Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ How to Be Dead ❯ Sympathy for the Devil ( Chapter 7 )

Part 7 "Sympathy for the Devil"

When Duo returned from dragging the body of the unidentified young man out from underneath his bumper and into the adjacent waterlogged alleyway, the corpse in his passenger side was bleeding, sullen, and glaring. A carefully thought-out slight was waiting on his tongue when the morgue worker slammed the door shut, putting the battered old vehicle into gear to turn it around, headed for the clinic.

"Are you going to leave the evidence out in the open?" the dead body deadpanned at him. Though for all his scorn of Duo’s actions communicated through his tone, the blanket was clutched tightly around him, damp from his dripping body and deep crimson from his blood. Duo tightened his lips in a mild scowl.

"You want to join him out there?" he asked pointedly. "And besides, I didn’t kill him. He was just about coming to when I dragged him outta the street. Fortunately for everybody, he’ll wake up with just a bad headache and a nasty batch of scrapes and bruises. And most of his clothes, though it’s no thanks to you."

"I was in more need than him."

"Oh, why didn’t you just say so? I totally understand now—Right." Duo scoffed, leaning on the steering wheel as he pinned a scrutinizing look on him. "I’d like to hear just exactly why you’re justified in terrifying a perfectly innocent stranger, as far as you know, and then attempting to steal the clothes off his back. Really. I’m terribly curious," he drawled at the dead body in his passenger seat, the one who had treated him so rudely and—oh, yeah, had thrown him into the wall after coming inches from throttling him to death.

The bruises on his neck still seemed to burn beneath his collar as he stared at the dead body. "Hey! I’m talking to you here!"

The corpse didn’t answer him. He was facing the windshield, the blue of his eyes illuminated by the light from a pair of approaching headlights, his gaze flashing warily.

Duo twisted his head around as well, and grimaced and threw up his hand in the light. "Aw, shit. Hey, thanks for turning off your brights, pal!" he muttered as the car in the opposite lane came casually rolling down the street.

The intense white lights spewed forth from the headlights like a blazing demonic stare in the hazy shadows of Cemetery Drive, making Duo a little nervous. Passing by at an agonizing pace, Duo kept his hand to his brow, shielding his eyes. He thought he caught a glimpse of someone in the front seat, craning his head toward them, obscured by the glare in Duo’s eyes.

"Who’s this punk? A friend of yours, I assume, Supercorpse?"

"Turn your head. Now," the dead body told him. When the morgue worker didn’t move, he hissed, "Do what I say!"

Duo did snap his head around, but only to the side to glare at him, not intentionally following the order. "What?" His eyes widened and he looked down at the corpse oddly, seeing now that he had taken the blanket and himself and was lurking underneath the glove compartment like a snake under a rock, hidden out of sight. "And what the hell, may I ask, are you doing?"

"Shut up!" he growled again.

Duo’s face blossomed with offense. "Well, ex—cuse me! And don’t think that you can just boss me around like that, pal! Try some respect, maybe. It’s not expensive!"

A hand shot out of the bloodstained bundle sitting on the floor and the pale fingers clenched securely around Duo’s calf, making him first jump in surprise, and then expel all the air from his lungs in a cuss. A white-hot poker of pain stabbed through his leg momentarily.

"Shit!" he hissed, resisting the urge to let out a whimper as the painful sensation lingered in his memory and still stung through out his leg. He clutched at his leg as best as he could and lifted his head, squinting as a few tears began to form in the corner of his eyes. "For god’s sake, knock that off!"

Breathless, he turned a confused glare at the corpse, expecting him to be curled up in his inexplicable position again. He was abruptly sitting in the seat as if nothing had happened, unruffled, and his pale face painted almost indifferent to the incident.

Duo blinked at him. "Wha—?" Spinning his head around with an offended gape, he watched the red taillights puttering away slowly in the opposite direction. "What the hell was that about?" he snapped at the dead body as he looked over again, meeting the simmering blue eyes with a questioning scowl. "I want to know why you just—you just—what did you do, anyway?"

He looked away. Shame? No way.

"Hey, I’m talking to you! It’s rude not to at least look at me!" When the corpse begrudgingly turned his gaze back onto him, his face still encrusted with traces of blood and dripping rainwater, Duo felt an indescribable pang go through him at the sight, and he lowered his voice, though he still asked firmly, "Well, if you don’t want to answer that one, why did you bark at me to turn away, huh?"

Again, no answer, but the stunning and deep blue eyes remained locked on his face, strengthening that nameless pang.

"The guy in that car, he was looking for you, wasn’t he?"

Before the dead body could answer, though doubtful that he would with more than a stare, considering the recent trend, the sound of tires screaming on blacktop and an engine roaring interrupted, making Duo’s head turn again as the mystery car sped off into the night down the sleepy street, past the bright oasis of light that was East Central Mercy Hospital. He watched it disappear, streetlight by streetlight, until it pulled out of sight and found that his stomach was making uneasy knots in his abdomen for no distinct reason.

"Don’t…" the dead body uttered, drawing Duo’s attention back to him, also pulling his eyes to the slowly increasing red stain on his blanket near his thigh. He swallowed and found his voice again, though it was beginning to betray his exhaustion. "Don’t take me there. He’s waiting for that."

"Who?" Duo shook his head wildly, while the car still sat in the road, not moving but the engine purring steadily. He threw his hands up. "You know what? I’m sick of asking all these questions and getting jack shit from you. I still don’t even know your name or what the hell you are! I’m sick of it, and we’re not moving an inch tell I get some information!"

He took the keys out of the ignition and stuffed them huffily into his fist, staring sharply at the blue-eyed corpse in his seat. When the rumble disappeared, it left them with the silence of the night and the soft sounds of the dead body shivering gently with exhaustion.

Duo sighed once, crossed his arms, and considered the unexpected passenger for a moment with lips pursed. Then he opened his mouth carefully. "First of all," he began almost harshly, but he softened his tone when the dead body’s eyes flickered a little, feeding that strong pang, "I’d like to have a name of some kind. Is that too much to ask of you, or should I just stick to ‘Supercorpse’?"

"Are you going to take me to that hospital?" Another demanding question which made Duo’s brow twitch once.

"No, no I won’t," he said, sighing again and rolling his eyes for a moment, as if inconvenienced by answering. "Not if you tell me your name."

"Fine," the dead body said softly, the corners of his mouth turning upwards a twitch. He tightened the blanket around him, and then opened his mouth to answer, still cautious. "It’s Heero."

"Heero," Duo repeated carefully, rolling it around on his tongue. He liked it, and felt that sentiment creeping out onto his face without permission. "That’s a strange one. But hey—I’m nobody to talk. ‘Hi, I’m Duo, Duo Maxwell, and I’m talking to a dead guy. Couldn’t be better.’ And how about you? You got a last name to go with that appellation of yours?"

He snorted a little. Amusement, too? Well, the dead had a wider range of expression than he had expected. "Yuy," he answered, though this time it was more difficult to mask the shivering.

Duo blinked. "Yuy? Like that famous politician Yuy? The guy who got shot?" He took the liberty of blinking again. "Wait a minute, wasn’t his first name Heero, too?"

The dead body—Heero, he meant—just looked at him, narrowly suppressing his amusement.

"You took Heero Yuy’s full name? That guy from my history books? The guy who was assassinated by his own government?"

"Aa." He turned to face the windshield again, while the bloodstain grew slowly larger over his thigh and his shivering became visibly stronger. His eyelids drooped considerably and he almost gave a rueful smile. "I always dreamed of being a martyr when I grew up."

Sarcasm and a facial expression? Who knew a stiff could be so… well, not dead. Another part of his mind, a particularly traitorous one, only smiled at him slyly. And more beautiful than any of your living squeezes? Duo quickly found himself tearing his eyes away from him and focusing them on the road ahead, burying his gaze in the shimmering puddles of water on the street. He sighed, stuck the keys in the ignition, and turned the engine over. He felt, rather than saw, Heero turn his head and look at him with a certain cautious curiosity.

"What happened to that talk of getting your answers?" he asked.

Duo politely answered and put the Camry into gear, focusing on driving. "My apartment’s a block down. I’ve got a box of bandages and gauze, and the only Boy Scout badge I ever honestly earned was First Aid, if you’re so paranoid of hospitals. I’ll try and fix you up, but the operative word there is ‘try’." He had a feeling that Heero was turning up the corners of his mouth again. "But afterwards," he intoned quickly, "I’ll want my answers."

He was. "I can deal with that."