"I began reading Jacob's letters today. The first few spoke mostly of his love for Annabelle, and his concern for her happiness. He must have seen the same lingering melancholy in her that I so often saw. I'm sure that's part of the reason he left. But in one of his last letters, he spoke of a much deeper reason for his leaving. I underestimated his guilt in Aaron's death; I underestimated everything..."
--excerpt from the private journal of Ephraim Barton
Smoky Hills Part 35
Morning After
Duo woke with a pounding headache and churning stomach, in an unfamiliar bed.
"Aw, no," he muttered, trying to recall the previous evening. It had been years since he'd been foolish enough to go out bar-hopping to try to pick up guys, and even then, he'd never ended up in a stranger's bed.
But when he blinked at the ceiling, squinting and trying to search his memories, he came up empty.
"Fuck me," he mumbled under his breath.
Faintly he heard a ticking sound, at regular intervals, and then a large, furry face shoved its way between his arm and the comforter it was draped over.
Duo let out an undignified yelp, and scooted himself up towards the head of the bed, pulling the covers protectively around himself as the big wolfhound looked on curiously. "Jesus fucking Christ!" Duo blurted. "Thor, don't scare me like that!"
Wait a sec.
He looked again. "Thor?"
The big dog wagged its tail hopefully, edging closer, until Duo automatically dropped a hand on its shaggy brow and gave a cursory scratch.
"I see you got your wakeup call," came an amused voice.
Duo looked over to find Trowa leaning in the doorway smirking. "Uh, yeah. I guess. Um..." He frowned, plucking at the comforter with his free hand. "How'd I get, um, here?"
"According to Heero, you arrived with an empty bottle of Jack Daniels and passed out on the couch."
Memory flooded back to Duo, and he blushed hotly, recalling that he'd actually passed out in Heero's arms, after crying his eyes out on the man's shoulder. "Oh fuck."
Trowa gave a shrug. "Don't sweat it, Duo. I'd've had the same reaction to that kind of news."
On the heels of his words, Duo remembered why he'd broken down in the first place, and felt a sharp stab of pain in his stomach. "Solo--" he whispered disconsolately, blinking back a fresh wave of tears.
"There's coffee downstairs, whenever you're ready for it," Trowa went on briskly, half-turning away to give Duo some measure of privacy. "Bathroom's the first door on the right as you head for the stairs. Feel free to freshen up if you want--clean towels are under the sink."
"'K," Duo managed a bit hoarsely, shifting under the thick covers and realizing he was still fully clothed, except for his shoes.
"I'll be downstairs," Trowa added. "Holler if you need anything."
"Yeah. Thanks."
Then Trowa was gone, and Duo rolled over and buried his face in the pillow, choking back sobs.
Solo was dead. All these years, he'd been dead.
When he'd disappeared, there'd been speculation, and rumor; Duo had filed the missing persons report of course, but the police hadn't taken it very seriously. And eventually, Duo had begun to agree with the popular opinion that his lover had simply skipped town, leaving Duo, as well as the town he hated so much, behind.
Now, he knew better. Solo hadn't left him; he'd been murdered.
The braided man pushed himself up sharply, his breath catching and hangover forgotten, as he realized the broader implications. Solo had been murdered.
He threw aside the covers, suddenly desperate for answers, and began searching for his discarded footwear and that bathroom Trowa had mentioned.
Heero and Trowa were both in the kitchen when Duo skidded around the corner, his eyes wild and his hair unkempt. "Who killed him, 'Ro? D'you know who killed Solo?"
Heero shook his head, standing up from the table and taking a step towards Duo. "We don't know anything yet," he said evenly. "Aside from the identity of the victim."
"It wasn't just a victim," Duo snapped. "It was Solo." He grabbed Heero by both shoulders. "I need to know what happened to him, Heero."
"You will," came the steady response. "But you'll have to be patient. Let Chang do his job and determine the cause of death, and we'll have a starting point for an investigation."
"I'll give you a starting point," Duo said darkly. "Talk to those fuckers Trant and Otto! They hated Solo's guts. They were half the reason he wanted out of this shithole of a town--them and their 'holier than thou' parents."
Heero caught Duo's wrists with his hands, keeping them steady on his shoulders. "Calm down and listen to me," he said firmly. "Making wild accusations isn't going to help. You've got to realize, everyone's a suspect at this point...everyone in town, and anyone who might have been passing through. In fact, until we have a clear cause of death, we have no leads at all."
Duo's eyes narrowed, as he homed in on part of Heero's statement. "What do you mean 'everyone's a suspect?' Does that include me?"
Heero winced a little, and then made his face look impassive as he shrugged. "Speaking from experience, a jilted lover is the prime suspect in most murder cases, until a more promising lead presents itself."
"I wasn't jilted," Duo snapped. "Solo loved me!"
"Until his body was found, everyone in town believed he'd left you," Heero pointed out. "The cops will probably suggest that he was intending to, and that perhaps you two fought--" His tone was carefully neutral; but not neutral enough.
"Fuck you!" Duo snarled, pulling away. "You think I'd do something like that? Well, fuck you!" He turned sharply and stomped through the hallway and out the front door, slamming it forcefully behind him.
"Nice going," Trowa commented mildly, over the sound of the Jeep starting up with a roar. "Most guys don't accuse someone they'd like to sleep with of killing their former lover."
Heero scowled darkly. "I didn't accuse him--"
"You might as well have."
"I was just saying what the police are likely to think--"
Trowa sighed and rolled his eyes. "Lame, Yuy. I swear, you and Duo are never going to get together at this rate."
"Oh, and you and Quatre are doing so much better!" Heero shot back with a glare. "Spent the evening poring over information on document restoration. Did you even buy him that cup of coffee? No. You chickened out worse than me!"
"The head librarian was standing right there!" Trowa shot back. "If the bitch hadn't stayed until closing time and insisted on walking out with us, I was going to invite him for coffee. But knowing the depth of prejudice in this town, I didn't want to put him on the spot like that."
"And he probably felt the same about you," Heero pointed out. "So don't point fingers, Trowa Barton. You're being as timid as I am."
Trowa ducked his head, looking a bit sheepish, and glanced up from under his thick bangs. "At least Quatre didn't tell me to fuck off. You're doing a much better job of alienating Duo," he muttered defensively.
"And I'll fix it," Heero said flatly. "But right now, I'm late in taking the dogs out for their run, and we've got dishes and laundry to do. Not to mention your lion needs feeding. Finish your breakfast, and I'll go grab the hamper."
"Geeze--bossy aren't you?" Trowa groused. Darting a snide glance at Heero, he added in an undertone, "I hope Duo's a Sub, 'cause you've got definite Dom tendencies..."
"What was that?" snapped his keen-eared brother.
"You heard me."
"I'd better have heard wrong!"
Trowa snorted in wry amusement at the ominous look on Heero's face, unable to suppress a smirk of his own. "I said you might wanna grab the sheets off your bed, too." He dug back into his oatmeal. "I could smell the stale whiskey from the door." His expression turned speculative. "Come to think of it, that might account for Duo's temper this morning; he's probably hung over as hell."
"Can you blame him?"
"Not at all. I'm just glad he didn't puke on the floor."
~*~
By early afternoon Heero had taken his morning run, finished cleaning up the breakfast dishes, and had moved on to laundry while Trowa fed Leon, cleaned his enclosure, and then took a much-needed shower. After freshening up, Trowa came downstairs thumbing through the history of Smoky Hills that Heero had checked out of the library.
He spotted his brother folding clothes in the laundry area attached to the kitchen when he went to get a bite to eat.
"You still here?" Trowa asked with a scowl.
"Where else would I be?"
Trowa sighed heavily, brushing past Heero and going to the refrigerator. "I dunno...maybe begging forgiveness from the second-hottest guy in town."
Heero cocked an eyebrow. "Begging? Me?"
Trowa shrugged, taking out a bottle of water and twisting the cap off. "Seems like the only way you'll ever get back in his good graces."
"And I need that, why?" Heero turned away, folding another towel and setting it on the table.
"Because you want him." Trowa plunked himself down in a chair and fixed a steady gaze on his friend. "You know he's gay, and interested, Heero. Don't let him slip through your fingers because you don't want to admit you said something stupid."
"It was the truth."
"Doesn't mean it wasn't stupid," Trowa argued reasonably. "Some things are better left unsaid."
"It's a little late for that."
"Never too late to apologize."
Heero scowled over his shoulder. "All I said was that--"
"It's not what you said; it's what you didn't say. You didn't tell him you believed in his innocence no matter what the local shit-for-brains cops might say."
"Maybe I don't."
Trowa's eyes narrowed. "Then maybe you don't deserve to date him." He shook his head. "I'm tempted to belt you one, for even suspecting a nice guy like Duo. You know you don't believe he could've murdered Solo. You saw his reaction to the news. Do you think he could have faked that? You told me he totally broke down--cried until he passed out. Don't tell me he was just upset that he might get caught after all these years. You know full well it was shock and grief."
"Hai," Heero conceded, not looking up from folding towels.
"On the other hand," Trowa couldn't resist throwing in. "In the movies it's always the one you least suspect who turns out to be the insane killer."
Heero glared his response. "That's why they're movies--fiction--because they rarely resemble real life."
Trowa chuckled happily. "Jeeze, but you're in love with the guy!"
Heero looked away without denying the accusation.
"Then go find him and tell him you never meant to imply you agreed with his being a suspect," Trowa urged.
"Find him, where? It's not like I know the town all that well. And I sure as hell don't know Duo's hangouts. I have no idea where to start looking."
"Try the location of the body. If it were my lover, and I'd just found out he was murdered, that's where I'd go."
"Duo doesn't know where the body was found."
"Then try the post office. Or look around town. That Jeep is pretty distinctive looking. You might just spot it parked somewhere."
Heero gave a non-committal grunt. "Maybe when I finish the laundry." He darted one final glare at his roommate. "Second-hottest?" He asked as the phone started to ring.
"Quatre's hotter."
"Better get your eyes looked at."
"And you need your head examined."
Heero snorted wryly and went to pick up the phone. "Hello?"
"Hi, Heero? It's Quatre. Any chance I could talk to Duo for a minute?"
Heero blinked in surprise. "He's not here."
"Oh, so he's on his way home?"
"I--don't know," Heero admitted, looking at Trowa, who raised a questioning eyebrow. "He left first thing this morning."
"What? When?"
"Around eight or nine." Heero glanced at the clock, realizing it was already well past noon. "He hasn't been home yet?"
"I haven't heard from him at all," Quatre replied, his voice tight. "Did he say where he was going?"
Heero sighed. "When he got up this morning, he was pretty hung over. And I foolishly made mention of the fact that the police might consider him a potential suspect in Stevens' death. He kind of flew off the handle at me, and took off."
"Oh." There was a long pause, and then a worried puff of breath. "I wish you'd called me. I'd have started looking for him hours ago--"
"I had no idea he wouldn't go straight home," Heero said flatly. "I just assumed--" He shook his head. "That was stupid of me, wasn't it? To think he'd act rationally when he just found out his missing boyfriend was dead. Do you have any idea where he might have gone?"
"God--a million places," Quatre said anxiously. "The reservoir--the bluff--hiking in the woods. Hell, he might've ended up at the State Line Bar, for all I know. When he's upset he usually wants to be alone. But--"
"You don't think he'd be--suicidal or anything?"
"Duo? Hell, no!" Quatre said firmly. "Just angry and distraught. He might take off to be by himself, or he might head for State Line looking for a fight. But he'd never purposely harm himself. I'm just not sure where to begin looking--"
"Listen," Heero said, frowning with concern. "You stay by your phone in case he calls. I'll drive around those places you mentioned and see if I can spot the Jeep, okay?"
"I'd appreciate that," Quatre said with a sigh. "I can make a few phone calls, too, and see if he's at Sal's, or Hilde's store."
"I'll let you know when I find him," Heero promised. "Talk to you later."
"Duo's gone missing?" Trowa asked, as Heero hung up the phone.
"He didn't go home, and Quatre's worried." Heero's brow furrowed. "I am too." He shook his head. "You were right. I should have gone after him the moment he left. I just thought he'd want to go home and freshen up--or sleep off the rest of his hangover."
"Don't blame yourself," Trowa said soothingly. "As I pointed out earlier, you don't know him that well. You could only go by what you would've done in the same situation."
"I'm not sure what I'd have done if I were in his place," Heero admitted. He went over to the counter and pulled a thermos out of the cupboard. "Would you mind making a sandwich for me to take along?"
"No problem." Trowa set about slapping together a couple of thick chicken sandwiches, while his brother brewed a fresh pot of coffee, to fill the thermos. "This is kind of sweet," he commented as he worked. "Like going out to find a lost puppy or something."
Heero glared over his shoulder. "I just know he left this morning without even a cup of coffee to start his day. I'm guessing he might be cold and hungry by now--it's not that warm out."
"Want a blanket?" Trowa asked, glancing at the thermometer and deciding that sixty degrees really wasn't very warm, considering Duo had been in jeans and a tee shirt. Unless he had a jacket in the Jeep, or had gone somewhere indoors, he was likely to be a bit cold.
"Yes, please," Heero replied, grabbing a paper bag from the pantry and setting it on a chair. "And a flashlight, in case this takes longer than I hope it does."
Within a matter of moments, they had the bag packed with a few emergency supplies, topped off with the thermos and sandwiches, and Heero was headed for the door.
"Wanna take Thor along?" Trowa suggested. "He's no bloodhound; but he really seems to like the mailman. He might be able to sniff him out."
"No. Keep him here for now. If I don't locate Duo before dark, maybe I'll have you meet up with me and bring the dogs along. But I'm hoping he's just gone someplace quiet to brood, and that I'll be able to spot the Jeep and track him down."
Trowa's brow furrowed. "You don't think he'd have done anything--drastic?"
"Like try to join his dead lover?" Heero asked tightly. "I sure as hell hope not."
But as he drove out the driveway, he was beginning to fear the worst.
~*~
As Trowa had pointed out, he had no idea what Duo might do--how attached he'd been to his former boyfriend, or how stable a personality he had. Despite Quatre's assurances, he wasn't convinced Duo wouldn't be suicidal.
He headed for the main road, figuring he'd pass the bluff and the reservoir on his way to Howie's, where he thought he'd start his search. But as he rounded the corner and ended up on the road over the dam, he glimpsed a familiar red vehicle in the parking lot on the opposite side.
He let out a breath he hadn't been aware of holding, and turned into the lot.
Duo lay across the hood of the Jeep, using the windshield as a back rest. His eyes were closed and his face was turned up towards the sun. And although it was a mild Spring day, there was a cool breeze ruffling his bangs and sending chestnut wisps dancing around his face.
Heero parked alongside the Jeep and took his time gathering the thermos and supplies he'd assembled. He noticed Duo never looked over to see who was there, and wondered if perhaps he was asleep or had gone on another drinking binge and passed out.
After debating awhile on the best approach, Heero finally took out his cell phone and checked to see if there was a signal. Then he walked over and stood beside the Jeep, clearing his throat quietly.
He waited until he saw one indigo eye peek open a crack, and held out his phone. "Call Quatre," he said matter-of-factly. "He's worried."
Duo's eyes flew open and he sat up sharply. "Shit! I forgot!" He took Heero's phone and punched in his number, darting a sheepish glance at the dark-haired man.
"Hey, Quat. It's me--"
Heero could hear an agitated reply, though he didn't catch the words.
"Yeah, I know--" Duo said, his tone contrite. "I just--totally blanked, an' forgot all about the fact that I never came home last night. You must've been--" He paused and settled a searching look on Heero. "Oh, he did? Well--that's good. You didn't have to worry all night." Another pause. "Yeah, no thanks to me. I know I should've called. But I kind of passed out. I didn't mean to just leave ya hanging."
He let his gaze roam across the lake. "No, we didn't talk for long this morning. I'm sure he would've mentioned calling you. But I kinda took off--" This time there was a flicker of heat in the look Duo shot Heero.
Quatre's voice rose again, no doubt scolding his wayward friend, and Duo hung his head. "I know, an' I'm sorry. Really." He sighed deeply. "Now? Well, no--I don't have anywhere-- What? Okay. Yes, mother. I'll come straight home--"
Heero held out a hand and wiggled his fingers. "I'd like a word with him if it's okay."
"Sure. Quat? Heero wants to talk to you."
Heero took the phone, giving Duo a reassuring smile. "Quatre?"
"Yes, Heero. Thank you for tracking him down," came a relieved voice.
"No problem," Heero assured him. "But before I send him home, I wanted to clear up a few things. Do you mind if he's a little bit late?"
There was a short pause. "I--guess not." Quatre's voice softened a bit. "But let him know I'm making supper? If he hasn't eaten all day--"
"I won't keep him long, I promise."
"Okay." Quatre paused a moment. "I really appreciate you going to all this trouble."
"I don't mind. It's the least I can do, considering Thor started this whole mess. Just relax and know that Duo will get home safely."
"Yes, thanks."
Heero closed his phone and looked at Duo, whose gaze had settled on the thermos in his other hand. "Could you use a cup of coffee?"
"God yes!"
Heero pulled out one of the mugs he'd brought along, as well as the little jar of sugar and one of milk, and set them on the hood of the car, keeping his gaze on the tasks at hand, instead of the wide, assessing eyes that followed his every move.
"What are you doing out here?" Duo finally asked, as Heero poured hot coffee from the thermos.
"You mean, aside from calming your worried roommate's nerves?" Heero asked, handing him the mug.
Duo nodded, reaching for the sugar.
"Bringing you coffee?" Heero suggested with a hint of a smirk.
He saw a fleeting smile cross Duo's lips and then get suppressed. "Seriously," Duo insisted, looking up from under his bangs.
"I wanted to apologize."
"For what--thinkin' I could've killed Solo?"
"I never believed that; not for a minute. Especially not after seeing how you reacted to the news."
Duo grimaced at the reminder of his breakdown, and looked away.
"I just wanted you to be prepared; you might get that reaction from others."
"Not from anyone who knew me an' Solo," came a curt reply. Duo looked up at him questioningly. "So you came out here 'cause Quat sent you--and so you could apologize?"
"It was--important," Heero admitted. "I didn't want you thinking I believed you were capable of murder."
Duo gave a wry snort. "Well, thanks, I guess. But how would you know, one way or the other? You hardly know me."
"I know enough," Heero told him, encouraged by the fact that Duo hadn't told him to get lost yet. Maybe he hadn't fucked up his chance to get better acquainted with the good-looking mailman. He dared a step closer. "And maybe I'd like to know more."
Indigo eyes shot him a wary look. "More?"
Heero nodded. "Yeah, more."
Duo looked away again, sipping his coffee, and then glanced back at the dark-haired man. "Why?"
Heero blinked in surprise, caught off guard by the blunt inquiry.
Because you're gorgeous...because you have the most captivating eyes I've ever seen...because you have an intoxicating laugh...because something about you tugs at every protective instinct I own...
While he hesitated, Duo finished downing the cup of coffee and slid off the hood of the Jeep. He held out the cup to Heero. "Thanks for the coffee. I gotta get home to Quat, and you've got Trowa," he said flatly.
Heero frowned in confusion. "What do you mean--?"
Duo shook his head. "Nothin', Yuy." He gave a jaunty wave as he opened the car door. "See ya at the mailbox sometime."
Heero was left standing with the empty cup, watching as Duo backed the Jeep out of its parking space and drove away. "What the fuck did I do wrong?" he asked himself out loud.
He thought about it the whole way home, wondering what he might have said that took the warm gleam out of those indigo eyes and replaced it with a wary, almost wounded look. He'd apologized, and it seemed Duo accepted it. He'd definitely been grateful for the coffee. What, then, had gone wrong?
TBC...
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