Thanks to: All the reviewers and readers, and the War Room. ^_^
Note: Sorry this chapter took longer to update than the others, real life and work intervened. Besides, I have to give Sol and Maldoror time to catch up in the Update Wars some of the time. ^_~
"No one knows what it's like to feel these feelings
like I do -- and I blame you.
No one bites back his heart on their anger
none of my pain will, can't show through
but my dreams, they aren't this empty
as my conscience seems to be.
I'll have hours, only lonely
My love is vengeance, and that's never free."
--- Behind Blue Eyes
"On your feet, you piece of shit. You're in my house now, the house of the wolf and the scorpion, and you better not forget it."
--- Desperation
Requiem for the Sinners Part 40
Not a Saint Among us
"Honey, we're home!" Duo called as he opened the hatch of the Morningstar, sliding down the zipcord to the ground. "Get the pot roast out of the oven, we're having company! Or pow! Straight to the moon!"
Heero grimaced as he followed his partner to the ground. Sometimes he had an exceptionally hard time understanding Duo's sense of humor; considering that over forty Maguanacs stood at the ground with guns ready, this was definitely one of those times.
Duo landed on the ground as agile as a cat, straightening up to finally notice the guns trained on him. He raised an eyebrow satirically. "You know, boys, if we were honestly going to attack you guys, we could have just driven the ship right over you. Flattened you like Arabian waffles."
The Maguanacs looked at each other uneasily.
Wufei hit the ground nearby and walked over to him, ignoring the gun barrels that followed him as he moved. "You shouldn't tease people who have you outarmed, Maxwell."
"I'm not teasing them, I was just stating a simple fact."
Heero walked over to them, crossing his arms as he looked at the young men who currently had him at gunpoint. One disdainful glance had the soldiers skittish.
A sharp command in Sanskrit lowered the weapons pointed at them, and Trowa walked to the front of the welcome party. He walked as a big cat would walk, with fluid surety and flexibility. Duo thought that a walk could not be as sexy and lethal as Trowa Barton's. He even had Heero beat, although he would never tell Heero so.
"Your reputation precedes you. You make them nervous."
Heero's answer was flat and simple. "They should be."
Trowa laughed freely. "Four years, you haven't changed much, Heero." He looked at Duo and Wufei. "We made contact with Yamagata at L1, and ensured that the refugees would be received well there. And your men," he added to Duo, his gaze cold and penetrating.
Duo's answer was cool, full of that fake levity that did nothing to disguise the venom beneath it. "Thanks so much, Tro, but we've already set up negotiations with L1. They're cooperating with us in full already. Quatre isn't the only one who can do the whole diplomacy thing, you know."
"We'd like to meet with Quatre," Heero said. "It's been awhile since I've seen him."
Trowa nodded silently. He spoke aside to one of the Maguanacs in soft, fluid Sanskrit. The young man saluted and the men around them dispersed. He turned back to Heero. "Come with me."
The three of them followed Trowa through the docks of the colony. Duo looked past them and saw the smoking, burnt-out husks of office buildings, shops, apartment complexes, department stores. Completely, utterly destroyed.
"Jesus Christ, Trowa, what did you guys do?"
"What we had to," Trowa replied flatly, not turning to look at him. "Keep walking. I have a jeep nearby. We'll drive the rest of the way."
They followed him until they reached the remains of a destroyed parking garage. Trowa picked his way easily through the wreckage. The jeep Trowa was referring to was one of the few that hadn't been destroyed by the blasts.
"Trowa, I absolutely refuse to believe that your wheels here survived out of sheer dumb luck."
Trowa looked at Duo, his expression inscrutable. "Get in."
"Shotgun," Duo called automatically, sliding into the front seat before either Heero or Wufei had a chance to protest.
"Maxwell, is there any particular reason you have the perpetual attitude of a fifteen year-old? Because I am honestly curious," Wufei muttered irritably, putting on his seat belt.
"You're just pissed because you didn't get to ride in the front, Wuffers. Ow, Heero, my hair! That isn't a tug-rope, you know!"
"No, but I'm about to gag you with it if you don't shut up."
Trowa rolled his eyes eloquently, weaving through the rubble of the destroyed building, glad to have four-wheel drive and also glad for the company in the silence of the crippled colony, however disagreeable that company might be.
This is going to be a long ride.
~*~
Duo whistled low from the passenger side, sticking his head out the window to crane his neck up at the towering glass and metal spire that dominated the sparkling, luxurious center of L4-2738. The metal-engraved scorpion logo, stinger poised high to strike, and the elaborate WE beneath it proclaimed it as the main center for Winner Enterprises. Despite the bombings around it, the architectural jewel that was the centerpiece of the colony was unscathed. The tropical plants behind the glass atrium at the center of the building caused it to shimmer like a great emerald.
"Damn, man. You live in this place?"
"Live and work," Trowa answered. He pulled into the parking lot. The synthetic sky of the colony was still flickering every once in awhile as the systems rebooted, and the effect was making Heero dizzy and a little sick.
Duo was the last one out of the car. He sat in the front seat while the others got out, just staring up at the goliath building. Finally, Trowa raised an eyebrow at him.
"Coming, Duo?"
"Yeah, just..." Duo didn't know. He remembered the first time he had ever met Quatre. He never would have associated Quatre with anything like this.
He remembered the first time he ever really met the Sandrock pilot, one on one. The lithe little blond Arabian had been like an eager puppy, with a boyish grin and good-natured enthusiasm that was overflowing. And not with the almost-violent energy of Duo himself, but instead, a kind of steady optimistic vibe. Just standing with Quatre had felt like being in the sun, no matter what true storm raged around them.
Duo sat in the car, wondering how badly he had damaged the Quatre he had known.
And who had replaced him.
I can't die yet, Duo. I have to kill you first.
Duo stepped out of the jeep and slammed the door behind him.
~*~
Quatre looked at them, and Duo found himself staring at a man he had never met. It was a man who seemed to be stronger and more lethal than the Quatre Raberba Winner he remembered.
The blond pilot's face was neutral and politely blank, even though Duo could see the dark circles beneath his eyes, the exhaustion in them. But they were bright with hate and resolve.
Trowa, despite his own muted wariness, seemed a shadow before the warmth of Quatre's fury. The image of the two of them struck something in Duo. It stayed with him. Something about the way Trowa's face was set with gentle firmness, eyes lowered to Quatre, half-turned to him. The eclipsed moon to Quatre's sun.
The Sandrock pilot was shirtless, and Duo could see the horrible bruise spread across the right side of his chest, as if someone had hit him with a sledgehammer. Golden hair shining under the fluorescent lights, golden hair on golden skin. Gently rising flat stomach, muscles rippling in his arms and shoulders, wide blue eyes half-closed and shielded and furious.
There was lampblack still smudged across Quatre's cheekbones, making his eyes seem even more vivid. The lampblack and the bruises, the black butt of a pistol sticking out of the top of the wrinkled dress slacks Quatre had been wearing under his spacesuit, all marred the beauty and dignity Quatre would have carried with him into any boardroom, any banquet.
Duo could almost see him shining there, in tasteful navy Armani and diamond cufflinks. But battle and death had broken that image of him; Duo would never be able to see him again except like this, sitting with one bare foot propped against the long boardroom table, gaze calculating and deadly, gun stuck in his waistband, bruised and shattered by war.
"Heya, Quat. How's tricks?" he asked brightly, unable to help himself.
Obviously, it was the wrong thing to say. Quatre moved more quickly than Heero could have ever imagined possible. One moment, he was sitting at the boardroom table, the next his fist was flying towards Duo's face.
Even Duo, who had more experience in down-and-dirty hand-to-hand combat than any of the others, was too stunned to defend himself. The blow to the nose was dead-on, and Duo suddenly found himself clapping a hand over his face, feeling hot blood gush through his fingers as his free arm flailed and he fought to keep his balance.
He lost it, going down on his ass like it was his first day in training. Quatre was over him in an instant, dragging him to his feet by the front of his shirt, slamming him into the wall so hard a watercolor painting of the Malwiya minaret of the Great Mosque of Samarra went crashing to the floor in a flurry of broken glass.
"Christ, Christ, Quatre, I think you broke my nose-" Duo growled, eyes sparkling dangerously over his cupped hand. He froze when Quatre pulled the pistol at his waist free, though.
Heero moved as quick as a rattlesnake strike, his gun trained on Quatre's temple. His tone was sharp and deadly-serious; every line of muscle in him taut as wire. Wufei didn't think he had ever seen Heero truly angry, not since Mariemeia. But Heero was angry now. "Quatre! Drop it!"
Trowa pulled his own gun, training it on Heero carefully. The look in the eyes of the Heavyarms pilot was feral. "Remember what I told you, Heero. If you hurt Quatre, I'll be forced to kill you. It was not an idle threat."
Heero's gaze didn't leave Quatre's head. His target. "And if he shoots Duo, I'll be forced to kill him, and unlike Duo's men, I don't take crippling shots. You better talk to him, Barton, before he does something he'll regret."
"So why don't I just pull my gun on Barton, count to three, and we can end the revolution here," Wufei put in dryly, a sneer of contempt on his face. "You're all acting like children. Barton, Yuy, put down your guns. This is between Winner and Maxwell. And, no offense, Maxwell, but if your nose is broken, you certainly deserved it."
Amazingly, Heero and Trowa obeyed, lowering their guns to their sides, but not reholstering them. Duo risked a glare in Wufei's direction, but his attention was immediately brought back to Quatre when he felt the chill of cold steel against his neck.
Quatre didn't hear Heero or Wufei. He was drowning in Duo's violet eyes, unable to look away and completely unwilling. He moved the gun up from Duo's chest, letting the muzzle ghost over the L2 general's lips, brush his swollen nose gently, until it was centered at his forehead.
His voice was soft, almost a whisper. "How many times have you looked death in the face, Duo? Out of all the times you've dealt it out, how many times has it smiled on you?"
Duo grinned, but the expression was treacherous, even through a mask of blood across his lower face. Heero knew that had been the last expression a lot of enemy soldiers had seen on Shinigami. Duo's temper and mouth had gotten the best of him, and Quatre was already pissed. Both angry, they were a lethal combination.
His voice was cheerful, but the words were as scathing as hot oil. "Every day since I ended up in the streets, you spoiled little diamond-decked raghead pissant. Every... single... fucking... day. Can you say the same from your penthouse office, buddy?"
Heero saw Quatre's finger tightening and spoke quickly. "Quatre, how many bystanders have you killed?"
It was enough. Quatre faltered, loosened his finger on the trigger. "What?" He cut his piercing, unblinking blue eyes in Heero's direction. This is how Heero imagined he must have destroyed the colony when he was on ZERO; merciless, emotionless as a hawk, and twice as deadly.
"You heard me, Winner. How many? I'll make it easy and let someone else go first. Duo, how many for you?"
Duo looked over at Heero, blood trickling slowly from his nose. "Two hundred and thirteen. Including the ones from that last operation."
That wasn't an operation, Duo, that was a massacre, Heero thought, but kept it to himself. He glanced at Wufei. "What about you, Wufei? How many for you?"
Wufei answered stiffly, folding his arms over his chest. "I don't know, Yuy. I don't keep up with things like that."
Heero turned back to Quatre, coldly. "Now you, Quatre. How many?" He felt a thrill of success as emotions filled Quatre's eyes like water. The fact that grief was the most prominent emotion didn't matter at all to Heero. He just needed the Sandrock pilot to feel something, or his partner would be so much brain matter over the wall of Quatre's office.
"Damn you, Heero. Forty-seven. Forty-seven that I know of."
Heero's gaze never left Quatre's face, his voice quiet and hypnotizing. "Seems like you don't have much room to throw stones, Quatre. I have twenty-four casualties that I know of. Less than either of you. And I've visited every family of every innocent bystander I've ever killed. Every grave. Have you done the same?"
"... No."
"No. You ease your conscience by being self-righteous, just like almost every other pacifist on the planet. And arrogance will get you killed. You're no better than us, Quatre. Let him go, and shut the hell up."
Dazed, Quatre did, dropping his gun. Wufei winced, surprised it didn't go off as it clattered to the floor. Duo breathed out shakily, finally aware of how closely he had come to being killed.
Heero's voice had lowered to where it was almost inaudible, but it wasn't any less cutting. "You don't exactly have the moral high-ground anymore, Quatre. Maybe once you did. But not now. How many widows have you made? How many brothers are screaming for your blood? You aren't the only one who has lost someone in this war, or any of the other wars. Let it go."
"Heero..."
Duo saw it before anyone else did. The trembling in the Sandrock pilot's shoulders that suddenly stilled, the relaxing of the muscles. He was already in motion as Quatre's eyes rolled back and he fell forward. But he never made it to the floor. The blond pilot ended up cradled in Duo's arms as Duo went to his knees, staggering under Quatre's weight.
He's put on some muscle since we were fifteen, Duo thought with rueful affection, shifting Quatre in his arms. The thought crossed his mind that without those blazing blue eyes piercing into him, Quatre didn't seem to be anything more than the timid, gentle-hearted boy Duo had first seen four years before.
It's true, Duo thought, sadly. Death changes people.
"Master Quatre!" A voice boomed from the doorway, and the room was suddenly full of men. Within a matter of seconds, Duo found himself thrown up against a wall for the second time in a space of fifteen minutes, his shirt bunched in the fist of one very large, very angry Arabian man.
This shit is getting old.
"It's all right, Rashid. Duo didn't hurt him," he heard Trowa say from somewhere behind him. He moved his head to see Quatre lying across Trowa's lap, surrounded by nervous faces. Quatre's eyes were open again, and he tried to turn his head to look at Rashid, weakly. He smiled. "... no, really, really," he whispered. "I'm fine. Just a little tired."
"You're not just tired. You're physically exhausted, Quatre. And emotionally drained," Trowa said softly, and Duo felt like saying to him, You don't look so hot yourself, buddy. In fact, you look like you could sleep for ten years and still roll over to hit the snooze button.
Quatre nodded vaguely. "Well, yes, maybe..." he began, before his head tilted and he pitched back into Trowa's lap, out cold.
"Young master," Rashid said, dismayed. He sat Duo down so hard the long-haired pilot almost stumbled, turning to push through his men and kneel at Trowa's side.
Trowa put two fingers gently to the side of Quatre's neck, then brushed back blond bangs from the unconscious pilot's damp forehead. "He's just tired, Rashid. It's fine."
He moved to slip Quatre's legs over his arm and pick the slighter pilot up, but Wufei stepped forward, noting the small trail of blood behind the Heavyarms pilot. "You're wounded, Barton. Let me carry him. You look as tired as he does." Trowa conceded, handing Quatre over to him.
"Hmm." Trowa blinked, then turned his leonine eyes on Heero. "You all look tired. It's been a rough battle for us. We may as well get some sleep while Quatre sleeps. None of us is in any condition to talk now. I'll take you to our quarters." Heero noted curiously that Trowa didn't even bother to hide the fact that the two of them were together.
He glanced at Wufei, who shrugged as well as he could with Quatre in his arms. Wufei, Heero thought with amusement, would never admit he was tired in a hundred years. He would rather collapse as Quatre did than ask for a break. He looked back at Trowa, nodding.
"Sounds good. We'll sleep, then talk."
Trowa nodded back, then turned away, walking towards the doorway. He looked at Rashid. "Don't worry, Rashid. We'll take care of him. We always did."
Rashid stepped back and lowered his head. He had been taught over the years to respect Trowa's commands as if they were the orders of Quatre himself. He didn't always trust that decision, but he didn't have any choice in the matter.
He heard the long-haired pilot mumbling behind his hand as the four of them walked away.
"Is there a bathroom somewhere in this big shiny building, Tro? Because I really think he broke my nose..."
~*~
Wufei gently put Quatre down on the made bed, and Duo whistled softly in appreciation. His voice was comically foggy behind his swollen nose. "Nice bed, Trowa. What, you guys were eventually planning to have the rest of us sleep over, or you guys just used to having lots of space for your extracurricular activities?"
Trowa blushed, and Heero glanced warningly at Duo. "Get on the bed."
Duo looked at him. "I don't think Quatre would appreciate waking up next to me, Heero, despite your best intentions to kinda work things out between the two of us."
Heero glared. He was tired, irritated, and vaguely pissed. "Duo. Bed. Now. Trowa will sleep between the two of you." Heero's glance in Trowa's direction was very definitely disagree and die. Trowa shrugged, moving up on the bed next to Quatre.
Duo double-checked the look in the Wing pilot's eyes before crawling onto the bed, too. The two of them looked at Heero dubiously.
"Don't give me that look. You've slept in the stinking mud next to each other, you can sleep here too," Heero growled. He looked at Wufei, who just gazed back at him steadily. "I'm sleeping on the settee, Yuy. You sleep wherever you like."
Heero sighed, and only then could Duo see how abysmally tired he was. "I'm not sleeping. I'm taking first watch."
"But Heero," Trowa said, quietly. "The Maguanacs-"
"-need to sleep too," Heero finished, his voice grim. "No. I have first watch. I'll wake one of you in a few hours, and meanwhile I'll have Rashid station a watch on the perimeter. Sleep now."
Before any of the others could protest, Heero stalked out of the room.
Wufei was too tired to argue. He unlaced his military boots and put his feet up on the edge of the small sofa he was lying on, kicking the shoes onto the floor. He laced his hands behind his head and closed his eyes.
Duo laid on the bed for a few moments, as stiff as a board to be so close to Trowa, ready to fight if he had to. It was like lying next to a wild cat you know that you've threatened. Trowa was just as tense next to him, staring up at the ceiling. Finally, Trowa looked over at him. There was a faint, wry smile on his face.
"You know, it's hard to sleep next to you when you act like that."
Duo scowled. "Like what?"
"Like I'll kill you in your sleep."
"I wasn't-"
"Right, Duo. Sack out. I'm not planning to kill anyone just yet." Trowa deliberately turned his back to Duo, slinging one arm over Quatre's chest. The blond pilot turned towards him in his sleep, resting his face in the crook of Trowa's neck.
Duo listened as Trowa's breathing slowed... slowed, and steadied. He was asleep. Both of them were. He glanced over at Wufei. One of the Shenlong pilot's arms had fallen off the settee, and his fingertips brushed the floor. The other arm was folded up behind Wufei's head, and his ankles were crossed casually at the ankle. He was asleep, too. Duo's heart clenched. Without the uniform, he thought, Wufei could have looked like any other average college student, just taking a nap on the couch before class.
So it was almost like before. Trowa and Quatre slept together, Wufei slept on his own. The only thing that would make it perfect, Duo thought, was if Heero was sleeping with him.
Guess nothing is perfect, he thought, closing his eyes as he slid into unconsciousness with the force of a blow.
~*~
When Heero returned, he couldn't help smiling faintly. Quatre and Trowa were curled together on one side of the bed, intertwined. Duo was snuggled up against Trowa's back, cheek pressed to his shoulderblade, one slender leg thrown over both of Trowa's, one arm over Trowa's shoulder. Wufei was sprawled gracelessly across the settee on the other side of the room.
He walked over to the wall and sat down, drawing his knees up to his chest and crossing his arms over them. After such terrible fighting, the colony seemed preternaturally silent. He fetched a deep sigh.
He leaned his head up and back, against the wall, trying to stay upright. But soon it began to droop anyway. His eyes fluttered and closed.
By the time his chin touched his crossed arms, he was fast asleep.
TBC...
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