Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ In the City at Night ❯ Temptation and Pain ( Chapter 6 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Tempation and Pain
Heero moved into the room designated to his old friend, and studied him over with slightly raised eyebrows. He'd gotten the impression from the nurse that the injury had been fairly bad, but Jordan was sitting at the edge of the bed as Chai slept curled against his back on the mattress behind him.

"Erin!" Jordan exclaimed, sitting up slightly before offering a wan smile. "Do I get the lecture now?"

"What happened to possible amputation?" Heero retorted, closing the door behind himself as he raised his eyebrows.

"What?" Jor returned blankly. "Who said anything about amputation?"

"Becky," Heero noted, moving closer to his old friend. "The guys will be here soon—how you feelin'?"

"Tired, sore, drugged," Jordan shrugged. "The usual with less med tolerance."

"What happened?"

"I got mugged," Jordan shrugged again.

"So you're in Remington? Twenty minutes away from Angels?"

"That was a personal choice, Erin," Jordan returned in a slightly pained tone. "The hospitals back home are overrun with this kind of thing."

"There's more to it than that, isn't there?" Heero demanded, moving to stand directly in front of the braided male. Something about the way the former pilot was holding himself suggested some sort of cover-up.

"Self-defense?" Jordan offered, smiling wanly. "Not here, He-man."

"He-man," Heero noted, looking toward the ceiling. "I never thought I'd hear that again."

"You're the one who didn't look for me," Jordan retorted as if the comment offended him.

"Wow," the soldier shook his head. "You're volatile."

"No, I'm testy," the ex-soldier grumped.

"Jor?" Chai muttered, opening her eyes to blink at the male, then sat up as she focused on Heero. A smile flashed across her face before she threw herself at the man and clung to him in a tight embrace.

"Hi, pussycat," he muttered, ruffling her hair. "You okay? That was you who called right?"

She giggled embarrassedly, "Sorry—I was a bit upset."

"I noticed that, believe it or not," he smiled at her, "but I understand."

"Mr. Yuy?" the nurse muttered as she moved into the room, her expression expectant.

"Yes?" Heero returned, moving to face her properly as Chai frowned at him in confusion.

"I'm Becky," the woman noted, extending one hand. "We talked on the phone…I need your signature here," she passed him a clipboard.

"What would you do if I refused to sign it?" he muttered in amusement, taking the thing from her and accepting the pen. He signed it, passing it back to her. "You didn't have to over exaggerate the injury, ma'am."

"I apologize," she ducked her head slightly. "We may not be as bad off as Angels, but we aren't much higher. Is…everything in order here? Is there anything I can do?"

"Let me out," Jordan suggested, raising an eyebrow. "I know wound care and I'm not going into any form of shock."

"Heero?" Wufei muttered, moving into the room a moment later with the other two pilots on his heels. He looked from Jordan to Heero, then blinked at the nurse.

"Heero Yuy?" Chai asked, her voice quiet.

"Hm?" the Japanese male asked, focusing on her curiously.

She stared.

"You're a major candidate for amputee," Trowa noted, moving around the others toward the hospitalized man and pulling a knife, "I'll even operate myself."

Jordan laughed, shoving the man off and darting to the opposite side of the bed. "It wasn't my fault! I had no idea anyone was saying that! Crap, it didn't even hit tendon…just muscle," he made a rueful face.

"So that bill isn't too large, is it?" Wufei muttered to the woman, indicating the clipboard.

"Not very, no," she agreed. "In situations like these, however, we give the worst possible scenario."

"Like these?" Quatre asked, blinking at her.

"Po'folk issues," Jordan supplied. "I ain't got no cash, and I ain't got no insurance."

"That just violated so many of my principals I don't think I can talk to you anymore," Trowa muttered to the other male in disbelief.

Jordan started laughing again.

"Are things in order here?" Heero muttered, studying the woman. "Jordan probably wants to get home and crash."

"It's safer here," Quatre noted to Wufei.

"Not by much," Wufei raised an eyebrow.

The braided male sniggered.

"How are you, precious?" Trowa muttered, moving instantly to Chai's side as he noticed her.

She gave him a slightly embarrassed smile and looked pointedly to Jordan.

"Everything seems to be in order," the woman muttered, looking the clipboard over. "The doctor has a prescription written up," she added, passing the slip of paper to Heero. "I imagine you'll be filling this?"

"Of course," Heero agreed, frowning at the paper. "Shouldn't it be a stronger dose? He's labor."

"He shouldn't work for a month or so," she explained.

Jordan closed his eyes as the death sentence was repeated.

"That's an awfully long time," Quatre noted. "Are you sure you can't up the dose?"

"It would risk permanent injury, which would harm him more in the long run than a month's much needed vacation."

"I can't do that," Jordan snapped at her.

"The risk is yours to take," she repeated her earlier words to him. "Are there any other questions?"

"No, ma'am," Heero reassured her. "We're knowledgeable in flesh wounds."

"Very well, if you'll come this way, Jordan," she turned and started from the room.

The pilots looked to one another as their old friend limped after the woman, then to Chai.

Her eyes were brimming again.

"I think we have a problem," Quatre noted seriously, studying the girl. "I think we have a very serious problem."

"And what do you suggest we do, mighty leader?" Wufei retorted sardonically. "Drag him to base and throw him in intensive? I highly doubt that would work for anyone. Une'd have his balls on a silver platter before we could blink."

"And you know he won't let us pay his bills for him," Heero agreed, then sighed. "Come on, we need to get to his place, then we can figure things out."

"We could buy him a flat up town," Wufei suggested tentatively as he followed Chai. "That way they could both have somewhere safe."

"If we drop that much cash on anything, Une'll get a note for it," Quatre disagreed. "I think she might get a flag for this little issue. How much was that bill, Heero?"

"I didn't look," he noted, turning to meet Quatre's eyes. "The fee isn't important to me. He needed care."

"I thought it was only Jor who talked like people weren't there," Chai muttered to Trowa.

"Oh, no. He never used to do it, but we all sorta did. It's a horrible habit, and I suggest you never fall into it."

She grinned at that as the others in the group rolled their eyes.

"Let's get the hell out of here," Jordan muttered, moving to the group again with a packet of papers in his hands. "I need to talk to Jon."

"Jon?" Heero asked levelly, studying the braided laborer with narrowed eyes. When all he got in return was the same level look, he smiled sweetly, "What a coincidence. It just so happens that I need to speak with him myself."

"You can't come up when I'm up there," Jordan informed him.

"I wouldn't interfere with your business for the world," Heero agreed darkly. He took Chai by the arm and started for his car. "You can ride with the rest, I'll take her."

"I'm not comfortable with that," Jordan informed him, stopping. "Me and you hit Jon's place and they go back to the apartment."

"But the bag is at the apartment," Chai protested, focusing on him.

"Shut your mouth," he told her quite calmly, then looked back to Heero.

"Bag?"

"Let's get to the car, He-man," Jordan snapped, starting to limp again.

"Stop walking," Trowa muttered, grabbing his arm. "That hurts to watch."

Jordan gave him a level look.

"I'll get he van," Tro added, then indicated that Heero should go with him. "We'll pick you up in about three minutes," he noted. The pair jogged off.

"I can give you a thousand dollars right here and now," Wufei informed his old friend. "If you agree to pay your rent with it, get food, and pay your utilities."

"I won't accept," Jordan said firmly, looking away.

"You're on your ass for a month, Duo," he snapped.

"I'm not Duo anymore," Jordan snapped, focusing on him. "How many times will I have to explain..."

"Duo Maxwell," Chai breathed, staring at him in disbelief. She looked to Wufei, then to Quatre. "Oh my god..." she started to step back, pressing a hand to her mouth.

"Baby," Jordan protested, catching her arm, "Don't freak out on me...not tonight. We can fight all day tomorrow, but tonight...I need you to just...just...exist with me...please?"

She stared at him a long moment, then turned to look at the rest of the group.

"I've been with you for four years," he whispered, pulling her slightly closer to his body. "In all that time I've only asked for your safety...just this once...one time...can you do something for me? Can you accept...this bullshit?" The man gestured to his comrades.

Chai stared at him a long moment, then nodded as she swallowed very slightly, moving to stand against him as she tried to understand what emotions she was feeling.

"Thank you," he muttered, holding her tightly a moment as Heero's car slid next to them. "I'm sorry," he added, kissing her briefly...and slid into the vehicle.

The door wasn't even completely closed as the car squealed from the parking garage.

Chai stared after it a moment, then turned to look at the slightly smiling males around her. With a minimum of conversation, she allowed herself to be helped into the back seat as Wufei climbed into the passenger seat. Quatre climbed into the vehicle after her, and she met his eyes uncertainly.

The Quatre Winner...

Quatre smiled slightly at her, resting a reassuring hand on her leg, then nodded at Trowa.

They started for the apartment.

X x X x X

"You're alive!" Jon exclaimed, jumping from his seat to throw himself at Jordan, clinging to the man a long moment before pulling away with a half-sob in his voice. "Are you all right? They called and said you never showed...the price had...Erin." The man noticed suddenly that the other man was standing with the duffel bag draped over his neck.

"It was a set-up, thanks for the warning," Jordan noted, moving to drop himself onto the couch. "Give it to him, Erin," he added.

Heero un-slung the duffel and tossed it hard at the man so it hit him in the stomach.

"You gave them the cash?" Jon muttered.

"I also took two more packages," Jordan agreed, patting his pocket. "You want'em?"

"You stole it?" Jon demanded in high amusement. "You're a horrible man."

"Full of sin," Jordan agreed, tilting his head. "You know I could sell it on my own and make twice your profit. Are we dealing or not?"

"How much do I owe you for the wounding?" he muttered, sitting across from the guy before gesturing for Erin to sit with them.

"He paid it," Jordan replied, indicating Heero as the man sat next to him on the couch. "Talk to him about it. You realize I'm pissed at you, right? I can't do anything until this heals."

"You're stuck here, then?" Jon asked, not connecting the fact that his friend would be hiding information from the man at his side. "I can hide you if the feds come after you, you know that, don't you? If your friend here can drive, I can get you off state soil."

"I can drive him," Heero agreed in amusement. "I have a set-up up North."

"You think you're funny," Jordan noted with a laugh that sounded genuine. "But you're not."

Heero did laugh at that, slamming his fist into the pilot's left leg.

"Wrong side, asshole," Jordan retorted...and jumped away from the pilot as the man attempted to hit the actual wound.

"Tell me, Erin," Jon muttered, narrowing his eyes at the guy. "Are you fed?"

Heero stopped moving, focusing back on him.

"I'm sure you noticed I'm in some deep shit," Jon added. "I fronted money to a man I thought I could trust and found out that he was intending to use it for an assassination."

Jordan settled again, looking to the ceiling.

"Shifton?" Heero pressed.

"I can't answer that," Jon gave him a look. "I can tell the two of you are a lot closer than I was formerly led to believe, though. Jordan showed up here a few years ago offering services as a paid gun-man." He sat back, "I never got his history and only just found out last night that he was military. Your appearance in my bar," he gestured to the building, "Upset my dear friend. Suddenly he needed money to go. You were gone at that point, and I just piece the rest together as I go. If you could afford to pay his med bill, then that implies a close kin-ship, and a working job."

"You're walking on thin ice," Jordan noted pointedly.

"Fed. Yes or no," Jon didn't bother looking at the wounded man.

"I can't answer that," Heero returned with a shrug. "Especially not when I just delivered you twenty pounds of vrit."

"Oh, you looked?" the man smiled. "I was currying meth and kaseen when Jordan showed up. Turns out the offense was more than my life is worth. What do you think? Is vrit so horrible?"

"How about," Jordan sat up, "You pay the man about four thousand and pay me my four thousand, we go home, and tomorrow when I'm high as a kite you hit my place and the two of you discuss things."

"You have no need to pay your rent," Jon informed Jordan. "Consider it your workers comp."

Jordan nodded tersely.

"Just like that?" Heero demanded of his friend in disbelief. "You accept his charity just like that?"

"The man is responsible for me getting shot in the leg," Jordan retorted, meeting his eyes. "We don't have an organized union out here. We take what we get."

"Hold that thought," Jon suggested, opening his cell phone. "Breer."

The phone exploded with noise as someone shouted in several languages at the kingpin.

"I have my product," Jon noted in mild amusement. "What does the rest have to do with me? Oh? My man? Well, he got shot in the leg...well, their lives mean nothing to me."

Heero focused on Jordan in disbelief.

"Oh, spare me," Jon was amused. "You set your men to follow him and he protected his interest and my own—black mark'im?" The kingpin laughed delightedly, "Who in their right mind would come into my home and kill him? You don't have enough money to tempt that fate."

"You killed?" Heero whispered at the braided man in disbelief.

Jordan stood slowly to his feet as their host slammed the cell phone closed, studying the ex-pilot's eyes. "It was them or me," Jor agreed darkly, "and me isn't just me. Me is Chai. She means more to me than you could even begin to understand."

"I don't understand it," Jon noted, sitting back as he looked between the pair.

"You could have wounded them," Heero protested in disbelief. "Marked them...scared them away..."

"You don't live here, so I'll forgive you," Jon noted, rising himself to stand near the pair. "Simple marking is tagging yourself for death. That man won't really set assassins on Jor's tail. He's too scared of what I might do. See, Jordan himself doesn't realize what I've done for him."

Jordan focused on the guy, blinking.

Jon smiled slightly at him, looking back to Heero. "Do you know that I'm so close to falling in love with your dear friend that it's not even funny?"

"Shit, Jon..." Jordan started, looking away.

"It's sad to me," the man added, shrugging slightly. "He has no interest whatsoever, but I do what I can to keep his boat floating. He only lets me help him when he helps me, though...so I do other things."

"What did you do?" Jordan demanded, his heart fluttering as he realized the man hadn't told him something.

"You were almost mugged the first night Erin showed up," Jon returned, meeting his eyes. "The men who attempted it will never attempt it again."

Jordan's mouth dropped open.

"No need for thanks," Jon informed him quietly, turning away. "Feel free to leave."

Heero looked to the braided pilot uncertainly as the kingpin moved across the room to look down at the club.

"Jon..." Jordan started, stepping forward.

"I said to leave!" Jon shouted at him.

Jordan hesitated, but Heero recognized the note of authority about to snap and drug the pilot toward the door.

"Hold up," the guy muttered, turning from the window, "Two more bags."

"What?" Heero asked blankly.

Jordan reached into his pants pockets and dug out the bags, tossing them to the couch. He studied the mob-leader a long moment in silence, then turned and limped from the room.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Jon informed Heero darkly.

"You could have gone about that better," Heero returned. "You ruined all chances."

Jon gave him a disgusted look, "I never had a chance to begin with."

X x X x X

"You're mad at me?" Heero asked Une in disbelief. "I have my time off and you can't call me on it...listen, I have some shit I'm planning to do today. I have to go."

"Go down to the river," Jordan sang happily as he lay back against Trowa's back, "Sink'em into the wa-a-ater..."

Trowa sniggered as Heero covered the mouthpiece and gave the man a pointed look. He indicated the mouthpiece and pointed at the drugged American.

"Shut your mouth or I'll...kiss you," Trowa muttered, grabbing the first threat that came to mind.

"K-I-S-S-I-N-G..." Jordan added, then laughed delightedly and darted in like he'd kiss the other pilot.

"I'm...I have friends over," Heero added in amusement as the pair started wrestling. "We'll be back tomorrow."

"Did you realize you have red in your hair?" Jordan demanded suddenly, sitting up and pressing his friend against the back of the couch as he picked at the individual strands of hair.

Trowa started laughing helplessly.

"Yep...have a good one." Heero slammed his cell shut and turned to look at the pair on the couch.

"What?" Jordan muttered, leaning more over the other to look at the mass of hair more closely.

"No wonder Jon wants you," the pilot teased.

"I told that fucker to drop that shit!" Jordan shouted, turning to point at Heero with the focus of one drugged and feeling no pain—and no common sense.

"You can't help how a person feels about you," Heero noted. "I get the impression that he doesn't pursue you."

Jordan dropped back to lay against the corner of the couch, blinking several times before pressing his eyes closed...they didn't open.

"Man, he's fuckin' flipped," Trowa muttered, climbing out from under him.

"Imagine him working heavy machinery," Heero added, blinking several times. "He doesn't even eat right."

Jordan shivered slightly, curling into a ball before crying out in pain. He wasn't awake, but he was still half-sobbing...

"Man," Trowa breathed, moving quickly to resituate his leg. "What did they give him? Horse-tranqs?"

"Seems like it," Heero agreed, moving to read the bottle, then tossed it to his friend and moved into the bedroom. He emerged a moment later with a blanket and draped it over the guy. He noticed again how threadbare the thing was and sighed sadly. "How can he live like this?" he asked, turning to lead Trowa into the kitchen. "How can he have Chai here?"

"The blankets in her room are almost new," Trowa noted, shaking his head. "If he loves her so much...why doesn't he get her out of here?"

"I don't know," Heero muttered, hearing a man and woman start shouting at each other down the hall. "He could get any job at all."

"But we looked for him everywhere else, didn't we?" Trowa noted. "Everything we thought would be his lowest. None of us imagined he'd have ran to the gutters."

"This isn't living," Heero agreed, running a hand along the wall. "This is barely surviving."

Trowa nodded his agreement as he picked up a book that was on the counter. It took him a moment to realize it was a book he himself had bought and lent the other not long before they'd all ran. He stared in amazement at the worn cover and opened it to read the note he'd scrawled to the other about hurrying up and returning it.

"What's that?" Heero asked, moving closer.

"I let him borrow this," he muttered, studying the creases in the binding. "I didn't think he'd really read it."

"He used to read all the time, though," Heero protested. "You guys saw him running around with his car magazines, but when I'd hit our dorm he'd usually have a book cracked open."

"Huh...I never thought it." Trowa flipped through a few pages, then pulled out an old and worn picture—it was in the same condition as the book...but folded in half. He opened it and grinned at the picture of them all standing at attention.

Heero took the thing and studied it, then tossed it back in the book. He left the kitchen wordlessly and disappeared into Jordan's bedroom. After a long minute, he returned and set a book on top of the one that had been there. "I don't know about you," he added, "But I can't wait for this all to be over."

"The issue is, though," Tro muttered, crossing his arms, "We're not going to get him back."

"But maybe when he realizes we won't let her find him," Heero said hopefully as he poured himself a cup of coffee, "he'll let us back."

Tro moved to lean against the wall and study the drugged pilot in the living room, glancing back to his partner, "I guess we'll see, won't we?"

X x X x X

"Your friends wouldn't let me pay for anything!" Chai half-shouted at Jordan as she stormed back into the apartment, throwing bags on the chair to focus on the pilot.

"What?" Jordan returned, ignoring the gnawing pain in his leg. He was willing to try anything once, but those pain-pills had knocked him on his ass and made him lose track of a serious amount of time.

He had no intentions of taking them again.

"What kind of people are they?" she hissed, moving to drop onto his lap and cling to his chest. "I'm not some sort of slut."

Jordan blinked as those thoughts processed through several layers of psyche. Initially was the response of him going to kick their ass, which was followed instantly by the idea that they hadn't intending offense. Subsequently, he was realizing that Chai had no basis for comparison.

"And then Jon gave me money for telling him you were here," she added, looking around the apartment until she noticed the closed bedroom door. "I went to get what we'd need, and while we were in line, Cody distracted me while Daniel paid...he paid for all of it!"

The ex-pilot laughed before he could help himself, clinging to her as another shot of pain lanced up his leg. He hissed, biting his lip as he tried to force the feeling away.

"You okay?" she demanded, pulling away slightly to frown at him.

"I put off the meds," he informed her, shaking his head. "I can't deal with that kind of...I can't think on them." He ran a hand down his face, "They didn't mean anything by it, either." He gestured toward the hall, where he could hear his old friends muttering uncertainly. "They aren't from here and when they want a girl to bed'em they act completely differently."

The two soldiers moved into the apartment as he made the statement, and both stopped to blink at him.

"You've heard of seduction, right?" Jordan added. "They know how to do it, they don't just spend money and expect something in return."

"What?" Wufei asked quietly.

"You can't just take someone from this world and start buying them shit," Jordan snapped at them both. "Usual retribution is a night in bed as long as the favors last. I know you didn't mean anything by it, but you really offended her."

Chai looked away from them.

"At least, I hope you didn't mean anything by it," Jordan noted darkly, narrowing his eyes at them.

"You've lived here too long if you can say that about us with a straight face," Quatre noted, crossing his arms.

"Just making sure is all," Jordan reassured them, then looked to the ceiling. "Can she work for you?" he added, meeting their eyes. "You have apartments, I know you do...she can clean. That'd give her a way to make money on her own...and then..."

The door to the bedroom opened and Jon moved to sit tiredly next to Jordan on the couch. He covered his face in his hands as Heero and Trowa moved from the room with similar tired expressions.

"Was it him?" Wufei asked quietly.

"Just the money," Jon returned quietly, not looking up. "I had no idea it'd be used against Marquise— he's one of the only ones I like on that god-forsaken panel. I'd never have given the money if I'd known..."

"So maybe you should listen to me when I tell you your little butterfly is dangerous," Jordan noted to him pointedly. "Something for something from a politician? I mean, you're dense, but not that dense."

Jon glared at the man.

"What's...going on?" Chai asked quietly.

"We're taking him in tomorrow," Heero explained. "He gives his statement and we set him back here. If it weren't for Jor, we'd never have seen his face. There's no way Shifton can get men on him here."

"He can get Lamb to get hit-men, though," Jor said seriously, looking up to Heero and shaking his head. "Lamb's had it out for him..."

"We don't only serve as field agents," Heero noted pointedly. "Or maybe we should say our parameters of jurisdiction include a license to kill."

Jordan stared at him in disbelief.

"I think I like your friend, Jordan," Jon muttered, looking up to the ex-pilot. "Think I could get him to work for me?"

"He'd be the double agent," Jordan warned. "He wouldn't be loyal to you."

"Even if I pay well?" the man protested.

"Especially if you pay well," Jordan smiled slightly as he looked up to his old friend. "He has these weird things called 'morals'. I don't know exactly what they are, but I hear they make men do odd things."

Heero offered him a crooked grin—Chai smacked him in the face with a pillow.

"Take the pills before I shove them down your throat," Trowa ordered, moving forward.

"All right! All right! Fine!" Jordan fended the man off and picked the pills up, studying them a long moment with apparent revulsion. "How I hate thee, cruel fate..." and he swallowed the pills dry.

Trowa sighed, "Get him something to drink."