A War Worth Fighting Part 2
If there was ever a Hell, Duo knew that it would have been much like that first night in Muroran.
Through the hallways, the sounds of sobs, prayers and moans of pain filled the air. Echoes of the sounds brought the volume of it to near deafening proportions. The occasional scream and crack of a whip from the guards would silence the noise briefly.
All the while, the braided private shut the noise out as best he could. He kept it from reaching his soul and shattering him. No matter how difficult that was.
One thing that kept the braided American's mind occupied was the service that he was receiving. Not only was he secluded from any of the other prisoners, he overheard that blue-eyed sergeant threatening his men with a dishonorable discharge, worse than death for a Japanese soldier, if they harmed him in anyway.
Those blue eyes. Damn but they were haunting. They had a way of looking into a person's soul they were so piercing.
Shaking his head, Duo willed those eyes away from his thoughts... no matter how difficult even that was.
He knew beyond any doubt that he was not being treated differently because he was respected for his defiance. If anything, he knew that his lack of breaking down would have served to upset and offend the guards. So why they were not beating him to a bloody pulp by now was beyond him.
There was a part of him that was really scared over that fact. It just did not add up. What the hell was in store for him?
Whatever may or may not have been waiting in the shadows for him, the private was not about to change his tactic to act unaffected byhis situation. He was not about to break for someone else's sick enjoyment.
Lying on his side with his back to the cage door, Duo kept a hand tightly wrapped around the gold cross pendant that had been a permanent fixture around his next since he was thirteen. Normally not one to pray, he muttered 'Our Father's' and 'Hail Mary's' until he muttered himself to sleep.
Along with his prayers, he whispered the mantra that he had thought to himself over and over since arriving at Japan.
'I will not break. I will not break. I will not break. I will not break.'
* * * * * *
Heero was on edge when he returned to Muroran the morning following the arrival of the new captives. One of the worst things for a soldier was a dishonorable discharge. Such a thing brought shame and disgrace on not only them, but their family as well. He just hoped that the threat was enough that his men left that braided American alone.
On his way down the corridors of cells, the new First Sergeant was saluted and received bows from the guards he passed. Stopping in his tracks only to respectfully bow in return, he kept a steady pace for the last cell secluded on its own in the very back of the prison.
When he reached the metal gate of the holding space and peered in, Heero breathed a quiet sigh of relief at finding the prisoner lying on his side, back facing him, with his braid in tact. If that hair had not been touched, it was clear that the sergeant's threat had worked.
Finding a chair and pulling it beside the door, the Japanese youth seated himself and took up his post. It was not long before his morning shift of men went through their stations to none-too-kindly wake the other captives in the standard cells and drug them out to the field for hard labor and more lashings.
The echoes of cries from guard and prisoner alike were enough to stir Heero's prized charge. With a soft moan, the private stirred. Slowly raising and turning his head, he looked up to see the sergeant watching him.
"'Mornin', Blue Eyes," Duo smirked as he shifted himself to sit up. Little did he know that his guard knew English perfectly. Heero blinked at his new nickname but the American only took it as his not understanding what he had said. Still, to keep on a safe note, the braided one refrained from speaking again.
It was not long before two white-uniformed soldiers approached their superior. Rising from his seat to bow to his men out of respect as they neared and did the same, Heero asked in their tongue, "Is there a problem, gentlemen?"
No older than the first sergeant, the two Asian soldiers looked to each other nervously before the taller of the pair turned back to their commander. "Sir, why is it that we are not allowed to handle these new prisoners the way that we handle the others? We have been restless for a fresh batch of men to... take our frustration out on. No one has given us a clear explanation to why the special treatment."
In the far corner of his cell, Duo watched and listened as he rested his arms atop his bent knees. Refraining from showing any anger over what he understood, he feigned confusion all the while. Silently, he was hoping to learn the answer to the very same question that he had been pondering all night.
Taking a deep breath, Heero folded his hands behind his back and replied, "I wish that I could explain everything to you. However, this is a very special circumstance of which only few know why this batch is so important." He gestured with his head to the cell behind him and stated, "Especially this one." Duo bit his bottom lip upon hearing that.
"Just know that there is something important intended for them and they cannot be harmed before then," Heero said in a tone that left no room for argument. "Do either of you wish to be the one that has to answer to our superiors for not being able to follow such a simple order as to not hurt a few prisoners?"
Both young men swallowed roughly and shook their heads vehemently. Smiling at that, the First Sergeant nodded firmly, "Good. You do not have to show them any kindness, but you are not allowed to mar these men in any way." Pointing back to his prisoner, he warned, "And if there is so much as a hair missing on this one's head, no one stationed here in Muroran is going to be very happy."
Again, there was a stunned silence from the young privates that came to question their superior. A few beads of sweat spotted their brows as they stood with their backs straight. Lightly patting each young man's shoulder, Heero smirked, "Now, you be sure to go and spread that word to the others as I am sure that they are all anxiously awaiting your return to inform them of what you learned from me."
Dark eyes widening at being caught as the messengers, the two privates paled. Quickly bowing at the waist a couple of times with rushed words of appreciation for his time, they turned on their heels and all but ran from the special holding space.
Sighing deeply, Heero took his seat at the cage door once more. The slight, heavy movement kicked up the dust and dirt on the ground in a low cloud. Peering over his shoulder, he watched as the American hummed quietly to himself while playing with the end of his braid.
Content that all was as it should be, the sergeant peered forward once more and folded his arms. He was not foolish enough to believe that this was the last time he would be challenged by his men. They were all too restless to be taken care of that easily. Hopefully, he would be strong enough to make examples of any that tried to test him again.
Once more, Heero silently wished that Khushrenada would arrive in Japan soon.
Behind him, the whistling stopped while Duo chewed on the inside of his cheek in contained worry over what was in store for him.
* * * * * *
One week later...
Lady Une was seated at her dining room table for her afternoon tea while reading through the newspaper.
Not to her surprise, it was much of the same. The grim tales of the war that had infected the world took up nearly ever page of the paper. Word of a mass killing of Jews had just begun to reach the publics' ears and was now making it into the print as well.
It was all too overwhelming for a sunny afternoon read. Shuddering, Lady Une closed and folded the paper. Teacup in hand, she rose from her seat and padded into the living room.
A large painting of her late husband, one of the most influential Senators of their time, hung on the wall across the doorway. A sad smile fell on the lady's face as she looked upon her lost love. Such a handsome man with a kind heart and a warm smile that could melt the icecaps from the mountains surrounding their home.
On the opposite wall was an equally large painting of a young man with the same smile. Gently resting a hand on the oak frame, Lady Une bit her lip as she peered up at their son's grinning face. Dressed in his army uniform and carrying his full gear, the heart-shaped face sported a netted helmet and a certain mischief in those violet eyes.
It had been nearly a year since she had last laid her eyes on him in person. The day that Duo, her only and beloved child, came to her to announce that he wished to enlist into the army to join the cause, her heart had broken.
The world just seemed such a better place with people like her Duo in it. Much the same as her husband, Jonathan. Their son had a laugh that was contagious. A brilliant and quick mind. Courage and loyalty that belonged to the best of leaders.
From the time her boy was little, Lady Une always envisioned a remarkable life for him. Thanks to her husband in seeing that she also had a voice of power, she could easily have given Duo whatever life he wanted. And he chose to risk his own life to go off to war.
He just smiled and said in explanation that there were just things in life worth fighting for. Even worth dying for if need be. Those ideals that his father stood by and protected in the Senate were just some of those things.
As frightened as she was for him, she could not have been more proud.
Several days had passed without her weekly letter from her son. Not wanting to obsess and worry over whatever the reason was for the delay, Lady Une spent most of her time occupying herself to keep from dwelling over the issue.
Quiet times like this, when there was so little to do to keep herself busy, were when it was hard to keep from thinking... from fearing.
In all reality, Duo was all that she had in this life now that her husband was gone. Despite the influence that she still had in certain political handlings that were kept under wraps lest word spread that a woman was as influential as she, nothing mattered more than her family.
Having finished the tea in her hand, the lovely young woman headed for the kitchen to pour herself another round. On her way back to the kitchen, one of her young live-in maids approached. There was a deep frown on the young girl's face as she knotted her hands together in her apron anxiously with a quiet, "Lady Une... I... well..."
Not liking at all how her friend was so unsure of herself, the woman of the house urged gently, "What is it, Dorothy?"
Biting her lip, the blonde-haired teenager gently took the teacup from her mistress's hands and answered in little more than a whisper, "There are two men at the front door who have requested to speak with you."
Her heart hammering in her chest, Lady Une's eyes widened as she breathed, "Are they uniformed?" The bottom of her stomach fell out and the air from her lungs was released in a rush when the maid bit her bottom lip and nodded in response. "Oh God, no," was all that she could manage, her legs shaking beneath her.
Quickly, Dorothy moved in to take her mistress's hand and squeeze it in support. Carrying on as though there were nothing wrong to lighten the air, she asked, "Shall I make another pot of tea for you?" Unable to trust her voice, the lady offered an appreciative smile and gave a small nod. Without hesitating, her assistant was off for the kitchen.
Taking a deep breath and brushing the front of her long, deep red skirt, Lady Une straightened herself and moved through the house for the front door. In the opened entrance stood two young men dressed in their full army uniforms with their helmets in hand. Their hair was cut so short that it was difficult to tell what color their strands were. Both no older than her own son of eighteen years, the soldiers looked up to her sadly when she neared.
"Gentlemen," she greeted kindly with a tiny grin. "I thank you for being patient in waiting for me here on my doorstep like this." No doubt Dorothy would have offered them to enter, knowing her kind manners. The fact that they declined and waited outside spoke even greater of why they were there.
Over the last few months, Lady Une had witnessed so many of these appearances from the army amongst her friends when she had been over to visit. She knew all too well that these messengers were not comfortable coming into the home of someone that they had to deliver sad news to. As soon as what they had to say was said, they would offer a few kind words and be off to rejoin their ranks without looking back at the lives their news had shattered.
Placing a hand on her the white blouse covering her chest, the lady of the house stated, "This is about my son, Duo, then?" Already, she could feel the sting of tears threatening to overwhelm her. It took every bit of her defenses to keep them back.
The soldiers looked to each other before the smaller of the two frowned, "Yes, ma'am. I am sorry to inform that Private Maxwell has been reported missing." Lady Une thought that her heart was about to pound through its cavity before she heard the word 'missing'.
Brown eyes widening, the young woman blinked and repeated in a breath, "Missing?" Her eyes no longer felt the prickly tears that she had fended off. "W-where was he last station before he went missing?"
At that, the taller of the boys replied, "In the Pacific. We... we have reason to believe that he was most likely taken by the enemy."
Of course, they could not relay all of the details lest they reveal secured information. However, they were good and kind enough to give enough information that Lady Une was able to piece together what had taken happened to her son.
Considering what was out in the Pacific, if Duo was taken by the 'enemy', that meant that he was taken by the Japanese. Whether that was better or worse than having him taken by the Germans remained to be seen. But, the most important thing was that there was no proof that Duo was dead.
There was still hope.
Suddenly aware that the soldier had still been speaking, saying how slim the chances were of finding her son and offering their condolences for her loss, Lady Une shook her head to bring herself back to present.
Grim faces watched her, each one saying of how grave the situation was for Duo. Deep and sincere regret and sympathy were in those vibrant green and blue eyes watching her. Along with that was a fear. No doubt centered around what their own fate in the war would be.
With another deep breath, Lady Une nodded, "Thank you, gentlemen. I appreciate the announcement and your regard for the situation. And good luck to the two of you out there." Both soldiers proudly saluted her before turning on their heels and descending the steps of the front porch for their black car.
Closing the door and leaning against it, the young mother sighed deeply. Head leaning back to peer up to the ceiling, she finally allowed a couple of tears to make their way down her face. Not tears of pain or loss. Tears of relief.
There was still hope.
By the time Lady Une sat on the soft, Dorothy was back with a steaming cup of tea. Carefully handing over the saucer, she was surprised by the look of calm on her family friend's face. "What news did they have to offer on Duo?" she asked urgently.
Looking up to the girl, the lady of the house answered plainly, "He is missing. Most likely taken by the very men that he was fighting." The ice blue eyes on her friend widened with a sharp gasp.
Gently taking her assistant's hand, Lady Une squeezed it and smiled, "He's not dead, Dorothy. I know my Duo. So long as there is breath in him, he'll fight. Until there is undeniable proof that he is gone, I have to believe that he is still alive and working on coming back home."
Dorothy and Duo were childhood friends, their families quite close for several years. She also knew how stubborn and strong her braided 'brother' was. She understood that the situation was grim, but there was still a chance. And she was not about to crush that hope for her mistress. She would not let anything destroy that hope for her.
A small smile lit the teenager's face as she commented, "If he really is in enemy hands, I can only imagine the time he is giving them."
* * * * * *
Heero paced back and forth in his new office anxiously. That damned braided captive was getting on his last nerve. It was becoming increasingly difficult to keep his men at bay when all the American did was laugh and taunt them. Had his men understood some of the things that he was saying in his sung and yelled chastising, they would have had his hide by now.
More and more, the other soldiers were looking to their sergeant in silent begging for the opportunity to have their shot at the prisoner. All the while Heero had to be as defiant as the damned American was in the face of them, causing an already tense and strained relationship between him and his men to become practically brutal.
Why in the hell was that baka trying to get under the guards' skin? Did he not understand the situation that he was in?
That was when it hit the sergeant like a fist to the gut. Freezing in mid-stride, his cobalt eyes wide, Heero finally pinpointed the reason behind the American's behavior.
He did know exactly what was going on. He'd figured out that he was a valuable commodity that could not be touched. He'd realized that no matter what trouble he caused he could not be harmed in any way...
He understood everything that had been spoken in his presence.
Slowly, his hands balled into tight, trembling fists at his sides. His eyes narrowed in a fiery glare aimed at the wall ahead of him. Grabbing the cap to his helmet from the top of his desk, he stormed out of his office.
One way or another, he was going to hear that his theory was right. And it he would hear it directly from the prisoner himself.
TBC...
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