Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Integration ❯ Gone Too Far ( Chapter 5 )

Warnings and Disclaimer on page one.

Integration

By: Bane's Desire

Chapter 5 - Gone Too Far

Duo stood before the apartment that out of habit he'd referred to as home, mentally steeling himself for the next few hours. Now realizing who he was and how he came to be here, he literally had to force himself to continue act as if he were still Jason Phillips, the timid, abused young man who was deathly afraid of the man on the other side of the door who called himself his lover.

With his returning memories came all his training and the knowledge of the various methods of torture and killing a man that he could easily apply to his abuser. He couldn't help but wonder who the hell Scott Mercer really was.

He placed his hand against the door frame and rested his forehead wearily against it, enjoying a moment of silence before he went into the apartment. If he dwelled too much on all he'd remembered that afternoon and of what he'd endured from Mercer, understanding now that his miserable life was possibly engineered and sanctioned by a government or agency, he didn't know if he could go through with the charade of being Jason Phillips any longer. His instincts screamed for him to run as far and fast as he could, to hide and then seek out his vengeance in due time. But he couldn't do that, at least not yet. His vengeance, he decided, would come not by running but by stealth and careful planning, and his first step towards that goal was to gather information, not unlike his preparation for missions during the war. He needed to find out if Scott Mercer was really the person he claimed to be. If he were just a man he met on campus or something else, and then he needed to ferret out who was the person responsible for his current living conditions. He also needed a money source, to find out where his money had gone, if there was any left. Scott had collected his paycheck for the entire time they'd been together, and if by any chance he'd put any of it away, he'd need to find it and use the credits to subsidize his revenge and escape.

He paused and let his mind shift again as some of his other, more pleasant memories of the past came to mind, those centering mainly on Heero. He recalled easily now their mutual attraction at their first meeting, an attraction that had quickly turned into something more as the darkness of war pressed in on them. He and Heero had holed up together in a fancy, private school shortly after Heero had been tricked into destroying the shuttle filled with government officials who had argued for peace earlier. General Noventa was one of the unfortunate casualties, a man who had been in the process of urging the leaders of the Alliance and OZ to approach the rebelling colonies in a peaceful, non-violent manner, stressing diplomacy instead of threats and weapons of war. Though Heero hid it well, Duo had been aware that the other pilot struggled with his conscience over his mistake.

The boy from L-2 recalled his initial attempt at consoling the other guilt-ridden pilot with an tentative, almost fearful embrace, not knowing if Heero wanted the physical reassurance. He'd feared that if the other boy didn't want the comfort he extended, the unbelievably strong Wing pilot would seriously hurt him for invading his personal space. To Duo's surprise, that simple gesture had been followed by a tentative, inexperienced first kiss that led to their clumsy, desperate groping as need and hormones kicked in. And so it was that their physical and emotional relationship had begun. Their newfound intimacy had somehow helped them gain back their connection with humanity, something that they had both secretly feared they'd been losing as the war progressed. That intimacy served to ground them to a reality other than their next mission for short periods of time. As he'd drawn closer to Heero, both emotionally and physically, he experienced a gradual return of a sense of hope; hope for success over OZ; hope for peace between the Earth and the colonies; hope for a future that had always seemed uncertain and out of reach. With that return of hope came a determination to keep fighting despite many setbacks plus a reason to see to the end of the war and beyond. His trust in and feelings for the stoic, driven teen from L-1 grew each time they met, and before long he'd realized that he'd given his heart to Heero Yuy. Shortly after he'd come to realize that fact, he'd watched in stunned horror from his communication board in Deathscythe as Heero had stood boldly defiant on the open hatch of Wing and pressed the self-destruct button.

The pain of that loss, the searing hurt, grief and emptiness he'd felt in that one moment back when he was fifteen years old, had been painfully relived that afternoon. All the memories and emotions were as fresh and raw now as they had been all those years ago. He didn't think he could ever go though that kind of anguish and loss again. And even though he didn't recall anything past that point, Duane's assurances that Heero had survived was helping him to cope with his intermingling past and present memories and emotions. He was anxious for his next session with Duane, to fill in the large gap between then and now.

It was on his way home from work, riding on a crowded city bus laden with city workers and shoppers carrying briefcases and holiday packages, that he'd made his decision to keep up the facade of being Jason for a while longer. He was, in a sense, still Jason and had his memories, his fears and insecurities embedded in his mind. He could be Jason again if he had to, even though the thought of it made him nauseous. It was against Duo's nature to be submissive and kicked around like a pitiful dog. He would do it, though, because he was determined to find out about Scott, his motives, and his money - and then he would escape. Once free of his abuser, his tracks covered, he'd search out Heero and the other pilots to see if they'd ended up as badly as he had. But first things first, he thought, and being distracted by his returning memories he inserted the key into the lock of the front door, failing for the first time in two years to check his watch for the time.

Ten minutes after entering the apartment, Duo found himself curled up into a protective ball, clutching his chest as he struggled to deal with the pain in his chest from the abuse Scott Mercer had decided that he deserved as punishment for being late. He'd initially tried to strike back and disable his attacker, but any thought or move to do so was crippled by an excruciating pain in his chest. His only option had been to minimize the damage as the larger man delivered quick, determined and unmerciful blows to his body.

A kick to the back of his thigh was powerfully delivered and incredibly painful, but it seemed to be the final blow when he heard Scott mutter warnings about next time before he stomped away and made for the kitchen.

Duo lay on the carpet, positioned between the couch and the turned-over coffee table, assessing his injuries. At this point in time he'd decided that he'd had it, that his next session with Duane would include a deep search for the debilitating condition that kept him from defending himself. The hypnotist had tried earlier, but they hadn't succeeded in removing it. Duane had suggested that the triggers, if indeed that's what they were, had been implanted after his memories had been removed, and that once they were fully recovered it would be easier to attempt their dismantling. He vowed to himself then and there, curled in a fetal position and in pain, that he would never again endure such a senseless beating. After he'd opened the apartment's front door, he'd been immediately set upon by Scott, or rather Scott's fists. He'd tried to explain his tardiness while he attempted to deflect the merciless blows to his body, that the holiday traffic had been bad and had kept him from arriving home on time. He'd only been nine minutes late.

His thoughts shifted from his anger back to his pain, and from his past injuries he concluded that he probably had a broken wrist, a couple of bruised or fractured ribs, that his swollen, left eye hurt like the devil and felt as if his contact had cut into his eye before it had popped out of his eye completely. He tasted blood in his mouth and realized he'd bitten either his tongue or lip, or maybe even both, he wasn't sure. In short, he was a mess. He lay still and unmoving, knowing also from previous experience that if he tried to leave the room without permission, that Scott would come at him again. So he lay as still as he could, not wanting to have any more damage inflicted on his body that might impede his future escape. He seethed with hatred for the other man that had rivaled his hatred and thirst for vengeance against the Alliance at the start of the war. The sharp ache in his chest warned him to turn such thoughts elsewhere for the moment, and he unwillingly complied.

Breathing hurt and moving hurt even more, so he waited, since that was all he could do. He spent the next fifteen minutes with his thoughts wandering back to Heero and the other pilots. He vaguely recalled the time when they had come together to battle the Alliance and he'd gotten a glimpse of them on his communication system. Though they'd come to Earth with the unified purpose of attacking the Colonies' oppressors, he hadn't known about any of them. With only a small part of his memories returned, Heero was the person that was fresh in his mind, and with the memory of Wing's pilot came conflicting emotions of love, anger, need, despair, fulfillment and bitterness. He knew he'd come to love the other pilot, but his mind was vague as to whether or not had Heero ever return those feelings? He knew he'd ignited a passion that had been so well hidden within the other stoic, well-trained teen, but Heero had been hard to read and held his emotions close. At the time of Wing's destruction, Duo had still been pondering Heero's feelings for him.

He was so lost in his thoughts of the past that it came as a surprise when a pill was pressed into his mouth. "Get up and go to bed," Scott said in a surprisingly weary tone of voice. He reached down to grab Jason's arm to pull him up to his feet.

"Don't touch me," Duo snapped in alarm, instinctively curling away from the man's out-stretched hand just as Jason would have done. "My arm and ribs are broken."

"Shit!" the Japanese man spat out as he straightened and ran his hands through his thick black hair as he thought about what he should do.

Duo waited for his abuser to come to a decision of either calling a doctor or treating him himself. They both knew that Scott had gone too far this time.

"I'll call Dr. Clark," the other man's voice sounded resigned as he moved to the phone and began dialing the familiar number.

Duo tuned out the majority of the conversation taking place over the phone. Scott was arguing in a low voice with the man Jason had known as Dr. Clark. Over the time that he'd been more or less mentally shackled to his abuser, Dr. Clark had been called frequently to come to their apartment and treat his wounds after Scott caused more damage than he could patch up himself. The physician was also the man who'd treated his heart problem and prescribed the magic pills that seemed to take the pain away almost immediately. Did the prescribed medicine really ease his suffering or was the pain in his chest removed just by the pill being put into his mouth? At this point he found himself questioning every aspect in his so-called life and wondering what was real.

As he lay there waiting for the doctor to come and grateful for being ignored by the other man in the apartment, Duo's mind became jumbled and slightly unfocused as he once again pondered the information he'd gathered since the partial return of his memories. He could barely comprehend the Integration procedure, that his former life had been removed by his consent and that the past that was Jason's family and growing up years had been inserted and the nightmare he was now living began. Why the hell had he ever agreed to being Integrated?

From Jason's memory, he recalled being with Scott for nearly three years, the abuse had begun a little over two years ago. Jason believed he was twenty one, but was he? Or was that belief fabricated also? Maybe the courtship between he and Scott, how they had met, dated and then moved in together was an implanted memory and he was just dumped into the abusive man's life or maybe even mentally set up to need this type of warped relationship. What was real and what was a lie?

He tried to relax as the ache in his head grew steadily worse, and not only as a result from the beating, but from his mind trying to figure out what the hell was going on. If he was twenty one, then a period of four years had passed from the time the last war ended with Deikum Barton having been killed by one of his own soldiers during his attempted coup. He'd gathered that information from the few magazine articles Duane had given him. There were statements from various people, young and old, who claimed to have met one or more of the gundam pilots and had stated that they were young, being sixteen and seventeen years old at the end of the last war.

Without any further memories to aid him, trying to figure out what had happened was just speculation on his part, and at the moment it was taking too much effort to do that. He decided to drop that line of thought and instead reflected back on his conflicting memories of who he was, a discarded street urchin from L-2 with a background that was the complete opposite of Jason's memories, which consisted of a typical childhood with family, friends, and scheduled events including school, holidays and summer vacations. Yet even as he thought about the details of Jason's life, he realized for the first time that there were gaps in those memories. He couldn't recall the names of teachers or the courses he took in high school or college. And though he remembered that Jason had friends and acquaintances, he couldn't put a face to any of the names that popped randomly into his head. Why hadn't he realized that before? Maybe just trying to survive from day to day while he'd been with Scott had been enough of a distraction to keep him from dwelling on the past. He felt a great loss in knowing that the normal family life he'd thought he'd had as Jason was only an implanted memory meant to cover up his life on L-2 and as a gundam pilot. Jason's fond memory of being the only child of loving parents who died in a car accident one foggy night in a freeway pileup when he was seventeen was all a lie. And even though he knew that as fact, he could still clearly recall the funeral after the death of his made-up parents as well as the grief and the struggle he'd gone thorough in wondering how to go on with his life without them. With the money left to him from life and accident insurance policies, or so he'd thought at the time, Jason had enrolled himself in college - and that's where he met Scott. The memories seemed so... real, but now he knew... they were false, all of them, and it hurt.

As his mind began to slow and his thoughts fade towards sleep, he realized his life as Jason had been like a movie, scripted with normalcy, tragedy, loss and loneliness, all of which had most likely made him susceptible to Scott, an older man who'd come out of nowhere and offered him stability and security along with a home and the attention and affection Jason craved.

Was his abuser in his life because of bad luck on his part, or maybe because of his Integrated personality? Or was the other man in his life for another reason he couldn't understand? Why the hell did he chose a Japanese man to screw up his life anyway? Was choosing Scott Mercer as a lover a decision he'd made himself, or had he been programmed to be susceptible to his strength and domination. Maybe the nightmarish relationship he was in happened because his subconscious mind recalled Heero, and that Scott's slight resemblance to his lover had instinctively drawn him to the older man? Damn, just thinking about all of the different possibilities was making his head spin and his stomach tighten. He felt as if he were two people at the same time, with his new-found memories of being Duo Maxwell fighting to stay dominant over the false, implanted ones that he had of Jason's life. Neither personality within his mind could afford for him to revert completely back to the abused and frightened Jason Phillips. If nothing else was certain, he was positive that one day Scott Mercer would kill him for maybe no other reason than he was late coming home from work.

Whether he blacked out or dozed off, he wasn't sure, but the next thing he became aware of was a deep voice calling Jason's name as if from a great distance. He managed with some effort and reluctance to open his undamaged eye to look blearily up at the bearded face of the man who'd treated Jason many times before.

"Can you give me a damage assessment, Jason?" the doctor, whose voice had been made rough from years of smoking cigarettes, asked the question with a look of concern in his dull, deep-set brown eyes. To the injured young man, the question was phrased in such a way as to sound like it came from a military medic. He wondered for a scant second why he'd never made that connection before. If his memories were correct, the doctor had always been stiff and formal towards him, though not unkind. His posture also had been rigidly impeccable, similar to Scott's. He suddenly realized that they both held themselves like the soldiers he'd observed during the war. Could it be that his caretaker and physician were part of the military? Were they a team set up to keep close tabs on him?

"Jason?" the doctor said sternly.

"I... think my wrist is broken, and that I might have a couple of busted ribs," he replied, his voice just above a whisper as he fought the pain riding rampant through his body. "He might have bruised my kidneys with a couple of blows on my lower back. I think my contact cut into my eye before it popped out. Hurts."

"Try to straighten out if you can and I'll cut your clothes off in order to examine you."

Duo tried to comply, but the pain in his chest from his injured ribs proved to be too much; the mere act of breathing was painful. After several excruciating attempts, he managed to uncurl his body enough for the doctor to use his scissors to cut upwards from the cuff of his shirt and then continued to pull the blade up through the material to the top of his left sleeve to expose the damaged wrist.

"Mercer, you idiot!" the doctor hissed with barely contained anger.

"He came home late again." Scott's unrepentant voice came from the area behind the couch.

"There's no excuse for this. How late could he have been? It's still early."

"Nine minutes," Duo interjected in a pained voice, not willing to let the Japanese man gloss over the facts. "Traffic was bad," he gasped.

The doctor's fingers stopped their painful probe of his wrist, and though his vision was blurred and his body began to tremble from shock, Duo saw the man shoot a threatening glare at his abuser. "Get me a blanket," he ordered sharply. From the corner of his eye, Duo saw the sullen-looking Asian man turn and leave them to do as he was told.

Within moments his shirt had been completely removed and his pleated pants were unfastened at the waist and gently pulled off. Duo watched as the doctor moved his black medical bag closer and set it just behind him. The older man with the grave expression on his prematurely wrinkled face then repositioned himself next to him as he lay helpless and miserable on the carpet now stained with his blood.

"I'm going to attempt to set your arm and it's going to hurt," the doctor informed him with little to no emotion in his voice or on his face. Because of that, it came as a surprise to Duo when he added, "I'm sorry."

He looked up through eyes that were blurred and attempted to study the doctor for a moment. The older man was Caucasian with faded dark-blond hair that was receding at his temples and thinning on top. For as long as Jason had known the man, he'd worn a bushy, light brown mustache that fell slightly over a pair of lips that he'd never seen smile. The man's blue eyes looked unhappy, the wrinkles between his forehead and those at the corners of his eyes were deeply furrowed.

"Report him," Duo said quietly, careful that Scott wouldn't overhear. "Don't let him keep doing this to me."

The doctor looked into his damaged eyes but said nothing for a moment. When he did speak, he issued a warning. "On three. Prepare yourself."

Duo braced himself mentally for the pain he knew was coming. He clamped his teeth together and pressed his lips tightly shut as the doctor positioned himself to make the correction. The quick, strong snap of his arm in a downward jerk shot a jolt of blinding pain through his injured arm and to the rest of his body. Flashes of light behind his closed eyes quickly dimmed into blessed darkness as the cry of pain that escaped from his lips turned into a declining moan that melted into silence.

~~~~~

When he came back to an awareness of his surroundings, Duo found himself in the hated bed that he shared nightly with his abuser. A quick inspection revealed that his arm had been set and placed in a temporary plastic casing and his ribs were tightly wrapped. His eyes stung as if some solution had been dropped into them. As for the pain, he found that he hurt everywhere and swore to himself that one day soon he would get his revenge on Scott Mercer for his senseless brutality. He wisely kept the image of strangling his so-called lover out of his brain, knowing all too well of the pain such thoughts would bring, and he certainly didn't need anymore of that today.

He heard the sound of footsteps a moment before the bedroom door opened; the sound allowed him time to close his eyes and feign sleeping. Through his long eye lashes he could see it was Dr. Clark who was checking on him.

"He's still out," the doctor reported to someone Duo presumed to be Scott. The doctor's head withdrew out from the doorway and he left the door partially open as he continued speaking in a low and angry voice that Duo could easily hear. "I'm reporting this, Mercer. There's no way I can cover up for your abuse any longer. It's a travesty. He didn't agree to this at the beginning when he negotiated the terms of his Integration."

"You know well and good those 'terms' changed when he broke his first Integration conditioning," Scott replied harshly. "He terminated that agreement when he regained his memories and had 01's memories restored as well, knowing it was against the law."

"It still doesn't justify the way you treat him. It's illegal and immoral."

"He's rebellious. It's up to me to see that he stays in his current Integrated state and oversee his care. Agent Fire himself gave me this mission with instruction to reassure the Sanq big wigs that he wouldn't regain his memory again." Listening closely, Duo noted that Scott sounded defensive and self-righteous at the same time, something the other man seemed to have a real talent for.

"I don't think your supervisor had any idea this would be going on. And I'm more than sure that the higher ups in the Preventers didn't give you license to rape and beat your charge whenever he makes a slight mistake. Good God, man, he was nine minutes late, not AWOL. The traffic out there is horrible this time of year. Have you no common sense that tells you he'll be late once in a while because of it, especially during the holiday season? My report will be filed in the morning. Expect to be hearing from headquarters shortly after that."

"Then you'd better turn in your resignation as well," Scott shot back hotly in reply. "You've covered up for me all this time. You're as guilty by your silence as I am."

"Go to hell, Mercer," the doctor spat out, then a moment later the sound of the front door slamming announced the physician's exit. That departure left Duo alone once again with the man who, if he understood from what he'd just overheard, had been assigned by the Preventers organization to 'take care of him' and that Scott, by his actions, showed that the other man had never loved him, as Jason's memories claimed, but that he truly hated him, probably almost as much as he hated Scott in return.

The apartment was unusually quiet, not even the television was on to break the silence. Still, it was difficult for him to go back to sleep after overhearing that conversation, even though he could feel the pull of drugs in his body to do so. The previous conversation was repeated over and over in his mind. From what he could put together from it, he'd somehow escaped the Integration's false memories once before and had freed Heero from his also. He wondered what had happened, how he'd gotten his memory back and how he'd come to be subjected to the hell he now lived in. It went without saying that he couldn't ask the doctor or Scott to answer his questions. He could only guess that he'd failed in escaping the authorities after gaining his memory, something he was determined would not happen the second time around. This time he would be smarter and subtle. If possible, he would take his time and carefully plan his escape from his life as Jason Phillips. If only he could find out what had happened before, he could avoid the mistakes of the past. His best bet for that lay in Duane. He had faith that his new friend would be able to help him recall the past that seemed to become more and more complicated with each passing day.

He supposed that he must have moaned or called out in his sleep, for as he became aware of his surroundings once again, Scott was lifting his head and putting a pill into his mouth and a glass of water to his lips while telling him it was pain medication left by Dr. Clark. Duo took it, as Jason would, then watched with relief from under his eyelashes as Scott left the bedroom. With his body aching, his wrist and ribs throbbing, he slowly let himself ease back into sleep, temporarily leaving his painful reality behind. He needed to rest in order to recover from this last beating. He knew that even before he could recover fully, he'd begin to search out the answers to the many questions bouncing around inside his head. Once he had his answers, he could plan his revenge and then escape this brutal life forever. With his righteous anger turned onto those who had brought this damned, abusive existence about, he would remind them that such dishonorable actions could only reap terrifying consequences from a vengeful Shinigami.

Continued soon