Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Easier to Run ❯ Chapter One - Decisions ( Chapter 1 )

*Author's Notes: This fic begins after the war. I have taken great liberties with the timeline (in this fic, Endless Waltz never happened), so don't be surprised. This is a work in progress. I have the entire fic outlined (it's been floating around in my head for months now), but I am posting it as I write it, so any suggestions/critiques/complaints/encouragement are greatly appreciated.

This fic was inspired by the song Easier to Run, by Linkin Park.

*Warnings: Yaoi. This means boys who love boys. If this makes you feel like a rabid hate-monger who wants to flame me for being a twisted heathen, please save both of us the trouble, and don't read this fic. Also contains angst, Duo-sufferitis, language, etc.

You have been warned.

*Disclaimers: I don't own Gundam Wing, the Gundam Wing characters, or a beach house in Jamaica. Don't sue me.

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Chapter 1

I hit the floor beside the bed with a sickening thud, my ears filled with the ragged sound of my own breathing, coming in sobbing pants. I struggled for a moment before realizing that my legs were not tied down, just tangled impossibly in the sheets. I raised a trembling hand to wipe my sweat-soaked bangs out of my face and tried to get my bearings. Tried to convince myself that the hands I could still feel on my skin were only in my imagination.

A quiet voice calling my name made me flinch before I realized it was just Hilde. She was standing in my bedroom doorway, looking at me with concern, and, I'm ashamed to admit, a little fear. She didn't come any closer. I appreciated that--I was too shaky to deal with the proximity of another person. The last time she'd tried to awaken me from a nightmare, she made the mistake of touching me. You never touch a sleeping soldier. Never. I had nearly strangled her to death before I came fully awake.

"Are you alright?"

I felt myself blush. I didn't particularly like for anyone to see me like this. "I'm fine, Hilde. Soldiers have nightmares. Go back to sleep." I tried to smile, to soften the harshness in my voice, but I'm sure it came out looking more than a little sickly. I couldn't help it, and she didn't comment, so I let it drop. I pulled myself up off the floor and adjusted the sheet around me. I had on boxer shorts, but I didn't want anyone looking at me right now. I still felt too raw, too exposed, from the nightmare. I wouldn't meet Hilde's eyes, hoping she would swallow her curiosity, as she usually did, and just leave me alone.

Thankfully, she did. After nodding to me once, she turned and left. I breathed a sigh of relief, and stumbled to the bathroom to splash some cold water on my face. There was no way in hell I could go back to sleep. Even if I had felt sleepy, I wouldn't have chanced it. The nightmare was just...too much to take twice in one night.

Yes, *the* nightmare. Just one, and it had nothing to do with the war, despite what I might have told Hilde about soldiers. It was more memory than nightmare, but I shied away from acknowledging that fact. Nothing like a little self-denial. I cursed to myself as I turned on the water in the sink, leaning over it to stare at my haggard reflection in the mirror on the wall above it. I thought I had gotten rid of the nightmare; thought that I had nearly worked it out of my system with my painting, and I had, somewhat. Until I recieved the first of many calls from an...admirer?...stalker?...monster from my nightmares?...a few weeks ago. I shuddered violently, remembering.

"Duo, have you missed me?" A deep voice, a husky laugh, both sounding muted and mysterious on the phone. There was no vid feed, and the caller remained faceless. "Why didn't you tell me you were back on L2? My little Duo. My little whore..." I could hear the laughter for hours after slamming the phone down.

I looked down in some surprise at my bloody fist, and the pieces of broken glass litterring the sink. Well, look at that. I caught myself before I could giggle. Apparently I wasn't currently in the mood to look in the mirror. I left the glass in the sink, carefully picking my way out of the bathroom. My options were clear--I couldn't remain here, in this house or on L2, any longer. Hilde didn't need to deal with this shit, and I didn't need the constant reminders of my past. The problem was I didn't have anywhere else to go, and only one person I felt I could call. I thought again of the messages and calls I had recieved, and quickly made a decision. Not bothering to calculate the time on earth, I picked up the phone and dialed. In a moment, Trowa's face was looking at me in surprise from the vidscreen. I grimaced, having nearly forgotten about him in my agitation.

"Err...hey, Tro. Quatre around?"

He hesitated, staring at me hard, before answering. "Hold on a minute, Duo."

Quatre's face was filling the screen so quickly, I realized he had been close by. "Duo! I'm so glad you called! How are you?"

I smiled crookedly for him, feeling soothed by the familiar sound of Quatre-babble. "Hey, Quat," I murmured, suddenly floundering for words now that he was there.

He seemed to consider me for a moment. "Duo, you look like shit," he said finally, surprising a laugh out of me. "What's wrong?"

I gave him a Maxwell grin, glad that I had called him. "Long, boring story," I said. "Look, Quat. I'm moving to earth, but I need someplace to stay while I find a place of my own. Would you..."

He cut me off. "Of course, Duo! You know you're always welcome here," he said, practically beaming.

I was grateful for his instant invitation, and felt a tightening in my throat. "Thanks, man. It'll only be for a little while, I promise."

He shook a finger at me. "You stay as long as you like, Duo, and we'll be glad to have you. I'm just glad you're finally moving closer to the rest of us."

I stiffened at the thought of "the rest of us". "Look, Quat, about that...don't tell Heero, okay? And don't tell Wufei, either." I knew Wufei would never keep a secret from Heero. They were partners, after all.

"Duo," Quatre began with a sigh, but I didn't want to hear it.

"No, Quatre. If you can't promise, I'll stay somewhere else. I mean it."

He pouted for a moment, but I wouldn't budge, and he knew it. "Fine," he said. "I promise--but you have to tell me what's wrong when you get here."

"Fine." We spent the next few minutes hashing out details, and I hung up with the assurances that Quatre would take care of all travel arrangements, having the pertinent information to me first thing in the morning, my time. I thanked him and hung up the phone, finally beginning to feel as if my life might come back together.

At least, as long as I could manage to avoid Heero, but I'd cross that bridge when I came to it. I turned on my bedroom light, and began to pack. I didn't know exactly when I'd be going, but I knew if it could be arranged in a day, then Quatre was the one to do it. That guy could pull more strings than anyone I knew. Besides, it's not like I had a lot, anyway. Just my clothes, some cds, and a few personal items. The bulk of the packing would be for my paintings and supplies.

I made a mental note to myself to send a forwarding address to the gallery manager on L2. My work had seen some small success there, and I didn't see the need to cut off ties with him. I wasn't too worried about it, though. The move would actually simplify things, as the agent Quatre had found for me had his offices on earth, anyway. Being closer would enable me to keep interaction with the public to a bare minimum, a definite selling point.

After all, it was my interaction with the public that got the stalker's attention in the first place. At least, I hoped that was what got his attention. I was afraid, though, that it had been inevitable.

I thought I knew him, you see. He had haunted my nightmares for nearly ten years, and continued to do so. How could I forget him? He was the first man I had ever killed. Those types of things stick with you.

I realized that it was impossible, and I am not insane, no matter what anyone says. I am perfectly aware that one can't be stalked by a dead man, but I couldn't help how I felt. Thankfully, I was getting the hell away from L2. I just had to get my bearings, that's all. Sometimes, running is the smartest option. I should know. I've done it so many times I've become a pro.

That's why I was on L2 in the first place. I had been running from Heero.

...to be continued...