Author: Quillan
Warnings: Psycho!Trowa (we knew that already) Death. Mind games.
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Bandai & associates
Feedback: quillaninc@yahoo.com.au
Entrapment
It wasn't supposed to turn out this way.
I'm standing here, and his blood's all over my hands. It's everywhere. Drying on my cheek. Soaking my shirt. My hair, it's... sticky. And my hands... my hands... Shit... Oh shit. It's... he's... oh shit.
It was meant to be so simple.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I expected it to take longer to get close enough to Heero. Sure, we were already 'pally' to some extent, what with Quatre and me joining up with him and Duo for the usual male bonding stuff, but I hadn't thought Heero would be almost as susceptible to guilt as Quatre. Picking him up after New Edwards was having its own payoff in the end.
My first priority, I'd quickly realised, was to create a good enough reason to spend a lot of time Heero without raising anyone's alarm bells, before I could even think about a way to dispose of his unnecessary presence. Familiarity doesn't always breed contempt; sometimes it hatches ideas, too.
It turned out to be remarkably easy. Crying off of several week's worth of regular get togethers with a well-practiced 'I'm not coping, but I won't let you know' tone, and he was at my doorstep, all concerned glares and forthright compassion.
We talked. Well, I talked. Such a lot of drivel, of course, about missing Quatre, and feeling guilty, and how achingly lonely it was, and not wanting to burden anyone, all said in stumbling, halted phrases. Heero fell for it, proverbial hook and line and all.
And was I missing my 'beloved'? As a surrogate for Duo in the sack perhaps - like I said, Quatre wasn't exactly bad in bed, and I hadn't realised how often I'd taken advantage of that while wearing him down to breaking point, until it wasn't there any longer. And that burning hunger for Duo's lean physique hadn't lessened any with my absence.
I let Heero drag out all of the lovesick sentiments he expected to hear, and I damn well made him work for every one of them. If I had to say the rubbish in order to get him to worry enough over me, why the hell should I make it easy on him? Besides, it fits a lot better with the character I've taken pains to cultivate.
Then he made a remark that almost broke my composure. In fact, the 'No!' was out more forcefully than I'd intended, and I had to scrabble for a plausible enough explanation about why Duo would not be better at dealing with this instead of Heero.
For a moment the thought of Duo stretched out naked on my bed crossed my mind, and I almost caved. But I needed to deal with Heero first; seducing Duo before Heero was out of the way was not only the least likeliest way to get him permanently, it would be a damn dangerous idea to boot.
And I wasn't sure if I could withstand the temptation. Fantasies are all well and fine when you have an adequately alternative outlet, but part of being in control is making sure you don't get into a situation until you have all your bases covered.
"No," I said again in a more reasonable tone. "Not Duo. He's too... too..." Alive? Reckless? Easily spread over my table and fucked into senselessness?
Heero placed a hand on my shoulder. "I understand," he stated with that quiet earnestness that would have probably been very moving to a lesser man. "He can be a bit much, sometimes, I realise that."
Inwardly, I seethed. How contemptuous could a man get?
The plan worked, though. A few judicious comments, one or two hinting at doing away with myself - while remarking that I was sure that Heero'd understand such ideas - and Heero became alarmed enough that he'd decided to drop by a few times a week, just to keep an eye on me. We'd shoot the breeze, sometimes a few hoops, guy stuff.
Fridays and Saturdays would see the three amigos hanging out together as always. Duo's welcoming embraces were always strong, reassuring, and damn hard on my libido. And if I sometimes took advantage of his kindness by squeezing him close and burying my face in the scent of his hair, he was never to know I sought any more than comfort for my tragic 'loss'.
But during the week, it'd be just me and Heero. When he'd visit, I gave him just enough hope to think he was making progress, to make him want to return. Meanwhile, I was making progress of my own.
I'd finally worked out how to do it. But, as with all good plans, preparation was the key. Preparation, and patience.
Over the following year, Heero became a frequent guest - surprise lunchtime visits, dropping in on the way home, that sort of thing. I daresay feigning relieved gratitude at seeing him at my door did little to dissuade him. After a bit, I 'allowed' him to talk me into seeing a counsellor. It gave me something else to talk to Heero about over our many 'chats', while letting him feel successful.
Also, paper trails do have their uses. Heero talked enough about his work to reaffirm that.
Then came the day that Duo, sprawling comfortably on my couch, joked that Heero and me were probably having an affair, we were spending so much time with each other. The laughter in his eyes as he said it, though, told me he didn't believe it even remotely possible. The realization hit me firmly between the eyes, then grabbed the heart from my chest and twisted it bitterly.
As far as Duo was concerned, I didn't even rate a blip on his sexuality radar.
There's not a man alive that takes it well when he's tagged as 'safe territory'. As far as he was concerned, I wasn't a man at all - a pal, a buddy, no one of real consequence. It stuck in my craw. It was worse than being labelled a pet - I may as well have been a rock, for all the passion I inspired.
It ate at me. Week by week, having him laughing with me but loving with Heero, it ate at me. I had to get him to notice me. See me as something more. The problem was, I had to come between him and Heero first.
Then, inspiration struck.
It'd been Duo's jest that gave me the idea. If I could get Heero to start wondering... Or get Duo to wonder if we...
It was oh so easy to plant the idea in Duo's head.
I'd drop the odd question in private, low and cautious like as if I was afraid of being overheard. Little things. Just enough to make him think Heero might be interested in me.
'Duo?...when he's home, does Heero always... sit that close? I didn't think it was like him.'
'Sorry Heero was so late in last night. He just didn't seem to want to leave. I'm not exactly sure what to do about it.'
The first cracks were showing after the first month.
Duo started out smiling easily, offering reassurances. It wasn't long before an edge crept into his voice and his smile steadily became more strained. His eyes grew harder as they flicked uncertainly in Heero's direction, however briefly.
At the same time, it was just as easy to nudge that kernel of guilt nestled deep within Heero at just the right moment. I needed his company, I valued his friendship, all spiced with appreciation that he'd return the favour, to remind him of the time I watched over him. He tried his best to dodge the issue, but poor Heero. He'd never been a match for Quatre on this turf - and Quatre had been no match for me.
And that thin edge of the wedge between them just grew wider and wider. It was the sweetest feeling I'd had since I'd received the call about Quatre's accident.
It wasn't long before the tension became obvious. Not long after that, and they were snipping at each other in public. My greatest gratification came when I overheard them arguing. Duo was unimpressed that I'd called the night before at an inopportune time (I wasn't about to let him know Heero had accidentally tipped me off to his plans for their 'quiet night in').
Heero's response was succinct, but oh so satisfying: "What else am I meant to do, Duo? I owe him..."
Duo is known for his explosiveness in more than one sense. Heero spent the night on my couch. It became the first of many. Carefully fuelled by me, of course.
After all, it was hardly my fault if I commiserated and consoled Heero into believing he was never really in the wrong. And he didn't have a clue that I was innocently stirring Duo's suspicions on the side.
I had to be careful, though. I didn't want Duo to see me as the problem. While I needed him to consider me as a potential threat, I also had to seem quite clueless about what was going on.
Over the coming months, Heero found more and more reasons to be at my place. Gradually, some of his things began to appear; a change of clothes, a spare uniform, an extra toothbrush. I'd shrug and smile and say it wasn't a problem. What were friends for?
And if sometimes, I stood too close, or opened the door wearing a little less clothing than normal, wasn't that just a sign of how much I trusted him? And if I hugged him a little too long, was he to know how easy it was to imagine it was Duo in my arms?
Actually, it was a little too easy for my own comfort. About the same height, they were also of a similar build. It didn't help that they apparently shared the same shampoo.
Every now and then, I'd catch a certain flicker in Heero's eyes, a glimmer of interest, of wondering. Most evenings found him sitting on my couch, pouring out his frustrations with his rapidly souring relationship, hand absently petting Quatre's cat purring half sprawled across his lap.
I've still got the scrawny pest, more's the pity. Would have done something about it long before now if it hadn't been for the Winner sister's intervention - they were convinced I needed 'something to live for', and had made it very clear that there'd be endless replacements showing up should anything unfortunate happen to its predecessor.
It had its use at the time. Heero would look up with a sad sort of smile when I'd slip onto the couch next to him. Our hands would brush against each other as we both stroked the very happy feline between us while we talked.
Then came the night Heero kissed me.
I couldn't have planned it better if I tried, although I must admit I'd done enough to subtlely encourage him to make a move that night.
The cat spat at us both and dived for safety as Heero pushed me down on the couch, his hands strong, his mouth hungry and forceful on mine. I smiled to myself. Perfection.
The unlocked door swung open with the familiarity of someone who knew he was always welcome.
Heero hadn't known I'd invited Duo over.
The argument was spectacular. Shouts, accusations, punches swung, oh it was marvellous! And when Heero turned to me for support, he was shocked to see me just as cold and bitter as his lover.
I told him he'd taken advantage of me.
I told him he'd betrayed my trust.
I told him I had no idea where he'd get the idea I was attracted to him from.
I told him he could pick up his things the next day, and that I didn't want to see him again. He was no friend of mine.
He could collect his stuff from the garage. I didn't want him in my house. And that would be the end of it.
He had no idea how literally I meant it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Perhaps success came too easily. Made me less cautious. I don't know.
It was supposed to be so simple.
One look at Heero's history, and any psychologist worth their damn would consider suicide a probable cause, given the circumstances. Who wouldn't?
Despondent over a close friend's death. Caught in an extremely compromising position with his 'best friend', who'd already expressed his concerns about Heero's attentiveness to both the man's lover and his own psychologist.
Kicked out by said lover. Rejected by the now former best friend. Guilt ridden, yet angry enough, he retreats to the former best friend's garage - for which he still has a key - armed with his Preventer's service revolver... which, incidentally, he neglected to report missing the day before everything blew up. Convinced by me.
The garage side door is quite narrow, you see. Pull a box of scrap machinery slightly across the entrance on the left side - opposite to the door that opens outwards - and you have to take that critical step over the threshold turned slightly sideways, brushing past the shelves on your right. There'd be just enough room to scratch your head without bumping your elbow - or to hold a gun.
Which, of course, you don't need to do, if the pistol is secured to the shelves at a particular height. And stepping through the door breaks the laser beam.
Ninety percent of the time, a right handed person would step through that gap with their dominant foot leading, by my observation. Based on this, I'd watched Heero closely enough, often enough that I could pinpoint the spot I needed to have the gun so that it would be in exactly the right position. Too high, too low, too far away, and it might make the authorities question.
Of course, that also meant that Heero's head had to be in the right position. A little trickier, that one. Solved by something as simple as a flashing light beneath a tupperware bowl, would you believe? An orange one, kind of translucent, set at the right height it's really quite startling, still flashing away over there in the dark.
In so many ways, this was far more challenging than killing Quatre. My piece de resistance, you might say.
Of course, I wasn't meant to be here. Ensconced safely in the offices of Winners Inc, there would have been more than thirty witnesses to say I was there when my home alarm went off. A test run a few months ago with a suspected 'burglary' had proven that it would take the security firm ten minutes longer than me to get there - plenty of time to return the projector for the trip line and clamp for the gun to my 'tinkering' box, minus enough small working parts for them to be deemed inoperable. Then slip the light and tupperware into the back of the car, and the gun itself into Heero's hand.
An urgent call to the police, and the stage was set. Simplicity itself, really.
The one thing I didn't plan for was Quatre's damn cat. The yowling wretch bolted between my legs just as I reached the downstairs hall. Laptop went one way, briefcase the other, and me trying to untangle my legs from each other before my face became close friends with the upmarket hallway tiling.
Of course, the catch on the briefcase had to break on impact. Folders scattered everywhere, a regular paper snowstorm. I managed to scoop enough of them together just in time for Kristoph at the branch in Brussels to ring. He hadn't caught me at the office, and needed something dealt with immediately. Between having to call conference between Brussels and the office, locate two missing files, and tear my hair out, I was well over an hour late.
My heart just about plummeted when I saw Heero's car drive past the window, slowing as it approached the garage. I barely caught a glimpse of Heero in the driver's seat, surrounded as he was by his belongings.
I had to stop him - Brussels, the house staff, they all knew I was still here. Without some kind of alibi, I couldn't risk it.
The car door slammed. Footsteps. Kristoph began those annoyingly polite end-of-conversation promises all business people make, and while I was wishing him to Hades for not hurrying up, I suddenly realised if I could keep him on the line long enough...
The garage door gave its usual rusty squeak.
Then the discharge from the high powered weapon reverberated loud enough that even Kristoph halted in his farewells. "Trowa? Is something wrong?"
Alibi, set in concrete. "Kristoph... I think someone's just been shot in my garage," I told him, sure that the nervous anticipation in my voice would sound close enough to fear. "Would you mind... holding the line?"
Without getting his reply, I put the receiver down on the table.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
That was a few minutes ago. Maybe longer. I'm not sure.
I... oh God... oh God, it's awful. There's so much blood. I can't get it to stop. It won't stop! This can't be happening - it can't be. Not now, not when it was all so perfect.
What do I do? What the hell do I do?
A shadow passes over me from the doorway. "Trowa?"
That voice. I look up. It's Heero, Duo's bike keys dangling from his finger, staring at me, at Duo, at Duo's blood... oh shit. Oh God. He must've been helping Heero move. Oh God.
There's sirens coming up the street. Hell! Kristoph, he would have called the police when I didn't come back. And Heero's eyes, they'd be taking in everything - I haven't had time to think, to... oh shit! The gun. The tripline.
And Duo. Oh God, Duo!
I'm...
... I'm in trouble.
What the hell am I going to do?
OWARI