Author: Karen The Huntress

Rating: PG

Warning: Language, ficlet

Pairing: 1x2

Feedback: Always appreciated

Archive: DHML Archive

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing or its characters.

Déjà vu

Ghostly coils of pallid smoke, wafting from ashes in a tarnished tin can, writher away as the last embers die. Beside the makeshift ashtray crammed with crushed cigarettes, a clammy glass drowns in a watery ring beading on the cracked concrete windowsill.

Abandoned by the whiskey, caramel-colored ice cubes shimmer and melt with a dull clink as they succumb to the sultry L2 air.

Perched on the Fairmont's rust-corroded second floor fire escape, a lone man surveys the dismal, slate gray cityscape. Knees drawn to his chest, he huddles under the roof's paint flaked cornice that offers pitiful protection from the rain.

As yet another cigarette wastes away between calloused fingers, he watches rivulets trickle off the seedy hotel's dingy yellow awning to sketch metaphoric patterns across the crumbling sidewalk and contemplates a mirage of memory called déjà vu.

*********

Life had come full circle for Duo Maxwell.

War had raped his childhood, robbed him of family and deprived him of friends. However a failed social system that left children on the streets to starve and die of disease had greatly improved his larcenous skills and his aptitude for stealth.

After any expectations for a marginally normal existence was entombed in the ruins of Maxwell Church, rage fueled a fervent fire. But unlike the legendary phoenix reborn from the ashes, revenge transfigured Duo into the God of Death.

A critical encounter with the eccentric scientist, Professor G. finally provided Duo with a ray of hope. Gundam Deathscythe was more than a mechanized instrument of war it offered unconditional protection and a means to extract retribution.

*********

A flick from an index finer propels ashes into the fitful artificial wind. The domed "sky" continues to weep.

Duo glances back through an opened window framed by ratty, faded curtains to study the blanket shrouded figure curled up in his bed. Accompanied by the incessant drip, drip, drip of raindrops, he recalls New Edwards Air Base.

*********

Four like-minded men had joined Duo's fight against the Untied Earth Sphere Alliance's tyrannical authority.

Five warriors had pledged their allegiance in the quest for freedom and became united in heart, mind and soul.

But the pilot of Wing Gundam soon proved to be an anomaly. Unlike Duo who craved the other pilots' company, Heero Yuy, deemed the Perfect Soldier, was a self-imposed loner.

Whereas Duo, in spite his horrid past, tried to be optimistic, Heero viewed life as cheap and himself as an expendable pawn to be sacrificed for the ultimate checkmate.

However, despite the seemingly insurmountable differences between an orphaned street urchin and the detached recluse with a death wish, Duo and Heero discovered they had several things in common.

Both men presented a false facade to the world. Duo wore a jester's mask to hide his pain while Heero's motivation in battle, to the exclusion of his safety, was to follow his heart.

Even their identities were not their own. Heero borrowed his name from the pacifist leader assassinated by his mentor Odin Lowe and Duo's name was created to honor his friend Solo and a kindly priest, Father Maxwell.

Duo and Heero also shared an honor-bound duty to reclaim their home and to send the "Specials" of OZ back to the hellish realms from which they were spawned.

*********

So the war began.

Dubbed both saints and sinners, the Gundam quintet was christen by the blood of enemies and innocents. Instincts were forged by the heat of combat and any regrets were tempered by the soulless solitude of exile.

Senseless destruction.

Death of friends and foes.

Coming together.

Falling apart.

But every wayward path on the Colonies or on Earth always guided Heero and Duo back to each other.

*********

The tin can is abandoned to the elements. The window halts halfway down then protests with a shivering squeal as it slithers shut. Curtains calm from being buffeted by the wind. Shards of ice cubes slide down the bathroom sink in a whiskey-tainted torrent.

Duo settles on a wooden chair beside the bed and drapes his damp braid over his shoulder. As rain pelts the windowpane, he comes to the end of his reminiscing. One final recollection vies for attention so he closes his eyes and remembers.

*********

The night before the decisive battle that ended the war, Duo roamed the corridors of the battleship Peacemillion.

Pausing before a large viewport, he was transfixed in wonderment by thousands of stars, all flickering like ethereal fireflies in the ebony infinity called space.

In the hushed silence he lamented his life on L2 and mourned unknown fallen soldiers. He questioned the fulfillment of his purpose, gauged his successes and berated his failures.

Alone the God of Death was suddenly aware of his corporeal condition and how insignificant he was in the universe.

Fate gave no guarantees to Gundam pilots, made no promises that any of them would see tomorrow.

With words whispered for fear that fate would hear, Duo declared. "I will not spend what may be my last night in isolation."

Heero didn't refuse when Duo requested admittance to his small quarters. There was no exchange of courteous salutations, no query concerning the tears tracking down Duo's cheeks.

A softly sighed, "I don't want to be alone tonight." was answered with a nod just before Heero brushed a caressing kiss across Duo's slightly parted lips.

No further debate over decorum, moral correctness or the pleasures of foreplay and certainly no consensus that love should be the deciding factor.

But lust did spur panting and divesting of clothing until both bodies were bare. There was stroking, pawing, fingertips enkindling torrid waves and various positions that entwined arms and legs. Moans and groans were accented by curses and pleas for release.

For hours Heero and Duo engaged in hot, horny sex that tested physical stamina and triggered multiple climaxes.

Sated they slept.

When Duo awoke he was alone once again.

*********

The war ended.

The pilots scattered like embers in a firestorm.

Whatever the syndrome, guilt, depression, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder or just not giving a damn, Duo withdrew into his own personal world and faded into L2's despair like ink into rice paper.

Months later Duo opened the door to his shabby room to find Heero Yuy standing in the dank, trash-strewn hall.

No fond greetings passed between the warriors rendered useless by peace. No inquiries as to health or happiness and no commentary concerning how their separate seclusion had salvaged the scant measure of sanity not desecrated by the war.

Duo didn't question why Heero sought him out; neither did he acknowledge the tears tracking down Heero's face.

A softly sighed, "I don't want to be alone tonight." was answered with a nod just before Duo brushed a caressing kiss across Heero's slightly parted lips.

*********

Heero stirs from his sleep to find Duo sitting by the bed then lifts the blanket in an invitation to join him.

Face to face Heero remembers that night on the Peacemillion when he had willingly surrendered his virginity.

Encircled by shadows, he savors this night when Duo offered unconditional sanctuary, when love had prevailed over lust.

Seeing the faraway look in his lover's eyes, Heero wonders, "What are you thinking about?"

Duo snuggles closer and whispers. "Déjà vu."

OWARI

 

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