"And we stare each other down, like victims in the grind
probing all the weakness and hurt still left behind
and we cry the tears of pearls..."
--- Savage Garden, Tears Of Pearls
"I hate you for loving me, I love you for hating me, save yourself."
--- Peter Steele
"I want you to hate me as much as I loved you."
--- Jux Czar
Requiem for the Sinners Part 22
Savage Devotions
Duo woke slowly and stretched with his eyes closed, his back stiff from the unnatural position he had fallen asleep in. The room was cold, he could feel air conditioning from the vents blowing on his face, but his arm was warm...
Heero.
Duo tensed automatically, but it was too late. He could tell by the way Heero's cat-sleek muscles stiffened under his touch that the Wing pilot was awake.
Duo pulled his arm away quickly, just as Heero sat up and turned around, gazing at him. Heero's expression was inscrutable. For one of the few times since he had begun to get to know Heero, he had absolutely no idea what Heero was thinking.
"Heero... .feelin' better?" he asked, the question lifeless and useless in his mouth, a terrible triviality, like giving condolences to someone over the death of one of their relatives you didn't know.
"Hn." Heero looked away and stood, acting as if he hadn't been caught in such a vulnerable state.
Damn, we're back to grunts, Duo thought, sighing. It's like I lost everything.
But to his surprise, Heero spoke, risking a glance at Duo's face, as if gauging his emotions. "I came to talk to you, but you were asleep. You looked tired, so I didn't wake you."
"That's never stopped you before."
"Before was before," Heero answered, the tone of his voice almost bitter. Duo felt as if he was battering against a solid steel barrier. Not that Heero seemed hostile to him; he simply offered nothing. His voice was as flat and uncaring as a horizon. But there was something going on behind those unwavering cobalt eyes.
The two of them looked at each other silently for a few moments, during which Duo's mind was a frantic maelstrom. He had so many things he wanted to say to Heero after rescuing him from the Preventers, and hadn't been able to say them.
Now that he had the chance, he didn't know what the hell to say.
Luckily, Heero did.
"I can't help you, Duo," he said, his voice soft, but firm. He didn't look away. "I can't be what I used to be. I'm a civilian now. I'm not the same person-"
Without warning, Duo's fist was flying at him. Heero didn't have time to think. He ducked, barely able to keep himself from fighting back.
"What in the hell-!"
Duo looked at him, raising one eyebrow imperiously. "If you believe a civilian could have dodged that hit, buddy, I have a bridge in Brooklyn to sell you."
Heero scowled. That didn't make any...
"It means you're full of bullshit, Heero. Getting a little soft around the edges, too, if you want to know the truth. I'm a lot bigger than the last time we did this. You'r-"
Heero leapt at him and Duo dodged, throwing an elbow at Heero's head. Heero, a seasoned fighter in his own right, moved aside, allowing Duo to overbalance. He turned Duo in a circle by hauling on one arm, shoving the slightly taller American roughly into the center of the room. Duo whirled on him like a cornered wolf.
But he was laughing.
"Oh yeah, I'm getting soft, all right," Heero answered wryly, raising his hands palm out, and the sarcasm in his voice-one of the only forms of humor Heero truly understood-was not lost on Duo.
Instantly, Duo's vision was filled by an oncoming fist. He tried to move away from it, but abruptly discovered another had found the side of his head. Then he was considering who had airbrushed the graffiti on the ceiling of his office. It was really a piece of art. I really should ask around, he thought. Fucking Sistine Chapel.
Shaking his head as he slowly sat up, he said, "You're not doing anything but proving my point, 'Ro. If you're a civilian, then I'm Santa Claus."
He allowed Heero to help him to his feet. But Heero didn't release his right hand, but rather held it tightly as he brought his own right fist hard up into Duo's stomach. Duo's breath exploded from his lungs as he sank to the floor again, groaning.
"You're too damned trusting, Duo. It's going to get you killed."
After getting his wind back, Duo waved off Heero's offered hand as he sat up again. "Thanks anyway, I'll get up by myself. Maybe I am too trusting." As he came to one knee, he drove a vicious blow into Heero's stomach. "But so are you."
Heero stood rock steady, forced himself to take a deep breath through his aching chest, then a slight smile touched his lips. "That was a good one, Duo."
Duo rolled his eyes heavenward. "Thanks." And then another fist filled his vision and once more he considered the wonderful craftsmanship displayed upon the ceiling.
Why haven't I ever taken the opportunity to notice it before? he mused to himself.
Duo quickly rolled backwards and came to his feet. "Still not going to help me?"
"No."
With a clever feint with his left, Duo drove his right into Heero's jaw, momentarily staggering him. Another blow to the side and Heero was backing up. Duo grew confident, stepping in to deliver a finishing blow, and abruptly the world turned upside down.
He felt himself stagger backwards and go flying over the back of the chair, head momentarily cushioned by the seat, and then the floor came up to crack against his cheekbone. Blackness crowded in at the edges of his vision and he saw a face looking down a deep well at him. It seemed like a friendly face, and he thought he might know who it was, but he didn't feel any need to worry about it. Staring past the person, he absently wondered if whoever it was might know who was the one to paint the graffiti on his ceiling.
He felt himself being lifted, and a rough voice spoke gently in his ear, amused. "Stand up. I didn't hit you that hard."
Duo didn't think he could stand, after that friendly little exhibition, but when he allowed his feet to lay flat on the hard floor, he discovered he could. He was still unsteady, however, and Heero's arms were around him. He found that he didn't mind too much, and reminded himself to let Heero beat him up more often.
"I think you're getting a little soft around the edges," Heero said disapprovingly, and even though Heero's face was completely blank, Duo thought he could see laughter dancing in his blue eyes. "Your hand-to-hand combat leaves much to be desired. I hope you're not the best L2 has to offer."
Duo was almost offended before he realized that it was probably the closest to teasing that Heero Yuy was ever going to get.
The room was silent again, quiet enough for Duo to hear the rush of blood in his eardrums, his own pounding heart. Adrenaline was rushing through him in a hot river, and Heero was so close now...
The L2 general leaned in, his hand against the nape of Heero's neck, his dark indigo eyes meeting Heero's, not looking away. Not looking away like all the rest. He brought his mouth closer, until they were almost touching.
Heero turned his face away before Duo's lips could meet his. His face was expressionless, but his eyes held everything he couldn't say.
"Duo..." he whispered finally. His eyes were so deep, Duo thought he would drown in them. "I can't do this again."
So that's it, then. We're broken... the one fucking thing I don't know how to fix.
Exhausted, feeling his bruises begin to ache with a low, dull throbbing, Duo brought his face silently against Heero's neck, his lips resting against the place where Heero's pulse rose.
I... I'm not going to cry. I won't.
"Du-"
Duo jerked away suddenly, so quick that Heero was startled. There was a fierce grin on his face, one that made Heero step back a little. It was a frightening expression. Heero had seen it on Duo's face when he killed. He laughed, and the sound was brilliant and terrible, like shattering glass. His eyes shined too brightly.
"Hah! Betcha thought I was crying, didn't you, buddy? Gotcha! Heh... Boys don't cry... least not here. Better learn that if you're staying, although it's never been a problem for you, has it?"
He turned his back on Heero, his long hair falling in cascades over his shoulders. The tie that had been holding it back in a ponytail had been lost in their sparring. Duo felt the urge to put it back up, then suddenly realized it didn't matter. Heero had seen his hair down before.
"So what are you going to do?"
Heero's voice came back to him, soft and uncertain. "I'm not sure."
When Duo spoke again, his voice was cold; he turned to Heero, looking at the other man so fiercely Heero thought he would attack again.
"I'm a general, Heero. What are you?"
"I don't-"
"Just answer the fucking question. And don't say civilian, I don't want to go through that round-and-round again just to prove my point."
Heero narrowed his eyes, glaring back at Duo just as violently. It was a deadly expression. Whatever playfulness had been in his voice and eyes before was gone. "A weapon."
"Then be my weapon, Heero," Duo replied, his voice soft. "I vowed to protect this place. For years I've been protecting it. And I'm not going to stop now. Even if I have to pick up the gun again." His voice trailed off, almost a whisper. "But I can't do it alone. Help me, Heero. ...Please help me."
Heero stared at him silently, his face a mask of stone. It drove Duo to fury. He advanced on Heero like a storm.
He lunged forward, grabbing Heero's shoulders. "Goddammit, Heero, you're a colonial soldier! You're a killer! It's what you were made to do, so do what you were made to do!"
A strange expression rose in Heero's eyes. His face never changed, not once. "Let go," he said, the words a soundless snarl.
Horrified realization washed over Duo as he realized the implications of what he had said. "Heero... I didn't mean-"
This time, Heero's voice was a whisper. "Let go, sir."
Duo let go, recoiling as if he had been slapped.
Heero turned towards the door, shoulders stiff.
"Heero, wait-"
"I'll kill whoever you tell me to kill, Duo," Heero replied, not turning to look at his former partner.
"But you stay the hell away from me."
TBC...
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