Tenshi + Part 2


In the void-like silence of the hospital room (save for the shrill melody of the machines), Duo sat and watched the still form of his friend. He rubbed one calloused finger over the back of Heero's hand absently. The braided boy had never spent much time in hospitals–those few times because of Heero Yuy. Their chill made him uncomfortable, their smell nauseated him. Sick people terrified him. The injured ones weren't as bad. They'd been the victims of accidents and wars. Sick people were taken down by an enemy that couldn't be seen or blown up.

Duo shuddered, trying to calm himself through the faint warmth of Heero's skin. He wouldn't put it past the Japanese boy to choose this moment to wake up. And damned if he was going to find out about any
of Duo's weaknesses.

With his free hand, he reached for the phone, which was the same dead white of the room. An almost-forgotten number played across the keys. It rang once, twice, three times. At the fourth ring, he hung up and dialed again.

The phone on the other end picked up immediately.

"Chinese Stir Fry, who's this?" a raspy voice said in a bad in imitation of an Oriental accent.

"Herbert Max," Duo replied dryly.

"Oh, hey Herb. How's it going," a statement, not a question.

"Need some lo mein."

"A pint?"

"Twenty pints actually."

"Gotcha. To be delivered?"

"Eight. St. Oliver's on West."

"Credit card?"

"You'll get it, no worries."

"Credit card?"

"I got a few."

"Good. Delivery Boy'll be there."

"Thanks, Stir."

"Just make sure you tip, Herb."

The line clicked and went dead. Duo watched as Heero twitched in his sleep. It wasn't much--the Japanese boy's eyebrow dug a little deeper into his forehead. Even unconscious Heero was not a restful sleeper. He never had been. In his most exhausted state, his face was full of pain. Tossing and turning hadn't been a problem-that was Duo's specialty-but it wasn't difficult to tell that the Perfect Soldier did not sleep dreamless.

//"Let me fuck you one last time."//

Their many encounters with each other were pure coincidence. They were together at the right place and right time. It was convenient.

Convenience allowed them not to care too much. Not to wince when the other came under fire .Convenience had fused with stability. Stability was the source of their partnership. They could work together and not worry about betrayal. Stability had become something completely different. He'd wondered if Heero actually looked forward to it, sometimes.

//"I want to hear you scream."//

Quatre and Trowa might have had a similar thing going if Quatre wasn't so...straight. He didn't understand the need for it. To him it was romance.

To them, it was survival.

//A tumble of arms, legs, torsos and lips traveled across the unmade bed.//

Wufei didn't care what they did. He knew about the nightly visits. He knew about the stress-relief. He made it plain that it wasn't his business. The Chinese boy spent most of his time in Nataku: repairing, sleeping, meditating, even eating. Though, more than once Duo had discovered he'd snuck off into a nearby city, probably for his own succor. There were women who didn't care how old you were if you had the money...

//Heero moaned into his chest, every tiny vibration rippling across sweat-soaked flesh.//

A nurse walked down the hall, reading over her clipboard. She didn't look in the lead-plated window, much to Duo's relief. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. His hand moved to sweep over the boy's face, brushing the dark hair out of his eyes. He leaned over the still form to press his moist lips to Heero's parched ones. He imagined the boy waking, kissing him back, pulling at his own lips, beckoning his tongue into that ever-serious mouth...

//They fucked. Hard. All he knew was his face. His eyes. His body. Just him.

Just Heero.//

He did not wake at the touch of his lover's mouth. The monitor beeped on, monotonously. Duo dropped his head beside that tousled, dark one. Death sobbed tearlessly, eyes squeezed shut.

//He arced against the Japanese boy, crying out, screaming until his voice failed him. Heero arced back and it almost seemed they were one person. One voice shouting to the heavens.//


Through the dark of OZ's warehouse they crept, one boy on each wall and one precariously perched on the roof outside. Explosives in hand, the four ignored a booming rodent population that scurried along the ground with them. There was no human life in the warehouse at the moment, except for them. Though according to many, that would not have mattered. Humanity had deserted the warehouse.

Duo slid another explosive onto the crate behind them. This would be a quick job, in and out. Yet, it was too easy in his mind. There was a trap on the horizon. They all knew it. And not one of them cared. Perhaps, they even looked forward to it.

Another explosive. Five remaining.

A flashlight blazed into the night, suddenly.

"All of you out! Now!" a deep, gravelly bass thundered.

Duo snorted to himself. OZ was settling for some pretty stupid officers if he thought they'd give up that easy. He scuttled forward, planting another bomb. They'd have to kill them all to prevent this destruction. Each had his detonation switch. It would be so simple just to end it all now...

"We know you're in here!"

~No shit.~

There was a heavy stampede of boots as the officer dispersed his men. He could hear them coming towards him, though not close enough to matter. They wouldn't see him unless they tripped over him. Ash had been smeared over pale skin on his face, hands and neck. Night-vision glasses hung over his eyes. Anything that shone or sparkled had been left in a safe place. These men would not find him with their limited skills. And if they did, he pitied them. Explosive.

He could sense his fellows in the far reaches of the warehouse. They were probably close to finishing. He wondered how Wufei fared on the roof. It had infuriated him to draw the short straw.


Duo's heart leapt into his throat at the nearness of the private's voice. But it wasn't him he'd seen. Hiis mirror on the opposite wall...



The blonde, his brilliant locks hidden by a ski cap, was wrenched to his feet by the private. No bombs clattered to the floor. The man dragged him over by the arm, hand spanning all the way around Quatre's slim bicep. He said nothing, did nothing. Duo could almost hear the gears turning in the Arabian's head. There would be a plan, shortly. He set down another explosive.

"Good work," the officer rumbled from his position in the middle of the floor. The braided boy spied his large bulk through the night-glasses. He'd make the perfect target for an assassin, loud and easily spotted. He saw the man's meaty fist come down on Sandrock's pilot's ivory face. A bullet found its way into the man's skull. His fat body tumbled to the ground almost comically.


The air erupted with gunfire as the OZ soldiers realized their leader's demise. They shot randomly, into the rafters, into corners. Bullets ricocheted off the crates and the walls. They hit each other. Their aim was pitiful but their unpredictable-ness could be deadly. Duo, hand tightening on the detonator, fled the scene, long legs pumping. He heard footfalls behind him. They were not the clumsy steps of an inexperienced soldier. Wufei's soft *umph* as he exited the roof echoed in his ear. Soon, the Gundam pilots stood on a hill above the warehouse. They panted with exertion, sweat soaking their faces. The yelling of OZ's soldiers had faded into the dullness of night. Only the roar of an explosion had ended that dullness. And their yelling. That was Heero's signal. He'd begin the detonation and the others would follow. Duo pressed his switch. More flames erupted into the night.

Then he glanced about him.

There were four pilots.

Death knew he was running towards the red-hot blaze.



The door slid open. A small, thin boy no older than Duo glided into the room, his footfalls making no sound on the tiled floor. His fist clenched a canvas bag, bulging with something. Without a word he went to Duo, who watched him warily, extending one grime-coated hand, palm up. Equally silent, Duo pulled the golden cross from around his neck.

"Give it to Stir. He'll know what it means."

The boy nodded, leaving the bag at Duo's feet. He threw an ironic, nearly toothless grin at the braided boy before leaving.

"Spend it well."


A small groan moved Duo from his position crouched over the bed. Heero's cracked eyelids flickered open amongst a sea of burns and cuts. He groaned again. The slits of Prussian widened slightly, though they focused on nothing. His pupils had contracted with pain. Duo watched, incredulous, as his lips moved.


"N-nawa shin ni....Tenshi nariya? Tenshi...?"he asked softly, his monotone fractured into a child's whisper.


"Nawa shin ni tenshi nariya?[1]" Heero asked again, his dark eyes brimming with liquid.

Duo didn't know how to answer.

The red-faced doctor from before barreled into the room, his expression bright. His scrubs flapped around him as he raced toward the boys. He barely noticed the bag at Duo's feet or the American himself. He practically glowed when faced with Heero awake and talking.

"Well, you're awake, m'boy! Good! But I'm afraid you'll be sleeping again soon. We need to get you into the OR," the old man practically sang.

"And his leg?"

The doctor turned to face Duo's dark, almost red-violet eyes, "Not shattered. Salvageable."

"Thank you." To who, neither could be sure.

Without a thought for his audience, Duo leaned down and kissed Heero chastely on the forehead. He released his hand, squeezing once before letting it fall.

"Thank you."

//"Let me kiss you."//



[1] Translated as 'Are you an angel?' I'm not sure about it though, so feel free to correct me.

[part 1] [back to Lyssira's fic]