Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Eyes Cold As Death ❯ Twenty ( Chapter 20 )

Eyes Cold As Death

Chapter Twenty -- Final Maneuvering

Duo ran through the empty corridors of the Preventer Hangers. He had to get to his Gundam -- he needed Deathscythe. He had driven from the burning HQ to the hangers, swerving all over the road, gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles hoping that the world would stop moving like a pendulum across his vision. The static in his vision hadn't abated either. But he persisted; he had to fight. He heard the evacuation report blaring over the radio and knew that the enemy was closing in. They only had four pilots, now, plus Zechs and Noin who were already at the hangers when HQ exploded. A bomb, someone had planted a bomb, it was the only logical explanation he could come up with, and he would bet everything that he knew who did it. Jezebel. The bitch. The royal pain in his ass motherfucking son of a bitch, Jezebel.

The world blurred and tilted again, and he rubbed his eyes, waiting for the feeling to subside. He was not in good shape. Going into HQ in the aftermath of the explosion had been a really stupid idea, but he had not been thinking straight. He had just wanted to make sure that Heero was okay. He had checked Quatre before he had climbed over that pile of rubble, and was satisfied that he was all right, but then he needed to find Heero. He let loose a string of expletives when his thoughts were inevitably drawn to the rickety stairs. He should have known better, he cursed himself, but he had gone ahead anyway and those goddamned stairs had collapsed, taking him with them.

He turned into a new corridor, empty as all of the others had been. He laughed pensively to himself, thinking how stupid they all had been. They had thought themselves prepared, but look at how fragile their defense truly was. The Gundams would not be enough this time. Nor, Duo recalled; had they really been enough in the war of AC195. After all, it had taken the help of many friends and enemies standing at their side as allies in order to defeat Oz and eventually White Fang. This time, there wasn't anyone else. This time, they were Oz fighting a hopeless battle against the Gundams. Duo shook that thought from his head, he didn't like the analogy.

A gunshot rang out, echoing through the corridor. Duo's hand immediately went to the gun tucked in the waistband of his pants. Mental note: Thank Heero for always leaving a gun in the glovebox of his car. Duo continued to race to the hangers as he cocked the gun, readying it for use. He sprinted up to the open hanger doors, skidding to a stop before he could burst recklessly into the wide-open hanger. He peered around the door, checking to see if anyone was on the catwalk. There was no one. He could hear someone inside, though, the echo of their breath. He strained his ears -- raspy breath. He stepped softly in the hanger, keeping close to the doorway in case he hadn't seen someone lurking around. Still there was no one, just the labored breathing from below. Duo peered through the grating. Nothing. He wasn't in a good location.

He glanced around the hangers, noticing immediately that Heero's and Wufei's Gundams were gone. Duo felt a spark of hope rise inside him as he pictured Wing and Nataku battling the enemy. He also noticed the births for Zechs' and Noin's suits were empty as well. Only Deathscythe, Sandrock and Heavyarms remained. Heavyarms would not rise to the battle, this time. Duo felt tears pricking the back of his eyes; he swept his arm across his eyes. Now was not the time to grieve; that would have to come later. Duo stepped gingerly to the railing, keeping his steps silent on the metal. He leaned carefully over the railing, searching the hanger floor for signs of the enemy. He saw a splotch of rust on the concrete below. He leaned out further, grabbing the railing with one hand to steady himself.

He saw Quatre in a fetal position, curled around himself. He was lying on a spread of rust. Duo doubted the stain was a rust stain, especially since the faint tang of blood began to tickle his nostrils. Duo threw caution to the wind as blind panic arrested his ability to act rationally, and he sprinted across the catwalk to the corner stairs, accessing the lower level. His feet pounded on the metal grating to the same rhythm that his heart beat against his chest. When he reached the stairs, he used the railings to help propel him down faster, as he jumped down four to six steps at a time. When his feet landed on bare concrete, he bolted over to where Quatre lay. He almost didn't notice the crumpled figure of Jezebel, brushed up against a support pole that was decorated in a modern way with what appeared to be brains, skull splinters and blood. Her eyes were wide, staring and empty. Her jaw hung slack, and her skin was already graying as her blood pooled around her in a dark pond. She wore a third eye of a clean burgundy.

Duo dropped to his knees beside Quatre. He gently rolled him onto his back. He soothed Quatre with nonsense words as he looked over Quatre's wounds. Wound, and a damn big one at that. He laid his hand over the rip in Quatre's abdomen, applying pressure. With his other hand, he gently brushed back sweaty bangs from Quatre's feverish forehead.

"Quatre? Quatre, please wake up. Tell me that you're okay." A soft moan drifted from Quatre, and Duo risked hope. "Quatre, come on. It's okay. Come on." Clouded eyes flickered open unsteadily.

"Duo?" Raw pain scraped Quatre's voice as he winced with the intake of air. "Ow…" Duo searched frantically for anything he could use to help Quatre. His eyes fell on the yellow metal cabinet in the corner.

"I'll be right back, Quat. Hang on." Duo scrambled to his feet and sprinted over to the cabinet. He tore open the doors, flinging its contents over the hanger floor. "Goddamnit! Where the fuck is it?" He shouted, frightened fury beginning to seep into his mind. "Where…" He pulled out the first aid box, short-lived relief flooding over him before he let his mind focus on the actual problem. He hoisted the box into his arms and rushed back to Quatre's side. The first aid box was a miniature emergency room. After all, the hangers were designed with battle in mind, and how many times did the front-line soldiers stumble home broken and bloody? Duo ripped the lid off and rummaged through the contents. He was searching for cleaning solution and bandages. Get Quatre bandaged up and get him to a hospital. Weak fingers squeezed his hand causing him to jump, startled. Duo glanced up.

"Fucking hurts…" Quatre whispered. Duo nodded and focused on the task at hand. He had to find those bandages. "Is she…?" Duo nodded again.

"Yeah. Deader than dogshit." Quatre chuckled softly.

"Good. She deserves it." Duo deigned to not answer. He pulled out the remaining bandages, laying them out so he could reach them when he needed them. "Enemy suits?" Duo shrugged, flipping his braid hurriedly over his shoulder.

"Engaging our defenses." He pulled the scissors from the box and turned to cut Quatre's shirt away from the wound. Quatre tried to sit up, panic brightening his eyes.

"We need to go." He pushed Quatre back down.

"You are injured." He removed a large portion of Quatre's bloodied shirt. He grabbed the cleaning solution and leaned over Quatre's stomach.

"Doesn't matter. We need to protect--"

"Doesn't matter?" Duo hissed, his fear leaking into his voice. "You fucking matter, and I'm not going to let you sacrifice yourself this time. I'm patching you up and taking you to a hospital!" Quatre remained silent, though from pain or his ravings, he wasn't sure. He quickly cleaned the wound, though he was sure he had far from cleaned it well. He wasn't a doctor, but he could patch things up in the field. He pressed bandages to the wound as Quatre hissed in pain. "I'm sorry," he murmured, "no anesthesia." The earth shook beneath them, a loud rumble accompanying the vibration. He didn't hear any strained metal, so the battle was still a long way off, but with an air battle, distance didn't necessarily mean much.

"We both have to go, Duo." Quatre's voice was stronger as Duo stanched the blood flow.

"No. You have to go to a hospital, and I have to go fight." Quatre shook his head at Duo's words. He narrowed his eyes at Quatre as he continued to bandage his abdomen.

"We can't do this with only four of us. I have to be there. I'll be fine." Duo snapped his mouth shut against a retort, knowing that Quatre would only be able to argue with an 'all the more reason…' argument. Plus, Duo didn't know how to tell Quatre that Trowa was dead. Instead, he gritted his teeth, grinding until his jaw hurt. He tied off the bandages.

"Come on, let's get you to my car." He wasn't going to let Quatre fight. He wasn't.

"Duo, we can't let them get to the city!" Duo lost his anger, unleashing his frustration, his anxiety and his fear.

"Fuck you!" He shouted, surging to his feet. He stalked over to the empty cabinet and launched a powerful kick to its side. The hollow clang echoed through the hanger. He whirled around, pointing an accusing finger at Quatre. "Not this time! You won't do this to me again!" Quatre struggled into a sitting position, leaning back on his hands.

"The people of this city are more important than I am, Duo, and you know that." Duo shook his head, trying to deny the truth. He knew that Quatre was right, they were the only hope the city had. Hell, they were probably the only hope that anyone had.

"No. You are more important to me than a bunch of faceless people." He knew the moment he said the words that he had pissed Quatre off, but he frankly didn't care. After all, it was true; he did care more about Quatre and his other friends more than nameless, faceless people. But it still pissed Quatre off, he knew, eventhough he knew that Quatre felt the same way.

"Duo…" Quatre started.

"I don't care, Quatre! I'm not willing to lose you again." Duo stopped yelling, his voice dying into a ragged whisper. "Don't make me lose you again."

"I won't." Quatre murmured. He looked up at Duo. "But I can't just sit here and do nothing. You know that about me. I can't let others be sacrificed for me."

"But you can sacrifice yourself."

"I put my gun to your head because you could still get out. Knowing what has happened since then, if I had it to do over again, I would gladly put my gun to your head again."

"And have both of us in pain again? Have both of us suffer again?" Another explosion rumbled through the ground. They both glanced to the hanger doors.

"I would think that it would have been better than the alternative." Quatre cocked his head to one side, wincing. "I regret that we both suffered, but I would repeat my actions nevertheless."

"I hate you." He knew that Quatre was right, all of them were needed to fight, and with Trowa dead, they could not afford to lose Quatre as well. If five Gundams were not enough, then three would be one step above a complete surrender. At least with four, there was still a fighting chance, no matter how miniscule.

"I hate you more." Quatre's whisper floated to him over another distant explosion. He realized that the sounds of the air battle were steadily getting closer. He wanted to hit something, destroy something. He needed to take out his anger and frustration on something.

"I hate you longer." Duo responded automatically. He rubbed his face in his hands before moving over to help Quatre to his feet.

"I hate you times infinity." Duo's eyes stung, the ghosts of tears pricking the back of his eyes. He pulled Quatre gently to his feet and immediately wrapped his arms around him, burying his face in Quatre's shoulder.

"If you even think about dying, I'll kill you."

"I don't plan on it." Duo excepted the answer and helped Quatre over to the stairs.

______________________________

Sally fumbled with her phone, almost dropping it before she could press it to her ear.

"What?" She winced, she really wasn't in a mood for pleasantries, but she could at least try not to snap at whoever was on the line. A burst of static blared over the line.

"…Dr. Po, we need you at St. Michael's emergency room." Sally readjusted her grip on the steering wheel, bringing her knee up to steady the wheel.

"I didn't hear you. Can you--" The man on the line cut her off.

"This is Dr. Meyers. We need you at the--" Sally decided to return the favor by cutting him off.

"Why? We are in a tight situation right now."

"I understand, Dr. Po, but we are stretched very thin right now with all of the injured flooding in from the bombing of Preventer Headquarters. I have a Mrs. Une needing surgery, but I don't have a qualified doctor that I can spare." Sally slammed on her brakes, cursing as she dropped the phone so she could control her car with both hands. Breath hissed in and out of her body angrily. She searched for her phone, pressing it back to her ear after locating it through the tinny but indignant inquires from Dr. Meyers.

"Get Une into prep now, I'll be there as soon as I can." She started to turn her car around, turning the wheel with one hand. "You might as well update me en-route as to her condition. I need to know what I'm getting into." The doctor filled her in as she sped to St. Michael's.

Une's condition was bad. They had thought that she had just sustained a head injury, causing her to remain unconscious, but she had sustained major internal injuries that hadn't been apparent to the paramedics. The internal bleeding was severe, and possibly fatal. Most likely fatal. In fact, Dr. Meyers hadn't been optimistic about Une's chances of recovering. But they had to try, of course. And to Sally, ensuring Une's survival was paramount. She found herself cursing fate as she recklessly barreled into the emergency room, flipping her phone shut and stuffing it into her pocket. She bee-lined it for the service desk.

"I'm Dr. Po. I am needed in surgery." The nurse at the service desk pointed down a hall marked Surgery. Sally nodded her thanks and took off. She stumbled; catching herself on a doorframe as the Earth quaked under her feet. The aftershocks of a battle, she assumed, her face setting itself into grim lines. She wondered if Duo had caught up with Heero and Wufei yet, or if he had made it to the hangers at all. She wouldn't be surprised either way. Duo had been hurt badly, his concussion affecting his motor skills and vision, but, she figured, he was a Gundam pilot, and therefore on the same level as the heroes from Greek Tragedies--practically invincible.

Although, she knew that not all of the pilots were invincible. Trowa's death proved that against all odds, the Gundam pilots were only human and mortal. Wufei included. Sally suppressed an involuntary shudder as she continued to surgery prep.

She wouldn't think like that--she couldn't think like that.

______________________________

Duo strapped himself into his cockpit, flipping switches and throwing contacts in prep for launch. Communications--check. Long-range sensors--check. Short-range--check. Engines--check. Minor weapons systems--check. Major--check. Thermal systems--check.

It had taken him quite a while to half support, half drag Quatre up the stairs and over to Sandrock, but in the end, he had gotten Quatre strapped in and made his way to his own Gundam. Now, as he checked over his sensors, Sandrock was warm and slowly lumbering out of its birth in prep for launch. He toggled his Comm switch.

"Quat, how's it going?"

"Fine, Duo. I'm preparing to launch in four…three…two…" The rear boosters on Sandrock fired, burning brightly in the darkening hanger. The sun was setting, Duo realized belatedly, and that had happened when? Duo rubbed his eyes, attempting to ignore the ever-present ache behind his eyeballs pulsing in time to the falling snow still comprising his vision. If this kept up, he told himself, he would have to gouge his eyes out with a spoon. His face twisted in disgust at his own thought. Hopefully it wouldn't come to that, he thought as he maneuvered his Gundam into launch position. He fired his own boosters as he quickly followed Quatre into the eclipsing twilight.

He watched his sensors, constantly scanning the horizon. A ping echoed through the cockpit. Another ping followed by yet another.

"Quat, I've got the enemy in range. Bearing 2.61." A quick acknowledgement blared over his speakers. He followed Sandrock's lead in closing in on the enemy.

"Reading multiple friendlies. Looks like they're overwhelmed."

"Then I guess we got here fashionably late." Duo pronounced.

"There are three friendlies further ahead. We're heading to the fourth." Quatre explained.

"Probably Heero, the loner." Duo grumbled, not happy about his lover constantly putting himself in danger.

"We've changed since the wars, but it's easy to fall back into old habits."

Yeah, like you insisting that you fight eventhough you are severely wounded, you stubborn little… Duo's train of thought was cut off by Quatre's cold voice.

"We're engaging the enemy."