Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Hush ❯ Chapter 4

Hush

By Xero Sky

Pairing: 1x2, maybe others, maybe not

Warnings: (For the whole story) NC-17, AU, lemon, angst, violence, mention of NCS, and OOC with reasons for it. Lots of profanity. Duo POV.

Summary: In an alternate timeline, Treize Kushrenada's New Alliance has won the day: the earth and the colonies enjoy an uneasy peace. And one Duo Maxwell, terrorist, Gundam pilot, and general pain in the ass, is unexpectedly out of prison. Now he only has to confront his future… and his past.

Disclaimer: All characters belong to their respective copyright holders. No profit is intended from this work of fan fiction.

Archive: http://www.xero-sky.com

http://www.templeofthegoddess.com

and ask!

Chapter 4

Treize "Why yes, thank you, I DO own the world" Kushrenada didn't have breakfast like most mortals. He *dined* at a table in the garden patio of the Sanq palace, near a fountain, under a flowering tree. In full uniform, though he wasn't wearing his white gloves. I only noticed that because told Quatre once that Treize probably wore gloves all the time to hide his hairy palms.

Trust Quat not to get a masturbation joke.

The extremely uptight pair of guards that had escorted me saluted so crisply I could practically hear their joints creak. He smiled and lifted a hand, vaguely waving them off. A quartet of uniformed waiters with the body language of commandos stood nearby; one of them pulled a chair out for me. Amidst the white linen and the crystal and the china, I stood out like a crow in a snowstorm. I remembered why I liked wearing black so much.

I breathed deeply. Time to be who I used to be. I couldn't let him see any of my damage.

Like the fact that the open sky over my head was something I'd only seen glimpses of for the last year, and that it was making me feel vulnerable as hell.

"Mr. Maxwell," Treize said. He put down the sheaf of paperwork he was reading and smiled at me. "May I call you Duo?"

"Sure, Treize," I said, grinning. "How's the food here?"

He seemed amused by that. "Excellent. Please, help yourself."

The table was spread with food that ranged from the merely mouthwatering to the totally unidentifiable, but I can proudly say that I did *not* launch myself face first into it all. Not that I didn't think about it, though.

He watched as I placed a modest amount of food on my plate and began eating like I had breakfast every morning or something.

In return, I watched him.

I'd never been this close to him before. I'd apparently nearly killed him once, after a plane I'd hacked out of the sky clipped his jet on the way down, but that was really the nearest we'd gotten to each other.

He was actually pretty handsome, I guess. He had eyes like Zechs: very blue and very cold, until he smiled. I could understand then why his officers were devoted to him. Even I felt a little flattered when his eyes lit up and I knew all of his attention was on *me*, though I was pretty certain I'd slit his throat if given half a chance.

Like Zechs, he looked like he was meant to wear that stupid uniform. I couldn't really imagine him in anything else. He would be lousy at undercover work. His whole manner, the way he moved and held himself, was of a military man and an aristocrat, someone who was very definitely used to having his own way. And would do anything to make sure that happened.

He had done just that, actually. He'd fucked with Heero, and made him my enemy.

I lost my appetite.

But that would be another display of weakness.

He sipped his tea and watched as I ate every bite.

"So, I trust that your accommodations suit you," he said as soon as I pushed my plate back.

"It's not what I'm used to," I said. "But I'll make do."

"I'm sure your benefactor will appreciate the sacrifice."

Ah, yes.

"Yeah? Glad to hear it."

That smile again. "I suspect you're wondering why you're here."

I shrugged. "Another day, another meal with an enemy."

"Is Officer Winner your enemy, then?"

I really didn't like this guy.

"That depends on why I'm here," I said. "And what's for lunch."

A laugh. "I regret not having had a chance to engage you directly during the war."

I had to laugh at that. Treize might be one hell of a pilot, but he wasn't up to my level. We both knew it. But that wasn't what I was laughing at.

"Like you `engaged' Heero?"

"Unless your background is a great deal different than what I've been led to believe, that wouldn't have been possible. Though I would have done the same things for you, if you'd needed the help."

"Help? You fucked with his head until he switched sides, and you call that help. As far as I'm concerned, you're no better than any of the other demented shits who've rifled through his brain," I said calmly enough. The `waiters' didn't care for my tone of voice, but Shinigami didn't particularly give a fuck, and it was Shinigami who was starting to speak up with my rusty voice.

Long time, no see, buddy.

Treize leaned back and smirked at me, the bastard. "Your feelings are certainly understandable. It must have come as a great shock when he chose to join OZ. I admit that I was surprised as well."

"Right." Jesus, I hated this guy. Why the hell was he bothering to lie to *me*, anyway?

"You fought at his side for some time, did you not? I have to wonder how much of his history you're aware of."

"One brainwashing after another," I said. Sadly enough, that pretty much summed up my knowledge of Heero's past.

Operationally speaking, I hadn't needed to know even that much, and Dr. G hadn't been all that happy about spilling the little he did tell me. I'd accused the old bastard of holding to some Mad Scientist Code of Honor, but he hadn't laughed. There was some history between G and J that he hadn't let me in on, and I'd had the uncomfortable feeling that Heero's defection hadn't surprised G much at all. The old man had been the one to tell me he thought Heero's conditioning had been broken, but that was all he told me.

"Not entirely correct, but close," Treize said. He templed his fingers, touching the fingertips together. "I'm not at liberty to divulge all of our friend's secrets, but I will tell you this much: beginning at a very early age, he underwent behavior modification conditioning. Later on, he was impressed with a contrary value set. The conflict between these two directives produced most of his erratic behavior during the war -- his attempts at suicide and so on. All I did was nullify one set of conditioned behaviors. That was all."

My own brain translated this as Heero having been brainwashed three too many times. I was oversimplifying, but what the hell.

"'That was all'," I said precisely, mocking Treize. "And isn't it convenient that he ended up on your side, fighting for OZ, after you fucked with his brain."

If I'd scored any major points off him with that bit of sarcasm, he didn't show it. Completely unruffled, he adjusted a sleeve before looking me in the eye. "Yes, it *was* convenient. I made no demands on him afterwards. In fact, I had his Gundam brought to him, and I let him take it. It was entirely his choice what he wanted to do with it. It was almost as great a surprise to me as it was to you that he'd chosen to serve me."

"You disappoint me, Treize," I said, shaking my head and grinning. "I expected you to be a better liar than this."

"Why, my dear man, should I bother to lie to you?" he asked simply. There was not a trace of the attitude inherit in the question to be heard in that smooth rich voice of his.

"Why am I here at all?" I countered. "Is this 'Take a Terrorist to Breakfast' week or what?"

"You are here now, Duo, because I admire you and wanted to meet you in person. Soldiers of your caliber are very rare indeed," he said, standing up. The Waiters O' Doom pulled his chair away and handed him his gloves. I remained sitting, pretty certain that the only attention I was about to get was a thrashing.

"You are enjoying General Merquise's hospitality," he continued, gesturing at the grounds around us, "at the request of a dear friend whose wish I am now finally in a position to grant. I suggest that you make the most of it."

And with that and a small nod of his head, the Great Satan himself walked away, no doubt to have the peasants flogged or whatever he did for fun. Leaving me to stew over the remains of my breakfast and hope to hell that I never saw him again without a gun in my hand.

Fuck.

I hate being ineffective. Not that I knew what I should have done, other than sitting there and listening to his bullshit. Maybe I should've gone for his throat with a butter knife or something. It wouldn't have worked; aside from the 'waiters', I was sure that there'd been people watching the whole meal through the scopes of high-powered rifles. Despite all that, I somehow felt like I'd let the whole thing slip through my fingers.

Although, I had to admit, the information about Heero was interesting, even if it was only halfway true.

Treize had done *something* to Heero; I didn't believe for an instant that Heero had actually switched allegiances out of his own free will. Even when the colonies hated us, Heero had never given up on fighting for their freedom. Treize must have done a fuck of a lot more than "nullifying his conditioning".

Well, I thought as I stood up from the table and stretched, at least I had gained something more than breakfast and misinformation. Unless I was taking things the wrong way, it was fairly obvious that my benefactor was Heero Yuy.

The man who had made me bury 'Scythe in waters so cold and deep that I may never find him again. The man who'd ended my war and Quatre's by betraying us. The man I'd sworn to kill.

I felt Shinigami stirring restlessly inside my head. For a few moments there was a split in my perceptions.

The prisoner inside me felt quite natural about being escorted back to my room. The prisoner was happy he'd gotten fed and hadn't gotten his skull caved in. The prisoner wasn't really all that unhappy about going back inside, either, because the wide-open spaces were beginning to creep him out.

It was Shinigami who made notes on everything around him, memorizing the grounds, evaluating the guards, and determining from the faint rumble to the east that mobile suits were in motion that way, beyond the forested hills.

Heero Yuy.

Shit.

I had nothing to do now but wait.

Did I mention I don't do that well?

I shrugged slightly, and then ran like hell.

*****

Just about two hours later, the door to my room was shoved open and Quatre walked in, looking about as annoyed as I'd ever seen him. It was kind of cute, but I didn't think he'd appreciate me telling him that just then.

"You're a prick, you know that?"

"So I've been told."

He glowered at me, and I grinned back. I was sitting on the bed, flipping through endless channels of bad video programming. By that time I'd been back in my room for about 20 minutes or so; long enough to grab a shower and change, at any rate. I did my best to look completely unruffled, but Quatre wasn't buying it.

"Your hands are shaking," he said, his eyes narrowing as he looked me over.

"Yeah, well..." I said lamely, shrugging. He was right, but I didn't much appreciate him pointing it out.

"Goddamnit, Duo, do you have any idea how close you came to being shot? What the hell were you thinking?"

Okay, I knew that it was concern on his part, but how the hell was I supposed to answer that question? Was I a prisoner here or not? What did he expect me to do? I just stared at him until he blushed a little bit and then shook his head.

"Nevermind," he said. "It's not like you're going to listen to me anyway."

"Not while you're in that uniform," I quipped, turning my attention back to the video.

"Fuck you."

"I may have just gotten out of the hole, but I'm not *that* desperate," I said with a superior sniff. We weren't being all that serious anymore, despite the weird undertones. He'd been worried about me and I wasn't sorry, and that was all there was to say about it.

He just snorted and sat down on the bed near me. "You enjoy your little adventure this morning? You look like you're gonna be sick."

Bastard had a point. I wasn't feeling too well. A couple of good meals and a full night's sleep weren't enough to undo the damage of a year spent as a 'high escape risk' prisoner. I was still scrawny and underfed, and the hours I'd spent exploring the 'palace' grounds had taken just about everything out of me.

What made it all worse was that it hadn't brought me any good news. I'd gotten a good look at most of the security in and around the place, and it was a crappy view. A year ago the inside security had been tighter, but the perimeter hadn't been much. Now it was different. I was fairly certain that they'd built a mobile suit base almost adjacent to the grounds. I hadn't been able to get close enough to see for certain, but the sounds I'd heard earlier couldn't have been made by anything else. You develop an ear for that kind of thing after awhile, you know?

With the base there, they'd just ringed the whole complex, palace and all, with the kind of security that nothing short of a Gundam was going to get through. Whatever they were doing there, it had made them paranoid as fuck, too: outgoing security was as bad as incoming.

Even worse, as far as my nerves were concerned, was the realization that I wasn't in shape to do much about all this anyway. I'd ended up retching behind a bank of elegantly groomed flower bushes, kneeling in the dirt and shaking. It would take time, maybe a lot of it, before I would have the ability, much less the information, to get out of here. I'd come back to the room on my own after that, since I had nowhere else to go.

All of which now left me with Quatre, pain in my upper back and my hip that wouldn't fucking quit, and a pile of shit to watch on the vid. Oh, and the prospect of our hero Heero, who was no doubt on his way even now to fuck up my life even more.

Hooray.

"What's on the schedule, Quat?" I asked. "More world leaders looking to wine me and dine me? I'm gonna start charging."

He smiled. "Medical."

"What?" That caught me off guard.

"I'm taking you to Medical for a complete exam. Zechs' orders. We caught you on video for a few minutes, and he doesn't think Shinigami fertilizing the rose bushes is a good sign," Quatre said.

They had caught that? I felt my face flame. I knew there was good chance that some camera had gotten footage of me at some point, but Jesus, did it have to be *that* part?

"For what it's worth, Duo... I think you should go too. I know what those places are like, and..." he trailed off, his eyes lowered.

I could feel the concern and good will just rolling off him in waves.

Shit... couldn't he just be a bastard all the time?

I did *not* want Ozzies sticking probes up my ass, or whatever an examination consisted of, but... oh god, he did it! Ruthless bastard! Right on cue, as if he could read my thoughts, Quatre looked up at me with puppy eyes.

"You jerk," I said, twitching.

He smirked gently, and I realized that his scar did absolutely nothing to take away from the power of puppy eyes.

Fuuuuuuck...

So I don't handle guilt well, either.

Especially not when it's so expertly dished out by my only living friend. Didn't matter that he was in an OZ uniform. All that mattered was that it was Quatre, God of Guilt, and I was no match for him.

"Fine. It's not like I have a choice anyway," I said, crossing my arms and giving him the scowl of death. The way I felt now, they could send somebody's pre-adolescent daughter down here to take me to the doctor, and I'd still end up in Medical.

"I'll feed you afterwards," he said, all cheerful now that he'd gotten his way.

"Like I'll feel hungry after getting fisted by an Ozzie doctor."

"Don't worry. They'll give you a reach-around," he said, leading the way to the door.

"So much for my goddamned appetite!!!"

*****

It wasn't the worst exam I've ever had. The medical staff didn't know who I was, but with Quatre there, they treated me pretty nice. The doctor I ended up with was a cranky older guy with a beard who started lecturing me like I was his nephew or something. It didn't do much for me, but it amused the hell out of Quatre. Some terrorist I was.

The findings were zero surprise. Malnutrition, dehydration, damage to two cervical vertebrae, various badly healed fractures, vitamin deficiencies, and a list of healed injuries that went on forever. I was pretty unhappy to notice that the doc already had a lot of information on me in his files. I don't think that the prison files on me were that extensive.

I was given pain-killers, anti-inflammatories, and huge multi-vitamins that I was supposed to choke down with the 100 ounces of water they wanted me to drink each day. The doctor also wanted to discuss surgery, but Quatre put him off. Enough shit for one day.

Not to mention the fact that there might be no point to any of this. I had no idea what my future held. Or if I even had one. I could not begin to fathom what Heero wanted from me, of all people.

Quatre took me to find food after that. There was an officer's mess not all that far away from Medical. It looked a lot like a high-class restaurant to me, except that the waiters were all in military uniform. I'd never eaten in any place half as nice without being undercover, and it seemed like the guy at the desk knew it. He was about to ask about me when he got a dose of the new and improved Quatre R. Winner Death Glare, and a minute later we were being seated at a very nice and secluded table for two at the window.

"Nice work," I said when we were alone again. "Heero teach you the evil eye?"

"Zechs, actually, although I don't have his talent. He once reduced a careless pilot to tears, just by staring at him. Never said a word to him, but the guy resigned that night," Quatre said, looking over the menu.

"Have you seen Heero?"

This was my first fishing trip today. I should've gotten points just for waiting that long.

"Yes. You want an appetizer?" he said, as if I wasn't asking anything particularly interesting.

"No. Tell me what you know about him."

The waiter was back, all efficiency and precision, and Quat said nothing until he left again, drink orders in hand.

"The famous Colonel Yuy? I've only seen him twice. The first time I told him to eat shit and die. The second time I was too busy pulling up live fire test results for him and Zechs to argue about. I didn't have a chance to insult him."

I smiled a little at that, thinking about the old Quatre I'd known. "So you haven't forgiven him?"

A snort. "No, I haven't, but it's purely for my own pleasure. He doesn't care one way or the other. Heero's only concerned about two things, as far as I can tell: pleasing 'Treize-sama', and fighting. That's it."

"So why the hell am I here? Honestly, Quat?" The table rattled a bit when I set my drink down, and I realized that my knuckles were white with sudden tension. "According to your Fearless Leader, it has something to do with Heero, but what the hell would he want from me? Last time we spoke, I promised him I was gonna force-feed him his own balls! It's not like we have much personal history, and it's not like I'm worth much else at the moment, is it?"

There's nothing like keeping a low profile, you know? I counted a dozen heads turning our way, just in my peripheral vision. I doubt anyone had caught anything more than my tone of voice, though.

Quatre seemed entirely unruffled. He flipped through his menu as if I hadn't said a word, and eventually the curious faces turned away. When he did speak, his voice was casual.

"I have no idea. I've never heard him mention you. I don't know of any plans for you. But it's not like I'm at the top of anyone's 'needs to know' list, Duo."

"Right," I muttered. I didn't know what it meant, but I felt I had to say something.

He snorted. The old Quatre would've probably looked hurt, but this one didn't pay my half-hearted skepticism much attention. Which was probably what it deserved.

"You want to know Zechs' schedule for the next two weeks?" he asked, leaning forward. "Then I'm your man. You want his shoe size and favorite swear word? I've got you. But the mobile suit data in my head isn't much past what you and I used to memorize as pilots. I'm not his military adjutant -- I don't issue orders and I don't know anything on a tactical level. I just handle the rest of his life. And that means nothing top level ever goes through me. The orders concerning you must have come down from Treize, because I never saw a thing. But, then, I'm almost the last person they'd tell, aren't I?"

There was a hint... of something in his tone. For all that he was being reasonable, he really didn't like being out of the loop on this, and I wasn't sure it was all about me. I filed it away, since there wasn't much of anything I could say about it now.

In the meantime, I rolled my eyes in disgust and huffed as I sat back from the table. "Great."

"Quit obsessing and choose something to eat, or I'll order something for you that doctor would approve of," he grumbled.

"Don't threaten me with healthy food, you bastard," I said semi-dramatically, but my tone was lighter than my mood.

"Yeah, yeah, Allah forbid," he said, staring at the menu again.

"So if you can't tell me about Heero, tell me one thing, Quat, and I'll let it drop for a while."

Before he did it, I didn't think it was possible to look suspicious and relieved at the same time. "What?"

I looked around the room and back at him. "Where are the guards? Does no one truly give a shit that I was all over the place this morning? I go for a walk and my reward is a handful of vitamins and lunch? What the hell is going on here?"

He sighed and looked pained, and I suddenly didn't want to hear what he was gonna say.

"Duo, except for maybe 20 minutes total, you were on camera the whole time. Zechs was notified right after you took off, and he ordered Security to stand down. He didn't want a confrontation that could get you injured. So they just... let you go..." he said softly.

"That's just..." I started to scoff, but I could see in his eyes that he was telling me the truth. The ease of my escape suddenly took on a different meaning. I'd been congratulating myself on still having my old skills, on being so slick and so sly that of course it was all easy. It hadn't even fucking occurred to me that it was easy because nobody was goddamned well looking for me! They'd just let the cameras track me when they could, and waited for me to go to ground.

How convenient for them that I'd just gone back to the room.

I think I've only been mortified three or four times in my life. The first time I got cavity searched. The only time I screwed up during one of my few missions with Heero. Times like those.

This was one of them.

The rest of the meal passed in a blur.

I'd rarely ever felt so helpless in my whole life.

~tbc~