Author: Asuka Kureru
Warnings for this part: Violence, bloodshed, violence... Bloodshed and
massacres, does it count? oops, I already put it...
Hints of Shounen Ai? 2+1, 1+2 (Although Duo DOES admire Heero's physique...
hmm. And Heero does show protectiveness... not sure if it counts ^__^;
+ Part 4
Some could wonder when, exactly,
the so well-planned and well-executed mission had decided to blow the
hell up in their faces. Relatively speaking. Although, well, not so relatively.
Just a soldier not really conscientious who had decided to abandon his
post to drop in clandestinely to say hello to the young secretary who
worked... had worked in the computer room... and Heero and Duo had been
spotted. The man had had the time to call on his walkie-talkies when he
fell dead at the braided American's feet, a knife in his throat.
The two terrorists glanced at each other ... then without adding a word,
the Japanese dashed off in a direction and the American in another, trying
to confuse their pursuers. And they ran in the base for a long time, searching
for a way out of the corridors suddenly full of soldiers.
* * * * * *
Duo had succeeded in getting out of the building itself, but he was seriously
doubting that it would be of help for him. There were too many soldiers...
It was night already outside. A second, he glanced at the moon. In general,
he liked her... but here... She was shining on him, preventing him from
hiding in the protective shadows, full. Threatening.
He only passed the corner to regret it bitterly. He hadn't finished to
grasp that there were a half-dozen soldiers on the other side that the
stick of a rifle met with his jaw. His skull run up with the wall and
he slowly glided on the ground, letting a red smear on the bricks, wondering
distractedly when this funny veil had fallen on his eyes.
He didn't react when one of the soldiers approached him and pushed him
with the barrel.
"Is he dead?"
"Nope, still breathing. ... That a girl? ... oh, no, it's not."
Oh yeah, it was true, he was still breathing... It was more an automatism
than any other thing, he thought distractedly. Strange, he wasn't even
pissed off for having been mistaken for a girl again.
"What do we do of him? We finish him off?"
"Dunno, perhaps our superior officers would be happy to have him
One of them bent over him and pulled his head up, examining his face.
Duo didn't react, feeling totally detached from what was happening.
"I'm dreaming... A kid like that doing that much damage?! I don't
believe it... He's not even sixteen! And that's a shitty kid like him
who caused us that much problems? The hangar you blew up, I had a friend
in it, you fucking bastard!"
The angry voice of the guy suggested Duo wouldn't have to wait long to
have problems... The thing was, his brain seemed to be more or less disconnected
from his body. He knew, distractedly, somewhere, that he should have tried
to get the hell away, but he couldn't move one muscle, prisoner of this
dark veil keeping him in it's nets. He wondered if he had a concussion.
The soldier lifted a foot high, aiming at his ribs.
'ouchie...' the pilot thought from far away, knowing abstractedly
that it wasn't good for him.
A warm and gluing liquid resembling strongly blood splashed on his face,
then a heavy thing slowly collapsed on him. With effort, Duo succeeded
in opening an eyelid and considered pensively the hole the man on him
had between his eyes. With a small delay, he recognized the familiar sound
of a gun shooting.
"Duo" Heero called in a monotone.
His voice was strangely a little bit rougher and louder than normal. He
was taking down his opponents with method, one after the other, before
these perfect sitting ducks had the time to think about shielding themselves
"Mmm..." DeathScythe's pilot moaned, trying to lift his head.
"Are you all right?" the brown-haired one inquired in an indifferent
tone of voice, reloading his weapon.
"Nuh-huh ... but it's nice of you... to ask", the braided pilot
answered back, panting, trying to straighten out... and failing miserably.
/badly injured/ Heero measured him with one glance and put one
of his comrade's arms around his own shoulder before catching him by the
waist. Duo felt his legs give out under him and hardly succeeded in tightening
his arm as not to fall.
"A blow... On the head... hurts..."
"You'll be alright."
Duo wasn't even surprised that his comrade would try to reassure him;
he hurt too much for that. But he promised himself to think about marveling
at it as soon as he felt better.
Heero half dragged, half carried his comrade on ten meters before stopping
dead in his tracks. / Echoes of steps... smells... sweat and metal,
and black powder.../
"Incoming", he let drop.
Duo was only too glad to believe him, for the moment he had to have his
hearing compromised because of the shock. If Wing's pilot said that, it
was true... even if himself didn't hear a thing.
Heero glanced right and left, searching for a place to hide between the
buildings. But the only thing there was, was a small ornament bush ...
Just enough to hide only one of them.
Duo readied himself to tell him to let him in the middle of the path.
After all he was injured, seriously so, and only constituted a burden
for the other pilot; If he let him, Heero would have a chance to use him
as a decoy, but if he persisted in dragging him all around the base, they
would both be caught ... maybe worse. He knew that Heero, as the better
soldier amongst them, cold, calculating and all that stuff, had probably
already envisioned this possibility, and he wanted to make him understand
that he wouldn't keep a grudge against him... Even if the Asian teen certainly
worried about his feelings and the valor of his sacrifice like he worried
about his first ever pair of socks.
But before he could say something, Heero put Duo behind the bush with
a frozen stare, daring him to talk, and took a position in the very middle
of the path.
Stupefied, he obeyed this particular order for the first time in his life.
No, Yuy didn't intend to attract everyone's attention on him to give him
a chance... or did he?
* * *
He shot and dodged, dived, ran, and shot, and shot again, hitting his
target each time with a cold precision; his effectiveness by no means
affected by the fact that they were a dozen all around him and he had
only six bullets left ... Five... A bullet grazed his thigh and he lost
his equilibrium for a second. Injured? No, just a scratch. Three bullets...
Crap, missed. Retreat?
/Protect Duo. /
Here it was, no bullets left anymore. He used his now useless gun as a
club to knock out a soldier who had just jumped at him, registering with
a professional satisfaction the crack of his skull, then threw it at another
soldier who was aiming at him, hitting him on the forehead. The man slowly
fell backward, blood oozing from his head.
Heero was disarmed.
And still three soldiers to defeat. Three armed soldiers. He tried jumping
on a side. A bullet caught his thigh, nearly at the same location as the
first one, this one piercing entirely the skin and flesh. He hit the wall
behind with violence, his head bounced against the bricks, and then he
slowly slipped down, briefly dazed.
The three soldiers approached him and one of them caught him by his tanktop
and lifted him off the ground. He felt slightly dizzy, and strong as he
was, there was no way he could kick hard enough with his feet off the
ground, especially against such a large man. Trapped.
"So, kid, you're less proud now, eh?"
Uncontrollable, the rage rose from the corner he had tried to lock it
in and grabbed him whole. He would not let these pitiful goons get the
better of him! They would see!! He didn't give up, against anyone!!
/I'll kill them all/
'I can't, I don't have any weapon left!' tried to answer the reasonable
part of him.
"You're friends with the little fag, aren't you? Dunno where you
hid him, but in his state he's not bound to be far from here... Still,
you're in better shape than him, I think our superior officers will do
nicely with only one of you... They won't have a grudge against us if
the other does not survive his arrest... He was nearly dead anyway."
He jerked, and his fists tightened. This man was threatening one of his
/nobody touches Duo/
/I'll kill them all/
'but I don't have a weapon...'
Heero opened an eye slowly and drove his cold cobalt stare in the man's
/I don't NEED a weapon... I AM a weapon/
Two seconds later, one of the two other soldiers was still wondering where
all these red splashes were coming from, while the other, probably a newbie,
puked his guts out, shocked by the spectacle of his comrade's head falling
farther than it should have been normal, a large red and damp smile crossing
Heero freed himself from the lax hand of the soldier with the cut throat,
and lashed out with an inhuman speed toward the second one's eyes. In
the same flexible movement, he threw a well-placed kick at the throwing
up soldier, crushing his windpipe. He finished the now blind soldier,
snapping his neck, then stayed unmoving for a few seconds, breathing deeply
the strong smell of fresh, bloody death.
* * *
Duo straightened up as well as he could, gripped a branch to push himself
up, and finally succeeded in glancing through the foliage. In a matter
of seconds, the face-to-face was finished. Heero had shot most of the
guards. With horror, he had seen him disarmed in front of the last three
guys ... And then a blood spray, a few strikes, and all was finished.
The braided pilot let loose a relieved sigh and slowly fell back on the
ground. Heero was far from bad with hand to hand combat, even if it wasn't
his grounds of predilection ... Bah, maybe he didn't manage as perfectly
with a knife as with a gun, but it was still more than enough, there was
only to see how he had gotten rid of the one holding him...
Duo froze, his too-slow brain catching up with his observations.
Heero didn't have any knife. Not only were his hands empty, but Duo remembered
clearly that in the weapons the Japanese had packed on him this morning
there wasn't any bladed weapon. Anyway, where would he have hidden a knife
on him, clothed as he was? He hardly had the place under his tanktop for
the holster where he put his gun.
So, with WHAT had he cut the guy's throat?
...He wasn't sure he really wanted to know.
Especially when it looked more torn out than properly cut.
* * *
Heero stayed unmoving for a few seconds between the corpses of the fallen
soldiers, his left hand squeezing the wrist of the hand who had hit the
man. All of his forearm pulsed violently with waves of dark suffering.
It hurt... especially the fingers. They felt like if bamboo splints were
pushed under his nails, through his entire hand. He wrestled against the
pain, making it recede step by step until it disappeared, then turned
around toward the comrade he had so fiercely fought for.
If Duo had been shot by a lost bullet, Heero didn't know what he would
do. Probably find a way to resuscitate those bastards to be able to kill
them again, in a meaner way.
* * *
Duo couldn't wonder about the weapons question for a longer time. Heero
was coming back. He extirpated him from the bush and got back to dragging
him toward the fence.
He had blood up to his elbow, small bits of a darker red under his nails.
And his eyes weren't these lakes empty of all feelings... Something was
becoming to show at the bottom of the blue irises of Wing's pilot. An
emotion... And Duo, who had prayed so much to see that, discovered that
in fact, he didn't like it that much. In fact ... it kinda scared him.
"Heero... you ok? You seem..."
But what was it really with the pilot? he didn't seem to be able to recognize
the emotion he was giving off.
"I feel really ok, Duo" Heero answered, glancing at him,
but his glance dived to the bottom of his soul.
Heero was slightly smirking, apparently without even be aware that he
was doing so. But it wasn't friendly. It wasn't either this little disdain-filled
half-smirk that so unnerved the other pilot.
There was anger in his eyes, and rage ... And first and foremost a wildness
Duo thought a moment that he could see himself in his eyes, and he understood.
It was the same nearly hallucinated psychotic stare he had himself when
Shinigami was set free to rampage on the battlefield...
The braided pilot shivered, suddenly more afraid of his comrade than of
"I should ask you that question", Heero added.
"Oh? It wasn't me that got shot in the thigh ..."
Heero stared strangely at him and lowered his eyes on his injured thigh.
The spandex shorts were torn, drenched with blood.
But there wasn't any injury behind. Only a dried blood smear, and a scab
ready to fall.
Duo knew that his comrade healed fast, but to this extend...
As Heero was dragging him toward the base's fence, Duo shivered once again,
unable to control it.
* * *
A hour after, night had fallen entirely. They had succeeded in hiding
inside the forest circling the military base, Duo still half dragged by
Heero, and were on the road to their checkpoint, when the Japanese froze
so suddenly the American nearly fell nose first in the fallen leaves.
Heero looked up and glanced right and left, nose high in the air, as if
he was trying to smell something... and after his behavior these last
days it wouldn't have surprised the other pilot so much, even if he had
still been in a state where he could be surprised.
"We're being followed."
For the second time this day, he hurled Duo in the nearer bushes.
"Duo, you get the hell away. I'll stop them and rejoin you."
Duo forced the few neurons still functioning he had to find the thing
that was bothering him about that.
"But you don't have any bullets left..."
The American followed the peremptory order like he could, dragging his
tired body between the tangled branches, stumbling nearly once for each
meter, his hair catching in the trees. Heero had ordered him to leave.
He would. If he wanted to live.
* * *
He was already far enough when he realized he hadn't heard anything betraying
the soldiers' presence, apart from the ruckus resounding just now in the
woods. Anguished screams.
...Then suffering cries...
...Then agonized moans...
...Then nothing at all. Only a few whimpers which went out fast.
Duo began to shake, because of the cold and of the shock nearly as much
as from his fear for his friend. Heero couldn't have been the source of
all these deaths ... He didn't have any explosives left and Duo hadn't
heard an explosion; Heero didn't have any weapons, therefore was not able
to kill that much that fast; and the noises he had heard weren't what
people killed by hand sounded like. He had recognized a few times the
distinct gurgling sound characteristic of an open belly emptying itself
of its guts. Whatever it was that had killed them, he hoped Heero had
escaped... Because, to be able to massacre in this way a dozen trained
And he hoped it wasn't coming his way...
He hears a rustling of leaves behind him and turned around, wobbling on
his feeble legs.
"Heero, are you..."
The scared soldier running away from the horrible death his comrades had
met seemed as surprised to see him as Duo was to discover a stranger instead
of his friend. By reflex, he turned his rifle on the Deathscythe's pilot,
who had just fallen on his ass when he had attempted to scram back, and
put his finger on the trigger.
The savage snarl took them both by surprise. The terrified soldier whirled
around, only to receive in the chest a hundred and sixty pounds of muscles,
dark fur, and sharp claws and fangs. A bullet grazed the wolf's shoulder,
but it didn't even seem to realize it, and continued with ardor to rip
the soldier's throat open, shaking him like a dog would a piece of paper,
showering itself, it and the leaves around on the ground, in a thick,
Duo placated himself against a trunk and forced himself to stay as unmoving
as he could, hoping that the beast would not gain interest in him and
continue to play with the ragged remains of the soldier. He heard himself
whine when he wondered if it had inflicted the same treatment to Heero...
The one it would inflict to HIM...
...And then the brown-furred wolf lifted its head toward him, licking
its crimson-tinted muzzle, and plunged in his own its cold dark blue irises,
nearly midnight blue.
* * *
He hadn't even tried to hide himself when he was waiting for them in the
clearing. The animal rage invading him didn't let him the place for rational
thoughts and precautions. He felt as if he was full of pent-up energy
waves, half adrenaline and half fury against those impudent fools who
dared to believe they were the hunter, who dared to hunt him and his packmate.
He only knew one thing, as he was readying himself for the battle, groaning
in anticipation. The fool wasn't him. He was certainly not a prey.
He had never felt so good.
They had erupted in the clearing, guns in hand, ready to shoot at him
at the slightest movement. Screaming things he was not able to understand
The world had slowed.
And he hadn't heard anything other than the blood beating in his temples,
violently, and hadn't felt anything else than an atrocious pain, enveloping,
like an explosion of suffering that seemed to want to evade from under
It had been as if, one after the other, every single bone in his body
had broken in tiny, sharp shards, every single muscle methodically torn
fiber after fiber. He had heard his nerves and tendons squeak under his
skin as they rolled to change places, his vertebrae crack loudly, his
teeth creak against his jaws, his organs slide in other places in a revolting,
Then, thirty seconds or a century after, his perception of the world outside
of the world of pain his body had become had come back. But changed.
A second, as the soldiers who had stared at him convulsing in an impossible
way on the ground were still frozen, unable to detach their eyes from
what he had become, he had smirked at them; before rushing forward.
Yes, wolves can smirk. Humans call that baring the fangs.
* * * * * *
The wolf stalked toward the young unmoving boy, head lowered, undecided.
This one hadn't tried to attack him and wasn't running away, he didn't
quite know what to do with him. And there was another thing that stopped
him. A memory, cloudy...
/known scent... good scent.../ it evoked him/ Familiarity-camaraderie-comfort.../like/...
He knew him. He knew that he knew him, one way or another.
The exact memory of what he was and who he was came back the instant he
plunged his eyes in the ones of the other pilot, these blue-mauve irises
' Odin Lowe..."always live by your emotions"... An old man,
eyes of metal, staring at him: "from now on, you'll be called Heero
Yuy", Gundam Wing, the other pilots ...Trowa, Quatre, Wufei...'
He was not an animal. He was a man. A soldier. A terrorist. And the boy...
'this braided menace... "ore no namae wa Duo Maxwell desu! Yoroshiku!...'"
The wolf answered at once.
The werewolf caught the white collar of the American's jacket and dragged
him on a few meters, before he understood that he could hurt him if he
was too forceful that way. Gripping the cloth a little lower as to not
strangle him, he lifted the boy off the ground, trying not to let his
dangling legs catch in the branches and roots, transporting him like a
real wolf would have done with a pup, until he found a bush he liked.
He just let his load drop on the grass and began to dig a depression under
the leaves, a hiding place where they would be invisible from outside.
The earth was damp, and he didn't care, his fur being quite thick, but
his companion would be soaked to the bone. He scratched at the ground,
till enough dry leaves and grass blades cushioned the hollow. Once finished,
he caught the unmoving, frightened boy again and carefully deposed him
Duo snuggled in the hole where the wolf had put him and stared at him
with immense eyes, still as unable to believe it as when he had first
understood. The brown-haired beast gave him a totally empty stare and
sat down beside him. While he was doing so, Duo's eyes were caught by
the little white tufts of hairs lost in the dark fur, disposed in a kind
of semicircle on his muscled shoulder, the traces betraying a scar deep
enough to destroy the skin's pigment.
The traces identical to the scar on Heero's shoulder.
Duo shrugged and fell asleep, too deep-bone tired to still care.
The cobalt-eyed wolf observed him shiver in his sleep for a few minutes,
impenetrable, then laid down beside him, hiding his muzzle in his thick
fur before falling asleep, too, confidant in his extremely developed senses
to warn him of eventual danger.
The boy turned around toward his warmth and snuggled against his furry
side, without even waking up.
* * * * * *
The morning after, when a ray of sun woke Duo up, it took him some time
to understand what was the first and only thing he had in his sight :
a great expand of smooth and bronzed skin. He had to slightly move his
head back to realize that this skin was the one covering the naked and
muscled chest against which he had slept.
Suddenly scarlet, he freed himself as slowly as he could and with infinite
precaution from the arm weighting on his shoulders, and unclenched lightly
his hold on the neck of ... as he was more or less expecting it, Heero
Yuy, deeply asleep and (stupidly, as he didn't expect at all) entirely
buck naked. For long seconds, Duo let his incredulous eyes wander on the
slim and muscled shape stretched out beside him, noting the cicatrices
in a semicircle on his shoulder and the brown and tousled hair. Other
older scars were spread everywhere, some an intense pink, most of it thin
and white, but of all the more recent wounds, the ones he had harvested
after the bite, not a trace.
Duo blushed as his eyes, guided by a long and white scar on the sleeper's
belly, were travelling toward a precise part of his comrade's anatomy,
and carefully redirected his look toward his face.
He was ... handsome... relaxed, calm... nearly pacific.
Until the moment when, slowly, eyelids bordered by thick and dark eyelashes
opened on frozen blue eyes.
"Err... Hum... Err... H-hello?"
Empty eyes. Duo couldn't stop himself from saying a thing he regretted
the second it got out.
"Honey, I swear, I didn't take advantage of you."
Cold glare. Heero disengaged himself from the arms Duo, to his great confusion,
still had around his neck, and got up, looking around, all his senses
Duo turned purple-violet-I-walked-on-my-head-for-three-hours and swiftly
looked elsewhere, as not to stare at his comrade's ass, parading just
at his eye level. Heero stared at him funny, dubiously, as if he knew
what he was thinking, and Duo blushed, all ready to believe that on top
of being a Were, he was also telepathic.
"I am not a telepath."
"Your scent changes with your state of mind."
"Really? Aaaaaaah... I understand everything, now", Duo, who
in fact understood nothing at all, declared with a big nervous smile,
hoping to distract the attention from him.
Heero turned toward him, a hand on his hip.
"Pheromones. If you're better, get up."
Duo grimaced. He hadn't changed that much finally ... Becoming a werewolf
had not had any...
The enormity of all that had happened in the night suddenly hit him and
he lost consciousness.
Heero shrugged and let him there to find his holster and borrow a few
clothes to the soldiers he had killed the day before. Even if personally
he wouldn't have been bothered by going around in the buff, he didn't
care to attract unwanted attention; he cared even less about leaving without
the disk they had grabbed yesterday. Would have been so uncool to do all
that for nothing at all.
3] [part 5] [back
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