Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Integration ❯ Contact ( Chapter 11 )
Disclaimer and Warning on first page of fic.
Integration
Bane's Desire
Part 11- Contact
Having made it through the L-1 security system after the shuttle docked, Duo made his way out of the busy terminal and breathed in deeply the humid, slightly metallic air that was just a part of everyday life on a colony. He took in another breath through his nose and slowly let it out, a smile coming to his face. It wasn't a dream; he really was back in space, where he belonged. He'd always felt a fascination with the beauty of the planet that was the place of origin for all the colonists, but he was born and bred a colony brat, used to the lighter gravity, the slightly stale air and the hustle and bustle of too many people sharing the same space. It wasn't a perfect life, nor anywhere as visually spectacular as Earth had been, but it felt of the familiar, of home.
As he scanned his surroundings, Duo ran his fingers through his bleached hair, now a bit longer than Scott ever allowed. Pausing at that thought, he frowned. He'd always enjoyed wearing his hair long and was tempted to let it grow again, but probably not as long as his braid had been when they'd cut it after the Integration. He'd kept it long only as an odd memorial of sorts, to help him remember all those he'd cared for and lost; they were his true reasons for fighting. Now that he'd regained his memory of them, and with his braid long gone, he didn't feel the need to replace it. The length, after all, had been from not wanting to cut off the memories of those who had touched it. No, if he grew his hair out now, it would be for himself this time.
With that thought and the feeling of relief he felt at being in space once again, he hailed a taxi with a smile growing on his face. Once inside a cab he asked the driver where he could find a decent but not overly-expensive hotel. The middle aged, bald Asian man was quick to recommend one and began the drive there. Sitting back against the seat, he began to contemplate his next step and decided he'd give it a day or two before he began the process of changing his identity again. With a humorous grin on his lips he wondered what he'd look like with black hair, like Wufei's, or maybe he'd give red or perhaps purple a try. There were suddenly no rules to bind him, he could pretty much do whatever he wanted. He suddenly felt almost giddy with a euphoria that this new feeling of liberation gave him and he hoped it would last through the days and weeks ahead as he watched and waited for the right opportunity to approach L-4 and his former friend and fellow pilot of gundam Sandrock.
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Mid May and quite a few identity changes later found him on yet another shuttle, this one bound, finally, for colony L-4. Since leaving Earth, he'd basically led a solitary, nomadic existence, changing his identity with each inter-colony shuttle trip. It really hadn't been as difficult as he'd thought it might be to get hold of the appropriate papers that would match the frequent changes he made in his appearance. There were always craftsmen to be found working in the underground markets who were willing to forge the papers he needed for a price. But his funds weren't limitless and they were beginning to run low. He'd been forced to take on odd, short-term and under the table jobs in order to help pay for his many identity changes, documents, shuttle rides and hotel rooms, not to mention food. It was crucial for him to bide his time, hoping the police and Preventers would forget about the lingering all-points bulletin for Jason Phillips, and that the posted pictures of him, placed in shuttleports, police and postal stations, would be shuffled to the bottom and forgotten in the large stack of other missing persons, criminal and "wanted for questioning"fliers. He was certain that the many disguises he'd assumed had helped him avoid being discovered by the locals or authorities, no matter what colony he stayed on. He'd covered his tracks well. He could only hope that all his efforts would pay off now that he was about to contact Quatre.
The shuttle he was currently on was headed towards his first attempt at connecting with one of his former fellow pilots. It was a fairly new commute shuttle that he'd boarded from the equally new and rebuilt Lagrange 5-2 colony he'd been staying on for the last three weeks. He'd felt safe there, but once again the time had come to move on and his destination this time was L-5-2's sister colony, L-4. During his stay on L-5-2, he'd assumed the name Dai Chao. His hair and eyebrows had been dyed black to fit his new name and his contacts were dark brown and his normally pale skin was now a golden brown, acquired after spending days building up the color in a tanning booth. The changes in his appearance had been deliberate, selected specifically to avoid standing out in a community dominated by Asians. When asked by the curious, random citizens he'd met on L-5-2 why his eyes were large and round, he simply explained that his mother was Caucasian, his father Chinese.
He'd gone to the restroom fifteen minutes before the shuttle was scheduled to dock to refresh himself. Now looking in the mirror, he inspected his reflection with a critical eye and smiled at what he saw. He actually looked pretty good, he thought, though it was odd to see his reflection looking like a completely different person. He was pleased, however, with his growing, shaggy hair. He sighed wistfully, noting that it looked similar to how Heero had worn his hair during the war, tousled and unruly. He closed his eyes at the familiar ached he felt in his heart each time he thought of Heero, the one person he had loved and, for the moment at least, lost, thanks to Relena Peacecraft.
It had taken everything in him not to go directly to Sanq and confront the situation head on, to get Heero back by any means. But he knew that impulsive move wouldn't be wise. He'd tried that before, doing things the right way by going to the lawyer for help. That tactic had landed him in a life far away from his lover and in the hands of a sadistic bastard. A shiver of revulsion shook his body, a reaction he always experienced when his thoughts turned to the man who'd made his life a living hell for three years. Never again, he vowed to himself. He would never again allow himself to fall into the hands of people who would take complete control over his life again. That meant that he had to remain free, remain dead to the Preventers and the government. In order to accomplish both feats, he had to be smart and he needed a plan, which meant Quatre Winner, the master strategist.
Shaking off the memories of being Jason and the unhappiness of his past, he allowed himself to feel a spark of excitement and hope growing from within at the prospect of what was going to happen soon. He was actually going to see and speak with Quatre again. He'd missed his fair-haired friend, and if anyone could help him come up with a foolproof plan for getting Heero back, it was his pal, Quatre.
He felt that the time had come to approach the often written about, popular and only male member of the wealthy Winner family. He'd put off going to his friend until the number of Preventers at the spaceports slowly decreased. He took that as a sign of their loss of interest in him or, hopefully, they had come to believe he was dead. With some of the heat off he felt safer in approaching his former friend.
He also assumed that his past my have been partially responsible for the Preventers giving up the search. He'd once earned the reputation amongst those he fought with of being someone who acted impulsively, going after a target or goal without pausing to think through a strategy. If the Preventers assumed that he was alive and had gotten his memory back, they would most likely try to predict his next move by studying his youthful war profile. The so-called Earth and Colonies peacekeepers would probably anticipate his acting quickly in contacting Heero. After all, it was on his official psychological profile that he tended to act impulsively with little thought to the consequences, and he'd basically proved that theory from what he'd done the first time he'd gotten his memories back when he'd rushed head on to remedy the situation, freeing Heero from his Integration.
Despite his plans and resolve for patience and caution, it was killing him not to follow those knee-jerk impulses and run to Earth and to Heero. He'd reminded himself over and over that his lover wasn't in any immediate danger, and believing that had helped him stay his cautious course. He hoped his uncharacteristic delay in taking action would lead the Preventers to the conclusion that he'd remained Integrated and that Jason Phillips had fallen into the hands of the muggers who had been the main suspects attributed to Scott and Harris's violent deaths. The news articles he'd been able to find on the case reported that the Chicago police supported that theory mainly because of the lack of any evidence proving any other. Jason Phillips disappearance remained a mystery, and the two murders that occurred on New Year's Eve were, for the time being, unsolved.
An electronic beep sounded from the speakers above him a moment before a female voice asked all passengers to return to their seats to prepare for docking at Colony L-4. "Patience," he told the unfamiliar face staring back at him from the mirror. His growing need for contact with Quatre made him anxious. He pushed that need down knowing he first had to thoroughly check out his former friend and his security arrangements. His approach had to be planned carefully in order to avoid the possibility of being recognized and captured. His goal was to attract his friend's attention, knowing Quatre wouldn't recognize him because of his Integration, and get him alone in order to explain things to him. He'd then obtain his permission, as Duane requested, to have his blocks removed and his memory restored. After that was done, he'd contact the hypnotist and have him come to space and work his magic on Quatre, freeing his friend's brilliant mind, which in turn would help him plot out a course to Heero's emancipation.
Leaving the restroom, he returned to his seat, getting a polite nod from the Chinese man who'd sat next to him during the two-hour flight. He thought it amusing that wearing a business suit suddenly lent him an air of respectability. Two colonies ago, he played the part of a junkie and the one after that a prostitute. Sadly, he couldn't help but wonder if he was destined to live the remainder of his life playing at being someone other than himself. It was a sobering thought. First the government more or less forced him into becoming two different people, separate from who and what Duo Maxwell was, and now he put time, effort and money into making himself look and appear to be someone else in order to stay free. Frankly, he was getting tired of running and hiding. He'd done it for years on the streets as a desperate, homeless child and then during the war, but both times he'd been with other people who were doing the same thing. He was tired, lonely and bored, he told himself, and he wanted Heero back in his life. A friend or two would also be nice, as would settling down for a while. He just wanted his life back.
His life. Even as he considered that thought, he shook his head, knowing his former life, even his self-chosen name, wasn't anything he could have in the immediate future, if ever. His life would never be as it once was, thanks to Relena and the new government. Maybe it would get better once he got Heero away from that two-faced, back-stabbing politician.
He closed his eyes as the familiar sarcastic voice in his head suddenly snapped back at him, 'So when was your life so wonderful that you didn't want it to change? Was it ever so good that you'd really want to go back to it?' His life as an orphan and living on the streets of L-2 was not something he'd ever want to go back to. No one in their right mind would. The war? The only good that happened during that time was meeting the guys, working together and forming a bond while they fought their common enemies to bring peace to the colonies. Otherwise, the war was what he supposed all wars were, living nightmares that seemed to linger years past its end.
Then again, actively participating in the war had brought him to Heero. The former Wing pilot with his dark, intense and blue eyes, his strength of body, mind and character that seemed to ooze from his pores like pure animalistic pheromones and attracted Duo as no other had. Just the image of his lover in his mind had him holding his breath and his heart aching with longing for him.
The affecting daydream of his lover was cut off as the sounds of the shuttle docking broke into his thoughts. The space vehicle vibrated a moment, then jerked as metal clamps secured it into port. After a moment the systems shut down and the seatbelt lights above shut off.
"Are you here for business or pleasure?" the Chinese man who had been sitting next to him, generally non-conversing, asked as they both stood to retrieve their carry-ons from the secured bins above the seats.
"Both," Duo answered with a friendly smile. "I've come to negotiate a deal with an old friend."
The older man, likewise dressed in a business suit, nodded with a sage expression on his face. "It's a challenging task, doing business with a friend. One runs the danger of losing that friend if the business deal doesn't go as planned and sours."
Duo nodded, wondering if the man's offhanded warning was some ominous premonition. "Both the friendship and the business I have to attend to are important," he replied. "I can't afford to lose either one."
"Then tread carefully, young man," the older man advised. "For in life, it is hard to balance one's personal life with business. The scales always tip one way or the other. What would you sacrifice if it came to a choice, the friend or the business deal?" With a slight smile, the man turned, briefcase in hand. "I wish you good fortune," he said with a slight bow in farewell.
Duo returned the bow. "And to you also." Then taking up his slightly battered duffle, he followed the older man out of the shuttle and into the bright and clean, yellow-painted terminal of L-4.
He was somewhat familiar with this colony as he'd visited it before, when he'd come to visit Quatre during the war, telling him that he'd found Trowa. That was a day he'd not forget anytime soon. The emotion-filled smile he'd received from the blond that day made it pretty clear how Quatre felt about the quiet Heavyarms pilot. He was glad that the gentle-natured, sensitive blond had also found someone to anchor himself to during the war, like he had with Heero.
Following his usual procedure, Duo checked into a less reputable hotel where his next physical transformation began. Along with another bottle of bleach, he chose a box of auburn hair dye and, on a whim, purchased clothing for his next disguise in the style of how Trowa had dressed during the war. He acquired several pairs of tight jeans that snugly encased his trim legs like a second skin, a turtleneck sweater and several dress shirts with long sleeves.
Just looking at the clothing reminded him of the boy he was going to try and impersonate. He smiled at the memory of Trowa Barton, the auburn-haired teen with the odd, lopsided hair style who was easily the tallest of the five gundam pilots. He had been a quiet, unassuming acrobat with an amazing ability to disappear in plain sight. His stealth abilities were hard to match, almost equaling his unbelievable acrobatic moves, not to mention his knife throwing abilities. But there had always seemed to been an air of restraint to the adept teen, and when he watched Trowa performing with the circus, Duo had thought he was the most pathetically morose clown he'd ever seen. Weren't clowns supposed to be happy and jolly?
The short time he spent reminiscing about his friend brought back how much he missed all of them. He tried to shake off the feeling of loneliness that weighed on him once more, telling himself that it wouldn't be long until he was with Quatre again. The blond Arabian had been a good friend to him during the war. They were the two pilots who managed to find some bits of happiness amidst a violent war and dragged the other reluctant three along on their adventures. He'd watched as Quatre fell in love with Trowa and was happy for his friend when his feelings were finally reciprocated. It disturbed him to no end that Trowa was nowhere to be found in the many magazine pictures and articles he'd read over the last few months. He was determined to find out what had happened and why his friends had been separated.
With that mind set, he pulled his sunglasses down over his eyes and took one last critical look at himself in the hotel mirror. Though he was shorter than Trowa, he did do a pretty good impression of the Heavyarms pilot. He doubted Quatre would recognize him unless Trowa was or had been in his life. He'd know soon enough. Though it had been a spur of a moment decision to take on this guise, he decided to follow though on it, to see if there was some sort of reaction from Quatre when he first laid eyes on him.
Picking up the key to his room, he snagged his duffle bag containing his new clothes and turned to leave the room and that hotel. It was time to change locations once again. The new documents he's purchased and carried declared him to be Grayson Williams, a native of colony L-3 and a recent graduate from the Harland Institute for Business. The forgeries were very good, but then everyone on L-4 expected and produced only the best, and his new forged documents were nothing short of that.
Leaving his room key at the front desk, he walked out of the hotel and breathed in deeply the recycled air, noting that it smelled purer than on any other colony he'd visited in the last five months. His eyes scanned the tall business buildings that represented the business section of the prosperous colony and stood impressively tall as their white outer surfaces sparkled brightly under the colony's lights. L-4 really was an almost idyllic colony, he thought, the epitome of what colony life should be and a testimonial to what a lot of money backing the system could produce, unlike some of the other colonies that didn't have the personal patronage of a wealthy family like the Winners. He began the walk to the next hotel, not far from the one he'd just left, but of a much better quality and only a block from the Winner conglomerate's headquarters.
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Two weeks after his physical transformation and the newly purchased papers identifying him as Grayson Williams had been completed, Duo continued to shadow the popular L-4 citizen, Quatre Winner. He noted that there were definite changes that had occurred in the nearly four years since he'd last seen his friend. Quatre had grown and visibly matured. He estimated his friend, once as small in stature as himself, had gotten a much enviable growth spurt that had brought him close to being six feet tall. He was unbelievably attractive and could have been a well sought-out model with his wide set, blue-green eyes, patrician nose, full lips and dazzling white smile. He wore his slightly darker blond hair a bit longer than he had before with the ends curling up slightly as it rested just below the line of his collar and kept the front fringe of blond hair brushed back from his face. His friend's body had also filled out, with Quatre's shoulders and arms being broader, no doubt a result of regular workouts. The width of them were accentuated by his trim waist, slim hips and long, slender legs. Altogether, Duo found the whole package to be appealing.
Yet during his two weeks of shadowing his former friend, he'd never once heard of nor seen any sign of Trowa. He couldn't help but suspect that Quatre's original Integration plans had been altered by his sisters, who had strongly disapproved of his relationship with the Heavyarms pilot. It continued to puzzled him that Quatre had been allowed to maintain his identity and to stay in the spotlight as he had as most Integrated were kept in nondescript jobs and out of any limelight to maintain their new identity. He supposed that being the only male heir to the Winner fortune had something to do with it. From his birth, Quatre's life had been followed and documented by the media and, from his hours of research, Duo concluded there had been some PR done after he'd left the colony for Earth. It appeared that most of L-4's citizens were ignorant of the real reason Quatre had gone to Earth and that fact helped with the coverup. The popular blond remained the focus for the media, and his adoring public had been intentionally led to believe that he'd spent his teenage years on Earth, going to several prestigious schools that groomed him to take over the family's business. Now at twenty-one years of age, he held the lofty title of Chairman of the Board of Directors for Winner Family Enterprises, Inc, and was viewed by the public and press to be what the headlines had dubbed him as "The Colonies' Darling". His social and love life were fodder for weekly topics in colony rag magazines, and they tended to portray his friend as being heterosexual, which surprised him, knowing Quatre's orientation. Duo hadn't believed most of what he'd read from them, depicting Quatre as being a playboy, believing the press to be more of a public-relations ploy than anything else, because the Quatre he knew wasn't a loose-relationship kind of guy. He had to remind himself that his beliefs and knowledge of Quatre Winner were from his past memories of the blond, before their Integration. After knowing how he'd been screwed, he could only guess as to what had been implanted in his former friend's mind to earn him the reputation he now had.
From the city's library and its archive of periodicals, he'd been able to do more research on Quatre Winner. From fairly in-depth interviews he'd read and his own recollections, it seemed Quatre's memories of his early childhood were pretty much intact. However, his comments regarding his going to Earth were completely different from the truth. Quatre had spoken to one reporter about his teenage years on Earth, of attending different private schools. He'd recalled to his interviewer several humorous escapades when he was sixteen that made for good press. His college years were recounted with equal fondness as was his happiness at finally being able to return space and to the colonies, specifically to L-4 that he stated firmly to be his true home.
Pictures of Quatre's recent life had him attending public functions, photographed with both men and women who seemed bewitched by his presence. Duo noticed that his former friend appeared polite and charming but not entirely engaged with the person he was with nor the event he was attending. He had the appearance of the rich and bored that somehow didn't quite look right on the once open and honest boy he'd admired.
From his words and photos, Duo sensed the Arabian had confidence in himself and his abilities, something he'd lacked at times during the war. He now exuded the type of confidence that seemed to border on cockiness and his self assurance in photographs gave him the appearance of always being in command. Looking over the many photographs of his friend, Duo had to admit that Quatre was devilishly handsome, with a winning smile that seemed to capture the attention of anyone within sight of it. Giving each picture a detailed examination, he detected the fine lines at the corners of Quatre's stunning pale-blue eyes. He thought such lines were evidence of the responsibility heaped on his friend at such a young age. Quatre might have everything that money could by, but that didn't mean his life had been easy or that he was necessarily happy.
Studying another of the blond's pictures of a more somber nature, his eyes doleful, his smile suppressed, Duo wondered what the Integration had done to the once sunny, optimistic teenager. He'd torn that particular picture out of the magazine and folded it so the crease wouldn't mar the solemn face centered in it and slipped it into his jacket pocket. He then returned the stack of literature to the reference desk and left the library.
He then began his visual surveillance of the well-known Winner in earnest, taking notes of when he arrived at work, his lunch hours and the eateries he frequented with surprising regularity as well as his activities after work hours. He noted the three Maguanacs who took turns following the blond billionaire around, and that each tall, large-muscled man looked like someone who took his job seriously. Duo followed Quatre to his high-class, swank apartment building and guessed, after a few minutes passed from when Quatre had entered the lobby's elevator and the lights on the top floor of the building flicked on, that the man's home consisted of the entire floor of the twenty-three storey building. On the nights that Quatre stayed in, the lights went out promptly at ten-thirty p.m.
The watching and note taking went on for two weeks, and Duo used the data to try and determine the right time to approach his former friend and comrade. He knew that getting past his bodyguards was going be his first obstacle.
Thinking about the devoted men of the Maguanacs, Duo wondered how they had taken to Quatre's memories of them being wiped out. Their unwavering devotion to the young boy during the war had been admirable if not puzzling. No one could question their unwavering loyalty to the young Winner heir, and it seemed to Duo as if that devotion and their dedication to him had carried on despite their young master's memories of them having been erased from his mind.
Quatre was punctual, he noted. A trait that he'd carried over from his youth. He used that fact to time his approach. Duo hoped that along with his punctuality, the blond also retained his natural ability for compassion and caring. The blond rich boy he'd fought with in his youth was one of the kindest people he'd ever met, and he was banking on that past trait of kindness to gain access to the brilliant mind he knew the other man possessed, to help him get Heero back.
Twice a week on Monday and Wednesday, Quatre promptly left his office on the top half of the Winner Enterprises building at twelve thirty for lunch. He walked out the front door of the building flanked by two very large Maguanacs to buy his lunch at a nearby Moroccan restaurant. Knowing the time and place, Duo made his move. He dressed in his snug white jeans and green turtleneck, then with a lot of gel, he styled his ever-growing hair into the one-sided bang job Trowa used to sport. It didn't come close in length or have quite the crazy upswing that the Heavyarms pilot's hairline cowlick gave him, but it was close. Putting his sunglasses on, Duo looked into the mirror, a satisfied smile bringing up the corners of his mouth. With a good-to-go nod to himself, he turned and left his hotel room.
At exactly twelve twenty-five on a Monday afternoon, he planted himself outside the busy office building, leaned against the taxi sign post and faced the double doors. At approximately twelve thirty five, Quatre came out the door looking impossibly more striking and handsome up close than any of the pictures he'd seen taken of the famous man. There was a certain charisma, an attractive, invisible aura that seemed to surround the person known as Quatre Winner. Now Duo understood the bewitched look on the faces of the people in the photographs, who had stood close to the colonies' darling. Quatre's presence was like a radiating magnet.
The moment the blond, dressed in an expensive, dark-gray business suit, and his two guards left the building, the blue-green eyes fell on him and Quatre's steps faltered, his eyes widened and an audible gasp was heard. But an instant later he recovered himself, turned to his right and walked down the street, in the opposite direction of the restaurant he frequented.
Duo stood still for a moment, unmoving as he analyzed the situation. The momentary reaction he'd just seen in the depths of those expressive eyes that had always acted as a mirror to Quatre's soul was a flash of surprised recognition. He wondered if perhaps Trowa was somewhere in Quatre's life, hidden or in the past. Or, it could be his subconscious that recognized the image he projected of being Trowa. Maybe Quatre had recognized him in his disguise. No, he told himself, that was ridiculous. He was pretty sure not even Heero with his memories returned would recognize him in his current getup. Somehow, he knew that the blond businessman had recognized him, or something about him. It could be that the memories of Trowa had come back to him, or maybe they'd been together and it hadn't worked out as they'd supposed. He and Heero had been warned before the Integration that even though they contracted to be kept together, their new personalities might not suit each other and their relationship might not survive. Had that happened to the two inseparable lovers? Maybe his appearance, similar to Trowa's, had sparked a past memory. But no, he corrected himself again, Scott Mercer was Japanese and looked a bit like Heero, and he'd never sparked any memory of his lover. The only other idea he could come up with was that Quatre might have broken through his Integration, just as he had, and was hiding it, probably for his own protection. If so, how much had he recalled? There were too many unanswered questions, and he was hellbent on finding the answers to all of them, and the sooner the better.
Repositioning himself and leaning against the outside wall of the building next to the front doors, he waited for Quatre to return to his office with his two bodyguards in tow. When at last he did return, the blond man seemed intent on ignoring him; but Duo had other plans.
"Quatre? Quatre Winner?" He called out loud enough for those citizens milling around him to hear, forcing the three men to stop or chance looking like impolite snobs. "Hey buddy," he quickly continued with an ingratiating grin on his face." I thought it was you I saw earlier. Remember me, Grayson Williams?" Duo stuck out his hand as Quatre turned to focus on him with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension on his face.
"We've met before?" the blond man asked in his familiar cultured voice as he took a step forward, his eyes studying the young man before him but ignoring the outstretched hand.
"We had a couple of classes at Straton," Duo answered, using the name of the small private school listed as being one of the several Quatre was supposed to have attended during his teenage years on Earth. "I had longer hair then, so I probably look a bit different, but I'd recognize you anywhere. You filled out nice, buddy."
Quatre's face remained blank as he replied. "I'm sorry Mr...."
"Williams," Duo supplied the name he'd lifted off the yearbook of the school Quatre supposedly attended during the war.
"Mr. Williams," Quatre completed his name. "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I don't remember you and I'm late in getting back to work. If you'll excuse me."
Quatre then turned to walk away and Duo wondered if maybe he'd read him wrong . Maybe he didn't remember Trowa. Well, if that was the case, he'd just go back to his original plan. One way or another he had to be alone with the other man in order to reveal his past.
"Well that's too bad, Quatre," he called out in a suggestive voice to the retreating blond. "Because after that month we spent in your family's home in Brazil, I knew I'd never forget you, or any part of you."
The businessman and his two watchdogs stopped and spun around as one defensive unit, and the minute they did, Duo turned away and began to saunter down the street, having a good idea of exactly what view he was giving his old friend.
He got no further than ten feet before a large hand gripped his upper arm and he was swung around. Up close, the Maguanacs could make anyone feel like they were standing in the shadow of an enormous mountain, and the scowl the dark-skinned man's face bore was just as intimidating as his size. But Duo was one of a handful of people who were not easily intimated. "What do you want?" the unfamiliar man growled out as he leaned over to glare into Duo's face. The smell of exotic spices were on his breath and Duo decided that he probably wouldn't like Moroccan food.
"Hey!" he complained, trying to jerk his arm out of the other's iron-fast grip, and trying was about all he could do without showing his full abilities. The man was strong and his grip tightened as he resisted. "Some welcome," Duo spat out. "Listen. I'm just out of college and looking for a job and remembered Quatre's parting words that if I ever needed anything, I should come to him. Guess I didn't make as good an impression on him as I thought I did. Or maybe he just doesn't recognize me with my clothes on."
"Are you here to blackmail him?"
Duo thought he was about to see steam coming out of the man's ears at any moment he was so angry.
"That's not my style, man," he answered. "I'm just looking for a job and maybe a few friends. I don't know anybody here and just thought Quatre could show me around and maybe introduce to me someone who might have a job opening here on L-4."
"That's not going to happen," the dark, enormous man growled out. "So you would be better off looking for a handout from someone else." The large man then forcefully shoved Duo and let go of his arm at the same time, a warning of sorts that he meant business.
Duo stumbled back a bit but caught his balance quickly. He looked at the man and rubbed his sore arm. "I can deal with that," he replied. "But I was looking for a friendly hand up, not a handout." As the man's scowl seemed permanently in place, Duo put his hands up in a sign of surrender. "Don't worry, I get it. Quatre's a big shot who doesn't need his former friends. From what I've seen and heard, his sexual orientation isn't out there in the tabloids, but I'm cool with that, really. I've had to deal with the difficulties of coming-out myself. That's why I'm alone and looking for help from an old friend. My family didn't approve either. Just tell him I understand and there are no hurt feelings."
He wanted to shove his hands into his jean pockets and walk away with a dramatic flare, but that thought was squelched by the knowledge that his pants were way too tight for that. He probably couldn't even get his fingertips into the top edge of the pockets. He settled for giving the man a sad, resigned smile, one that had once melted the heart of the perfect solder, then turned to leave.
"Wait," the Maguanac hesitantly called out, his demeanor softening. "Where are you staying?" he asked, then added, "In case Mr. Winner recalls you."
"I'm not stupid enough to give out that information," Duo replied with a frown. "If he wants to see me, I'll be hanging out at the Flaming Casbah for the next couple of nights."
The tall man nodded, still somber-faced, and said he'd carry the information back to Mr. Winner. He then turned to join the other two men, now inside the building.
Duo watched his impressively large retreating back and wondered whether or not he'd made any progress that day. Somehow, he needed to manage a way to be alone with Quatre, to talk to him, and making it look like they'd had a previous sexual relationship might just give him some private time with the well-guarded man. He needed that time to tell him of his past and open his mind to buried memories so he could help him in his quest for Heero.
He slowly walked back through the city and to his hotel room registered under his new alias, cautious as always as to whether or not he was being followed. If Quatre followed any of his old, precautionary instincts, he'd have the Maguanacs following him, especially after his conversation with the bodyguard.
The moment he entered his room, he peeled off the tight pants, wondering how Trowa could have withstood the binding material. He then turned on the T.V. and lay on the bed in his boxers, socks and turtleneck shirt and began to think about his next move.
Quatre would probably be suspicious but curious about what he'd hinted at. But he'd bet his last credit that Quatre had big holes in his memory that puzzled him, just as he, as Jason, had. The famous man's background, the various schools and specific courses as well as the people he'd have associated with couldn't all be covered in the implanted memory. Even though he retained some of his memory of who he was, Quatre's life between the ages of thirteen, when Sandrock was being built, to the age of seventeen at the end of the last war, was a long passage of time. His own former identities as Chad and Jason had large gaps in their memories, which had been explained as lapses caused by the trauma of losing their parents when he had questioned Une and Scott about them. He'd been told by both that the painful, traumatic time had been emotionally devastating and that he'd unconsciously blocked out some of his past in trying to cope and deal with his debilitating grief. At the time, the explanation made perfect sense. He had to wonder if the death of Quatre's father had likewise been used to explain any gaps in his memory?
The whole idea of Integration, where one's memories could be blocked and subjugated to new, implanted ones was astounding in concept as well as in practice. But Duo had learned first hand, twice in fact, that the procedure was anything but fool proof. He was counting on that in dealing with Quatre, once he got the other man alone.
That evening, he'd arrived at the Flaming Casbah around nine thirty and left at midnight, alone. The popular nightclub hadn't been busy, probably due to the fact that it was a weeknight. Mondays were notoriously bad for most businesses that were entertainment centered, and with so few in the bar, there was no way he could miss Quatre if he came in, even unobtrusively. He hadn't really expected the blond Arabian to show up on the first night, the Quatre he used to know would stew about a problem, whether it was a mission or something more personal for a day or two before coming to a conclusion on how to approach or handle it. But still, he was disappointed that he didn't show, and the sense of loneliness that had followed him like a shadow for months now was all that accompanied him as he returned to his cold, utilitarian hotel room.
He readied himself for bed, feeling somewhat despondent. Seeing his friend and former comrade had left him longing for his company. He and Quatre had shared a good friendship. They both were more open and slightly more trusting than the other three pilots had been. Despite their backgrounds being completely opposite in terms of stable childhoods and economic status, he and pilot 04 had gotten along very well. He'd liked the caring blond a lot.
He paid particular attention to his style of dress the next night. Having selected well-fitted, black leather pants and a deep-blue silk shirt, he felt confident walking into the now familiar nightclub. He'd gotten plenty of attention the night before in dress slacks and a green silk tee-shirt, but he'd waved off anyone who approached him at the place he'd selected at the bar where he could see the entire room and the front door. But tonight, he felt a strong need to be with someone, it was a need he'd denied himself since his re-awakening. From the first moment he'd begun trailing Quatre, he'd felt an overwhelming sense of loneliness. And since his encounter with him the day before, that hollow feeling of being completely alone in the universe had grown, causing a deep ache within him that threatened to overwhelm his composure.
Upon waking that morning, he'd decided that he wasn't going to deny himself any longer, he was sick and tired of being alone. That decision immediately brought a rush of fear regarding his ability to be intimate anyone ever again, and that fear was closely followed by guilt, cause by his flagging commitment to his long absent and married lover. The memory of being held and made love to by the person he'd considered the other half of his soul had become faded and worn, like a well-read love letter. Heero was far removed from him and on Earth. He was now a different person with a life set for him by his lover's adoring, conniving wife. Just the thought of the devious, manipulative woman made Duo's body and mind shake with rage. He wanted revenge for what she'd caused, for all that had happened to him. Hell, he wanted her dead. With his re-acquired skills he could assassinate her and pin it on any number of organizations who had agendas that differed from the proud pacifist upstart. But no, he decided a much better revenge would be taking Heero away from her, from right under her nose. And that was precisely why he needed Quatre. The Arabian had always been the wise strategist as well as an empathy-driven friend. He could trust Quatre to understand and come up with a foolproof plan to get Heero back, giving him the ultimate revenge on Relena. But it all hinged on getting the blond man to listen to him and to cooperate.
There were more people in the club that night, and he'd had several casual conversations with other patrons of the popular establishment as he sat in the same bar stool he'd taken the night before. He was enjoying his third free drink, courtesy of the attractive young woman sitting next to him, happily regaling him with the local gossip about the colony's favorite son, Quatre Winner.
Suddenly, the deep-red, lipstick covered lips paused and the woman's jaw went slack at the same time her eyes opened wide in astonishment. When a hand settled on his shoulder, Duo had a pretty good idea who was standing behind him, judging from her expression.
"Can we talk?" said the familiar voice of Quatre Winner, and the words whispered into his ear sent a rippling shiver down his spine.
TBC
Author's note: I'm going to apologize in advance for any delays in updating during the next few weeks. I dislocated and fractured the middle finger of my right hand last weekend. My writing hand is now in a cast from my fingertips to mid forearm. Needless to say, my typing is being done one handed and incredibly slow. It's near torture to not be able to hold a pen or type properly. I'll do my best to update, but I can't promise to be as regular as I have been. Sorry. Never fear, the story will be completed, despite delays. It's completed in rough draft form, so there's no need to worry about the delay causing me to lose interest