"To every man there is a point fixed, beyond which if he passes, he will not easily return."
--- Samuel Johnson
"You walk in and my strength walks out the door
say my name and I can't fight it anymore
Oh I know, I should go
But I need your touch just too damned much...."
--- LeAnn Rimes, Right Kind Of Wrong
"No people can be great who have ceased to be virtuous."
--- Samuel Johnson
Requiem for the Sinners Part 19
Angels May Fall
Gabriel had been lying up against one of the huge battleships, his small hands splayed across the shiny black surface, his ear to the cool metal. His eyes were closed in concentration. He could hear the sound of the men working inside of it like a heartbeat.
He was waiting for his uncle.
When someone came through the hangar entrance, the one leading back into the soldier's quarters and Paradise Lost, Gabriel moved around to the edge of the ship and looked, expecting another tech to come through, or one of Duo's guard, the ones Gabriel thought of as stompers. He knew they were supposed to represent L2, but guards for Duo was all they were. He knew that, too.
The someone who came into the hangar wasn't a tech or a stomper or Harper. It was the man from the hospital. The one that his daddy had brought back. He was walking in his bare feet and didn't have any shirt on. There were bandages all around him, and Gabriel saw that he looked worse than he thought at first, when he was lying down.
Then the man (Heero) was talking to Howie, who was working on the oxygen generator for the Astaroth. Gabriel smiled a little as he heard Howard's harsh laughter fill the hangar, like the caw of a good-natured crow.
And Heero was walking closer now. Gabriel started to come out from behind the ship-sneak out and scare him, maybe, that'd be a laugh-but someone else called Heero's name. Gabriel recognized that voice, and the sound of it was enough to make him himself small against the side of the ship again, hanging back in the shadows, like a small dog flattening its ears against its head to protect them in a fight. After living in the streets, he remembered how to do it very well.
It was Harper.
Gabriel started to go to him, but then felt a touch of something he didn't like at all; it was a feeling like electricity thrumming across his skin, crackling across his brain, and he had to close his eyes like someone who walks into a department store and finds themselves overwhelmed by all the perfumes.
Harper was on the warpath.
Better to stay where he was. Safer, maybe.
So he stayed.
He knew that stiff walk, the one Harper was using to approach the injured pilot that his daddy cared so much about. It wasn't really a walk at all; it was a stalk. His uncle was not fucking around. Normally, Gabriel would smile just for thinking the f-word, but he couldn't smile now. If Harper was a dog... or a wolf, maybe... he would be growling. And Gabriel had known him long enough to stay out of his way.
His uncle was often like an animal, and although Gabriel had been awed by than when he was younger-it had made him feel safe-but now that he had his Daddy, it didn't anymore. It scared him a little.
The two of them-Heero and Harper-spoke low, harsh words that Gabriel didn't have to hear to know. He could feel them like blows.
Harper moved forward, and Gabriel was sure for a moment that he was going to hit Heero. He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the sound of his uncle's fist connecting with Heero's face. When it didn't come, he slowly opened his eyes.
Harper was walking away, and Gabriel let out a pent up breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
The pilot stood there a moment, looking hurt and alone in the middle of the immense hangar, and Gabriel had a sudden strong urge to go to him. He didn't know why; maybe it was just because the pilot (Heero, his name is Heero) was so important to his Daddy. But before he could make up his mind, Heero headed off in the direction of the holds, in the opposite direction of Harper.
In the end, he decided to leave Heero alone, to stalk in whatever places he had to go; they were obviously important, if he had to get up when he was still so hurt. He decided to go to Harper.
Because Harper-soldier, street fighter, and semi-professional thug-was Gabriel's 'uncle'.
And Gabriel adored him.
~*~
Heero simply stood there a moment after Harper walked away from him, watching the man leave with a troubled, solemn expression on his face. Once those cold gray eyes were lifted from him, Heero brushed himself off mentally, the disturbed feeling he had gotten looking into Harper's eyes fading, like a nightmare once a person is fully awake.
But he's going to be trouble. Heero knew. There wasn't any doubt about it. But he was brutally practical, and since there wasn't anything he could do about it currently, he didn't plan to deliberate on it.
He walked past the shipping holds and climbed a set of stairs into a building that looked like it used to hold the trading offices of all the resident supply merchants who sent out ships from the spacedocks. Outdated maps lined with shipping routes marked in fluorescent marker were tacked to the crumbling corkboards hung along each side of the main hall.
The halls were dark except for bare lightbulbs that hung from the ceiling every few yards, but the soldiers of L2 moved in the darkness around him, gliding through it like it was a friend to them. All were armed. For a pacifist colony, Heero thought dryly, they certainly have a booming weapons industry.
The black-clad men-some as old as sixty, others that looked about sixteen-spoke in soft voices, and a few of them glanced at him, but none of them stopped his passage.
Heero expected to run into guards as he approached the doorway to Duo's office and was surprised to find that no guards were posted.
It's quiet here. Too quiet, he added silently, breaking into a faint smile at the old adage.
He reached out and tried the doorknob of the office; it was unlocked. An ancient-looking black poster was taped to the door, featuring an unidentifiable rock band and bright red block letters along the bottom: DON'T FEAR THE REAPER.
It looked more like the door to a college dorm room than the office of a great general, Heero thought.
He pushed the door halfway open, sticking his head in cautiously. "Duo?"
There was a large armchair that was bleeding stuffing sitting with its back to him, facing a closed vidscreen. A leg was thrown over the arm of the chair, bare foot outstretched.
He spoke a little louder. "Duo?"
A breathy grunt issued from the armchair, and the foot lying over the arm of it moved a little. But there wasn't an answer.
Slowly, Heero moved around to the front of the chair. Duo was lying across it, mouth slightly open and slack, one arm limp and thrown over his face, the other hanging down so far his fingertips were almost brushing the cement. His breathing was soft and steady. Asleep.
Yeah, Heero thought, rolling his eyes, that looks real comfortable.
Despite that, the anger that and frustration that had been rising in him since he arrived on L2 banked at the sight of his old partner, looking the same as he did four years before. Before, when they were terrorists.
Looking back on those times, Heero felt a strange sense of lost innocence, even though he had never been innocent, especially then. But that war... it was so different than this.
Wearily, Heero sank down in front of the chair, leaning his back up against the edge of it. He was close enough to smell Duo, the faint smell of bubblegum and smoke and mecha oil and strawberry shampoo, all mixed into a single essence that was so familiar, it seemed as if it was the only thing that tied Heero to anything.
For some reason, his eyes stung, and it was suddenly hard for him to swallow.
He closed his eyes and relaxed, feeling the warmth of Duo behind him, the denim of Duo's jeans pressed against his hair.
Shifting again in his sleep, Duo threw his arm across Heero's chest, fingertips splayed lightly across the bandages there.
Closing his eyes as he dozed off in surrender, Heero decided he didn't mind.
~*~
"Uncle Harper!"
Harper stopped and turned, breaking into a grin when he saw who had called his name. "Goober!"
The little boy came up to him, scowling comically. "Don't call me that. I'm not a goober."
Harper grabbed Gabriel under the arms and threw him up in the air. Gabriel shrieked in surprise and delight, the scream breaking into a laugh as Harper caught him easily, as if he was three, instead of six. Harper swung the boy up to sit on his shoulders, holding the boy close so he wouldn't fall.
Duo may have been the one who took care of Gabriel, but it was Harper who found him.
"You gonna be a big-shot pilot one day?" he asked the boy, tilting his head up so he could see him out of the corner of his eye.
"Best damned one!" The boy's hands were tangled in his hair, but he didn't pull hard.
Harper smirked. "You better."
The man grew quiet for a moment, and Gabriel's voice came down to him softly, almost in his ear.
"What's wrong?"
Harper's reply was stern and serious, and his grip on the boy tightened without him meaning to do it. His tone was cold. "Let me give you a piece of advice, kiddo. You probably won't listen to it, you're just a kid, and kids never do what's good for 'em, but I'm gonna give it to you anyway, 'cause I'm your uncle and it's my job."
Gabriel wobbled, and Harper grabbed the boy's side, steadying him on his shoulders. "That guy Yuy is trouble, and you stay away from him. The reason I'm tellin' you is that you're a big kid now, and you're old enough to know for yourself. You just watch him and see. I know you can feel him better than any of us. And why's that?"
"'Cause I'm plugged in," Gabriel replied, his voice low.
"That's right."
They passed one of the workers, and Harper reached out to grab the man's sleeve so quickly it startled the tech. "Emilio, get the ZS powered up."
The tech glanced at the boy, then back at Harper. "... Yes sir."
Harper carried the boy into one of the side hangars, where a unit was covered with a dark, thick tarp. He lifted the boy off his shoulders, making a show of how heavy he was. "Damn, boy, you're getting pretty big. Bet you're too big to give your uncle Harp a hug, huh?"
"No." Harper kneeled and the boy hugged him tightly, kissing one stubbly cheek. When the boy pulled back, Harper's expression was serious.
"You ready to work with the ZS today, Gabe?"
Gabriel looked over at the hulking mass beneath the tarp and felt the same combination of sharp terror and heady anticipation he felt every time he did it.
"Yeah."
Harper put his hands on the boy's shoulders, whispering softly. "Remember what I said, Gabe. The things you might see in there-"
"-aren't real," Gabriel finished, never taking his eyes off it. "I know."
"They can't hurt you. And they don't mean anything. Just ignore them. Just fight through them and they'll go away."
The tech came over to them. "It's online. Up and ready, sure. At least, the preliminary direct interface is functioning at a hundred percent efficiency."
"Is it hooked into the Legion systematics?"
"Yes, through remote, but..." The tech cocked his head, his voice low and uncertain, keeping his voice down, as if he was afraid they would be overheard. "Don't you think we should tell the General about this, sir? I mean-"
"Don't worry about it." Harper replied, his voice quiet and rough, a tone that said, Now just who is boss around here, anyway? Just shut the hell up and do your job. "It's for the cause, and the kid's got the touch to use it. We need it bad, too, with Noventa's armada closing in on us."
He spoke again with forced brightness, glancing down at Gabriel. "And we're gonna get those shitty old greencoats, aren't we Gabe?"
The boy beamed up at him, and Harper gave him a wink.
Harper walked over and pulled back the tarp, revealing a circular unit with a smooth, glassy clear hatch. Within, connected to the interior of the unit by feedback loop circuits, a small helmet sat on a seat. Levels and panels surrounded it.'
It was a cockpit.
TBC...
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