Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Integration ❯ Pushing It ( Chapter 6 )

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Integration

Bane's Desire

Chapter 6 - Pushing It

The throbbing of his head and body from his newly acquired injuries were the first sensations he became aware of as his sluggish brain awoke. Opening his eyes to the tightly shuttered room, he wrapped one arm around his taped ribs and cautiously eased himself up to sit at the edge of the bed, his mouth dry and tacky with the need for water. As the room spun around in dizzying circles, he closed his eyes again and tried to put his head down, though not able to bend anywhere close to his knees, as he stove to gain some of his balance and quell the nauseousness that came with sitting up. Slowly opening his pained eyes once more, he strained to focus his vision on the digital clock sitting on the bedside table and he thought the red numbers displayed the time as being ten twenty... something or other. Moving slowly and carefully, keeping his splintered arm raised and pressed to his chest, he made his way to the closet where he took out a pair of slacks and a loose-fitted sweater that would stretch easily across his body - that is if he could manage to get it over his head.

"What do you think you're doing?" Scott's irritated voice came from the direction of the bedroom door and startled him with its suddenness.

"I'm late for work," he replied, albeit weakly as he kept moving and avoided looking up at the other man.

"I called in for you this morning. Told them you were sick."

"I have to go in," Duo insisted, keeping his head down as his memories of Jason indicated he should. "It's the last day of work before Christmas. If I don't make an appearance, they'll all come here," Okay, that was stretching the truth, but he had to get out of there and meet Duane. "Neither of us wants that, do we?" He tried to keep the derogatory sneer out of his voice but realized he'd probably failed. "Why aren't you at work?" After saying that, it dawned on him that Jason hadn't verbally questioned Scott about his job as an insurance broker beyond what the other man had told him, and that he hadn't actually seen him leave the apartment for work or even arrive home from his so-called office. Sure, he'd been given a sketchy description of the job with an reputable insurance brokerage that his so-called lover claimed to have, located somewhere downtown. Still, Jason had never been invited there to see it for himself. But now that he thought about it, especially in context to the conversation he'd overheard the night before, Scott had never spoken of the people he worked with. His abuser supposedly left for work after he did in the morning and was always home when he returned in the evening. Duo now wondered if the man had a job at all. The only thing that indicated he was employed was the fact that they seemed to have enough money for their up-scale apartment and necessities.

"I took a vacation day thinking you might need me."

"Like a hole in the head," Duo muttered just under his breath as he took his clothes to the unmade bed.

"What did you say?" Scott sounded angry again.

"I said I can't make the bed." Duo pointed to his splintered arm.

"I'll get it," the other man grudgingly replied as he moved in that direction. "Your condition will warrant unwanted speculation and questions if you go to work today," he added.

"I'll say I fell down the stairs... again." A slight derisive snort followed.

"Look... I'm sorry," Scott began, clearly irritated by the situation.

"Save it." Duo knew from Jason's memories that he was treading dangerous ground to interrupt Scott, but he really didn't want to hear his trite, insincere apology. "If you don't mean it, just don't say anything."

He managed to put on his trousers one handed, not bothering with his boxers, deeming them too difficult to pull on. He made sure, however, that he was clear of the zipper as he began the struggle of zipping it up. He definitely did not want to ask the other man for his help with that task.

"You're going to cause us trouble," Scott remarked while making up the bed and keeping an eye on the struggling young man. "Dr. Clark said you can't wear your contacts for several weeks."

"I'll wear the tinted glasses, Scott, but this last beating just isn't going to go unnoticed. My injuries aren't going to disappear overnight and I have a job and responsibilities. My co-workers are going to see evidence of the beating either today or the day after Christmas. It won't really matter if it's now or later, will it? Today or in a couple of days, it's all the same. I'd rather deal with it now than worry about it over the holiday."

"Watch it," Scott warned, his expression as dark as his menacing voice at his usually passive lover's comments and attitude.

"I'd rather confront my co-workers at the office instead of here," Duo sighed, changing his tone of voice, still hoping to rationalize his way out of the apartment. "I might be able to diffuse the situation one more time. But I can see it in their eyes every time I go to work with yet another bruise that they're getting ready to intervene."

"You can't let that happen, can you, Jason?" There was an unspoken but very real threat behind Scott's words.

Duo looked up and paused a moment, his breath catching in his throat for a scant second as he momentarily caught a glimpse of Heero in the Japanese man's stubborn stance, the tilt of his chin and the arms folded over his chest. The idea came to him that Scott might have been chosen to 'take care of him' because of his resemblance to his former lover. If that were the truth, the reasoning might possibly have been that, if by some freak chance he recalled some memory of his lover, he would transfer that memory to Scott since they looked somewhat similar. The very idea made him feel even more angry when considering the lengths the Preventers had gone to in order to keep him trapped in his Integration.

"If you insist on going in, I'll drive you," Scott said firmly, possibly trying to gain some control over the situation.

The struggle with the large sweater proved to be a painful one. By the time he finally pulled it over his head and chest, his arm protectively tucked snugly against his chest inside the sweater, his ribs, arm and head ached abominably. Grudgingly, he accepted Scott's help in getting his jacket placed over his shoulders and allowed the other man to lead him to his car and then drive him across town to his place of employment.

As the car moved through the busy city streets, duo frequently checked the clock embedded in dashboard, noting it was nearly noon as they neared the Chicago Department of Motor Vehicles. Pulling into the parking lot, he quickly looked around to see if Duane was in sight. He certainly didn't want Scott to become suspicious about his activities by having the other man greet him in the parking lot. It was early yet and he noted with some relief that Duane wasn't in sight.

"Do you want me to wait?"

Duo jumped slightly at the sudden and unexpected question. "Um...no. I'll catch a ride home with a co-worker. The holiday traffic might be bad again, but I'll come straight home, alright?" Without looking in the other man's direction, he could feel Scott's eyes boring into him. His hands gripped the door handle as he anxiously waited the moment he could escape the car and the other man.

"No later than six forty-five," Scott said firmly, and there was a smugness in his warning that made Duo's stomach curl. He fought down the urge to reach over and wipe the equally smug grim off his face with his fist, broken wrist or not. That visual thought brought a sharp pain within his chest, strengthening his resolve to have that trigger removed as soon as possible.

"I'll do my best," he answered, and as quickly as his injuries allowed, he exited the car, shutting the door behind him. Turning away from it, he headed for the front doors of his work place, watching in the reflection of the windows as Scott's car began to pull away from the curbside.

Stepping inside the busy lobby, he stayed by the door and waited until the metallic green car disappeared from sight then walked back out into the frigid cold. If at all possible, he wanted to keep his presence and his beat-up condition unknown to his co-workers for the time being. The only thing he wanted to do today was to meet up with Duane and advance the rate of his memory's return.

Moving slowly, he paced the exterior of the red-brick DMV building, trying to keep warm while surreptitiously watching the people entering and exiting the busy establishment. As they passed by him, many looked at him with expressions of worry, sadness or disgust on their faces. Duo realized that he probably look a mess with his swollen and bruised eye, his split lip, unbrushed hair, and his body movements stiff from unseen wounds. Even with his tinted glasses in place, he knew it was probably obvious that he'd been physically abused. The part of him that was Jason cringed at their critical assessment of him, of their judgment, but as Duo Maxwell, it made him mad as hell.

A silver sports car that he recognized as Duane's drove up to the curb and stopped where he stood. The window slid down to reveal the hypnotist. "What in the world happened to you?" Duane asked with a horrified look on his face.

Unable to bend over to properly address the other man because of his taped ribs, Duo replied by saying, " We'll need to use your car today unless you want to go in and get Deb's key."

Duane leaned farther over into the passenger seat to get a better look at the younger man. "You're hurt," he said.

"I'll survive," was Duo's curt reply.

Duane put the car in park in the yellow zone and climbed out of the driver's seat and walked around it to stand beside Duo, his eyes taking in the obviously injured young man. "Holy shit!" he hissed seeing the damage to his face and the pained stance of his body. "Did he do this to you?"

Duo nodded, feeling exposed talking to the other man about his condition when people were passing them by with expressions of curiosity on their faces. "I want to speed the process up, Duane, and I have until six tonight to do it. Can you take time off of work today to help me?"

The other man paused for only a brief moment before he nodded. "I was off at noon today because of the holiday. We can go to my apartment if you like. It's too cold out here to be in the car that long and we'll both be more comfortable there."

Duo tried to think of an alternative, but couldn't. He was cautiously hesitant about going alone into the home of a man he didn't know very well in his current vulnerable state. But Duane had done nothing to warrant his natural distrust. In fact, he'd already proven that he trusted the man more than he normally would by letting himself be put into a hypnotic trance and revealing his true past to him. He couldn't really see that he had much choice because he was damn sure he was never going to let Scott lay a hand on him again and he couldn't follow through on that promise to himself if he wasn't free from the crippling mental triggers. "Let's go," he said, looking at Duane with a steady and determined glance, silently telling the man that he did trust him. "If you have a cell phone, I need to call Deb and tell her where I am, just in case Scott calls to check up on me. She can answer my phone if he does and make up some excuse as to why I can't come to the phone."

Duane opened the car door and stood back to watch as the younger man painfully eased himself into the low, front car seat. "My cell is in the glove box. Go ahead and use it."

With his right hand, Duo got the phone out but sat still while Duane got into the driver's seat, shut his door and looked pointedly at him. "Seatbelt?"

"My left arm is broken, I can't manage it."

With his jacket thrown over his shoulders, Duane had missed the fact that his left arm was tucked under sweater. "I'll do it for you," he offered.

"Don't even think about it," Duo hissed a warning at the well-intentioned man. "I've got a couple of damaged ribs, too. At the moment, a seat belt might just kill me."

Duane didn't argue but reigned in his anger about the damage to the younger man and pulled his own seatbelt on, then put the car into first gear. Releasing the parking brake, he eased his car through the busy parking lot and began the short journey to his apartment while Duo managed to call his co-worker and friend and relay his intentions to her. He listened to one side of the conversation, gathering that Deb apparently guessed in part as to what had happened in order for Duo to miss work. The injured young man then spent a couple of minutes trying to assure his friend that he was well enough to meet Duane and that he'd call her when he could.

After ending the call, there were a few moments of awkward silence, and the injured man was aware of Duane looking at him from out of the corner of his eye. The car remained uncomfortably quiet before the black-haired man finally spoke. "Why did he do it?"

Duo sighed, the slight movement bringing pain to his injured chest. "Because I was nine minutes late getting home from work last night."

"Shit." Duane's hands gripped the steering wheel tight enough for his knuckles to turn white.

Duo turned his head to look at the upset man. "I need you to give me back all my memories today and to get rid of this subconscious trigger that won't let me fight back, even to defend myself. No matter what I've done in the past, I don't deserve this."

"No one does," Duane said, his lips tightly compressed with barely suppressed anger. "We'll see what we can do, but like I told you..."

"Yeah, I know," Duo interrupted. "You're not a trained professional." He then turned in his seat, with no little effort, to speak more earnestly to the other man. "But you're all I've got, Duane. You and Debra. And I swear to you that I'll find some way to pay you back for all you're doing to help me."

Duane nodded his head, his eyes focused on the road and traffic. "All I ask is that you try to keep mine and Debra's names a secret, especially if you're found out. I value my freedom."

Duo nodded in agreement. "As do I." He ran his uninjured hand through his short hair again and sighed wearily. "I remembered the other day that I had a braid and why I kept it," he said quietly. There was a sadness to his voice that caused the other man to quickly glance over at him. "My hair was so long that I could sit on it," he said, and the sadly wistful added, "So in order to keep it out of the way, I wore it in a braid." He frowned as he lay his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes. "I just can't believe they cut it or that I ever agreed to it. It was a tangible reminder of my past. It held my memories and was my personal memorial to those I've lost."

"If it was that long, they probably cut it because it was your trademark," Duane guessed. "There's bound to be people you knew during the war or came into contact with that would recognize you or be able to track you down if you had kept it."

The forlorn -looking young man nodded, realizing Duane was right, but he couldn't help but mourn the long-lost symbol of his past. He closed his eyes and became lost once more in his memories, so much so that he didn't realize they'd reached their destination until Duane pulled into a ritzy apartment building's parking garage. The hypnotist parked his car, then got out and helped him to ease out of the low-set seat. Sweat broke out on his forehead from the pain caused by the simple effort to stand on his two feet once again. Feeling lightheaded and slightly nauseous, he allowed Duane to take his elbow and guide him to the garage elevator.

"Nice place," he said, eyeing the modern interior of the apartment building's hallways. He gave a nod of appreciation at the spacious corridors that had expensive-looking chairs and tables sporadically lining the walls that were decorated with chrome sconces that illuminated the walls and the framed prints of paintings done by renaissance artists. "You either have a hell of a day job or I need to learn how to hypnotize people at parties," Duo said, as they reached the handsomely carved door to Duane's apartment.

Duane laughed, a sound Duo realized he hadn't heard before. "I'm afraid neither of my dubious professions could afford this place. It comes as a gift from my grandmother."

"She's loaded, huh?"

"You could say that," the other man answered, "and then you'd still come up short of her monetary worth."

The black-haired man then unlocked and opened the door to his apartment and ushered his guest inside.

"She decorate it, too?"

"I don't think she trusted me to do it myself," Duane said with good humor. "There are, after all, people in places like this to impress. I'm afraid the old girl would be very disappointed in me to know that none of my neighbors have ever been inside my apartment. Working weekends kind of puts a kink in my social calendar."

Duo nodded, listening, but also looking at the apartment's interior. It looked like something out of the magazine, Design Interior. A professional definitely put the picture-perfect room together. The clean-cut lines of the furniture, tan and black in color, added to the total effect that was masculine, modern and appealing if not inviting atmosphere of the room. He walked over to take a closer look at the pictures on the wall, and unless he was mistaken, they looked like originals. The whole place screamed of big money.

Duane walked towards the kitchen and called over his shoulder, "Hungry?"

"I could eat something," Duo answered, following him into the next room. "I don't want to put you out or anything, but at the moment I think I can only eat soft foods. My teeth feel kind of loose."

Duane paused a moment to think about what was in his refrigerator and frowning at hearing about yet another of the other man's unseen injuries. "I've got some leftover penne in the refrigerator. I could heat it up in the microwave and cut up for you in smaller pieces. Would that work?"

"Yeah, I think that would be alright," Duo answered, then eased himself down into a chair situated at the kitchen table.

Within minutes a hot plate of food was placed before him and Duo chewed each bite minimally before swallowing the portion almost whole. A glass of milk chased it down. With the last swallow, he looked to his host. "Alright, I'm ready if you are. Like I said, I want all my memories returned today."

Duane's frown deepened as he picked up both plates and put them in the sink to wash later. "I really don't know if that's wise. I think it would be more prudent to go slow and let you adjust a little bit at a time."

"I don't have time to go slow," Duo insisted a bit testily, his anxiousness showing in his face. "Either I free myself from Scott, or he's eventually going to kill me. And I'll be damned if I'm going to let him lay a hand on me again."

The slightly older man nodded. "Come on then, let's go into the living room and get comfortable. This is going to take awhile."

Within minutes, Duo found himself reclined on the couch with pillows, designed more for appearance than function, being propped around him by Duane in an effort to make him more comfortable. Once he was set in place, Duane quickly put the battered young man into a deep, hypnotic trance and took his mind back to where they left off.

"Who are you?" The hypnotist asked.

"Duo. Duo Maxwell."

"That's correct. You are Duo Maxwell, pilot of Gundam 02."

"Deathscythe," Duo whispered, a smile coming to his face.

"Duo, I want you to go back to where we left off yesterday. You recalled the battle leading up to pilot 01 self destructing. I want you, for the time being, to forget the pain and anguish you felt at that moment and reach past it to remember what happened next. I want you to recall your interactions with the other pilots and the battles that took place, but this time I want you to remember them in rapid succession, all the events of the war leading up to the moment just after the section of Libra was destroyed as it entered Earth's atmosphere."

"I was in the desert, in a sandstorm when another gundam pilot called out to me, offering me sanctuary," Duo began in his whispered voice. "Pilot 04, his name is Quatre, Quatre Winner. His gundam was called Sandrock. He's small, like me, and he's kind and... polite. He listened to me talk about Heero and comforted me when I broke down." A perplexed expression formed on his face. "I don't know what he's doing fighting in this war. He's too innocent to be a killer and apologizes to everyone he has to destroy."

Duane sat and listened to the young man's flowing commentary and inquired once in a while as to a specific event or person as Duo recalled the people he'd met, including the other gundam pilots, and the places he'd visited while carrying out his missions.

To outward appearances, Duo looked as if he was in a deep REM sleep. His eyes moved under his eyelids as his memories were recalled. From time to time, and especially during described scenes of battles, he'd twitch, gasp, curse or cry out in alarm or with a battle cry.

As minutes turned into hours, Duane found that he had studied every inch of the face of the young man who'd sought his help. It was undeniable that Duo Maxwell was an extremely handsome young man. His skin, minus the bruises and unshaved stubble, was flawless, free of blemish or large pores. His eyes, when open and not battered, were large and the blue/violet color was stunning. He admitted to himself that if he weren't a true heterosexual, he'd probably be attracted to the former gundam pilot. It was still hard to believe someone of such small stature could have had such a violent past and an important role in the last two wars. But no matter how frail Duo now appeared, the hypnotist had seen the gleam of strength and the determination of character that glowed from the boy's eyes as his memories returned. It was obvious the people who Integrated Duo Maxwell had purposely buried the boy's strength of character deeply into his subconscious and implanted a frightened, emotionally handicapped personality in its place.

His attention was turned back to the injured young man as his body began to thrash on the couch, caught up in a violent memory. Duo's breathing was becoming more rapid and accompanied by grunts of exertion. Duane wondered if he was recalling a battle or if he was engaged in a romantic tryst.

"Heero!" The name burst from Duo's lips. "Blast the damn thing!"

Duane smiled. Guess that answered his question. A smile then graced the handsome though battered face, and Duo sighed, "Thank God." He then added with a touch of awe in his voice, "He did it. It's over and we're all still alive."

Duane took that as his clue and addressed his young friend once again. "What was the last thing you recalled, Duo?"

In an emotionally-filled voice, the young man answered while still in his hypnotic state, his voice hitching as he struggled not to break down completely. "Heero destroyed the large chunk of Libra that had broken away during battle and was falling towards Earth. He's coming back, coming back to me. The war is over."

"I want you to relax, Duo, and remember everything that you've recalled so far. When I count to three, you will awaken."

On three, Duo slowly blinked his eyes open, and it was obvious he was having trouble focusing. Then locking eyes with Duane, a smile grew on his face, only to fade a moment later.

"How do you feel?" Duane asked, studying the pale and bruised face. "You were under for a long time."

"I feel like I've had the rug pulled out from under me," Duo answered. Then suddenly, his eyes began to tear up and a look of sorrow clouded his face.

The hypnotist watched with growing concern, wondering, not for the first time, if he was doing the right thing. "Would it have been better to leave the past alone, Duo?"

The younger man shook his head slightly while struggling to compose himself. "No," he whispered. "The war was real and it's given me a lifetime's worth of nightmares," he began. "But I can't regret it as it brought me to Heero." He swallowed hard as he tried to push down the overwhelming sense of loss he suddenly felt at Heero's prolonged absence.

"When he flew out of the Earth's atmosphere, alive and intact, I don't think I've ever known such happiness." Duo looked at the dark-haired man sitting next to him and said softly, "I love him, even though I'd sworn to myself never to love anyone again because I always lost the people I cared about. But how can anyone deny something so... strong, so right? he asked, his eyes bright with his memories. "It was as if we balanced each other. When I was weak, he was strong for me. What few traits he lacked, I excelled in. We were like two sides of the same coin, different yet the same."

He paused in his speech to wipe his hands across his cheeks, taking away the excess wetness that had gathered there, careful to not touch his swollen and bruised eye. He then turned those red-rimmed orbs to look to the other man, pleading for understanding and answers. "How in the hell could I have ever given that up?" he asked. "You said the Integration was voluntary. Why would I have ever given up a life with Heero?"

"I don't know," Duane answered with sympathy for the young man's unanswered questions. "But we're not done yet. You have more memories of the year between the two wars, the Barton conflict and the time until you agreed to be Integrated."

"What time is it?" Duo looked around the room for a clock.

"Just after three." Duane pointed to his watch.

"Let's keep going then," Duo said resolutely. "Do you think you can remove the mental trigger to my heart problem, because now that I have most of my memories back, I know that I've never had one. I was so healthy I defied L-2's plague and diseases. A walking miracle Professor G called me."

"I've never tried anything like removing a mental block or trigger before," the other man answered, sounding unsure about his ability to do so. "It might be better to do that after all your memories have returned."

"Like I said before, we need to do it today," Duo said, resolute.

"Then we have less than three hours to complete the task. If you have to be home by six thirty as usual, we'll need to leave here by six because of the traffic. I'll drive you home, of course."

"I'm not going back there unless you can lift that pain trigger. I refuse to let that bastard abuse me in any way ever again."

"Duo," Duane leaned forward and to earnestly entreat the other man to reconsider. "I'm concerned that the rapid returning of your memories can cause mental or emotional damage. I don't want to cause you any more pain than you've already suffered."

"And what do you think Scott's been doing to me for who knows how long?" Duo asked hotly. "Do you think being beaten and sexually assaulted by someone I despise is good for my health?"

"No," Duane replied, his tone subdued and mentally cringing at the violent picture Duo painted of his life. "I just don't want you to be hurt any more. It seems that recalling your past is doing just that."

The deep blue eyes closed for a moment. "I'm a survivor, Duane. No matter what the truth of my past is, even if it's painful, it's got to be better than what I've gone through since being Integrated."

Duane nodded, not knowing the correct thing to say in response to Duo's statement. "I can only imagine what you've gone through. I don't know if I would have bounced back as well as you if our places were reversed."

Duo held out his good arm. "Pull up the sleeve of my sweater," he told the other man. Duane frowned, but put his hands on the sleeve and pushed the cotton material up to Duo's wrist, revealing the puckered scar across the pale wrist. "I did try to escape, but it seems my heart, or at least I'm led to believe its my heart, reacts strongly whenever I attempt any form of violence against Scott or myself. I passed out on the bathroom floor before I could finish the job properly and Scott found me."

Duane ran his finger over the old scar in a contemplative manner, his compassion for the younger man was now as strong as his commitment to see him free. He looked up into the sad but steadfast eyes returning his gaze. "All right, let's finish this."

TBC

Author's note: Thanks to all who have reviewed. Your comments have kept me going.