. And who IS Marie Maia's mother? There's been speculation (Dekim Barton had a daughter, who died in 190) but anyone who knows for certain isn't telling. I guess I'm glad the kid's okay. She actually made a public apology for her actions. Dekim Barton was the one holding her strings. He died in the assault. I'm glad.
It's getting warmer. There are crocuses along the reservoir. I wish I hadn't fallen asleep after we made love that one time months ago.
Made love. Was it really love for him? (And now that I have time to think rationally--what can either of us possibly know about love? We're only sixteen.) He'd been upset about Deathscythe--about a lot of things, I guess. He'd needed someone to cling to, and I'd been there. I mean, I'd more or less thrown myself at him. I hadn't told him how I felt. I'd just been the warm body he'd needed to crash against. And I'd been his first. My first time had been all right, but now I sort of wish it had been him. Then maybe we'd have been on equal footing. He'd been nervous. He'd been worried about what would happen after. But when I'd asked him if he wanted to stop, he'd said no.
For the first time I'm starting to wonder what will happen if he does come back. Will we tiptoe around each other, avoid each other's eyes over breakfast, scoot to opposite ends of the sofa? Does he think I just let him use me?
No, that's not like Duo.
Anyway, I wish I'd stayed awake and taken the time to memorize him while he slept. I'd like to remember how he felt in my arms, how he smelled, how his breath tasted.
I hope he's all right.
God, I'm lonely.
Started putting some of his things in boxes. I'm not getting rid of it. I've just been fidgety and I find that cleaning helps calm me down. He has so many comic books. Every time I thought I'd gotten them all out of the way I'd find another stash. He also has a few pulpy detective novellas and biographies of Amuro Ray, Shiro Amada, and other important figures from the early Universal Century period. Funny, I'd never thought of him as a reader, but I guess I can think of a few times when I came into his room to find him sprawled on his futon, engrossed in a book, dirty dishes piled at his side. Flipping through a few of them, I discovered he'd written notes in some of the margins in his loopy, barely legible handwriting. Some of them were pretty amusing: “Mr. Butler? There's a guy in this book called Mr. BUTLER? He fucking did it, man. I bet myself a box of donuts he did it.” Or: “Lay, not laid, dork-face.” Or sometimes he'd circle a passage and scrawl next to it, “for H.” (He must have forgotten to show them to me. Or maybe I'm not the “H” he meant?)
I found his priest's shirt stuffed between the futons and a bookcase made out of plastic milk crates we'd stolen. I remembered the second time we met, after he escaped from the Lunar Base. I was in an amazing amount of trouble at the time, having defected from OZ in order to save his ass. I was a wanted woman. So I was hiding out in a bar on MO-VI. By some crazy coincidence, he decided to do the same. I remember looking up from my wine cooler and seeing the strobe light flash against his white collar. “Hey,” I'd drawled, grinning, “you look like a man with a mission.” It took him a few moments to get the pun, but he recognized me right away.
“ ‘She wore a raspberry beret,'” he crooned softly as he hoisted his rear onto the barstool beside mine. “ ‘The kind you find in a secondhand store. Raspberry beret...”' Then he fixed me with that lopsided smile of his. “So, you‘re still alive, Schbeiker.”
I looked at him warily, noting his pallor, the bruise on his cheek, the scabs on his hands, the tears in his shirt. “Wish I could say the same for you, Maxwell.”
And before you knew it we were laughing like a pair of fools.
That must have been when I fell in love with him. I'd thought he was very cool and smart and dangerous the first time we met. But that second time--that's when I realized he was fun, too. And just plain...good. He's a good person. If there's one thing about him I'm sure of it's that. He really does fight so other people won't have to, because he doesn't belong to anyone, thinks there's no one who'll grieve should anything happen to him. He doesn't lie to anyone because he hates being lied to. He'd help anyone...
“You should get a place in the city center,” Billy Archer said when we had coffee together yesterday afternoon. “You're too far out. You could get a job here, too. What are you interested in doing? Or do you really like that garage job?”
I don't. Not really. It had been all right during the war because Duo and I had worked with mobile suits, and that had been interesting. But I'm not interested in that any more.
Billy offered me a job working for him. “You're young,” he said. “You represent a generation that's known warfare but with luck will enjoy a peaceful lifetime.”
“Would I have to wear a skirt?” I asked, while I played with the cinnamon stick in my mocha.
“You could get a pants suit. But yeah, you'd have to wear office attire most of the time.”
“Ugh.”
“Think about it, Hilde. You're young and really bright. You could make some great connections...”
He's right, of course. I do need to branch out. When I first joined the army I'd been such an idealist. I didn't have any plans for if the war actually ended. I'd just wanted to fight. Now I wonder. What the hell am I going to do with the rest of my life?
Last night I dreamed that Duo came back. I was sleeping in the dream, but somehow I knew that it was morning. There was sunlight all around, pouring through the window onto my face. I felt the bed dip and I knew it wasn't Loki. The air above my face moved, as though stirred by someone's breath. I knew who it was, and I wanted to reach out and pull him down to me. There wouldn't be any words. I just wanted to hold him.
He leaned down and--whump--his stupid braid bashed me in the nose.
That should have clued me in. He's always perfect in my dreams.
He tells me I mumbled, “Hey, Duo,” with my eyes closed, natural as anything, but to be honest I don't remember. By the time it dawned on me that I might be awake and opened my eyes I was already in his arms. God knows what I said then! My own stupid hair kept flopping into my eyes, and the sunlight was so strong all I could see was the curve of his cheek, the indigo stain of his eyes, and his lashes, which gleamed like copper.
He kissed me softly, awkwardly, on the lips, and I threw my arms around him, hugging him hard, breathing him in. I didn't bother to question, I didn't even think about questioning his action. He said something--I think it was, “Dumb Hilde, this is where I live”--and then he was hugging me back, so hard I squeaked in pain.
“Oh my god, Hil,” he said somewhat breathlessly as he pulled away a moment later. “Oh, my god. You look--” He touched my cheek. “...So beautiful. So amazingly beautiful!”
I could only stare at him, taking in the flushed cheeks, the messy hair, the circles under his eyes. He looked exhausted. And there were tears in his eyes. I'd never seen him cry before.
I got up and pushed him back against the pillows. He seemed so light, so pliant, that for half a second I was afraid that I was really dreaming after all. But you know, if I were dreaming about Duo in my bed, I sure as hell wouldn't dream him too tired to move on his own!
“Whatcha doin', Schbeiker?” he mumbled while I pulled the blankets up around him. His shoes were already off. He must have ditched them when he came in.
“You're tired.”
“I just got in half an hour ago. I've been up all night.” He frowned at me. “Those are my boxers.”
I glanced down, my cheeks lighting up. “I did our laundry together,” I mumbled. “I guess they got mixed up...”
“You look cute.” He smiled and closed his eyes.
I just stared at him, afraid to blink in case I shattered the dream. Even then I couldn't quite believe I was really awake, he was really back, and in my bed. I sat down next to him. I didn't touch him. I was afraid to do anything. What if I did something wrong? Where were we?
His eyes flew open suddenly. “It's totally six in the morning and I woke you up. Should I go...?”
“No.” I pushed him back, stopped him getting up. I felt his heart racing beneath my palm. “It's okay. You're tired. You can sleep here. It's okay.”
He relaxed, but he didn't close his eyes again until I was in bed beside him. We didn't sleep entwined like lovers. It's a single bed, but somehow we managed not to become too entangled. I rested my head against his shoulder, he tilted his head against mine: friends who had fallen asleep together accidentally. I held tightly to a fold of his sweatshirt, to try to convince myself that he was really there. It still didn't seem real.
But when I woke up again a few hours later, he was still there, looking down at me with an expression I'd never seen before.
“What?” I whispered, a little afraid.
He touched my hair. “I missed you.” Then, his expression not changing, “Deathscythe is gone. I blew it up.”
“I heard.” I swallowed. “Do you want to talk about it, Duo?”
He shook his head. “I feel like I've talked about it enough times with Quatre. It's weird, though. I'm not sorry it's gone. I know I used to talk about it like it was my pal or something, but really, it was a weapon. And I don't want to deal with weapons any more. I'm sick of them. It's just...” He propped himself up on his elbow, flicked his braid over his shoulder, and his eyes lit up, like he was suddenly inspired. “It's like if I cut my hair. I guess it wouldn't be BAD if the mop was gone, but I've had it so long it's like it's a part of me. It would be weird. That's a dumb analogy.”
“No, it isn't.” I wanted to touch him, but I wasn't sure if I should. He wasn't touching my hair anymore, but his hand rested near mine on the blanket. I said, “It's not dumb. Your hair is a part of your image, and your image is part of who you are.”
“You make me sound so superficial.”
“I don't mean to. You're so NOT. I mean, you kept it long for a reason, right?”
“Yeah.” He smiled wryly. “It was good to hide stuff in when I was a pickpocket urchin. Pins, razors, that kind of thing. It was kind of a mask, too. Then Sister Helen braided it, and I thought it was pretty cool. I thought I looked like some kind of Chinese warrior-monk, you know? Actually, I don't know if that's how they did their hair.”
“It's a part of you. Not an essential part like a limb or an organ, but still a part. So was Deathscythe.”
“I don't really want to talk about it.” He lowered his lashes, shadowing his eyes.
“We don't have to.” At that point his stomach growled loudly. “Want breakfast?”
“You don't need to get up...”
“Hey, I don't mind.” I slid off the bed, shoving my feet into my slippers--the floor was cold. “I got a normal amount of sleep last night. You didn't. We have bagels, cream cheese, orange juice, I think maybe some strawberries.” I grabbed my robe from the chair.
As I was leaving he called, “Um, Hil...are my jeans anywhere?”
I was back ten minutes later, carrying the jeans and a breakfast tray. His leather pants already lay in a heap on the floor by the bed. He was stretching his legs under the blankets and sighing with exaggerated pleasure. I tossed him the jeans, then turned my back and unloaded the breakfast tray onto the night table while he changed.
“You never asked me where I was,” he said while I smeared cream cheese onto a toasted sesame bagel.
“No, I didn't. I was going to, but I figured...” I shrugged, tried to sound nonchalant. “Where were you?”
“With Heero.”
“That's what I figured,” I said somewhat disingenuously.
“He was pretty messed up about... Well, about everything, I guess.” He was quiet for a moment. Then he said, in a voice I'd never heard him use before, “I think I messed him up even more.”
I turned to him, suddenly anxious. He was looking up at me, his brows drawn together over his wide eyes. He looked pale--faded, almost. As worn and battered as his jeans. “What do you mean?” I whispered.
“He could have stayed with Relena. He cared for her. I mean, I don't know if he loves her or anything. She loves him. But he really trusts her. Likes her. But I made him leave.” He picked at the blanket.
I remembered the knife and bagel still in my hands, put them down hurriedly, and climbed back into bed beside him. I didn't put my arms around him. I was afraid to. “How?” I pressed.
“I found out his name and I told it to him. His real name. So he had to go away and find out who he was. See if there are any more Taros alive in the universe. Oh, wait, he's Japanese, so it's last name first, right? Akatsuki Taro. His family name is Akatsuki. He's Taro like the tuber. That's so weird.”
“Why? You're not...?” I couldn't even say the word.
“Jealous?” He looked up and flashed me a limp smile. “Of Heero? No way. I know my real name.”
I was struck. Of course he wasn't born with the name Duo Maxwell. I'd known that for a long time. I knew about Solo, the friend who'd died, and Father Maxwell, who'd been a father to him for such a brief time. But I'd never even tried to imagine him with any name but Duo. I couldn't. “What is your real name?” I barely managed to ask.
He told me. (Should I write it here? Maybe I will later, if I revise this. I'll get the right spelling from him, if he even knows how to spell the last name.)
“It's a nice name,” I said, honestly. “Sounds Irish.”
“Do you think?” There was a note of genuine curiosity in his voice, though he still sounded very weary.
“I think so. Or Scottish. I don't know the difference. We could look it up.”
The idea seemed to please him. His smile brightened for a moment, then faded again. “I shouldn't have told Heero.”
“Why not? If I didn't know my name and if someone found it out I'd want him to tell me.”
He looked away. “I know. I couldn't have kept it from him. It was actually my last assignment, from the mad scientists.” He sighed, and the sigh became a shudder that rippled through his whole body. Still, I couldn't touch him. He seemed very far away, although we were so close I could smell the dried sweat on him. He'd run here from the station, and he hadn't showered, yet. But underneath the sweat and the dirt was the spicy masculine scent I could almost get high on. I breathed it in, concentrated on its familiarity, while I waited for him to go on. Eventually, he did.
“The thing is, he's still out there wandering, and I hate that. It's not fair.” He was angry. “It's so not fair. I mean, he's worked harder for this peace than any of us. And he still doesn't have anywhere to go. He could have stayed with Relena, but now he can't. Even if he finds his family, what'll he do? Can you see Heero going up to some stranger and being all, ‘Hey, I'm your long-lost nephew. Now that I'm done killing people and saving the universe, mind if I stay with you?' Yeah, right. Trowa doesn't know his real name. He'll probably never find it. But he has a home to go back to. He has his sister. And he has Quatre, I think. And Quatre has his family and his Maguanacs. Wufei joined the Preventers, so he has that, and he's all into that Catalonia creature, which I don't get at all.” He sighed again. “And I have you,” he mumbled.
The wrist that had been propping up my head gave out. I jerked up, spluttering, “What--I--huh?”
“If that's what you want,” he went on as though I hadn't said anything stupid. “I mean...” He looked up, and to my amazement, he blushed. “I feel like such an ass for just leaving you like that,” he confessed. His cheeks went even redder. He bit his lip. “That was such a jerky thing to do. I should have had you come with me. I really wanted to. But I had this awful feeling something bad was going to happen. And I needed to know you were safe. That was what kept me going during the whole uprising. I was so pissed that some people still didn't get it. War is just plain wrong. But the person I needed to protect was safe.” He frowned. “Sort of.”
“Hey,” I chided nervously, “you said not to get involved if fighting breaks out. I had nothing to do with the fighting.”
He relaxed. “I know. You guys, and the guys Wufei and Catalonia rallied--you guys really saved the day. I didn't find out about what you did until way after, but...you gave me a lot of hope. You all did. But what I'm saying,” he went on, sounding as though he were struggling with the words, “what I'm saying is... Oh, hell. In that last battle, when Quatre and Trowa and I were going to self-destruct in our Gundams I thought, okay, they'll be gone and we'll be gone and maybe we'll end this thing finally. I always figured I was only alive by chance and my luck had to change some time. But I was pissed because... I never told you anything.”
I couldn't respond. He didn't give me time. He just took my face in his hand and said, raggedly, “You mean everything to me. More than Deathscythe, more than the guys... You're my home, Hilde. I'm so grateful for everything you've given me. I'm not even talking about gratitude. All I could think during the fighting on Earth was, ‘But Hilde's safe. It's okay because Hilde's safe.' I was never able to really protect anyone I cared about, before. I lost my folks, I lost Father Maxwell and Sister Helen. I couldn't keep the other guys--my friends--from fighting. But I could keep you safe, even though you might hate me for what I did. I need to be honest with you, Hil; I don't know if what I feel-- I don't know if it's love or not.” He mumbled the word and I realized I'd never heard him say it before. He went on quickly, “That's just because I have nothing to compare it to. There's a lot of people I LIKE. And I've been attracted to people before. But you're different.” He dropped his head. “I'm messing this up. I want to be with you, however you'll take me. If you're not pissed at me--and I get the impression you're not--I want to take you out later. On a real date. I want to get you flowers and dopey stuffed animals. I want to sleep with you. If that's okay. I know that I love your smile...and that weird puzzled look I know you're making. I love just talking to you. I never talk like this to anyone. I mean, you mean more to me than anyone I've ever...”
He was floundering, but I finally snapped out of my trance. No, they weren't the words I'd fantasized about.
They were his. They were real. So, they were better.
I didn't think. When he trailed off I just pushed his bangs away from his eyes, tilted his face back, and kissed him, sweat, morning breath and all. I kissed him the way I'd always wanted to kiss him. Slowly. Deeply. Taking the time to memorize the shape of his lips, the weight of him as he pressed down on me. I'm not an expert, but it was a good kiss.
Our clothes were on the floor--he'd enjoyed the black lace panties--and he was fumbling with the plastic on one of my lucky condoms--
(“Lucky if I can get the damn thing out,” he grunted.
“Lucky because they're for if I ever get lucky,” I explained, laughing.)
--when Loki jumped onto the bed and gave a proprietary meowl.
Duo looked up. I watched dark blue eyes meet grass green in a look of intense scrutiny and faint disapproval.
“You got a cat,” Duo said mildly.
“He got me,” I explained, feeling a little weird, although I guess that was the first time I'd ever had two males compete for me. “He's a nice cat,” I babbled. “Really. He's cuddly.”
Duo raised his eyebrows. “I'm more cuddly.”
“Are you?”
He grinned and shoved Loki off the bed. I heard a fwump and an offended mrrowl. “Let's find out,” said Duo, as he brushed the little gold crucifix away from my throat and bent to kiss me there.
He is, he is.
Afterward-- quite a bit afterward, actually, when our bodies were drying in the cool air--I yawned, “Howard's in town. He wants you to go to Mars to work on the terraforming project.”
He'd been stroking my thigh idly. He stopped, though his hand lingered on my body. “Go to Mars?” he repeated, sounding far away again, and uncertain. “Like a mission?”
“Like a job,” I said, nuzzling his shoulder. “Like a job where you'd get paid and have benefits. Howard thinks you could be a team leader, since you have so much experience with mechanics and you're a personable fellow.”
“I am?” He grinned down at me. “What about you?”
“I'd go with you, of course. There are things I could do there, too. It's just an idea, but I kind of like it. I don't love the garage, and I don't love this house. It would be interesting, anyway. There would be a team of colonists and Terrans.”
“It would be interesting working with Zechs Merquise and Lucrezia Noin. But I guess Howard couldn't have known that. That would be interesting. I like Noin, anyway.” He was quiet for a moment, thinking about the possibilities. At length he said, slowly, “It would be nice, you know, to build something. Not a weapon but a community for people to live. That would be really nice, actually. I need to think some more. I mean, we both do, but yeah, I should go talk to Howard.”
I remembered what Howard had said before, about how Duo might have been a good space explorer. He still could be. So could I. Together, we could build something that the people of the future could really use. Even in this late era of human development, there were still frontiers.
“I got Heero those jeans,” Duo said, interrupting my thoughts. “Do you remember me telling you about that? See, I am a good friend after all.” He ruffled my hair.
“You're a good friend,” I murmured. “You're a good person, period.” I kissed his chest, then blew across the sparse, light-colored hairs to tickle him. After that we were both quiet as we watched the light change. The late afternoon sunlight made flaming stars out of the frost in the window and cast warm rays onto the floor and the bed. Loki slunk back into the room and joined us, though he kept his whiskers high in the air and wouldn't come close despite Duo's reconciliatory entreaties.
We stayed like that until long after nightfall. Decisions about the future could wait. So could regrets. We were perfectly content with the present.
-------------------
Being in love really sucks sometimes, but this isn't one of them. I like to think that that's how the war finally ended for both of us. It's too soon to tell of course. But there's no reason to believe the peace won't hold for a good long while. Duo thinks it will, anyway, and so do I. I hope we go to Mars. I think it would be good for both of us. Who knows what else will happen, now that there's peace. Instead of concentrating on ways to kill each other, people can concentrate on things like space exploration and new inventions and things. And as for us, we're both pretty young. I think
Oh, Duo says to hurry up or the water will get cold. I'll hurry.
Seriously, though, I feel like we're on the brink of som
THIS IS DUO. HILDE WROTE ENOUFH (?) I THINK. CAN'T SPELL. SHE CAN FIX IT LATER. NOW I WANT TO TAKE A SHOWER. WITH HER. THEN GO BACK TO BED. I THINK WE'VE EARNED IT.
02/06/03
2/2
Fandom: Gundam Wing
Ships: Duo/Hilde, vague Trowa/Quatre
Summary: When Marie Maia Barton-Khushrenada declares war upon the Earth and Space Colonies, the colonists seek to re-arm themselves. With the Gundam pilots away, can one civilian make a difference?
A/N: Approx. 9,100 words (this part). I got pretty ambitious with this story. A couple of characters from my previous fandom (Voltron) make an appearance, though you don't need to know who they are to get what's happening. I also drew plot points from previous mobile suit series.
Part 1
If anything happens, Duo had said, I mean if more fighting breaks out for some reason, promise me you'll stay out of it. Promise me you'll stay HERE. You're my rock, Hilde. Promise me.
I did promise, but did that mean I was supposed to just sit around while the thing I had fought for fell apart? But what else was I supposed to do? I ached to strap on a mobile suit and fly out there to confront Marie Maia myself. That was what I had been trained to do. My hand clenched and unclenched spasmodically. At the same time I thought about Duo, and the weariness I'd sensed in him after he took Deathscythe to Quatre. That weariness came from being a Gundam pilot, not giving it up. He had to stop sometime and so did I.
I got off the bed, went to my dresser and rummaged through a drawer until I found Duo's crucifix. I hadn't looked at it since the day he'd left. I fastened the chain around my neck and dropped the crucifix down the front of my shirt. It was cold against my skin, but then, I hadn't really expected it to start radiating power. Still, I felt a charge, not from the crucifix but from someplace inside me. I was juiced, as we'ds said when I was in training. I was raring to go.
By the time Howard arrived fifteen minutes later, I'd rounded up the things I needed and was in the midst of setting up shop.
“Hello, the house,” Howard called as he walked up the drive, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets.
“Hello,” I called from my perch on the garage's roof.
“Yo.” Howard tilted his head back, shaded his eyes with his hand. “What are you doing?”
“Stringing lights.” I held up a strand.
“Christmas was yesterday, I thought. And what's all this stuff?” He pointed at the carton of supplies--flashlights, more Christmas lights, a strobe light--Duo's purchase--paints, bed sheets, the portable stereo, CDs, extra batteries, and my sax.
“Hang on.” I clambered down the side of the garage (there's a gnarly, stunted pear tree that grows against the side of the garage that makes shimmying a breeze). When I was on the ground again I explained my plan.
“You think it'll work?” He sounded skeptical.
“It depends,” I said with a shrug, and grabbed another handful of Christmas lights. “On who's right--me or the Council.”
“I hope you're right, Hil,” he said, picking up a string of lights that was dragging on the ground and handing it to me. “God, I hope you're right. But I really don't know if this is the ticket.”
“Frankly, neither do I,” I said. “But, honestly, I couldn't think of anything else.”
The sun went down and it got a lot colder. Howard--who was still wearing his sunglasses because of all the lights I'd set up around the house and garage--made coffee and brought a thermos and two large mugs out to where we'd set up camp in front of the garage. Loki followed him.
“Black,” Howard said, flashing me a smile. “None of that lame decaf.”
I took a mug and let him pour, while Loki put his paws on my knee and demanded attention. I brought the mug up to my cold, chapped lips and inhaled deeply. “Smells great. I'm freezing and falling asleep. This is just what I need.”
He sank down beside me, cross-legged, on the picnic blanket. “I'll make some more as soon as this is gone.”
“We'll be peeing all night,” I couldn't help laughing.
“Yeah, well. That'll keep us awake, too.”
“Do you think anyone will actually come?” I wondered.
“This party'll be for nothing if they don't.”
“Yeah, but...” We lapsed into silence. I looked up at the sky. Because of all the lights I couldn't see the stars. I wondered, if I shut off the electricity, would I be able to see little starbursts against the black sky, starbursts that were really mobile suits exploding in space? Had the battle between Earth and Marie Maia's forces begun already? Where was Relena Darlian? I'd witnessed her handle some tough situations--Hell, the first time I met her was when I was infiltrating the Libra where she was held prisoner--but so many people looked to her as a guiding light--even more so than President Brussels--so what would they do without her? And where, in all of this, were the Gundam pilots? I hoped that they were staying out of the conflict, but I couldn't imagine them doing so. What could they do without their Gundams? They were all so strong, but what could they do against Marie Maia's mobile suits? And they'd done enough, all five of them. It was our turn.
“Howard, tell me about Peacemillion. You said it was designed for space exploration. Was there ever a real plan to explore more of Outer Space? I know there was a Department of Space Exploration and Colonization, but...”
“That's ancient history.”
“History repeats itself. Why else would you build Peacemillion?”
“True enough.”
I looked over at Howard. He was looking up at the stars.
He said, “The SEC was formed in UC 0050, after emigration from the Earth to the Space Colonies halted. The Earth was heavily polluted and overpopulated and the Colonies were meant as kind of a quick fix. ‘Cept they worked a little too well and began developing the means to break away from the Earth completely. I'm talking about resource satellites and solar paneling and the Jupiter Energy Fleet that was able to extract helium isotopes from the atmospheres of the outer planets. You know all about the rise of the Duchy of Zeon and all that, right?”
I nodded, scratching Loki.
“Good. Well, you know it was always kind of a plan to develop another completely autonomous world that was self-regenerating the way the Earth was. Mars was an option, but it had to be terraformed and a lot of folks didn't like that it was so close to Earth and the Colonies. So they made the SEC to start exploring deep space. ‘Cept it never really took off because Earth went to war with the Colonies.”
Loki climbed into my lap and butted his head against my chin. I pushed him away gently but he came back, purring loudly. “I know all that,” I said. “But I mean why did you and Doctor G build Peacemillion before the end of the war? You couldn't have known how things would turn out. Could you?”
He sipped his coffee and shrugged. “No, we couldn't. Well, we hoped. There were some idealists on Earth and the Colonies that I guess always dreamed of resurrecting the SEC. Yuy, Peacecraft, Noventa, Darlian, and toward the end, Catalonia.”
“They were all assassinated,” I said glumly, surprised to hear General Catalonia listed. He'd been the leader of OZ, but stepped down--and was shot near his home in Spain--the year before I joined the service. He'd been a brilliant commander in his heyday, but they say he went soft toward the end. I'd seen his daughter once--when I was infiltrating Libra--and recognized her by her weird eyebrows. She seemed like quite the little warmonger. “They were rich, too,” I said after a little more reflection. “Well, not Heero Yuy, but he knew rich people...like the Winners.” I raised my eyebrows questioningly.
“Yeah, we got a bit of off-the-books funding. Obviously we lost support with each assassination. When Darlian died...and then Noventa pretty much right after him, and then Winner...” He shook his head. “It was too sad. We'd all had this dream, see, of a team of Colonists and Terrans building a new autonomous world that relied on its own resources. Total idealism.”
“And Duo was going to lead it?”
“G and I wanted him to be a part of it, yeah.”
“But the project was mothballed, Duo got Deathscythe, Milliardo Peacecraft got Peacemillion, which he left for Libra, and then Sally and Noin wound up with it.”
“You got it.”
“Damn.”
“That's the way it had to be. You gotta adapt your ideas or else you get nothing. Go with the flow of things.”
“No, I mean someone's coming.”
We both jumped to our feet. Loki whined as I spilled him onto the cold ground. I pointed with my flashlight. I'd been right; there was a flicker of movement just outside the pool of light from the house and garage.
“Come on, we see you,” I called, hating the way my voice cracked. I was scared. Maybe this wasn't such a hot idea after all. Duo told me once that I had just the kind of intensity and bravado that gets people killed. I'd almost proved him right twice. Would the third time be the charm?
Sometimes things seem to happen in slow-motion. Like when you're being shot at in a mobile suit battle. You can see the energy beam coming at you and you know you're about to die. It feels so SLOW, you have time to THINK about it, but at the same time you know you don't have time to dodge.
They seemed to move so SLOWLY. It felt like a full five minutes before they had come close enough for me to really see, but I knew it was only a few seconds and there was nothing for me to do except stand there helplessly until the moment passed.
They were young guys, maybe in their twenties. I didn't recognize either of them.
“You're Hilde Schbeiker, right?” one of them said.
“Yeah.”
“What are you doing?” We could have been back in training and they could have been asking me what I was doing Friday night.
“Well, what does it look like?” I replied. Realizing the answer probably was not at all obvious I added, “We're having a peace rally.”
“Just the two of you?”
I almost said, idiotically, “Three,” meaning Loki, but I saved myself in time and admitted, kind of lamely, “I didn't know anyone.”
There was a pause. Then the one who had first spoken pointed at his chest. “Lance Turniev. And Keith Hawkins. Now you know two more people.”
“You joining us or what?” Howard challenged.
“Don't know yet,” said Hawkins. “We were soldiers, too. Alliance first, based on the Colonies, then White Fang. We were wondering what you were doing, especially since you knew the Gundam pilots. If you were going to fight...”
“Has the Council decided anything?”
“Not yet,” said Turniev. “They're dragging their feet, waiting for Earth to do something. No word so far. That kid hasn't made another statement, but you'd think someone from Earth would have said something by now, like the Vice Foreign Minister or President Brussels. But it's been quiet. It's really spooky. Did you know Treize had a kid? Whose is she, Une's?”
“Iron Panties Une? How should I know? Look,” I said, deciding to lay all the cards I had on the table, “Relena Darlian's missing. Council thinks she's been captured by Marie Maia. Either that or there's been an accident no one knows about, because she'd have said something by now. I haven't heard anything from Duo. Derecha wants me to hand over the scraps I have in the garage, and I told him no. I agree that it's human nature to fight, but there are other ways of fighting. I won't lift a weapon until someone threatens my life. Dammit, I'm tired of this. So are the Gundam pilots. They were trained as soldiers and so was I. So were you. Marie Maia seems to think we're not capable of being anything else and she's appealing to our sense of purpose. But enough is enough. I want to prove her wrong.”
“We can't just do nothing, though,” Turniev said uncertainly.
“We're not. I mean, I'm not. I'm not going to just hide under my bed and let her take over in Treize Khushrenada's name. I'm going to let her know I don't want her. But she won't get me to fight another war just by telling me it's in my nature.”
“Call it passive resistance,” Howard put in.
“So what do you guys think?” I demanded.
“What do we think? This is what we think.” They started forward.
Howard and I took an involuntary step back, but there was nothing threatening about the way they approached us. Hawkins, I noticed for the first time, walked with a very slight limp.
They stopped a few feet from us. “Look at this,” said Hawkins and yanked up one pant leg. His leg had a plastic sheen--it was clearly artificial. “I'd kind of like to enjoy the rest of my limbs.”
“Right,” said Turniev, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I mean, yeah, we were trained to fight, but we had a purpose. We wanted order and stability. And peace. Last year I kind of thought we'd achieved that. I think enough people have died. We're not the only ones who think that way, either. We need to show that little brat, and you're right. Come on. How hard can it be to scare a kid?”
“I doubt she's alone,” said Howard. “She's someone's puppet.”
Turniev's hazel eyes flashed. “We're not, though. Children or puppets.” He turned to me. “Can I use your phone? I know some guys who'll agree.”
Howard grinned at me. “Coffee, anyone?” he said.
It turned into a real rally. Between them, Turniev and Hawkins knew about twenty ex-soldiers. “Some guys” indeed. And they all knew people, one of whom was in broadcasting, and it wasn't long before we had reporters and a television crew. It was unbelievable. Howard was brewing coffee for fifty by the time Councilman Billy Archer roared up on his motorcycle.
“Just how big a party is this, Schbeiker?” he bellowed. “I'm supposed to let you know, from Derecha, that you need a permit for this kind of gathering.” He grinned down at me, his teeth very white against his dark face. “That duty discharged, what can I do?”
He made a brief statement, which we broadcast, which probably had the Council hopping since, Archer told me later, they still hadn't come to a decision on what to do about Marie Maia.
“It's about time they did, isn't it?” Turniev barked, his words punctuated by the white puffs of his breath. “I mean, what are they waiting for, someone else to make the decision?”
I turned to Archer. “Is the Council still in session?”
He nodded.
“So we march!” said Turniev. “Let's get this mob scene organized.”
We marched. It was three and a half miles to the city center, and freezing, but we were excited about what we were doing, and energetic, and it kept us warm. Some people had stayed behind to finish making banners and round up supplies. They joined us in their cars about an hour later. It was after eleven by the time we made it to the city center. We were loud. We wanted to motivate the people who weren't doing anything yet, and of course we wanted to show the Council that we were serious. I don't know how many people joined us once we were in the center itself. Different news crews have given different estimates, but I couldn't really see so I don't know which estimate is the most accurate. I'm short. It was all I could do not to get trampled.
My cousins--all of whom are a lot older than I am--used to tell me they remembered watching the rallies that took place after Heero Yuy's assassination. The way they described them it was no surprise a lot of people from the Earth thought the Colonists couldn't govern themselves. But then, most of my cousins wound up fighting on the Earth's side--as I did for a while. Anyway, what they described wasn't anything like what took place outside City Hall the night of December twenty-sixth, AC 196. Maybe it was because our cause was different. We didn't want autonomy. We just wanted there to be no more fighting. Maybe it was because we'd already reached another period in history. By the time Heero Yuy was assassinated, conflict had been brewing on the Earth--and subsequently the Colonies--for almost two hundred years. All the frustration and resentment reached its climax last year. Now we were just tired. Maybe that's not completely right. If we were just tired I don't know that we'd be doing anything. Maybe it would be more accurate to say we'd finally received our wakeup call. We'd finally woken up. I'm not an historian or a political analyst. I don't know.
At any rate, I'm proud of what we did. We marched straight up to the doors of City Hall and demanded a resolution from our leaders. And we made it pretty clear what kind of resolution we wanted. We did it by shouting. (Hawkins is surprisingly eloquent. I mean, a quarter of the things he said were clichés, but he said them really well and we didn't care.) We did it by singing. (Howard knows a surprising number of protest songs. I tried to play along on my sax, but I'm really not that good yet.) We did it by just being there. (There were a surprising number of veterans. Parents came with their children. There were old people, young people. It was amazing.)
At midnight Councilwoman Johnston appeared to tell us we were rushing to conclusions and not to be so hasty. President Brussels and Colonel Une were attempting to communicate with Marie Maia, so far with no success. The situation was very delicate, she insisted, confirming our fear about Relena Darlian's whereabouts. We had to wait and see what happened next. She told us to go back to our homes. It was cold out. There was nothing we could do.
We didn't go home.
A few people who had apartments on the streets opposite City Hall kept their televisions on and their windows open and shouted the updates down to us. At one-thirty we heard the news that Marie Maia and her followers were on the move; they were heading for Earth, and with Relena Darlian as their hostage no one was going to stop them. There'd been a brief skirmish on L3-X18999, but no mention of who exactly had been involved. There had been hostages, but they'd been released. My heart began to beat very quickly at that news. I remembered the undercover organization Councilwoman Sheridan had mentioned, but I didn't know anything about them. I thought, The Gundam pilots must be involved! Who else could have gotten in there and succeeded? I wasn't sure what to feel. On the one hand I felt better, believing they were doing something. On the other hand I was angered that we still depended on them to fight our battles.
It got colder. The older people and the children and anyone who was sick were instructed to go back inside. Most of them did, but some didn't, and just about everyone else remained. Blankets appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. There weren't nearly enough for everyone, so people huddled together. I found myself wedged between Lance and Billy.
It got quiet. We all knew we had to stay active and stay awake, but we were tired.
The minutes went by very slowly. More than once I had to pinch myself to keep from falling asleep. My feet were frozen; they felt more like hooves than feet, as though I had no toes at all.
I don't know what time it was when people began to murmur that fighting had broken out on the Earth. A mobile suit battle... Marie Maia was laying siege to the Brussels Presidential Residence. No, Marie Maia and her followers were inside the Residence, and two unknown mobile suit pilots (not the Gundam pilots) were leading the siege. No one was certain.
Where are the people on the Earth? I thought, biting my fingers to bring back feeling. Where are they? Are we alone?
I'm sorry I can't describe what happened on L2-X34 with greater detail. I kept drifting in and out of a kind of half-sleep. I heard snatches of conversation, pockets of song. I remember my head falling back and looking up at the stars with a kind of mad understanding. (Looking back now, I'm not sure what it was I understood so perfectly. War, peace, the universe, love? All I can think now as I try to record this for you is, “My God, I was freezing to death.”)
Then I really was falling. “Oh my God,” Billy muttered as he caught me, “I'm such an idiot. Where the fuck is my motorcycle?”
The motorcycle was found and I was handed to Lance.
“Where are you going?” I mumbled.
“The weather generators,” he growled as he revved the engine. “Son of a bitch!”
I wriggled out of Lance's arms. “I'm coming with you!”
“You're not,” he snapped, shoving me away. “For once in your life, Schbeiker, obey orders! Get her inside, Turniev.”
But I got on behind him and wouldn't let go. I must have been truly mad. He was furious. He called me a few things I'm not going to repeat here. But in the end he had no choice but to let me come.
It was so cold! His body shielded me from the worst of the wind, but I don't think I've ever been so cold in all my life. Still, the ride woke me up.
“The generators!” I yelled over the engine's roar and the screaming wind. “Derecha--or someone--ordered someone to lower the temperatures.”
“What else? They think they're going to get us out of their hair that way.”
“That's, that's--” I couldn't even put my outrage into words.
We didn't say anything else until we reached the generators, which are about fifteen minutes outside the city center.
“I'm going to use your hard head to knock down the door if it's locked,” Billy informed me as we parked.
I practically fell off the motorcycle. “I won't vote for you if you do,” I muttered as I hobbled after him.
Two security guards stopped us at the door. “Councilman Archer,” one said in surprise.
“Let us in,” said Billy with authority. (He cut a really striking figure just then, I have to say. More like a Sioux warrior than a bureaucrat.)
One of the security guards said, sounding somewhat reluctant, “We have our orders, Councilman, five seals attached.”
“People are freezing to death!” I snapped.
The men ignored me. “People are freezing to death,” said Billy.
“If they go inside, they won't freeze.”
“They're not going inside. Whoever gave you that order forgot that the L2 Charter, ratified in AC 131, gives citizens of the L2 Colony Cluster the right to rally peacefully in a public space. Whoever gave you that order doesn't want to draw attention to L2-X34 in the event of another war. We're trying to prevent another war. Whoever gave that order--”
--Oh, say it Billy, say it, I wanted to shout--
“--is going to be in serious trouble come election time if not sooner.”
God, he's cool.
Well, they let us in and we went straight to the poor lone tech on-shift and ordered him to raise the temperature. He did, with little need for encouragement. I bet he was hoping someone would rescind his order.
After that we waited a few minutes to catch our breaths and warm our utterly numb extremities. Then we were back out in the cold, speeding back to the city center, where the protestors were still gathered.
So that's where we were when people in their apartments began to shout down to the people in the street that three Gundams had joined the siege on the Presidential Residence: Deathscythe, Heavyarms, Sandrock. Duo, Trowa, Quatre, I thought. But where were the others?
It wasn't long before we knew the answer. The emerald Gundam--Shenlong or Nataku or whatever it's called--showed up, but it didn't join the siege. There were people all around it, we heard--lots of people. Hundreds, it looked like, or maybe more. They were unarmed, but they were protesting, too.
No more fighting. The cry was taken up by the crowd on L2-X34 and grew louder. End this!
Then broadcasts started coming in from the other colonies.
Rallies on the colonies of the L-4 Cluster. On L-1. L-5. L-3.
No more fighting.
We're doing it, Duo, I thought. Can you hear it where you are? We're finally picking up the slack. You won't have to fight any more. Then you can come home and lead a normal life, finally.
Day was breaking, the sky lightening when Wing Zero arrived to end the siege. It blew the roof right off the Presidential Residence. And that was it. The end of the fighting. It took us a while to realize it was over. But once we did the singing and the shouting resumed, full force, only now there were cheers, too. And relieved, weary laughter. And hugs. Billy picked me up and swung me around, then practically tossed me to Lance, who did the same. I felt like a beanbag. All I cared was that someone would catch me, because by then I was far too tired to manage my own landing.
Sometimes I'm rather proud of the human race.
That was two weeks ago. It's taken me this long to get it all down because I've been busy. Billy's been dragging me to council meetings, and I've been interviewed by the press. Really, I don't feel I did all that much, but...they seem to think I did. Derecha thought I was so influential (imagine, since you're reading this and can't hear me, that my words are dripping with sarcasm) that he wanted to send me to L3-X189999 with L2-X34's other representatives. I told him, no. I gave him a bunch of excuses, but really, I just wanted to be here in case Duo came back.
Derecha and a few other Councilors are in trouble. Billy accused them of severely abusing their power and of endangering the lives of the people who were only exercising their Charter-given rights. Derecha responded that every person who rallied that night had a home and, it was hoped, the commonsense to get inside when the temperature dropped. Well, those weren't his words exactly, but it's the gist of what he said. He knows he's out. Billy's already working on his campaign for Derecha's seat.
Duo's not back yet. Don't imagine me pining away in my lonely little room. I've been out of the house. Actually, I made some friends at the rally. Lance and Keith are good guys. Lance, especially, makes me laugh. I like hanging out with guys. I was pretty much raised by my big brothers, so I've always been a tomboy. Anyway, I was busy.
I'm not sure what's happening on the Earth, now. I mean, I know basically what's happening: representatives from all over the Earth and the colonies have flocked to what's left of the Brussels Presidential Residence and Charles Noventa's leading that team of representatives on L3-X189999, trying to stabilize that colony. Relena Darlian, President Brussels, and Lady Une have been giving speeches and there's been a lot of footage of soldiers throwing down their arms. Oh, and the Gundams are gone. There wasn't any footage of that, and the pilots weren't interviewed. Relena made a statement--and that was it.
I wonder what he's doing now. I wonder what time it is on the Earth right now, if he's even there.
Two weeks since the fighting stopped, and still no word. Howard says Duo likes having a home base and it's not like him to stay away so long. He told me about the job he'd come to offer Duo. I hope he gets back soon, or at least sends word. I'm starting to worry.
Oh, there was news on Marie Maia Khushrenada, finally. She was injured in the assault on the Presidential Residence, but she was released from the hospital a few days ago, in Lady Une's custody. I wonder if she'll wind up raising her. What kind of mother would Une be? She's not that much older than the kid herself. And who IS Marie Maia's mother? There's been speculation (Dekim Barton had a daughter, who died in 190) but anyone who knows for certain isn't telling. I guess I'm glad the kid's okay. She actually made a public apology for her actions. Dekim Barton was the one holding her strings. He died in the assault. I'm glad.
It's getting warmer. There are crocuses along the reservoir. I wish I hadn't fallen asleep after we made love that one time months ago.
Made love. Was it really love for him? (And now that I have time to think rationally--what can either of us possibly know about love? We're only sixteen.) He'd been upset about Deathscythe--about a lot of things, I guess. He'd needed someone to cling to, and I'd been there. I mean, I'd more or less thrown myself at him. I hadn't told him how I felt. I'd just been the warm body he'd needed to crash against. And I'd been his first. My first time had been all right, but now I sort of wish it had been him. Then maybe we'd have been on equal footing. He'd been nervous. He'd been worried about what would happen after. But when I'd asked him if he wanted to stop, he'd said no.
For the first time I'm starting to wonder what will happen if he does come back. Will we tiptoe around each other, avoid each other's eyes over breakfast, scoot to opposite ends of the sofa? Does he think I just let him use me?
No, that's not like Duo.
Anyway, I wish I'd stayed awake and taken the time to memorize him while he slept. I'd like to remember how he felt in my arms, how he smelled, how his breath tasted.
I hope he's all right.
God, I'm lonely.
Started putting some of his things in boxes. I'm not getting rid of it. I've just been fidgety and I find that cleaning helps calm me down. He has so many comic books. Every time I thought I'd gotten them all out of the way I'd find another stash. He also has a few pulpy detective novellas and biographies of Amuro Ray, Shiro Amada, and other important figures from the early Universal Century period. Funny, I'd never thought of him as a reader, but I guess I can think of a few times when I came into his room to find him sprawled on his futon, engrossed in a book, dirty dishes piled at his side. Flipping through a few of them, I discovered he'd written notes in some of the margins in his loopy, barely legible handwriting. Some of them were pretty amusing: “Mr. Butler? There's a guy in this book called Mr. BUTLER? He fucking did it, man. I bet myself a box of donuts he did it.” Or: “Lay, not laid, dork-face.” Or sometimes he'd circle a passage and scrawl next to it, “for H.” (He must have forgotten to show them to me. Or maybe I'm not the “H” he meant?)
I found his priest's shirt stuffed between the futons and a bookcase made out of plastic milk crates we'd stolen. I remembered the second time we met, after he escaped from the Lunar Base. I was in an amazing amount of trouble at the time, having defected from OZ in order to save his ass. I was a wanted woman. So I was hiding out in a bar on MO-VI. By some crazy coincidence, he decided to do the same. I remember looking up from my wine cooler and seeing the strobe light flash against his white collar. “Hey,” I'd drawled, grinning, “you look like a man with a mission.” It took him a few moments to get the pun, but he recognized me right away.
“ ‘She wore a raspberry beret,'” he crooned softly as he hoisted his rear onto the barstool beside mine. “ ‘The kind you find in a secondhand store. Raspberry beret...”' Then he fixed me with that lopsided smile of his. “So, you‘re still alive, Schbeiker.”
I looked at him warily, noting his pallor, the bruise on his cheek, the scabs on his hands, the tears in his shirt. “Wish I could say the same for you, Maxwell.”
And before you knew it we were laughing like a pair of fools.
That must have been when I fell in love with him. I'd thought he was very cool and smart and dangerous the first time we met. But that second time--that's when I realized he was fun, too. And just plain...good. He's a good person. If there's one thing about him I'm sure of it's that. He really does fight so other people won't have to, because he doesn't belong to anyone, thinks there's no one who'll grieve should anything happen to him. He doesn't lie to anyone because he hates being lied to. He'd help anyone...
“You should get a place in the city center,” Billy Archer said when we had coffee together yesterday afternoon. “You're too far out. You could get a job here, too. What are you interested in doing? Or do you really like that garage job?”
I don't. Not really. It had been all right during the war because Duo and I had worked with mobile suits, and that had been interesting. But I'm not interested in that any more.
Billy offered me a job working for him. “You're young,” he said. “You represent a generation that's known warfare but with luck will enjoy a peaceful lifetime.”
“Would I have to wear a skirt?” I asked, while I played with the cinnamon stick in my mocha.
“You could get a pants suit. But yeah, you'd have to wear office attire most of the time.”
“Ugh.”
“Think about it, Hilde. You're young and really bright. You could make some great connections...”
He's right, of course. I do need to branch out. When I first joined the army I'd been such an idealist. I didn't have any plans for if the war actually ended. I'd just wanted to fight. Now I wonder. What the hell am I going to do with the rest of my life?
Last night I dreamed that Duo came back. I was sleeping in the dream, but somehow I knew that it was morning. There was sunlight all around, pouring through the window onto my face. I felt the bed dip and I knew it wasn't Loki. The air above my face moved, as though stirred by someone's breath. I knew who it was, and I wanted to reach out and pull him down to me. There wouldn't be any words. I just wanted to hold him.
He leaned down and--whump--his stupid braid bashed me in the nose.
That should have clued me in. He's always perfect in my dreams.
He tells me I mumbled, “Hey, Duo,” with my eyes closed, natural as anything, but to be honest I don't remember. By the time it dawned on me that I might be awake and opened my eyes I was already in his arms. God knows what I said then! My own stupid hair kept flopping into my eyes, and the sunlight was so strong all I could see was the curve of his cheek, the indigo stain of his eyes, and his lashes, which gleamed like copper.
He kissed me softly, awkwardly, on the lips, and I threw my arms around him, hugging him hard, breathing him in. I didn't bother to question, I didn't even think about questioning his action. He said something--I think it was, “Dumb Hilde, this is where I live”--and then he was hugging me back, so hard I squeaked in pain.
“Oh my god, Hil,” he said somewhat breathlessly as he pulled away a moment later. “Oh, my god. You look--” He touched my cheek. “...So beautiful. So amazingly beautiful!”
I could only stare at him, taking in the flushed cheeks, the messy hair, the circles under his eyes. He looked exhausted. And there were tears in his eyes. I'd never seen him cry before.
I got up and pushed him back against the pillows. He seemed so light, so pliant, that for half a second I was afraid that I was really dreaming after all. But you know, if I were dreaming about Duo in my bed, I sure as hell wouldn't dream him too tired to move on his own!
“Whatcha doin', Schbeiker?” he mumbled while I pulled the blankets up around him. His shoes were already off. He must have ditched them when he came in.
“You're tired.”
“I just got in half an hour ago. I've been up all night.” He frowned at me. “Those are my boxers.”
I glanced down, my cheeks lighting up. “I did our laundry together,” I mumbled. “I guess they got mixed up...”
“You look cute.” He smiled and closed his eyes.
I just stared at him, afraid to blink in case I shattered the dream. Even then I couldn't quite believe I was really awake, he was really back, and in my bed. I sat down next to him. I didn't touch him. I was afraid to do anything. What if I did something wrong? Where were we?
His eyes flew open suddenly. “It's totally six in the morning and I woke you up. Should I go...?”
“No.” I pushed him back, stopped him getting up. I felt his heart racing beneath my palm. “It's okay. You're tired. You can sleep here. It's okay.”
He relaxed, but he didn't close his eyes again until I was in bed beside him. We didn't sleep entwined like lovers. It's a single bed, but somehow we managed not to become too entangled. I rested my head against his shoulder, he tilted his head against mine: friends who had fallen asleep together accidentally. I held tightly to a fold of his sweatshirt, to try to convince myself that he was really there. It still didn't seem real.
But when I woke up again a few hours later, he was still there, looking down at me with an expression I'd never seen before.
“What?” I whispered, a little afraid.
He touched my hair. “I missed you.” Then, his expression not changing, “Deathscythe is gone. I blew it up.”
“I heard.” I swallowed. “Do you want to talk about it, Duo?”
He shook his head. “I feel like I've talked about it enough times with Quatre. It's weird, though. I'm not sorry it's gone. I know I used to talk about it like it was my pal or something, but really, it was a weapon. And I don't want to deal with weapons any more. I'm sick of them. It's just...” He propped himself up on his elbow, flicked his braid over his shoulder, and his eyes lit up, like he was suddenly inspired. “It's like if I cut my hair. I guess it wouldn't be BAD if the mop was gone, but I've had it so long it's like it's a part of me. It would be weird. That's a dumb analogy.”
“No, it isn't.” I wanted to touch him, but I wasn't sure if I should. He wasn't touching my hair anymore, but his hand rested near mine on the blanket. I said, “It's not dumb. Your hair is a part of your image, and your image is part of who you are.”
“You make me sound so superficial.”
“I don't mean to. You're so NOT. I mean, you kept it long for a reason, right?”
“Yeah.” He smiled wryly. “It was good to hide stuff in when I was a pickpocket urchin. Pins, razors, that kind of thing. It was kind of a mask, too. Then Sister Helen braided it, and I thought it was pretty cool. I thought I looked like some kind of Chinese warrior-monk, you know? Actually, I don't know if that's how they did their hair.”
“It's a part of you. Not an essential part like a limb or an organ, but still a part. So was Deathscythe.”
“I don't really want to talk about it.” He lowered his lashes, shadowing his eyes.
“We don't have to.” At that point his stomach growled loudly. “Want breakfast?”
“You don't need to get up...”
“Hey, I don't mind.” I slid off the bed, shoving my feet into my slippers--the floor was cold. “I got a normal amount of sleep last night. You didn't. We have bagels, cream cheese, orange juice, I think maybe some strawberries.” I grabbed my robe from the chair.
As I was leaving he called, “Um, Hil...are my jeans anywhere?”
I was back ten minutes later, carrying the jeans and a breakfast tray. His leather pants already lay in a heap on the floor by the bed. He was stretching his legs under the blankets and sighing with exaggerated pleasure. I tossed him the jeans, then turned my back and unloaded the breakfast tray onto the night table while he changed.
“You never asked me where I was,” he said while I smeared cream cheese onto a toasted sesame bagel.
“No, I didn't. I was going to, but I figured...” I shrugged, tried to sound nonchalant. “Where were you?”
“With Heero.”
“That's what I figured,” I said somewhat disingenuously.
“He was pretty messed up about... Well, about everything, I guess.” He was quiet for a moment. Then he said, in a voice I'd never heard him use before, “I think I messed him up even more.”
I turned to him, suddenly anxious. He was looking up at me, his brows drawn together over his wide eyes. He looked pale--faded, almost. As worn and battered as his jeans. “What do you mean?” I whispered.
“He could have stayed with Relena. He cared for her. I mean, I don't know if he loves her or anything. She loves him. But he really trusts her. Likes her. But I made him leave.” He picked at the blanket.
I remembered the knife and bagel still in my hands, put them down hurriedly, and climbed back into bed beside him. I didn't put my arms around him. I was afraid to. “How?” I pressed.
“I found out his name and I told it to him. His real name. So he had to go away and find out who he was. See if there are any more Taros alive in the universe. Oh, wait, he's Japanese, so it's last name first, right? Akatsuki Taro. His family name is Akatsuki. He's Taro like the tuber. That's so weird.”
“Why? You're not...?” I couldn't even say the word.
“Jealous?” He looked up and flashed me a limp smile. “Of Heero? No way. I know my real name.”
I was struck. Of course he wasn't born with the name Duo Maxwell. I'd known that for a long time. I knew about Solo, the friend who'd died, and Father Maxwell, who'd been a father to him for such a brief time. But I'd never even tried to imagine him with any name but Duo. I couldn't. “What is your real name?” I barely managed to ask.
He told me. (Should I write it here? Maybe I will later, if I revise this. I'll get the right spelling from him, if he even knows how to spell the last name.)
“It's a nice name,” I said, honestly. “Sounds Irish.”
“Do you think?” There was a note of genuine curiosity in his voice, though he still sounded very weary.
“I think so. Or Scottish. I don't know the difference. We could look it up.”
The idea seemed to please him. His smile brightened for a moment, then faded again. “I shouldn't have told Heero.”
“Why not? If I didn't know my name and if someone found it out I'd want him to tell me.”
He looked away. “I know. I couldn't have kept it from him. It was actually my last assignment, from the mad scientists.” He sighed, and the sigh became a shudder that rippled through his whole body. Still, I couldn't touch him. He seemed very far away, although we were so close I could smell the dried sweat on him. He'd run here from the station, and he hadn't showered, yet. But underneath the sweat and the dirt was the spicy masculine scent I could almost get high on. I breathed it in, concentrated on its familiarity, while I waited for him to go on. Eventually, he did.
“The thing is, he's still out there wandering, and I hate that. It's not fair.” He was angry. “It's so not fair. I mean, he's worked harder for this peace than any of us. And he still doesn't have anywhere to go. He could have stayed with Relena, but now he can't. Even if he finds his family, what'll he do? Can you see Heero going up to some stranger and being all, ‘Hey, I'm your long-lost nephew. Now that I'm done killing people and saving the universe, mind if I stay with you?' Yeah, right. Trowa doesn't know his real name. He'll probably never find it. But he has a home to go back to. He has his sister. And he has Quatre, I think. And Quatre has his family and his Maguanacs. Wufei joined the Preventers, so he has that, and he's all into that Catalonia creature, which I don't get at all.” He sighed again. “And I have you,” he mumbled.
The wrist that had been propping up my head gave out. I jerked up, spluttering, “What--I--huh?”
“If that's what you want,” he went on as though I hadn't said anything stupid. “I mean...” He looked up, and to my amazement, he blushed. “I feel like such an ass for just leaving you like that,” he confessed. His cheeks went even redder. He bit his lip. “That was such a jerky thing to do. I should have had you come with me. I really wanted to. But I had this awful feeling something bad was going to happen. And I needed to know you were safe. That was what kept me going during the whole uprising. I was so pissed that some people still didn't get it. War is just plain wrong. But the person I needed to protect was safe.” He frowned. “Sort of.”
“Hey,” I chided nervously, “you said not to get involved if fighting breaks out. I had nothing to do with the fighting.”
He relaxed. “I know. You guys, and the guys Wufei and Catalonia rallied--you guys really saved the day. I didn't find out about what you did until way after, but...you gave me a lot of hope. You all did. But what I'm saying,” he went on, sounding as though he were struggling with the words, “what I'm saying is... Oh, hell. In that last battle, when Quatre and Trowa and I were going to self-destruct in our Gundams I thought, okay, they'll be gone and we'll be gone and maybe we'll end this thing finally. I always figured I was only alive by chance and my luck had to change some time. But I was pissed because... I never told you anything.”
I couldn't respond. He didn't give me time. He just took my face in his hand and said, raggedly, “You mean everything to me. More than Deathscythe, more than the guys... You're my home, Hilde. I'm so grateful for everything you've given me. I'm not even talking about gratitude. All I could think during the fighting on Earth was, ‘But Hilde's safe. It's okay because Hilde's safe.' I was never able to really protect anyone I cared about, before. I lost my folks, I lost Father Maxwell and Sister Helen. I couldn't keep the other guys--my friends--from fighting. But I could keep you safe, even though you might hate me for what I did. I need to be honest with you, Hil; I don't know if what I feel-- I don't know if it's love or not.” He mumbled the word and I realized I'd never heard him say it before. He went on quickly, “That's just because I have nothing to compare it to. There's a lot of people I LIKE. And I've been attracted to people before. But you're different.” He dropped his head. “I'm messing this up. I want to be with you, however you'll take me. If you're not pissed at me--and I get the impression you're not--I want to take you out later. On a real date. I want to get you flowers and dopey stuffed animals. I want to sleep with you. If that's okay. I know that I love your smile...and that weird puzzled look I know you're making. I love just talking to you. I never talk like this to anyone. I mean, you mean more to me than anyone I've ever...”
He was floundering, but I finally snapped out of my trance. No, they weren't the words I'd fantasized about.
They were his. They were real. So, they were better.
I didn't think. When he trailed off I just pushed his bangs away from his eyes, tilted his face back, and kissed him, sweat, morning breath and all. I kissed him the way I'd always wanted to kiss him. Slowly. Deeply. Taking the time to memorize the shape of his lips, the weight of him as he pressed down on me. I'm not an expert, but it was a good kiss.
Our clothes were on the floor--he'd enjoyed the black lace panties--and he was fumbling with the plastic on one of my lucky condoms--
(“Lucky if I can get the damn thing out,” he grunted.
“Lucky because they're for if I ever get lucky,” I explained, laughing.)
--when Loki jumped onto the bed and gave a proprietary meowl.
Duo looked up. I watched dark blue eyes meet grass green in a look of intense scrutiny and faint disapproval.
“You got a cat,” Duo said mildly.
“He got me,” I explained, feeling a little weird, although I guess that was the first time I'd ever had two males compete for me. “He's a nice cat,” I babbled. “Really. He's cuddly.”
Duo raised his eyebrows. “I'm more cuddly.”
“Are you?”
He grinned and shoved Loki off the bed. I heard a fwump and an offended mrrowl. “Let's find out,” said Duo, as he brushed the little gold crucifix away from my throat and bent to kiss me there.
He is, he is.
Afterward-- quite a bit afterward, actually, when our bodies were drying in the cool air--I yawned, “Howard's in town. He wants you to go to Mars to work on the terraforming project.”
He'd been stroking my thigh idly. He stopped, though his hand lingered on my body. “Go to Mars?” he repeated, sounding far away again, and uncertain. “Like a mission?”
“Like a job,” I said, nuzzling his shoulder. “Like a job where you'd get paid and have benefits. Howard thinks you could be a team leader, since you have so much experience with mechanics and you're a personable fellow.”
“I am?” He grinned down at me. “What about you?”
“I'd go with you, of course. There are things I could do there, too. It's just an idea, but I kind of like it. I don't love the garage, and I don't love this house. It would be interesting, anyway. There would be a team of colonists and Terrans.”
“It would be interesting working with Zechs Merquise and Lucrezia Noin. But I guess Howard couldn't have known that. That would be interesting. I like Noin, anyway.” He was quiet for a moment, thinking about the possibilities. At length he said, slowly, “It would be nice, you know, to build something. Not a weapon but a community for people to live. That would be really nice, actually. I need to think some more. I mean, we both do, but yeah, I should go talk to Howard.”
I remembered what Howard had said before, about how Duo might have been a good space explorer. He still could be. So could I. Together, we could build something that the people of the future could really use. Even in this late era of human development, there were still frontiers.
“I got Heero those jeans,” Duo said, interrupting my thoughts. “Do you remember me telling you about that? See, I am a good friend after all.” He ruffled my hair.
“You're a good friend,” I murmured. “You're a good person, period.” I kissed his chest, then blew across the sparse, light-colored hairs to tickle him. After that we were both quiet as we watched the light change. The late afternoon sunlight made flaming stars out of the frost in the window and cast warm rays onto the floor and the bed. Loki slunk back into the room and joined us, though he kept his whiskers high in the air and wouldn't come close despite Duo's reconciliatory entreaties.
We stayed like that until long after nightfall. Decisions about the future could wait. So could regrets. We were perfectly content with the present.
-------------------
Being in love really sucks sometimes, but this isn't one of them. I like to think that that's how the war finally ended for both of us. It's too soon to tell of course. But there's no reason to believe the peace won't hold for a good long while. Duo thinks it will, anyway, and so do I. I hope we go to Mars. I think it would be good for both of us. Who knows what else will happen, now that there's peace. Instead of concentrating on ways to kill each other, people can concentrate on things like space exploration and new inventions and things. And as for us, we're both pretty young. I think
Oh, Duo says to hurry up or the water will get cold. I'll hurry.
Seriously, though, I feel like we're on the brink of som
THIS IS DUO. HILDE WROTE ENOUFH (?) I THINK. CAN'T SPELL. SHE CAN FIX IT LATER. NOW I WANT TO TAKE A SHOWER. WITH HER. THEN GO BACK TO BED. I THINK WE'VE EARNED IT.
02/06/03